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Her plan was working. As soon as she had disconnected with Shaw the night before, she’d tipped off a few reporters to the shooting, reporters with a history of not checking their facts before breaking their stories to the world, so adamant that they be the first. Lila had claimed to be a resident of the apartment building where the incident had occurred. In her version, Elizabeth Victoria Lemaire-Randolph had been shot, perhaps killed, and the Randolphs were trying to cover it up, even going so far as to intimidate her into silence, threatening to evict her from her apartment if she spoke the truth. She even claimed that she’d seen the bullet land.
Initial reports at the scene backed up her story.
The ruse had worked.
Half the reporters had gone on camera almost immediately. Viewers would flock to their station, not merely because someone had tried to assassinate an heir, but because they’d used a gun to do it. The other reporters had shown more patience, only going to air after when they learned a Randolph blackcoat guarded the door of a highborn room in the ER.
He wouldn’t be there unless the eldest daughter of Chairwoman Randolph languished inside.
No matter how much her mother denied the story, reports grew and grew about “the heir who favors black.” Everyone in New Bristol knew who the phrase referred to.
The story grew even larger after sources close to the chief could not reach her. Especially when Commander Sutton refused the chairwoman’s order to remove Lieutenant Randolph from the ER. It was a standing order from the commander’s superior officer. Lila’s authority trumped the chairwoman’s.
Her mother was probably livid.
Lila couldn’t help but giggle at that. She deleted the messages from well-wishers, not returning any of them. If only she could get away with such things every day.
She sipped at her water and composed a new message to Dixon, thanking him for saving her life. It wasn’t enough, but she didn’t have time to say it in person.
Besides, it would be a little awkward with—
She closed her eyes. She didn’t want to think about Tristan.
Lila put down he
r palm and slid into the hot water.
Soon after, her fingertips turned to prunes.
She was glad that Sutton had demanded that she take the day off. It would make her absence far less noticeable, for she had no intention of remaining on the compound and staying in bed after she finished her bath.
Alex knocked at the door.
“I’m not dead yet,” Lila called out, eyeing the soap bottle on the edge of the tub.
It was so very far away.
“Glad to hear it,” her friend called through the door. “I’ll check on you again in fifteen minutes and see if you’re dead then.”
“Okay.”
The next time Alex checked on her, Lila was just slipping into plainclothes for the day, nothing marked with a Randolph coat of arms. Every bit of energy had been sucked out of her muscles. “Tell Chef I’ll be down in twenty minutes for my damn pancakes. I’ve earned them.”
Alex nodded, the sides of her mouth twisting as she click-clacked from the room.
Lila switched on her desk computer and placed a call to a private office inside Bullstow. Turning on her external filter, she made sure that the call had been bounced from at least a dozen locations. No one would be able to trace it. No one would know who had placed it. No one would know who was speaking.
“I trust you’re ready?” she asked after Chief Shaw picked up.
“I have a few teams in the field, but their locations are based mostly on guesswork,” he said, sensible enough to mirror Lila’s vagueness. “I have another team waiting in reserve. I just need to tell them where to go. You better be right about this.”
“I am, and you know it.”
“Meet me at Bullstow in an hour if you’re planning on coming along. We’re taking Tiny.” He offered up a rare chuckle.
Lila grinned. Tiny was Bullstow’s roving communications center, built like a wolf hidden behind the face of a kindly grandma. Constructed inside an old mail truck, it offered a whole host of features for Bullstow to use while conducting surveillance and covert operations. Wolf Industries had developed it, winning the contract not through price, but through sheer optimism of its features. Even Lila had a hand in writing the proposal, for she had to ensure that their own wagon could outstrip and counter Bullstow’s capabilities. After all, Bullstow might use it against her and her people.
“So you’re coming too?”
