Shadow Play

by Sara Driscoll

Genres: Amateur Sleuth; Mystery

Synopsis

In this timely and terrifying thriller for readers of Karin Slaughter, Stacy Willingham, and Jennifer Hillier, a woman with a side gig offering relationship advice on Twitch learns just how dangerous online anonymity can be . . .

Chicago physical therapist Krista Evans finds that her clients rely on her life and love advice just as much as on her hands-on work, so why not share it on the live-streaming platform Twitch? Her friend Hailey Swanson, an inveterate gamer, is willing to help Krista build her presence and cohost a biweekly show. A Word from the Wise is born . . .

Taking real-time questions from chat participants proves more popular than Krista thought possible, and their follower count—and income—grow. But not all attention is wanted, as she soon discovers. An account with the username Chase547 becomes enraged when Krista and Hailey suggest he stop pursuing a woman who constantly rebuffs him. He amps up his efforts, even when he’s piled on by other followers, throwing their chats into chaos.

Unnerved by Chase547’s obsession, Krista turns to law enforcement, but the little information she’s able to give the Chicago PD isn’t enough to start an investigation.

Soon, Krista notices things missing at home and feels as if she’s being watched. And when Chase547 begins to leave clues in real life proving what he’s capable of, she begins to fear for her safety. Chase547 has more than one way to make his presence known—and this time it won’t be from behind a screen . . .

Release date: August 26, 2025

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 304

Sample

KRISTA EVANS SLIPPED HER RIGHT hand under the middle-aged woman’s sock-clad right foot and her left under her injured right knee. “Mrs. Bowman, we’re going to begin with some very gentle range-of-motion exercises today. Ready?”

The fiftysomething woman, dressed in a T-shirt and gym shorts, lay supine on the treatment table. She was two weeks out from knee replacement surgery and was progressing nicely, even if she was a little impatient to move her recovery along like she was eighteen. “Yes.”

“Great. Dig your right heel into the table. Just like that . . . Good. Now slowly slide that heel up toward your butt.” As Mrs. Bowman dragged her heel closer, Krista gently helped lift her knee. She kept one eye on the long, flexible dressing that rode over her client’s knee, covering the healing scar, but it stayed in place with no sign of blood blooming beneath. “That’s great. You tell me when it starts to hurt. Remember, we want to stop just short of pain.”

“There.” The single word was ever so slightly breathy.

Krista halted the movement. “Ninety degrees. That’s great. Now, let’s slowly lower it down to the table. Then we’re going to do it another fourteen times. There’s no gold standard to meet. It’s just what’s right for you at this point in your recovery.” Krista assisted the next five reps, then pulled her hands away. “Keep going on your own. I’m right here and ready to jump in at any time if you need the support.”

Standing beside the table, her hands extended, ready to slide in at a moment’s notice, Krista shimmied her shoulders to the beat as Olivia Newton-John hit the chorus for “Physical” from the Bluetooth speaker behind her.

Mrs. Bowman couldn’t help the smile, even if it was a bit strained with effort. “I know why I listen to eighties music, given my age—it’s the music of my teenage years. But why do you?”

“Because it’s the music of my parents’ teenage years. From an early age, I was instilled with a love of eighties pop.” Krista grinned. “My folks are frozen in time. They may even think Ronald Reagan is president still.”

Mrs. Bowman rolled her eyes. “Those were the days.” She ran a hand through her short blond bob. “Those were certainly the days when my hair color didn’t come in a box with a number.” She looked up at Krista. “Not that you have anything to worry about in that respect for a while. Does your hair do that lowlight thing all on its own?”

Krista slipped a loose tendril of her light-brown hair behind her ear from where it had slipped free of its ponytail. “Guilty as charged.”

“You must have men knocking down your door.”

Krista jerked fractionally, losing the beat, but recovered quickly, pushing her smile wider and leaning on the bright melody to bolster her.

“Look at you with those gorgeous eyes,” Mrs. Bowman continued, her eyes locked on the ceiling as she continued her exercises. “Do you do your makeup special so the one seems bluer and the other seems greener?”

“Definitely not. I’m a slug in the morning, and while I won’t set foot out of the apartment without my eyeliner, that’s about it. And trust me, stick with me long enough, and they won’t seem so special.”

“Spoken like someone who’s naturally gorgeous, while the rest of us have to work at it.”

