“We’ll keep you updated,” Cal says. “Stay dark.”
The line goes dead. I lower the phone slowly.
Rowan looks like she’s bracing for impact. “Sin,” she says, voice tight. “What is it?”
I exhale once, controlled, then meet her gaze. “Cal’s team traced the spyware on your phone.”
Rowan’s eyes flash. “Okay. And?”
“It was pushed through your paper’s internal system,” I say. “Not some random hacker.”
Her brows knit. “So it was…”
“It was someone with access,” I finish.
She steps closer, a thin line of anger forming between her brows. “Who?”
I hold her gaze because I’m not going to soften this for her. “Randy O’Connell.”
Rowan goes still, like her body doesn’t understand the words. Then she laughs once, sharp and disbelieving. “No.”
“Rowan.”
“No,” she repeats, louder. “That’s insane. He’s… he’s the reason I got my first big byline. He’s the reason I’m even on that investigative desk.” Her voice cracks on the last word, and she hates that it does. I see it. She swallows hard, forcing herself back into control. “He’s always backed me,” she insists, eyes bright with anger and something that looks like grief. “He’s always told me to dig deeper.”
“He did,” I say. “Until this story.”
Rowan shakes her head. “He wouldn’t do this. He wouldn’t try to scare me.”
“He didn’t do it because he hates you,” I say quietly. “He did it because someone has him by the throat.”
Rowan’s breathing turns shallow. “What do you mean?”
I keep my voice steady. “He’s being blackmailed by the corporation you’re investigating. Cal has proof. Calls. Payments. A leverage file. They threatened to ruin him unless he stopped the story and got control of your work.”
Rowan’s lips part. She looks like she might be sick. “So he…” She swallows. “He watched me. He tracked me.”
“Yes.”
“And the car?” Her eyes snap to mine. “The car was him?”
“Not his hands,” I say. “But his decision. He helped them find you. Helped them time it. Cal believes they used a corporate security contractor to handle the intimidation.”
Rowan’s face changes. Shock burning down into rage. “And all this time,” she whispers, “I was worried about leaks in the police. About some random thug.”
I step closer. “The threat was in your office.”
Rowan squeezes her eyes shut for a second, then opens them. “I admired him.”
“I know.”
She looks up at me, and her voice goes small, almost raw. “How do you even recover from that?”
“You don’t recover,” I say. “You adapt. You protect yourself. You make sure he can’t do it again.”
Rowan’s jaw sets. “I want to go back. I want to confront him.”
I catch her wrist gently, grounding her without restraining. “No.”
