CHAPTER 5
Voicemail
Lucy Westenra to Harker Westenra
3:15pm
Hi, Harker, it's your sister. Are you in for the show tonight or what? I've sent you like a million texts and you haven't answered. I'm heading into work for a few hours so let me know. Okay, see you tonight, bye.
* * *
Text Message
Lucy Westenra to Mina Murray
9:23 PM
Lucy: Hey girl! You ready? I'm on my way to pick you up!
Mina: Yep, I was ready at 9 when you said you were
gonna be here
Lucy: Damn, Mina :P
Oh so I haven't heard from Hark—shocking turn
of events I know—so let's just go to his place on our way
Mina: #1. Don't text while driving.
#2. If he never wrote back, don't you think
we should take the hint he probably
doesn't want to come?
Lucy: Number 1 I'm using voice-to-text
Number 2 no because he never wants to go
anywhere, this is the only way.
He'll hem and haw but he'll go, he likes this band
Mina: LOL, well if anyone can convince him.
Lucy: It'll be you, with your smooth logic ;)
Mina: My smooth logic brings all the girls to the yard ;)
Lucy: Worked for me boo!
Mina: OK OK just drive, I'm gonna see you in like 5 seconds.
Lucy: *mwah*
* * *
Text Message
Lucy Westenra to J. Harker Westenra
10:10 PM
Lucy: Haaaaarker we’re here come out!!!
10:16 PM
Lucy: Bro you better not be naked in there cuz me and M are coming in!
* * *
Rubbing of Top Sheet of Notebook Found in J. Harker Westenra’s Apartment
JAY INGRAM—exsanguinated
ROSEMARY BECK—broken
OLIVIA ROBERTSON—gone
* * *
Clipping from River’s Edge Culture Found in J. Harker Westenra’s Apartment
Falling In Love, Big Easy Style
Unless you're living under a rock, you've probably heard all about Thrall, the dating app that's become overwhelmingly popular since it first hit the market. Like similar apps such as Tinder or Bumble, Thrall promises to help you find your perfect match—but that's where the similarities end.
Thrall is built for New Orleans—while users don't have to live in New Orleans Parish to register, it's strongly encouraged as all Thrall "dates" take place in the city. New Orleans is a test market for the application, and Peter Purfleet from Demeter Media said that decision was deliberate. "We wanted to unveil the app somewhere with a sizable population, but also somewhere with a lot of unique and interesting places to go on a date."
"There's just something special about New Orleans," Purfleet says. "I've never met anyone who doesn't love this city.
Thrall works on a simple premise: you answer a series of questions, ranging from what you want in a partner to what your favorite food is, and are "matched" with a list of potential dates who live in the parish.
"The algorithm is designed to match you with someone who shares your interests, but also take a lot of the pressure off of first dates," Purfleet explains.
It's also designed to encourage dates to take place at local businesses, by offering coupons and discounts for those using the app. Thrall's other component, called "Rewards," gives users discount vouchers for restaurants, events, and other similar places just for answering questions or "checking in" while on their dates.
"Everyone's always on their phones anyway," laughs Purfleet. "We thought, hey, why not build an app that not only connects you with potential dates…but lends a hand when you're on one?"
* * *
Mina Murray’s Journal
Last night was so strange and I’m really not sure what to make of it. L and I went to grab Harker on our way to a show. Of course as we rolled up L casually mentioned that H had never actually confirmed he wanted to come to the show with us—hashtag typical Westenra behavior. I wanted to leave. If you invite someone somewhere and they don’t respond, you can pretty much assume they don’t want to go, right? But that’s not Luce’s world, so of course she hammered on his door for a good minute, even though Hark’s car wasn’t there. Then she used her key.
Harker clearly wasn’t there, but also…there was something more than empty about the place. H’s apartment always feels a little cluttered—papers and stacks of library books teetering in precarious stacks, a couple of pizza boxes on the counter at any given moment, and pairs of shoes kicked off near the door. When I was there last, six months ago or so, the place was tidier. I told him it was about time and he said that being on fellowship meant he’d finally gotten a research room in the library, so he didn’t need to bring all his books and papers home. So it wasn’t simply that there was less clutter.
The place felt deserted. The air had that moldy, dusty scent that New Orleans houses get when they haven’t been aired out in a while, and there was an uncanny stillness to the rooms.
As Lucy checked the bedroom, I opened the refrigerator. Yellow light spilled into the dark room. The fridge was empty except condiments, a mummified bunch of scallions, and a single bottle of Abita Purple Haze.
“I don’t think he’s been home in a while,” I told Lucy. She agreed, already in snoop mode too. She looked anxious. She was wearing the long purple skirt and it actually kicked up dust.
On his desk we found a notepad with a hank of pages torn out. With a pencil, I lightly rubbed over the blank top page—hello, I do host a true crime podcast. What that made visible were three names, along with the words “exsanguinated,” “broken,” and “gone,” the first of which was circled.
Also on the desk were a stack of printed pages that seemed to be part of chapter two of Harker’s dissertation that had notes taken in the margins and large chunks crossed out as if he’d been editing it. After a few edited pages, there were just scribbles through page after page, and then nothing. In the wastebasket were dozens of screwed up pages.
Note: JFC must get Harker to recycle, what is this, 1978? Doesn’t he realize the planet is LITERALLY DYING!?!?!?!
While Lucy wandered the apartment getting more and more concerned that it seemed Harker hadn’t been here in some time, I skimmed the chapter. It—or the beginning that wasn’t crossed out anyway—seemed to be about interpersonal mediation in something called THRALL, which I guessed was a dating app.
“Like Tinder, but new!” Lucy confirmed. “Why do you need a dating app, Miss Murray?” she asked sternly, eyes narrowed. When I showed her H’s chapter she confirmed that he’d been using it as part of his research. “At first I was like ‘Oh for “research” sure, bro, wink wink,’” Lucy said. “But unfortunately, that really was all he seemed to be using it for. Anthropology is so weird. What even does he actually study?” It clearly wasn’t the moment to discuss cultural anthropology, so I let it go.
We didn’t go to the show. We went back to my house because with every passing minute, Lucy got more concerned. And I think she’s right to be. Harker could have left town without mentioning it to Luce. They love each other, but it’s not like they’re up to date on each other’s daily schedules. Well. Lucy isn’t up to date on Hark’s. And that’s what upset her. She fretted for hours about him having disappeared and wondered if she should file a police report.
In the end, I suggested that maybe we should go back to his apartment and look at his tablet to see if he had a G-calendar that might list a trip or anything. Grad students go to conferences and things, so it seems possible that’s all it is. It would certainly put Lucy’s mind at ease. Lucy also thought of emailing H’s dissertation advisor to see if he knew of H leaving town.
I can’t pretend I’m not a bit concerned too. For all that I assured Lucy he was probably just at a conference, I can’t stop thinking of the way his house just felt deserted. More than empty for a couple of days. It would break my heart if anything had happened to him.
Soooooooo I guess this isn’t really the best moment to ask Lucy if she wants to move in together -__- …
Note: Get L’s key and check the tablet for H’s calendar before work so L doesn’t have to do it.
Note: Look up the names he wrote on the notepad and check into THRALL just in case it’s important… Maybe he has THRALL on his tablet too? Wait, I don’t want to look at Harker’s dating app matches hmmm.
Note: Look on the Tulane site for H’s diss advisor’s email.