“Nothing wrong with looking your best, for you or for Mr. Bowman. Speaking of which, did you work out that issue between him and your daughter?”

“We did. And you were absolutely right. It was a total misunderstanding. She was trying to spare his feelings, and he was being overly sensitive about something that didn’t exist. They’ve talked it out now, and everyone is on the same page.”

“I thought it might be. Just needed a little straight shooting. Okay, that’s fifteen. Well done. How’s it feeling?”

“A very minor ache, but I’d chalk that up to not using it for a few weeks. And it being a new joint.”

“Reasonable.” Krista picked up a large foam roller wrapped in a towel from a nearby counter. “Slide your heel back up again to raise your knee. I’m going to slip this underneath. It can go under your good knee, too.” She slipped the roller into place. “We’re going to work on some gentle strengthening. The harder weight-bearing exercises—squats and the like—will come in three to four weeks depending on your progress, but for now, we want to get those muscles moving. We’ll be doing some exercises to isolate certain muscle groups today. Sound good?”

“Absolutely. There’s chocolate in my purse as my reward for all this.”

“Chocolate?”

“Honey, when you get to be my age with a bum knee, you’re not rewarding yourself with sex.”

The laughter bubbled up and out of Krista before she could slap a hand over her mouth.

Mrs. Bowman winked at her. “You just wait. You’re young now, but later in life, chocolate will seem like the ultimate reward.”

She was glad her mouth was covered to hide her reaction— being young isn’t a shield against pain—but had her smile in place when she dropped her hand. “Chocolate is already pretty close to the ultimate reward now, so that sounds about right for me. The next exercise you’re going to do is to start working your VMO— your vastus medialis oblique muscle—which is instrumental in stabilizing and extending your knee.” She grabbed a small folded towel and tucked it in between Mrs. Bowman’s knees, then ran her fingertips from the inside of her right knee up a few inches. “The VMO begins down here and reaches all the way up to your hip bone. What you’re going to do is squeeze the towel between your knees . . . That’s it . . . Now tighten this area by pulling your kneecap up toward your hip and lifting your foot off the table, straightening your leg.” She slid her fingers under Mrs. Bowman’s right calf, helping her lift her leg. “That’s perfect. Now hold it for ten seconds.” She dropped her hand a fraction of an inch away, so Mrs. Bowman was doing all the work, but she was there to catch her if the muscle failed. “That’s ten. Now release.” Mrs. Bowman lowered her foot to the table, and Krista pulled her fingers free just before they were trapped. “Excellent. Look at you go.”

“Couldn’t do it without you.”

“You’ll be doing it all without me before you know it. Now, let’s do six repetitions of that, but if you can do eight or ten, that would be better. I’ll be hands-off, but am here to swoop in if needed.”

Mrs. Bowman did the first repetition to the beat of the music, then said, “I mean it when I say that was really good advice. You could give up your day job and start a column.” Mrs. Bowman looked down at her elevated right knee. “Actually, scratch that. You stop doing this, and I don’t know what I’d do. I’m going to be selfish and keep you all to myself. As long as I can still ask for advice on occasion.”

“You absolutely can. It’s funny you say that, because a bunch of clients have told me I give good advice . . . so I started a live advice chat on Twitch.”

“On what?”

“It’s a live gaming platform on the internet.”

“You’re . . . doing an advice game?”

“No, just using the platform. Most of what’s on Twitch is people playing games. Viewers tune in to watch them play.”

“That’s fun?”

“Actually, it is. But it’s more than that. It’s about the people playing the games and the communities that build up around them. My college roommate, Hailey Swanson, she’s one of those gamers. She talked me into creating a show on Twitch.”

Mrs. Bowman peered like she was trying to see into Krista’s head to understand what she was saying. “A non-gaming show?”

Krista grinned. “Now you’ve got it.”

Mrs. Bowman rolled her eyes. “I have an MBA and you’ve lost me. Explain it to me like I’m five.”

“You’re sure you want to hear this?”

“It will help pass the time while I’m lying here doing leg lifts a one-year-old could lap me on. And I’ll impress the socks off my twentysomething children.” Her gaze flicked to the analogue clock on the wall. “You have fifteen minutes anyway. Humor me and tell me about your Twit show.”

“Twitch.” The opening notes of “Footloose” sounded, and Krista extended her arms and did a quick Kevin Bacon side shuffle, a grin spreading wide. “You asked for it.”

“I did.”

