Something in her tone had the hairs lifting at the back of his neck. “He’s done something else?”

Zoya hesitated, then sighed. “Yes. I can’t tell you any more than to stay safe and keep your eyes open. He is not in custody. Yet.”

“Okay. Got it. Thanks again. You stay safe, too.” He ended the call and met his mother’s eyes. “Did I do good?”

His mother pulled him close to kiss his forehead. “You did. Now I’m going to make us supper.”

“And pie!”

“And pie. Go gather your dirty socks.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Jeff went to his room, fully intending to pick up his dirty socks, but his gaze fell on his computer and he suddenly knew what he needed to do. First he needed to write a retraction of all of the lies that had ended up in his article about Mercy Callahan. And then he’d do some real good.

Instead of focusing on the aftermath of her February abduction, he focused on the impact of the media bullying of victims of assault—of all kinds. He apologized to Mercy and all of the victims who’d been shamed publicly after already having endured an assault. He offered his platform to those victims, giving them a place to tell their stories.

If they wanted to read their own stories on his YouTube channel, he would upload them. If they wanted him to read what they’d written, he’d do that, too. He would keep their identities secret and he’d offer space for crisis counselors to publicize the services they offered.

It was the least he could do. He wanted to do this correctly, though. Rather than posting it right away, he pulled up the e-mail from Irina Sokolov, who’d contacted him less than an hour after he’d spoken with her daughter. She’d said she’d be more than happy to work with him on productive uses of his platform, and she’d copied Daisy Dawson, who’d responded just as positively.

He hit REPLY ALL, attached the article, then typed his message.

Dear Mrs. Sokolov and Miss Dawson,

Thank you for offering to help me not only make amends for the emotional damage to Miss Callahan I inflicted, but also for helping me grow as a person. I don’t want to be the person who allowed that article to be written. Even though the video was uploaded without my knowledge, I accepted it from my source without consideration of the possible outcomes. As my mother says, I got in over my head. Thank you for helping me to start digging my way out.

I’ve attached a proposal for use of my existing platform. I won’t have the spotlight for much longer, so I’d like to give it to those who can make the best use of it for as long as it lasts. If you would take a look and tell me what you think, I’d be grateful.

Best regards,

Jeffrey Bunker

He hit SEND and closed his laptop. It wasn’t enough, not nearly enough. Pushing away from his desk, he stood to look in the mirror over his dresser. The face that looked back at him was tired. But determined.