“It had all the police files from the Shadow Stalker case on it.” She threw Emersyn a concerned look.
I stared at the small black device, my thoughts racing.
“Brandon is trustworthy,” Emersyn insisted. “Do you really think the thumb drive could’ve messed up the computer?”
I met her eyes. “Maybe.”
Skye put her hands flat on the tabletop, her expression hardened, but she looked like she was trying to steady herself. “Fox.”
The sound of my name on her tongue sent an ache reverberating through me. It was the first time I’d heard her say it since she’d come back.
“You need to explain what you’re thinking. Are you trying to insinuate there’s some kind of…virus on my computer?”
I clenched my jaw, making every effort not to let it show how much she still affected me. “Something like that,” I said with forced calm. “It almost looks as if someone planted some hardware. I’m not sure the extent of it, but it’s enough to concern me.”
Skye’s face paled. “Why is it concerning?”
“Unknown hardware is always concerning.” I pulled my external diagnostic drive from my pocket and plugged it into her laptop. “Give me a bit more time, and I might have specific answers for you.”
My fingers flew across the keyboard as I started to dig into system logs and network activity. The girls waited quietly as I worked. Their gazes were heavy on me, but I tried to ignore them and focus on what I needed to find.
Fifteen minutes later, my stomach dropped. Remote access pings. A program running silently in the background with logs dating back a few days.
This was deliberate. Not an accident or misunderstanding. Someone had been in her machine.
I cursed under my breath.
“What?” Skye asked, alarm rising in her tone.
“Someone installed spyware,” I snapped.
Skye froze. “What does that mean?”
My gaze cut to hers. “This is looking like a full system monitor—giving someone complete visibility of what you’re doing on your device and unfettered control. I’m assuming someone was manually deleting or corrupting the files you’re missing, but they can also see what you’re doing, and can even have access to your mic or camera.”
“Oh, my God,” Emersyn said, looking horrified.
“My files,” Skye said hoarsely. “All my work. All my interviews, the footage…can we get them back?”
Of course she was only concerned about her work, not her own privacy or safety.
“I’ll try to recover what I can.” I stood. I needed to get her computer back to my office and see what else I could uncover. “But I can’t make any promises.”
“That’severything.” Skye sounded devastated. “That’s weeks of work. Hours of planning. It was all there.”
I stared at her, studying her expression, her body language as best as I knew how. After all these years, Skye should be a stranger to me, but that wasn’t true. Her body spoke to me in the same old language it used to. She was scared. Terrified—a fear too deep for just a professional loss.
“Skye,” I said slowly. “Tell me what’s going on with you.”
She looked up sharply, eyes wide and glossy.
The table stood between us, Emersyn lingering near her side, but it suddenly felt like it was only me and her.
“I’m working really hard on this project.” Her voice wobbled. “And now all my hard work is ruined.”
“No,” I said, voice low, yearning to step closer. “It’s more than that. You’ve been here less than two weeks. Losing that work sucks, but the Skye I knew wouldn’t panic about that. She’d be diving back in already, trying to catch up.”
She flinched.