“In this job, there’s lots of time to chat while I work with clients. I like to talk to people anyway, but talking goes a long way to distracting clients who might experience some discomfort.” With a quirk of her lips, Krista glanced toward the speaker on the counter beside a bright-green medicine ball. “That’s why the music.”

“Because of the age of your clients?”

“That helps. Also, I love it, and most of them do, too. Talking helps, and I like hearing about people’s lives—the family and personal issues they’re willing to share. And I’m nosy and pushy.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“Okay, I’m nosy and have opinions.”

“That, I’d say.” Mrs. Bowman gave her a wink. “They’re clearly winning opinions.”

“That’s what I kept hearing. Honestly, for me, it’s just common sense. I’m all for standing up for yourself, not taking anyone else’s garbage, and communication. Anyway, I made some comments to my college roomie—”

“You still keep in touch?”

“Oh, yeah. When we graduated from Northwestern with our undergrad degrees, we stayed in touch as she got a job as a Web developer and I went on to get my Doctor of Physical Therapy.”

“She’s a computer geek.”

“Totally. And a gamer. We met for dinner one night, and I was telling her all about my clients and talking them through their personal issues, and she said she knew some gamers I could help. And that’s how the idea for A Word from the Wise was born. We do it together. Hailey set up the channel on Twitch and brought a lot of viewers from her own channel to our new one. From there we started to pick up steam. We broadcast twice a week. Hailey runs it, and sometimes puts in her own ideas. Otherwise, she’s a great sounding board for me. People ask me questions and I answer them on the fly. If it’s a really complicated issue, I’ll think about it and answer it in the following stream.”

“It’s totally interactive? You’re talking to people in real time?”

“We interact through a chat window. There’s always a slight delay, so relying on a verbal conversation would be challenging. This works for us, and it’s a really fun community. We have subscribers and regular viewers and chat in-jokes. We call them our ‘Apples.’”

Mrs. Bowman’s eyes narrowed to a squint. “I don’t follow. ‘Apples’? Like the fruit?”

“No, like ‘wise apple.’ Because we’re called A Word from the Wise, and they contribute to the conversation. For a while, they were the ‘wise asses,’ and then someone pointed out that’s a name for irritating people, whereas ‘wise apple’ denotes smart alecks. Wise Apples as the community name. They liked that better.”

“Thus . . . ‘Apples’ as a short form.”

“That’s it. And that’s them. They’re an irreverent bunch. Unless it’s a serious topic, then they’re surprisingly supportive of the person who raised the issue.”

“No one causes any trouble?”

“Of the base community? No. Once or twice, there’s been the occasional viewer who swings by to cause trouble, but I wouldn’t call them part of the community. By and large, we’re still pretty small, and we’re not a gaming channel, so we haven’t attracted a huge amount of attention. If things do go sideways, we have moderators, who keep things sane, so if anyone acts out, they can be banned.”

Mrs. Bowman’s snicker turned into a low groan as she lowered her leg one last time. “People behave that badly?”

“They can. So far, it hasn’t happened on this channel. It helps that the community is familiar with the platform and general community rules. At the beginning, it was mostly a gaming crowd asking questions about how to involve their partners in gaming or how to deal with them when they nag because of too much time spent gaming. But it’s branched out to all sorts of advice about kids, in-laws, spouses, work environments, and so on.” She laid a hand just above Mrs. Bowman’s knee. “That’s good. Our next exercise is to work on the quads and glutes. I want you to tighten your butt muscles, then tighten the front of your legs to push the knee down into the roller. Do this one with both legs to keep you balanced.” She watched as the older woman tightened up, slightly tilting her hips off the table. “Even tighter . . . That’s it. Good. Hold for ten, then relax, and we’ll do ten reps of that.”

Mrs. Bowman did a full rep, then said, “You sound like a busy girl—here five days a week and doing that on two evenings. You must love it.”

“I have to admit, I didn’t think I’d enjoy it, but it’s turned out to be really fun. And it’s starting to make some money.”

“You get paid to do this?”

“That was the cherry on top for me—earning a little mad money. But eight months in, it’s becoming a little better than that. You get paid through donations and as a cut from subscriptions. If you get huge, you can make deals to get paid to push brands. We’re not that big, and I don’t want to move in that direction. The original idea was to help people who needed it. Pushing a product at them doesn’t feel right to me—like it’s undue influence. Money coming from people who value our content is one thing, but hawking a product? That feels like profiting off someone’s misery. Maybe someday a mental health sponsor might be okay. But for now, I like that we’re our own channel with our own rules, answering to no one.

