He returns to the window and I trace my eyes over each number until I reach the end and my chest is even tighter than before. There’s no getting around it. I definitely know the beginning of the IP address. It’s Griff’s, belongs to the laptop he loaned me to catch Todd.
But it isn’t Griff’s because the last two digits don’t match. That’s why we’re in Connecticut, staring at two guys’ living room instead of staring at Griff’s bedroom. It’s got to be a coincidence.
So why doesn’t it feel like it?
“Whoever sent you this knows you.” Hart’s teeth snap as he speaks. “They knew to send it to this location. It has to be someone you know.”
“Maybe she’s supposed to see something,” Jake says.
Hart rounds on him. “How’s that work? She just sits around until someone shows up?”
“I don’t know.” Jake raises his long-fingered hands in surrender. “It was just a thought. I mean, that’s why you have nanny cams, right? So you can see whatever’s going on in your house?”
And just like that, my insides free-fall. No. Of course not. I am supposed to see something, but not here and not right now. That address looks like Griff’s IP because it’s almost Griff’s IP.
He contacted me.
He wants to talk and the realization unhinges me.
He changed the last two digits to tell me what time. 0-2. Two o’clock. I’m not sure whether that’s a.m. or p.m., but considering the message was sent at 2:53, I’m guessing it’s a.m. Tonight.
20
For three whole seconds, I’m not at Looking Glass. I’m not staring at a computer screen. I’m with Griff. I’m standing in the days after Todd, but in the weeks before I was blackmailed by Carson, when Griff’s touch felt like he was drawing a poem on my skin.
Why does every memory of him taste like hope?
“Wick?” Hart. His tone turns my name blunt and bloody. “Everything okay?”
Hart’s turned his back to Kent and the computer to focus on me. Actually, everyone’s focused on me.
I shiver. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just weird.”
Hart nods, waiting for me to add something else. I definitely want to, but I shrug like I don’t. My shoulders are strung so tight they pop. I want to ask about the cameras at Bren’s, but how do I do it without giving away Alex? Maybe I shouldn’t care. Maybe this is every girl for herself.
“Continue watching her email accounts,” Hart says, still focused on me. If he’s searching for a reaction, he doesn’t get it. I’m good at the glazed-eye look.
Then again, Hart’s good at it too. There’s nothing in his expression now. His eyes are shiny as marbles. He doesn’t believe me. Another line’s been crossed and I need to fix it, make it look like I’m on their side still.
Hell, I am on their side still.
“Hey, I’ve been thinking.” Kent snorts and I ignore him. “Do you think you could get copies of the security footage from my dad’s release?”
“You want to watch him leaving?”
“Yeah, I want to see who was with him.”
Hart perks up. “You think you’d recognize the guy?”
I pause, turning the question in my mind until it clicks. “You’ve already seen it.”
A single nod. “I can get the video clips to you immediately. We still have them on file.”
“Since when?”
“Since the day after it happened.” Hart faces me fully now. “We had to know, Wick. We’re keeping you—and your family—safe.”
He sounds so reasonable. Unease shouldn’t be trickling through me. It’s the same Hart from Bren’s living room. The same guy who worried searching for my dad was dangerous.
That it was backtracking.
He’s been looking out for me. So why am I feeling light-footed, like I’m seconds away from bolting? Because there’s something wrong here? Or because I can’t see straight? Because I’ve never been able to see straight when it comes to trust. I always pick the wrong person. I feel sorry for dangerous people and I don’t realize my mistake until it’s too late.
I’ve been a really great target over the years, which is hilarious since it’s the one thing I never wanted to be.
“I’ll make sure the files are in your Looking Glass account after dinner,” Hart says. “You can review them tonight or tomorrow.”
“Thanks.” I start to turn and Milo reaches for my arm.
“Wick—” he says.
I freeze and Hart steps between us. “I need a few more minutes with you, Milo.” He flicks his gaze to Alex. “Both of you can go. Remember there’s therapy tonight—and bring your completed homework. Don’t forget.”
It would be a little hard to, but both of us nod like we totally appreciate the reminder and shuffle for the door. Alex doesn’t say a word as we head toward the elevator. Once we’re inside though she faces me and waits.
And waits.
I grind my teeth to keep from snapping at her.
“Isn’t that interesting?” she asks at last. The doors open on our floor and we step off, Alex trailing so closely our sleeves brush. “You think he would’ve ever told you if you hadn’t asked?”
“Who cares? Point is, I did ask and I’m getting the files.” I sound so light; I almost believe it doesn’t needle me. I face her. “I need to borrow your phone.”
“Phone?”
“Don’t start.”