Page 53 of Trapper Road

Normally I would accept that answer, but I notice he didn’t actually answer the question. Given what happened with Kevin and realizing how much in his life I haven’t been aware of, I press the issue. “You didn’t say yes or no.”

His jaw tightens. “No, Mom. I don’t have any social media accounts. You happy?”

I nod. “Good.”

“Anyway,” he exaggerates the word before continuing. “I did a reverse image search looking to see if she was using her own photo as a profile pic somewhere we didn’t know about.” He gestures to the laptop. “I got a hit.”

I take a closer look at the profile. She looks young, carefree. She looks like a target, and she wouldn’t be the first. A sour feeling fills my stomach. If she met someone online and he took her, she could be anywhere.

“There’s more,” Connor says. “She met a guy named Beau and they seemed to hit it off. The app has an internal messaging system, and they used to talk all the time.” He takes the laptop back and clicks on a few links before passing it back over. This time the screen is filled with what looks like a chat window, except the only thing visible are timestamps. Any actual messages are missing.

I frown. “Where are the texts?”

He holds up his hands. “That’s the problem. I think someone deleted them all. But because of the way the system’s set up, you can still see the timestamps.”

“So we know when they talked, but not what they actually talked about.”

He nods. “Exactly.”

My eyes skim down the page. "This is an amazing find, Connor. Great job.”

He smiles. “Except for the bad news: Beau deleted his profile as well.”

I’m about to remind him that when it comes to the internet, nothing is ever gone for good, which is why you have to be careful with what you post, when something occurs to me. “Wait, how did you get access to all of this?” I ask, gesturing at the chat window.

He shrugs. “Figured out her password.”

My jaw drops. “What? You broke into her account?”

“It wasn’t hard. Most of her passwords were listed in the file you have. If you look at them closely enough, it’s obvious they’re all riffs off the same basic structure. It wasn’t too difficult to figure out what she used for this site. Only took three guesses.” He says it with pride and not a trace of compunction. It’s as if he has no idea that what he did was wrong.

“There are rules, Connor. You can’t break into someone else’s account like that. You could have tainted the entire investigation. If you got this information breaking the law, it could be really bad.”

“Fine,” he grumbles. “Whatever.”

He starts to grab his laptop but I pull it out of reach. I find it astounding that he isn’t taking this seriously. Does he not understand that his actions can have consequences?

“There’s something called the fruit of the poisonous tree—it means that any evidence you collect from an illegal search is tainted. It could undermine the entire case.”

He rolls his eyes. “It’s not like we’re the cops, Mom. The same rules don’t apply to us.”

“But there are still rules, Connor—”

He crosses his arms. “And you’ve never broken them before?”

Of course I have, but at least I’ve been aware when I’ve done it. I’ve always weighed the need to follow the rules versus the consequences of not. But Connor didn’t even consider that. He didn’t seem to be thinking at all. “We’re not discussing my actions.”

He pushes to his feet, hovering over me. “Maybe we should.” His breathing is tight, his shoulders bunched. He’s way too agitated, and I wonder if I’ve asked too much of him too soon. He’s still recovering from what happened at school. Perhaps he needs more distance from tragedy.

“Maybe you should take a break from this case.”

His eyes go wide. “Seriously?” He flings his arms in the air, voice rising. “What the hell else am I supposed to do?”

There’s an edge of anger and resentment to his voice that concerns me. It’s a tone I’ve heard more and more over the last few months. I don’t like it. I can’t help but wonder how much of it is attributable to Kevin’s influence and if so, what other influence Kevin might have had that I’m unaware of.

Seeing how quickly his temper flares causes something to shift uneasily inside me. There’s a moment where I feel almost uncertain of my own son. My heart flutters as a familiar sensation floods my system: adrenaline — my body sensing danger and slipping into fight or flight mode.

It sends me off balance.This is my own son, I remind myself. He’s a good kid. There’s nothing I need to be afraid of.

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