“For me, it’s all about the community—the viewers who show up week in and week out to be a part of the discussion and to offer their own advice. People say internet friends aren’t real friends. They’re totally wrong.” She checked the time. “And now you’ve listened to me prattle on about my night job and we’re just about done. How does the leg feel?”

“Almost like I’m not so old I needed to have a joint replaced. Almost.”

“We’ll get you the rest of the way. Just give it a little more time. You’re doing great.” Krista stepped back and lifted a hand to indicate Mrs. Bowman could sit up so Krista could strap her back into her soft knee brace.

“Next week?”

“For sure. And I’m going to give you some new exercise sheets for you to do at home. Am I there to police you? No.” She gave her a bright smile. “Will I know if you likely aren’t doing them? You bet.”

“I’ll do them, I promise.”

“Knew you would. Make an appointment with Melanie at the front desk for next week. You’re already really coming along. Do the exercises at home, and soon you won’t need me at all.”

“Now you’re making me sad. I’d miss our chats.”

“Get one of your twentysomethings to set you up on Twitch tonight. We stream Tuesdays and Fridays. A Word from the Wise. You don’t even need an account to watch the fun. Or if you can’t make it live, we have video on demand, or VOD, as the techies call it. You’ll never miss me again.” She finished fastening the brace and stepped back. “All set.”

Mrs. Bowman laughed as she carefully got down and picked up her purse from the chair by the door. “Somehow I doubt it. See you next week. And have fun tonight.”

“I will.”

Krista turned away to make her notes in Mrs. Bowman’s file, already looking forward to the night’s stream.

Never dreaming her life was about to change forever.

KRISTA CAREFULLY SET HER FULL mug of tea down on the coaster behind her keyboard, tucking her bottle of chilled water behind it. When you talked almost nonstop for an hour, hydration was key.

She did a quick camera check of the image she projected—a bright-blue V-neck that made her bicolored eyes pop, with her honey-brown hair down in loose waves over her shoulders, her key and fill lights picking up both blond and copper streaks. Behind her, mounted on a pale-aqua wall, was a pattern of six wooden hexagons, each about twelve inches across, mounted together like a honeycomb. Inside and on top of the hexagons were a number of potted succulents, funky white animal statuary, a brass steampunk Ferris wheel, and a flickering LED candle. On the other side of the screen was a tall, slender-leaved, three-branched “not-a-palm”—as Hailey coined it—which was, in reality, a dracaena in a heavy teal pot. While Hailey’s setup was purely technical, with electric blue lighting, framed gaming posters, and her collection of gaming action figures, Krista preferred to project a soothing peace. People came to their channel for advice because they were confused or distressed. She wanted to be the calm they needed.

Ready to go. She clicked over to the A Word from the Wise Discord voice channel the group used as video chat for meetings and to input video into the stream. She maximized the window to go full screen on her left monitor.

As if the thought traveled halfway across the city, Hailey jumped into Discord.

A petite and proportioned five-foot-four, Hailey was all in black tonight in leggings and a crew-neck, long-sleeved tee. Her shock of poker-straight, electric-blue hair, the dark roots just beginning to show at the edges of her side part, fell in a dramatic ombré waterfall almost to her shoulders. She sat in a high-backed electric blue and black leather gaming chair, lit by bright-blue LEDs. One ice-blue eye partially covered by a swoop of hair, Hailey grinned at Krista’s image. “Hey, Ziggster.”

“Hey, Hail. How are things?”

“Great day today! You know that back-end code giving me fits? The one with the four-dimensional data structure with bidirectional constraints running in three of the four dimensions?”

Krista nodded, hoping that Hailey wouldn’t ask anything specific about what she remembered, because most of Hailey’s technobabble sailed straight over her head. This certainly did. “I remember.”

“Finally got that baby nailed. Hands down the most complex problem I’ve ever had the misfortune to deal with.” Hailey raised a tall, slender teal-and-white beverage can in a toast. “May I never meet its like again.” She took several long gulps from the can.

Krista stared at her in horror. “You’re drinking double espressos at this time of night?”

“You bet your ass. And that’s a double espresso martini, I’ll have you know.”

“Maybe the booze will counteract the caffeine.”

