Warren swallowed and nodded. “A woman. Mid-fifties maybe. Dark hair pulled back. Dressed sharp. She said her name was Charlotte Locke.”
Avery’s heart sank. She didn’t have to look at Jackson to know he was thinking the same thing she was.
This was Charlotte Barker.
So the Brotherhood had reached out to him directly.
Avery stepped closer, her pulse quickening. “How did Charlotte know to come to you, Warren? What connection do you have to the Brotherhood?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding her eyes. “I’ve been wracking my brain about that. The only thing I can figure is that it’s connected to the podcast you did about that girl’s death, the one that had ties to the Brotherhood.”
Avery stared at him. “That doesn’t make sense. There are dozens of podcasts and articles that mention the Brotherhood. Why would Charlotte single out mine?”
“I don’t know,” he said, his tone uneasy. “But I’ve been thinking about it. Charlotte or someone who works for her might have used some kind of voice-analyzing program. Even though you use an altered voice for your recordings, those programs can pick up patterns in word choice, tone, inflection, and even pacing. It could have matched your voice to something from your past.”
Avery’s stomach turned. “You’re saying she ran my podcast through some kind of recognition software?”
“It’s possible,” Warren said. “They’ve got money, connections, tech. If she suspected who you were, she could have used that to confirm it.”
She shook her head, trying to process it. “So she knew who I was before she even contacted you.”
“Maybe,” Warren admitted. “But I swear, Avery, I didn’t tell her anything. I thought she was law enforcement at first. She knew too much, and she made it sound official.”
Avery glanced at Jackson. He hadn’t moved, but she could feel his tension from where she stood. If what Warren was saying was true, the Brotherhood’s reach went far beyond anything she had imagined.
Avery hesitated, her thoughts spinning. As much as she hated to admit it, what Warren said made sense. TheBrotherhood had the money and the reach to use technology like that. And if Charlotte had already identified her through some kind of program, then maybe Warren hadn’t actually sold her out.
Still, doubt lingered. Noah’s mole inside the Brotherhood had been sure Warren was the leak. Someone had given them her name, her location, everything. That couldn’t all be coincidence.
She rubbed her hands over her arms, uneasy. “If that’s true,” she said quietly, “then maybe you didn’t do it.”
Warren looked almost relieved, though guilt still flickered in his eyes. “I told you I didn’t. I care for you, Avery. I always have. You know that.”
He reached for her, but she stepped back. And she saw it then. That same flare of anger like the last time she’d rejected him. Warren had an ego, and he definitely didn’t like not getting what he wanted.
Avery glanced at Jackson, but before she could speak, a low rumble sounded outside.
“Vehicle,” Jackson said under his breath.
Avery’s pulse jumped. She moved toward the front window, careful to stay out of sight, and peeked through the thin curtain.
A truck was coming down the dirt road, its tires crunching over the gravel. The shape grew clearer as it got closer.
Her breath caught.
It was Mick Barker.
Chapter Seven
Jackson stepped closer to the window, his eyes narrowing as the truck rolled to a stop in front of the house. “What the hell is he doing here?” he muttered.
Warren came up behind him, his voice rising with panic. “It’s them, isn’t it? The Brotherhood. They’re here to kill me, aren’t they?”
Jackson turned, steady and cold. “Calm down. It’s Mick Barker.”
“That’s worse,” Warren said, his breathing uneven. “If he’s here, the others can’t be far behind. You need to leave. Both of you. I don’t want to get caught up in this.”
Jackson kept his focus on the window. “You’re already caught up in it, Warren. You were the moment you started talking to Charlotte.”
