Downs waves a hand in the air, indicating she should proceed.
Miranda takes a big breath, expels it with force. She closes her eyes briefly. When she opens them again, she’s regained her composure.
“S?ren came up to me after the speech and introduced himself. He complimented me, empathized with the difficulties I’d described. As a foreigner with an accent, he’d also faced discrimination in this country.” She adds wistfully, “Even though he was so impossibly beautiful.”
My back teeth are in danger of shattering, I’m grinding them together so hard.
“He said he found it disheartening that at thirty I’d probably already hit the glass ceiling. Although I’d achieved substantial success, my position was insecure. A few flops and my studio would be blacklisted. You have to understand, this business is brutal. The only thing that matters are the numbers on your latest release. S?ren implied he’d developed software that would be able to secure my future permanently. He said he’d give it to me at no cost. All he wanted in return was a promise.”
I say sharply, “Of what?”
“I didn’t know at the time. He said it would be a favor, to be called in whenever he needed it sometime in the future.”
Downs asks, “And you didn’t find that odd?”
“Of course I found it odd! But he was so incredibly charming. And young, my God he was young. Early twenties or something like that. I had no way of knowing, I never would have imagined that such a sweet boy with such an angelic face would turn out to be…” She swallows. “What he apparently is.”
“Then what?” I ask.
“Then nothing. Not for years and years. I thought he might never call in the favor. Until…”
When her pale-blue gaze focuses on me, I get a chill all the way down my spine. “Until?”
Her voice is quiet. “Until one day he called me and told me to hire you.”
The chill turns to a deep freeze, all the way to my bones. “What?”
“He refused to say why. He just said to hire you in whatever capacity I liked, and keep you on retainer. And not to tell you he was behind it. I was happy to accommodate him, it seemed like such a nothing request in return for the software that made my company what it is today. I thought perhaps you were old friends, or someone he owed a favor to who needed a job.”
Downs looks curiously at me. “And that was the favor?”
Miranda drops her gaze to the desk. “The first favor.”
I flatten my palms on her desk, brace my arms, and lean in. “What was the second?”
She moistens her lips, hesitating. “The second favor was to let him pretend to hack my mainframe.”
In unison, Downs and I repeat, “Pretend?”
Miranda expels an exasperated sigh. “My God, for two men who pride themselves on being so omniscient, you’re seriously dense!”
Downs is losing his patience. “Spit it out, Miranda.”
“It was a game, all right? He played a game with you! With all of us! A game going back almost a decade! He knew I’d be giving that speech that night, he knew what my weakness was, he knew how desperately I wanted to succeed! So he gave me the tools and set this whole thing in motion!”
Dread makes its way along all my nerve endings, settling into a cold, heavy lump in my stomach. I straighten and cross my arms over my chest. “Explain.”
“When he told me he wanted me to pretend we’d been hacked, of course I said no. For a million different reasons, not the least of which was the high possibility of discovery. I knew the FBI would get involved, knew we’d be under a microscope. It was total madness, and I told him so. I offered him money instead. But S?ren replied that if the public and my shareholders discovered that the software I’d used to achieve everything I’d achieved originated from someone of his…history…I’d be ruined anyway. And that’s when I realized he wasn’t just a talented software architect with a pretty face, because he told me all about the things he’d done.”
Her voice wavers. She looks away. “That’s when I realized he was a monster.”
“Why didn’t you go to the police?” snaps Downs.
Miranda morosely picks at the cuff of her sleeve. “Self-preservation, I suppose. My secret would be out. I’d be ruined.” Her voice drops to a shaky whisper. “But also because he said no one would get hurt unless I refused. But I did what he asked, and people got hurt anyway.”
My gut is telling me in no uncertain terms that something is seriously rotten in Denmark. There are gaps so wide in her story, not even I can connect the dots.
“This is bullshit,” I say coldly, staring at her. “What are you leaving out?”