Remy offers a reassuring smile. “They’re taking precautions because of the anomaly. It’s fine.”
Erik is pacing now, watching Remy with the same suspicion I feel.
“Do you need me to do something?” Meg asks. “Is this about the new videos? I had rebuttals ready like the publicist suggested and released them to overshadow the negative.”
“That was good work,” Remy says. “I hadn’t realized they were both from you. We have new information, but we should wait for Coulson.”
She nods. “Okay. Do we need the Earls here?” She carefully avoids looking at her mother as she asks.
Ruiz answers before anyone else can. “Not tonight. I sent two colleagues to watch their house, but they do not appear to be the target. It looks like it was always Christianna.”
I swallow hard at that and fold my arms. My fingers dig into my skin, grounding me.
My head snaps up as Colt and Coulson reenter the room.
“I have guards on the perimeter,” Coulson says. “It’s probably not necessary, but for tonight, until I can determine why the camera timestamps are off, it’s the best option.”
I nod. This is more important than privacy.
Taking a breath, I move to Meg and lean in. “Would you feel better with David and James here?” I keep my voice low, my back to Madame.
She shakes her head. “Oh no. I don’t think that would be helpful.” She reaches for one of my hands and gives it a warm squeeze.
She perches on the armrest near her mother while I return to Erik’s side.
Madame sets her Scotch down with quiet deliberation.
“Now,” she says, “let’s compare notes.”
Chapter one hundred twenty-one
Christianna
I sit back on the sofa, wedged between Erik and Remy. Remy leans forward, elbows on his knees. Erik stays back, arms folded across his chest.
Old habits creep in. Before I realize it, I’ve drawn my knees up and pressed my thumbnail between my teeth.
Remy reaches back and pulls me forward, anchoring me against his side.
Erik shifts closer and takes the hand I’d been chewing on, settling it on his knee. His other hand taps, restless, against the arm of the couch.
Remy gives a slight dip of his head to Coulson, who begins.
“Based on the information that Carlotta is Silas Thorne’s widow,” he says, continuing over Meg’s sharp gasp and whispered, “Oh, Chris.”
I blink back the tears her commiseration draws out.
“We are researching her. It appears they have a twenty-one-year-old son who considers himself a ‘hacker.’ I use the termloosely, because it’s the equivalent of someone who has only played Call of Duty thinking they’re a soldier.”
Ruiz snorts quietly as Coulson goes on.
“While not confirmed, they are our current likely suspects. We have verified that the woman from the earlier confrontation, Margaret Blanchard, is an associate of Carlotta’s.”
Madame nods. “Yes. They used to be thick as thieves. They both have daughters, in their thirties now. They carpooled to ballet lessons. Both were there because of their mothers’ insistence, not talent. I referred them to someone who had the time to indulge their lackadaisical attitudes.”
Coulson continues, “Yes. The daughter, Imogen Thorne, had been dating Rasmussen last summer. The relationship began shortly after he was awarded second chair.”
I lurch to my feet, hand clamped over my mouth, and run for the restroom. I barely make it before losing the little I’ve eaten into the bowl.
