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Adrik
I’ve never known heartbreak until now.
Never known true sorrow until the moment I waited for you at the red willow tree.
Hours passed and the hope I had began to dwindle from a roaring fire into nothing but embers and smoke.
I texted you again and again, begging to know what I had done wrong.
Was it something I said?
Is it my family? Did you see me and know who I was?
All my texts went unanswered.
Time and time again, until at long last I rid myself of the phone that once connected me to you.
You’re the boy I fell in love with and the boy who broke my heart.
I don’t know if this will ever find its way to the willow, but if it does, know this—
You are forgiven.
Love with all my heart,
Vanya Castellano, your lioness
She signedher true name in this letter. Gave me her identity. My eyes devour the page again and again. This proves that Ada was never who I thought she was. She wasn’t the girl I’d been communicating with all those years.
Then why pretend she was?
What did she have to gain from marrying me?
I rush to my feet and out the door to where the men are gathered around the kitchen island.
“Vitali,” I breathe. “Is it possible to clone a burner phone?’
Vitali turns away from his laptop to face me and nods. “It’s actually easier to clone a burner because of the lack of built-in security.”
“Would you be able to see records of a cloned burner phone?” It’s a stretch, but I’m hoping he says yes.
“It’s possible if I have the phone,” he tells me. I hold up a finger as I back away into the hallway and open the closet door. Grabbing a large box from inside, I head into the living room and dig through it until I find what I’m looking for.
“The phone is fried, I believe.” I hand it to him. “But the information should still be accessible.”
Vitali nods and carries it over to his laptop. Within a few minutes, he has the face of the cell phone off and several wires connecting from its mainframe to his laptop. Numbers and letters fill his screen like a scene from The Matrix. His fingers fly across the keyboard.
“So, burner phones are highly coveted because you can’t trace who buys them, especially if paid for with cash. But burner phones that clone another phone put themselves on the NOTL, or nationally organized telegraph list, because it gets flagged as having a duplicate number.”
Kenzo stares at Vitali’s laptop impressed.
“I’m searching for the phone’s number and… bingo,” Vitali exclaims. “There is another phone with the exact same number.” He clicks on both numbers pulling them up on separate screens. “Okay.” He points to the left side of the screen. “This phone number is over fifteen years old.” He points to the opposite side. “This phone number is only about eight years old. In fact, nothing on this device is over eight years old. Messages, calls, all of it is exactly eight years old.”
“What’s the date?” I ask.
“June 5, 2015.”
We all exchange a knowing look. The men in this room are all aware of my history. Including the texts and letters.
