“A massage, like a spa-day massage, not…”
“Too bad.” I winked at her.
She gaped as I paid for the lottery tickets. “Do you, in your lawyerly opinion, think that we’re getting closer?”
“Closer to solving the murder? Not really,” I told Emmie. “Closer to having evidence where a jury would find you not guilty? Depends.”
“On what?” she asked desperately.
“On if the trial stays in Harrogate or if the county takes it over.”
“Oh.”
“Where are the magnets?” Zoe asked when we walked into the café.
“Marius is sending it out to his special secret crime laboratory.” Emmie gave me that smile like I was her entire world.
“It’s not that secret. They have a website.”
“And how long will that take?” Zoe demanded.
“A week, maybe? If they’re not backed up. I’ll have to check,” I said with a shrug.
“Not soon enough.”
“This isn’t the movies,” I told Zoe. “These things take time.”
Zoe thrust the watch at Emmie. “You lived with this motherfucker for years. What’s his pin code?”
Emmie made a helpless gesture.
“You’re going to lock it,” I warned.
“Brooks is… well,wasdumb,” Zoe said. “He probably used the same pin for everything.”
“He didn’t like me going near his laptop.” Emmie chewed her lip.
“Probably because he was sending nudes to half of the women in Harrogate.” Zoe sniffed. “It needs a six-figure pin code. Birthday? Anniversary?”
“I highly doubt it.”
“You only get three attempts before you’re locked out,” I warned again.
“It could be anything,” Emmie fretted.
Zoe rubbed her hands together then picked up the watch and typed in a code.
“What are you—” I reached for the watch. The guys couldn’t hack it if it was locked.
“In!” Zoe crowed. “Thirty-six, twenty-four, thirty-six, baby, because your ex was a basic-ass Brandon.” She scrolled through the miniscule text messages on the smartwatch. “Here are the messages to Oakley.”
“Anything incriminating, like, ‘I know you’re about to murder me’?” Emmie asked dejectedly.
“No, just a lot of whining and complaining about how much money she’s spending on shopping. Oh, look at that.Quellesurprise.He was cheating on Oakley.”
“Those are explicit,” Emmie said, picking at her fingernails as Zoe scrolled through the text messages between Brooks and someone he had labeled Tits in his contacts. The messages were borderline pornographic.
I gave Emmie a concerned look. Her face was blanched, lips pressed tight as she and Zoe skimmed the messages for a clue about who this person was.
