TweetyGram

8 - #TBT

"I can't believe it," I grumbled, flopping down onto the sofa. "It's been almost a week, and Nat still hasn't told me what her brilliant idea is."

"You know Nat. She always loves a good surprise." Bree emerged from her room looking like a goddess. Her soft yet glamorous makeup highlighted her best facial features, her emerald-green gown complemented her auburn hair, and her yellow-gold jewelry added a perfect sparkle to her evening attire.

"Wow. Someone's dressed to impress," I teased.

"I can't exactly go to a black-tie event full of potential investors dressed like a bag lady, can I?" she deadpanned, sweeping across the room to pick up the new stilettos she'd bought for tonight's occasion.

"Oh? Are you sure that's all? Sure you're not trying to attract the attention of a certain dashing, thirty-year-old CEO whose name rhymes with playboy?" I giggled.

Her mouth twitched, but she quickly recovered her poise. "Cut it out, Linds. My relationship with Mr. Lovejoy is strictly professional."

"If you say so," I sang.

Bree and her boss, Ryan Lovejoy, had been friends before they started working together. Although she never wanted to admit it, she'd always been attracted to him—and I was sure the feeling was mutual. Yet for some reason, those two idiots kept denying their feelings toward each other.

"How's the victim interview going?" Bree glanced at the empty portable whiteboard in the living room.

"Not good." I sank back against the cushion. "Thanks to Fiona, I've interviewed four more victims so far, but they're all saying the same thing. They think the Wolf is someone who works on the Malibu set, an expert in TweetyTune, and a really, really kind person—except that they've just run away with those poor girls' money, that is."

As the words left my lips, I realized something important.

Those poor girls, huh?

Over the past few days, I'd been wondering why my co-worker Fiona—who had commented on every single post in Malibu, 90265's TweetyGram—never got wolved. But I might've found the answer to that.

I flipped my notebook open and read my notes.

Kristen Cafferty. Age: 15. Boston, MA.

Angela Park. Age: 16. San Francisco, CA.

Mariana Hernandez. Age: 15. Greenwich, CT.

Eve Talbot. Age: 16. New York City, NY.

Olivia Walker. Age: 17. Los Angeles, CA.

The Malibu Wolf's victims might've lived in different cities, but all of them were high school students. It could be a coincidence, but my gut said there was more to it.

"I take it you found something?" Bree asked.

"Maybe. I'll know more when I talk to Olivia. I'm having a TweetyMeeting with her in"—I glanced at my watch—"twenty-five minutes."

The Olivia Walker who had informed Nat about the Malibu Wolf turned out to be the girl I'd used to tutor back when I was in college. She also happened to be the user who first posted about the Malibu Wolf on IHeartMalibu.com too. When I contacted her three days ago, she was more than happy to help me with my investigation. But since she was staying with her dad in the Hamptons for the summer holiday, we were going to do the interview via video call.

"Good luck." Bree patted me on the shoulder. "I'm gonna be home late. Don't wait up, okay?"

I sucked in a fake gasp. "You're going to stay at Ryan's place tonight?"