“Yes, but we’ve told him to go away for a little while,” Liam said. “Just to make sure that he isn’t at his house when the call comes in. Just in case.”
“The thing is,” I said, “that even if we warn them, the police have to go if they get a call. They have to take it seriously no matter what. We thought it was better that the boy got away.”
“Good,” Greg said, nodding. “Very good. Now, what can we do to help you find this guy?”
“I was wondering if we might be able to take a look at Peter’s computer?” I asked.
Greg looked puzzled. “His computer? But…why?”
“There might be clues as to who this person might be. Peter is the first victim that I’ve found, so maybe the Swatter wrote something to him, or maybe he made a mistake of some sort that can guide us. Anything at this point would be a great help. We don’t really have much the way it is.”
“Do you still have his computer here in the house?” Liam asked.
Viviane nodded. “In his room. We haven’t changed anything.”
“Viviane hasn’t been able to go in there yet,” Greg said.
That was exactly what I had hoped when Liam had suggested we talk to this family; he had done so because he wanted them to know their son’s death was no accident, that they deserved to know the truth. For me, it was just as much because I had a feeling his computer might have been left untouched. I remembered how it was in my home when my sister Sydney was kidnapped. My mom didn’t dare to go into her room, and the door was simply closed like she was still in there sleeping or maybe playing peacefully. We just went on with our lives like she was still living there. I had a feeling the James family might have done the same thing. It was only natural when losing a child. There was no right time to remove his things, and it felt like removing the memory of him completely.
Just like you haven’t gotten rid of Chad’s things. They’re still gathered in the garage in boxes. You haven’t even looked inside of them.
I rose to my feet with an exhale, shaking the thought and reminding myself to call Matt before I went to bed at the hotel, then looked at the mother.
“Could you be so kind and show us the way?”
Chapter 30
“They got on a late flight,” Liam said and sat down in the bar of the hotel.
Liam had told me he’d pay for the entire trip since I had no money—at least none to spare—so he had booked us in at the Waldorf Astoria in New Orleans. It was a gorgeous old hotel, unlike anywhere I had ever stayed. The amount of marble and the huge chandeliers were enough to leave me breathless. We had rooms on the same floor and agreed to meet up for drinks downstairs. It had been a long day, going through Peter James’ computer. Unfortunately, we hadn’t found anything that could help us. His parents didn’t know his passwords to any of his gaming profiles, so we couldn’t get access to them. I then called my dad and asked for his help, and he gained access from his computer, but couldn’t find anything extraordinary. All the chats were gone, and it would take months to go through all his private messages and comments on all the social media platforms. We concentrated our search around the days before he was killed and went through his emails but didn’t find anything to help us.
It was a long shot anyway.
“To Montreal. Jamal called me as they arrived at the airport.”
I ordered a glass of Chardonnay.
“I won’t feel safe till I know he has landed in safety,” I said. “I keep thinking of what happened to Amal Bukhari.”
Liam placed a hand on my shoulder. The gesture felt a little awkward, and, realizing this, he pulled it away.
“He’s going to be fine. As long as they haven’t told anyone they’re leaving and where they’re going, they can’t get to him.”
I took a deep breath. “I still don’t feel good about this.”
My glass of white wine landed in front of me, and I sipped it. Liam had a whiskey that he turned a couple of times before tasting it. It looked almost like he washed his mouth with it.
“I don’t understand you housewives,” he said and looked at my Chardonnay. “Why you all drink that stuff. There are so many wonderful white wines out there that are way better than Chardonnay.”
I stared at my glass, then drank some more. “I drink it because I like it. And please don’t refer to me as a housewife again. I don’t think I deserve that title, being as I’m never home in my house with my family.”
That made him smile slyly. “Touché.”
“You know what? You’re actually a nice guy,” I said. “Why do you act the way you do on your show?”
He smiled again. “Don’t let my act fool you. I am not a nice guy. Believe me. I am anything but.”
“So, you’re telling me that you’re acting now with me and not when you’re on TV? That’s your real personality? I don’t buy it. You’ve been nice to me ever since you came to my house that day.”
He shrugged and took a sip that was used as mouthwash once again. There was a point when I feared he’d spit it all out afterward like a fine wine tasting. But he didn’t.
“Who’s to tell, huh?”
I scoffed. “I, for one, think you should drop the act and just be you. People might like that even better.”
“What? And no yelling at people anymore? No telling them what to do? No scolding them for the excessive use of garlic in their food? Are you crazy? I like that part. No, I love it. It makes me feel alive. Without it, I’d be more bored than your little friends out in suburbia drinking their Chardonnay, never doing anything with their lives. Look here. I’ll send this whiskey back. It’s only suited for use on your Christmas pudding if you ask me.”
“Please, don’t,” I said, cringing. “Please, don’t make a scene.”
He sat up like he was suddenly filled with a new surge of energy.
“Why not? Does causing trouble make you uncomfortable, huh? Are you that self-effacing that all you want to do is run around and help people, save the world, save lives here and there, but lo and behold you should demand anything for yourself or cause any ruckus in life?”
“Excuse me?” I said, beginning to feel a little offended.
“What is so wrong with demanding the best or standing up for yourself?” he asked, getting agitated and gesticulating. “In my opinion, people let restaurants get away with way too much. No one should eat bad food or drink horrible white wine. You need to grab life by the horns, Eva Rae. Don’t fear people getting upset or causing a scene. Demand the best. Stop letting life toss you around.”
I wrinkled my forehead. “No one is tossing me anywhere. I am perfectly capable of taking…”
“Then tell me this. When’s the last time you sent back an undercooked steak or one that was cooked too much? When did you last tell someone that they didn’t do their work good enough? When did you last ask to speak to the manager, huh? When did you last make a lot of trouble for nothing? When did you last even complain about something?”
I stared at the man, getting agitated. Who the heck did he think he was? Just when I was beginning to think I actually liked him and felt sorry for him, he pulled something like this. Insulting me on so many levels, I could hardly speak.