“Sure. It’s a mistake. They told us they know you, that it’s personal. They got cocky. You don’t drop Latin-or-whatever bird names in usernames unless you’re an educated jerk-off.”
Wren shakes their head. “Or maybe they are playing with me. And if they’ve been tracking me this long, when I thought I was covering my footsteps, what else do they know?”
I stroke my thumb over their shoulder, slow and steady. “I don’t know, Wren. But we’ll find out together. You’re not alone.”
Wren exhales a shaky breath and then leans their forehead against my chest for just a second. “It just…it makes it worse,that they know who I am. That they know me, and I don’t know them.”
“But it also makes it easier to track them down. We’ve got the start of a pattern. CamGriseus6 is a handle. And we now know to be watchful of other handles. Names that are too clever for the person they’re dealing with to pay too much attention to.”
Wren looks at their laptop, lips pursed. “I wonder, if I go back through the metadata on that job, I might be able to narrow it down. Or cast a wide net looking for similarly coded usernames. It’s a one-in-a-million chance that it will yield anything.”
“But it’s action, right? And we should figure out who knew enough about you back when you were approached for the job. Somehow you got on this person’s radar. Maybe someone recommended you. Maybe someone sold you out.”
The color I’d just worked so hard to put back on Wren’s face disappears again. “You think it was someone who knows me?”
“I think it’s worth considering. People lie all the time. But look, we’re both good at seeing patterns.”
Wren raises an eyebrow at the photograph of the wren still on my phone. “Yeah. We are.”
For a moment, we’re silent.
“If it’s personal for them,” Wren says, “then it needs to be personal for me. I need to think like they would. About how you could do something like this to someone you know.”
I smile. “That’s more like it. See, it’s a clue that’s reframing how you think about the problem. And now, you and me, we’re on to them.”
And whoever thought they could play God with Wren’s life just led me one step closer to putting an end to all this… and them.
20
CATFISH
“Wow, this is fancy,” Willa says when I open the door to the old ranch house, allowing my sister, who is carrying a large platter of something hidden under foil, inside.
“Pony ride, Uncle River?” Maddie asks, throwing herself against my leg, her cheeks pink and cold from the short walk to the house. I reach over her and shut the door. We’ve had the fire roaring all afternoon, and with the new heating system Atom has had fitted, it’s nice and toasty for Willa and the kids.
I tug Maddie’s hat off by the pompom and run my hand over the top of her head. “Not today, sweetheart. The horses have all gone for their sleeps.” It’s a white lie, but Willa has always called an afternoon napsleeps, and it’s the easiest way I can explain to her that they are tucked in the barn from the snow without then being talked into taking a walk over there to see them.
Her bottom lip slips out in a pout as I take the platter so Willa can drop all the bags.
“Don’t be pulling that face,” Willa says playfully to her daughter. “I told you on the ride over here that we were going tohave some food and play some games with Uncle River and his friend, Wren.”
Mason puts his hand flat over his mouth as he laughs. His pudgy little fingers splayed across his face. “Did you get a girlfriend, Uncle River?”
I wince at the question, but I feel Wren’s hand on my lower back.
“Mason, remember what Mommy told you about Wren before we got here?” Willa says.
“I’m Uncle River’s friend.” Wren scratches me gently as they speak, to make sure I know they aren’t just dismissing what we’re slowly becoming to each other.
Maddie’s eyes go wide. “I like your hair.”
Wren smiles. “Thank you so much.”
“Can you braidmyhair?”
Wren narrows their eyes and glances around Maddie’s hair as if they’re thinking really hard about the answer. “Your hair isn’t quite thick enough to do this braid yet, but I could try some other things.”
Maddie claps her hands. “Iloveother things.”
