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I nod.
“Lindsay’s attackers have been texting her. Started during or right after the car was tampered with.”
Paulson perks up. “You trace the texts?”
“Yes. The first batch came from a phone registered to Lindsay.”
Gentian and Paulson give her hard looks.
She finally reacts, dropping her phone, palms up. “I didn’t do it!”
They look to me to verify.
“I was with her during the entire time when she allegedly bought the phone that the texts are from. She couldn’t have done it.”
“Not even an online purchase? Or set up someone else to do it for her?” Paulson asks.
“Fuck you,” Lindsay exclaims. “I’m right here in the room! You’re talking about me like I’m not even here. Of course I didn’t do it!”
Paulson’s eyes dart to her. “It’s nothing personal. The truth never is.”
She snorts.
“It’s possible,” I concede.
“Drew!” Lindsay gasps, her voice small and hurt. I wish she’d just yell at me. Now I feel like shit for hurting her. I am too reactive, too pumped.
Too emotional.
“But highly improbable,” I continue. “She does know how to use the darknet, though. Could hire someone to do all this for her,” I add. “Plus, she’s using covert systems to communicate with her hacker. Book reviews written in code. Signing up for text message alerts for sweepstakes.”
“Really simple tools,” Mark muses.
Her eyes bulge. “How do you know I....?” She winces.
Ha. Caught.
“I suspected. We have evidence. You just confirmed it.”
“I confirmed nothing other than the fact that I hate you.”
I sigh.
Paulson smirks.
“I know.” I give her a tight smile. “You’ve said that already, so no need to repeat yourself, sweetheart.”
“But I never hired anyone to do this! I swear to God I’m not pretending to be in danger.” The desperation in her voice makes my gut tighten. Her anger turns into a tearful plea to be believed.
I reach for her and press my palm on her shoulder. She closes her eyes, one tear trickling down the line of her straight nose, down the side of the nostril and over the crest of her upper lip. She’s sending more mixed signals than a malfunctioning Super-8 ball.
“I know,” I say softly. My emotions are all over the place.
Her eyes fly open. We look at each other, each second more intense than the last, until she’s all that I see. All that I know.
All that I love.
And all that I protect.