“And what are you drinking tonight? Some kind of stewed grass?”

She lifted her mug. “My banana bread chai and I salute you.”

Hailey shuddered. “You gotta live a little, and I don’t mean with another one of your crazy teas. It’s Friday night, the end of a long week. You could at least have one of your fruity girly drinks.”

“Only if you want me to doze off partway through the stream. Caffeine will keep me up, but the tea will be perfect for settling into the conversation.” She took a long sip. “Feeling Zen.” She closed her eyes and wobbled her head like she was in a trance.

Hailey snorted a laugh, then took another drag from her can. “You’re old before your time. I have another one lined up right behind this one.”

“I have no idea how you’ll sleep tonight.”

“I’ll take the edge off later with one of my special gummies.” Hailey winked into the camera. “We ready to roll?”

“I’m ready whenever you are. Emily has done her usual magic and has me set up with a question and a comment from Tuesday’s stream to run with until the chat gets rolling. Fire it up when ready.” Krista’s gaze slid to her right monitor where Twitch Mod View was displayed—the control panel for all the moderators that showed the stream, the chat, and all moderator actions taken during the broadcast.

It didn’t seem so long ago they’d done their first show with less than a hundred of Hailey’s viewers tuning in. And now look at them, about to start episode sixty-five, with over 34,000 followers and more than a thousand viewers tuning in for each stream to listen to her. Her. It still blew her mind anyone would come to her for advice, let alone several thousand people.

Their broadcast went live. In the video panel of her Mod View monitor, Krista saw the stream as it was presented to their viewers— two landscape video feeds overlaying a pale-aqua background, a neon border in green and blue framing each video feed. Just below their video feeds lay their logo: A Word from the Wise, with “Word” and “Wise” in large stylistic letters, in green and blue, respectively. The remaining words were in a smaller black type, and every word glowed neon white. Two comment bubbles, blue below Krista, and green below Hailey, each pointed in toward the channel name to complete the logo. The overall effect was bright, light, and cheerful.

When they were looking for channel colors, they’d had to go no further than Krista’s eyes and Hailey’s hair. Everything about their channel was in tones of blue, green, or their combination of aqua. And everything related to the channel, from their subscription badges to their chat emotes, stayed on theme.

“Welcome to A Word from the Wise—real advice from real people.” As always, Hailey was the first to speak. The technical end of their partnership, she ran both the Discord video chat she input to the broadcast feed, as well as the broadcast itself. She was the one who could see all the details of the feed, as she had it set up inside her OBS Studio streaming software—the controls, audio mixer, sources, scenes, and transitions.

Krista grinned into her camera. “Hey, Mortie. How’s it going?”

Hailey threw up a hand in a wave. “Hey, Ziggy. I’m still waiting on a perfect hair day, a 1956 white-on-red Corvette, and world peace . . . not necessarily in that order. And for Timothée Chalamet to return my calls, which, strangely enough, never happens.”

Some people had no problem being real-life celebrities on Twitch; everyone had screen names, but often those people used their own names or a similar screen name. Both Hailey and Krista had opted to keep their identities secret. There were simply too many people out there who felt entitled to the attention of a perceived celebrity and who would stomp on an individual’s rights to get that attention. So they both used screen names to keep their true identities hidden. Krista was ChiZiggy, a nod to both the city she grew up in and called home as an adult, and the nickname Hailey had called her since college—Ziggy for Ziggy Stardust, the alter ego of David Bowie, who also was born with heterochromia. Hailey was Dumortiere—or, more familiarly, Mortie—a short form of dumortierite, a gorgeous blue semiprecious stone, a reference to the blue hair she’d had for years.

“I’m keeping that flame of hope alive! Timothée doesn’t know what he’s missing . . . yet.” Hailey’s eyes briefly dipped down from the camera. “Hey, Apples! I see we already have a good turnout tonight. Let’s get that chat rolling!”

Her suggestion was only for show, as the vertical black box on the right side of Krista’s Mod View screen was already streaming with comments in bold white type, each line preceded by a number of colorful badges—each member’s subscription or loyalty status—usernames, and comments.



The phone lying in front of Krista’s monitors showed their channel in the Twitch app. A quick glance showed the viewer numbers jumping from hundreds to just under a thousand. “Let’s begin with a question I couldn’t get to at the end of Tuesday’s stream,” Krista said. “Joulenocturne has a question about what to do about t. . .