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"Really?" Rachel gasped.
"Oh, that's great!" Helen grinned.
"Uhmm, Ms. Winters?"
I turned at the sound of the driver's voice. His brow furrowed, wrinkles pressed in his forehead.
Fuck. The press conference was in an hour, and Claire and I were supposed to be there. As Claire darted over to the twins—who were apparently now her best friends—I lifted a finger to Rachel and Helen. "One second."
Pulling Lucas's driver to the side, I pressed my hands together, my jaw clenching.
Helen was one thousand percent connected to the video I'd stolen from Jessie. And this has been my plan all along; have a playdate so I could...what? Get closer to Helen, share some champagne, loosen her up, find out what she knew? Yes. But wine and words could only go so far.
I had expected this to happen at Rachel's, and now this? An invitation to Helen's house. Which meant guaranteed access to her computer—the one thing I was confident in my ability to hack into. This was an opportunity I hadn't expected and one I needed to follow.
Pursuing this clue could mean finding Quinn, finally getting my money, and starting a future with Claire outside all of this. To leave Lucas.
"Olive?" his driver asked. "Mr. Wilson is expecting you and Claire at the press conference."
Except the opportunity to hack into Helen's computer was more important than Lucas's press conference. And it just so happened that I had the perfect out.
"Well, change of plans," I said to his driver. "I'm taking Claire on a playdate."
Helen grinned. "Great."
"I'll text you the address," Rachel said.
As I opened the back door for Claire, she hopped in. Lucas's driver hesitated. He chewed his lip and shifted from side to side. "Uhm, what should I tell Mr. Wilson?"
I did my best to sound as annoyed as I could with my next statement. The circumstance had just come about so perfectly. It gave me an excellent excuse to miss the conference and take Claire on a playdate. I just needed to feign anger, an anger Lucas would believe.
"You can tell Lucas that Adam texted me a link to the article about his ex-girlfriend, and I'd rather not see him right now."
“Okay, Ms. Winters.”
At least, he didn’t put up a fight.
Rachel immediately texted me the address to Helen’s, and I gave it to the driver.
“Can we watch a movie, mom?” Claire asked.
“Sure, baby.” I turned on the television that was built into the back of the front seats. But I hesitated before I could switch it to a cartoon channel. The news was on, and a name on the subtitle caught my attention.
Quinn Zinger.
“Not the news, mom,” Claire groaned.
“Hold on a sec, hon.”
I quickly turned up the volume. Had I imagined that? But then a photograph of Quinn appeared on the screen, and the headline changed.
Boston bank teller killed in shootout with police after an alleged robbery at mayor Jessie Isaacs’s house.
My heart dropped.
Holy fuck.
18
