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23
NOAH
Angry and confused, I drive like a bat out of hell, not caring if I end up in a heap of metal on the side of the road. Nothing has ever been more obscure, lines blurred into oblivion.
I’ve never been so uncertain of anything in my life. Did Emily kill my father? Or was what Justin sent me a lie?
For weeks now, I’ve sensed something off about him, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Even though I dismissed my gut instinct, assuming it had everything to do with Emily’s hold on me, I voiced it to Luca. After he gave me his contact, I forwarded all of Justin’s details. The hacker was about to get hacked.
Speak of the Devil… My phone rings, and when I answer, my tone comes out laced with the aggravation I’m struggling to keep in check. “What!”
“Fuck you too,” Luca says. “Did someone shit in your drink?”
“You could say that.”
“I’m with Kyle. He’s got something to show you.”
“Send it to my phone.”
“File’s too big,” Kyle says through the speaker. “And you’re going to want to watch the entire thing.”
“How quickly can you get to Manhattan?” Luca asks.
“Twenty minutes,” I reply.
“I’ll send you the address.”
Less than half an hour later, I’m heading up the stairs to Kyle’s apartment, taking two steps at a time.
I pound on the door and am let in by a heavily-tattooed wiry dude with a blond Mohawk. He pulls me in, then peers out the door, scanning the area suspiciously before he closes it. “Were you followed?”
“By who?” I ask. “No one knew I was coming.”
“Ignore him,” Luca says, extending his hand to shake mine. “He’s paranoid as fuck.”
Kyle moves past us to a desk sitting in front of six screens mounted to the wall. “You would be too if you knew what I know.”
I stand behind him. “What do you know?”
“Shit,” he answers. “I know a lot of shit. But that’s not what you’re here for. This is.” With a grin and an exaggerated push of a button, he plays the video for me on the middle screen.
“So it wasn’t corrupted?”
“Nope. And you’re not going to like what you see.”
At first, it takes me a moment to notice what’s happening. It’s just the image of not only the gun case in the study at Jackson Shaw’s house, but the entire room itself.
“There’s no sound?” I ask.
“You won’t need it. Trust me.”
A few seconds in, Emily appears. And after that, the succession of events happens so fast, I have to rewind it and pause at intervals to make sure my eyes aren’t deceiving me.
Emily rushing in, a man at her heels. She reaches for the desk, but before she can get to it, she’s grabbed from behind and thrown to the floor.
The man, who’s much larger, straddles her, pinning her down. He begins to tear at her clothes, ripping her shirt in two. It’s all I can do not to punch the screen.
I watch helplessly as Emily struggles, her mouth open as if she’s screaming. Kyle was right. I don’t need the sound to hear her call for help.
