I studied her profile. There was no picture, just a snapshot of a sunset. Her info was basic and her memo clear. Looking for friendship in a new city. I lifted my gaze to hers. “Most people on these sites are not seeking friendship.”
“I know, but there are a few. But I wasn’t interested in a hookup.”
“Just friends?”
“I didn’t want a boyfriend. I didn’t think I was ready.”
“Ah,” I said, her words explaining a lot. “Bad experience?”
“You could say that.”
I nodded, letting it go for now. “So, no picture?”
“The site encourages people to chat and get to know each other, then exchange pictures.”
“Did you and Andy exchange photos?”
“No. We met at Roasters Coffee Bar. I had a book, and he wore a red hoodie.”
“Can you show me his profile?”
She tapped on the keyboard, frowning. “It looks like he deleted it.”
“Or made a new one.”
She sighed. “I’m going to delete mine.”
“Leave it a couple days. Please. I’m going to use it to find out more about Andy. If that’s his real name.”
“How?”
I smiled. “I have my ways.”
She chewed the inside of her cheek. “You’ve got layers, don’t you, Damien?”
I chuckled. “No. I have talent. And access to information most other people don’t have. I only use it for good, though.”
“Okay,” she said, stifling a yawn. She looked tired—exhausted, in fact.
“Are you going to be okay here—alone?” I asked.
She nodded. “I’ll bolt my door, put a chair under the knob, and keep my cell phone beside me.”
I held out my hand. “Let me program my number in there. I live a few blocks over. I can be here fast.”
She handed me her phone, and I entered my digits and called myself. Then I saved her information. She told me she hadn’t kept Andy’s number when she changed phones, but she had it on a piece of paper. I tried the number, not surprised to find it no longer working.
“No doubt a burner cell,” I observed. I tucked the piece of paper into my pocket. I doubted it would help, but I would take anything I could get. “I can sleep on the sofa if you want.”
Her eyes widened, and she swallowed. “No, I’ll be fine. The walls are thin, and Mrs. Wallace lives next door and is up all night. If I scream, she’ll call 911.”
I nodded but added my address into her phone. I showed it to her. “If you’re frightened, you call me—or text. I’ll come get you right away. Do you understand?”
She blinked but nodded.
I stood and walked to the door, turning when I got there. She was behind me, looking anxious.
“If you’re scared, nervous, or can’t sleep, call me. I’ll come right over.”