A normal guy would be curious. He’d Google her in a heartbeat, with or without her permission. I don’t need to Google her, but I think she likes believing that I don’t know anything about what happened to her. In her eyes, her past doesn’t matter to me because I’m oblivious. If she only knew that her past still doesn’t matter even though I know everything, because I was there, how would she feel?
I’m not sure.
Shoving my problems deep, I text her back.
Maybe you could explain it to me. In person.
She responds quickly.
It’s just really hard. So much easier to text you.
I get it. I do. The last thing I want is for her to be upset. Sharing her past, what happened to her, is bound to be up-setting. She’ll worry about my reaction. I’ll worry about hers. All the while I’m holding on to my secret, feeling like a supreme jackass while she’s being so honest and open.
I could Google her all I want yet she wouldn’t find out anything about me. I blow out a harsh breath. Ethan Williams has no secrets, no social media accounts, nothing. He’s boring as shit online and I made sure he’s always been that way, from the very moment I created him five years ago. He’s my front, my security, the wall I throw up to keep the outsiders away.
But a few wrong moves and a person can fuck everything up. This is me. And you’re only as sick as your secrets, or so I’ve been told. If that’s the case, I’m one ill motherfucker. Katie’s got nothing on me.
Absolutely nothing.
I finally answer her.
This is probably something we should discuss in person.
You’re not going to let me get away with this, are you, she says.
Then she sends me a smiley face with hearts for eyes.
Hell.
I scrub a hand over my face, trying to figure out how to answer her.
I don’t want to force you to do anything.
There’s a pause and I roll over on my side, scrolling through my phone, checking my in-box. I still have one for Will, a Gmail account I never closed and still have access to on my phone. Hardly anyone ever reaches out to me there, so I’m surprised when I see I have an email.
I open up the in-box and my mouth drops open when I see who the message is from.
Lisa Swanson, network news queen.
Sitting up, I click it open and wait for it to load. Of course, it takes forever. Katie’s text reply is flashing at the top of my screen, but I ignore it.
I want to see what Lisa has to say first.
Finally it finishes loading and I scan her message, my heartbeat roaring in my ears.
Dear Will,
I hope I’m able to reach you through this email address. Detective Ross Green gave it to me when I contacted him a few weeks ago and he said it was your last known email address but that he hadn’t heard from you in years.
Grimacing, I shake my head. Given up by good ol’ Detective Green. I always thought that guy had my back.
Don’t know if you saw it, but I interviewed Katherine Watts a while back and it aired on television recently. We talked off camera about you and I wanted to find you. Let you tell your side of the story. You were there. You helped Ms. Watts escape. And then were put under horrific scrutiny that I’m afraid I participated in as well.
Look at her admit she did something wrong. Unbelievable.
I was wondering if you’d be willing to talk, if not in person then perhaps by phone or email? I understand you might wish to keep your privacy and I completely understand. What you went through, who you’re associated with is, I’m sure it’s a constant struggle. I do hope you’ll consider my request.
I hope this email finds you well.
Best,
Lisa Swanson
Talking to her would be begging for trouble. She’d been such a bulldog all those years ago chasing after a big story with utter ruthlessness. Always digging for information, badgering me, just like all the rest of the media who followed me around, pushing for a chance to talk. She’d do the same now. Act all sweet and thoughtful—that’s her way of luring me in. Once she had me, she’d do her damnedest to find out all my dirt, investigate me and eventually figure out who I am now. I know she’d figure it out.
Without a doubt I know it. And if that happened, I’d be ruined.
My finger hovers over the button and I finally think fuck it.
Quickly, before I change my mind, I delete the email.
I check Katie’s text with shaky fingers, mentally telling myself to get a grip. Lisa reaching out has rattled me and I don’t like it. I had no idea Detective Green still had that old email address of mine. I don’t remember giving it to him, but that doesn’t mean shit. How did he get it? And is that the way Lisa really got it? Or is she full of crap?
Pushing Lisa Swanson and her conniving ways out of my mind, I concentrate on Katie’s texts.