Page 113 of Forever Gone

“Reading posts one at a time is the wrong way in,” she said. “We begin with the victims’ known connections and work toward the accounts.”

Connor rubbed one palm across his jaw. “The provider logs only show that their home connections reached HearthSpace.”

“They also show when,” Selena replied. “HearthSpace gave us activity timestamps for every candidate account covered by the warrant. We match repeated sessions, not single visits.”

Kelly pulled out a chair. “The same username becoming active every time one victim’s home account connects.”

“Across several dates,” Selena said. “One overlap could be chance. Ten won’t be.”

Connor picked up the desk phone. “I’ll get Dana.”

“My word,” Selena said.

“What?” Kelly asked.

“Three cases here and I’ve never met Dana. Arnold’s always joking about her being a vampire in the basement.”

Moments later, the door opened. A red-haired woman entered carrying a laptop, a portable drive, and a folder thick with printed connection records. Her skin was pale, and freckles crossed her cheeks beneath glasses perched near the end of her nose. A pencil held her hair in a loose knot.

“It’s good to finally meet you,” Selena said, holding out her hand. “I’m Selena, and this is Kelly.”

Dana hesitated and stared at the offered hand.

Connor came in behind her. “Dana’s a germaphobe.”

Selena lowered her hand. “Oh.”

“I was told this was urgent,” Dana said.

“It is,” Selena replied. “We need the exact HearthSpace connection windows for all three victims.”

Dana put the folder down. “I’ve been working on them already. I’ve got them to the second where the provider retained session starts and stops. Some mobile traffic complicates Linda’s records, but her home account is clean.”

Kelly took the HearthSpace activity table while Dana opened the provider logs. Selena stood between them, reading times as they built the first comparison.

Karen’s home connection had reached HearthSpace at 8:14 p.m. on a Sunday. Thirty-one candidate accounts showed activity during the same minute. On the following Tuesday at 10:07 a.m., only eight of those appeared again. A third session reduced the list to two.

One account remained across every later connection.

PaperSparrow.

Dana opened the account archive.

The earliest posts were cautious. Karen described a husband who treated her ambitions as foolish and controlled the practical parts of their life until she doubted her ability to manage them alone. Later entries discussed the divorce settlement, possessions lost during the separation, and boxes stolen from a storage unit.

A post from five days before her death filled the screen.

I found a cabin where I can work. It’s isolated, but maybe that’s what I need. Three months with no one telling me I’m wasting my time.

Selena read it twice.

“That’s Karen,” Connor said.

“Mark it confirmed,” Selena told Dana.

Ruth took longer. Her provider records contained shorter sessions and several evenings without HearthSpace traffic. By nine thirty, Kelly had isolated an account called OpenDoor78.

Ruth’s posts referred to handling insurance claims from home and a man she had begun seeing after years alone. At first, she described Oliver as patient. Over several weeks, the tone shifted.