I wish she didn’t have to.
“This is so surreal, Drew,” she whispers. “It’s like Find My iPhone, only now it’s Find My Lindsay.”
Exactly. That’s the whole point. “Everything about the last week has been surreal, Lindsay. Welcome to my reality.”
“I want to live in your reality with you,” she says as I throw on a small Band-Aid over the fresh cut. Looking down, she rubs my hair. I look up. “I hate that I’ve spent the last four years thinking you didn’t love me. That you betrayed me.”
“That’s exactly what they want to do, Lindsay. Distort reality. They want everyone to think that lies are true and the truth is a lie.”
“How the hell do we win?”
Bzzzz. My phone.
I know it’s Silas.
“Answer the door, Lindsay. Let Silas in.” I grab her and give her a swift, fierce kiss, then nudge her towards the door. She looks back at me, so many questions in her eyes, but she nods and does as she’s told.
Gentian appears in the hallway as I leave the bathroom. I realize I have no idea what Lindsay did with the pistol I gave her. Maybe she stored it in her bra?
Can’t think about her breasts right now.
No.
“Foster, you’re out of your mind.” He is seething. “You could do time in federal prison for all this.”
“It’s a fucking set-up, Gentian.”
“I know that. So what are you doing here? Get out. Go away. Hide. Leave the country, Drew.”
I look over his shoulder, down the dim hallway, to where Lindsay is searching through her purse. She finds a compact and checks herself in the mirror, lips red with kisses, hair a mess.
“No way. I can’t leave her.”
“You’ll leave her if you end up in prison, Drew.”
“I have enough contacts in the system to avoid that, Silas. I’m being framed. With enough time and investigation, we can out the truth and -- ”
“Listen to yourself.” His voice is low and hard. Silas has never talked to me in this tone before. Then again, I’m not his boss anymore. “I say this as a friend, Drew. You sound like some naive conspiracy theory nutcase on a cable channel series. You know damn well the people after you and Lindsay can make you disappear. Or worse. You need to hide.”
“If I hide, Lindsay comes with me.”
His hair curls as he runs an angry hand through the space over his left ear, then rubs his mouth. “Then you’ll have a manhunt unlike any other with you as the target. A presidential candidate’s daughter being kidnapped by her stalker ex-boyfriend?”
“That’s not -- ”
“That is exactly how the press will spin this. Senator Bosworth, too. The whole damn machine goes into damage control and you become the scapegoat. It’s so obvious. Jesus, Drew. Mark told me you were being unreasonable, but I didn’t think you of all people could be so stupid!”
His words cannot sink in. They can’t. No matter how right he is, I can’t leave her.
“Let me take her back to The Grove. Give you time to sort this out,” he says.
I’ve told no one about the microchip. At least there’s that.
“Paulson is personally there right now. Our techies are working on the text issue. They know who Lindsay’s darknet contact was when she was at the Island and think there’s a link,” he adds.
“A link?” Lindsay’s voice is high with anxiety. “What do you mean, a link?”
The implications of what Silas is saying hit me. Hard.
“He means that whoever helped you when you were on the Island is potentially behind setting you up for your fingerprints on the brake lines of your car, for buying the phone that texted you threatening messages, and now setting me up.”
Her gasp breaks my heart.
Bzzz.
That’s Silas’s phone. He takes a look, his face hardening. Cold eyes meet mine.
“She needs to get home. Now.”
“Please, Drew. What does this mean? What are they doing? My darknet person on the Island helped me to have outside access. To know what the outside world said about me. They didn’t -- ”
I ignore her words, but walk past Silas and put a comforting arm around her shoulders.
“We need to know who it is,” I snap.
Silas gives me a look. “No shit.” He pauses. “Sir,” he adds, his voice bitter.
I turn to Lindsay. “We need to know who it is.”
Her face goes slack. “I don’t know who my informant was.”
I hold my breath. Pretty sure she’s doing the same.
This is a standoff.
I break it. I have to believe her.
I kiss Lindsay’s temple. God, she still smells like us, like me, a faint whiff of my own musk in her hair. “Silas will take you home. Mark’s there. He’s right. I’m a liability to you right now. If they’re after me, too, then being with you ups the danger for you.”
Years of living with other people telling her what to do for purposes bigger than herself makes Lindsay remarkably accepting. “Fine,” she says, resigned. Her ankle rubs against mine.
Heat rises through me from toes to crown.
At least I can track her electronically.