“A mistake,” Talia corrects. “I think it’s a pun.” After a pause, she adds, “I think it’s Amanda.”
This he doesn’t expect. “Amanda Reade? My Amanda?”
She flinches at these words—my Amanda—and he immediately wishes he could take them back. Instead, he presses on.
“Why would she know you? How would she know how to contact you?”
Avoiding Townsend’s eyes, Talia slides her phone from his hands and places it on her lap. “I know she’s been harassing you. And I think she’s starting to come after me too.”
“How—?”
Before he can form his question, Talia speaks in a rush. “It was stupid, and I told her not to do it, but Meera hacked into your Cuff messages. She found all these nasty threats from Amanda, going all the way back to when you first broke up.”
Warmth floods his face and armpits. “Did you read everything?” he asks carefully. He thinks of the last message he sent her, the photo of the paintball gun on the dashboard. He knows just how bad it looks.
Talia nods. “But I don’t judge you for anything you said,” she adds. “It’s obvious that she’s obsessed with you. You said what you needed to say to get her to leave you alone.”
Townsend’s relief is so immense he’s tempted to kiss Talia, right then and there. But then her phone vibrates on her lap, stealing her attention.
“Oh, my God.”
“What?”
Once again, Talia hands him her phone. Another email from Amy Stake has appeared on her screen:Don’t let your guard down. Remember I’m watching.
“Jesus Christ.” Townsend thinks of that familiar Honda Accord, just idling on the curb across the street. Had she seen Talia enter his building? He’s about to tell her to watch out for that car when Talia stands.
“We need to call the police, Townsend. This is serious.”
“The police?” Townsend stands, too, his panic returning. “I don’t think we should get them involved, Tal.”
“Why not? They’re already involved.”
“And they’re already suspicious of me. No, I don’t think it’s a good idea.” He shakes his head. “I think you should just block her email. She’ll get bored eventually and leave you alone. I know her.”
Again, Talia blanches at this familiarity:I know her. He really needs to choose his words more carefully. “But what if she doesn’t?”
“Please. Just give me a chance to handle it myself.”
She studies him, and for a moment, he fears she can read his mind. He definitely can’t tell her about Amanda’s car now. “Okay,” she says finally. “I trust you.”
Townsend hugs her and buries his face in her dark hair. The familiar scent of her jasmine shampoo soothes him, and he tries to keep that feeling of calm with him, even after Talia goes to bed. Even after he closes himself in his office and returns to that Reddit thread.
Talia doesn’t know the real reason why Townsend won’t call the police; of this he feels pretty certain. But if these random trolls on the internet know what he’s up to, then it’s only a matter of time before Talia and the police do too.
Closing his eyes, Townsend repeats the mantra he’s been saying to himself for weeks, the flimsy lie that’s keeping him sane:You didn’t do anything wrong. Founders inflate their numbers all the time. All you need to do is find an enterprise partner—or get access to your trust—and everything will be okay.
He hopes that if he repeats these words often enough, they’ll finally start to feel true.
Chapter Thirteen
Kaitlyn
From Amanda’s car, Kaitlyn watches as a dark-haired woman pushes through the revolving door of Townsend’s building: Talia. She feels creepy knowing his girlfriend’s name—and being able to recognize her, even from a distance—but she can’t help it. When she’s not at work, all she’s done for the past few weeks is watch Townsend, waiting for him to slip up and reveal what he did to Amanda. Right now, knowing everything there is to know about the person responsible for her sister’s disappearance is her priority.
Likely responsible,Kaitlyn reminds herself. She still doesn’t know anything for sure. All she knows is Townsend rarely leaves his building and his new girlfriend basically seems to be living with him.
Kaitlyn figured out Talia’s name the same way she found Townsend’s: through a social media deep dive. Townsend’s Instagram—deactivated weeks ago—was still no help, but she managed to find the profile of Will Dupont, the former classmate of Townsend’s who she’d met for coffee. Then she scrolled through the accounts followed by Will until she found a familiar name: Brett Livingston, who was one of the guys posing with Townsend in that alumni-holiday-party snapshot she’d found on Google. From there, she went through Brett’s grid until she stumbled upon a group photo, taken at what appeared to be Town Lake.
