Anthony
Islam the doorto my townhouse so hard the windows rattle. My hands won’t stop shaking. The image of Lila’s battered face on my security feed keeps flashing through my mind like some sick slideshow. If I hadn’t started banging on that door when I did, if I hadn’t called Dillian… Eli would have raped her right there on that floor. Maybe killed her after. The thought makes bile rise in my throat. I’ve failed her. All my watching, all my planning, and when she needed me most, I was too fucking far away to stop him.
I pace through the kitchen, unable to settle, the rage and guilt churning inside me like a storm. Eli had been waiting for her. It was a trap, and I didn’t see it coming. His car never pinged on my tracking app because it never left that goddamn garage. He must have switched cars again, just like Dillian warned me. Drove home in something I wasn’t tracking and waited like a spider in the corner of his web.
The realization hits me like a physical blow. “He planned it,” I mutter to the empty room. “He knew she was going to try to leave.”
But how? Did he see something on the cameras? Did he have access to her text messages? Is the entire house bugged? Suddenly, I don’t trust any of my information. I grab my laptop and pull up the security feeds from Lila’s house again. The police are still there, moving through the rooms with evidence markers. In one frame, I catch a glimpse of a small device being bagged; a camera, hidden in a smoke detector that I never detected in my sweeps.
“Fuck!” I slam my fist down on the counter. I’d been so focused on helping Lila escape that I missed the extra surveillance Eli had installed. I made a mistake, one that nearly cost Lila everything. If he’s capable of this, then I need to tell Dillian to ask Eli about Amanda.
I need to move fast now. I grab my phone and call Dillian.
“It’s over,” he says when he picks up. “We’ve got him in custody.”
“Listen to me,” I say, cutting through his reassurance. “You need to question him about Amanda Finley before anyone else gets to him.”
There’s a pause on the other end. “That’s not how this works, Tony. He’s been arrested for domestic assault. The missing persons case is separate. If we do this the wrong way, if we start before his lawyer arrives, which he asked for one. He could walk. You wan’t to risk that?”
“Don’t give me that bullshit,” I snap. “You know as well as I do that once the lawyers get there, we’ll never get anything out of him. This might be our only chance.”
Dillian sighs, and I can picture him rubbing his forehead the way he does when he’s torn between protocol and doing what’s right. “What makes you so sure he’s involved with Amanda’s disappearance?”
“The timing. The car switching. The way he went completely dark when he realized he was being watched. And now this…he'd tried to kill Lila when she was leaving him. What do you think he’d do to a prostitute who might have threatened to expose him?”
“That’s all circumstantial. If that’s all we have to go on, I can’t bring it up at all or I could compromise the case.”
“Since when do you need a smoking gun to ask a few questions?” I challenge him. “Just get in there before he shuts down. Please.”
Another sigh, longer this time. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you,” I say, the words inadequate for what I’m asking him to risk.
After we hang up, I pull up Cainen’s software on my laptop. He sent it to me months ago, a custom program designed to identify and neutralize spyware on mobile devices. I’ve been hesitant to use it, worried that Eli might notice if his surveillance suddenly went dark. This situation is partially my fault. I was the one who accidentally turned off Lila’s location to Eli. But now there’s no reason to hold back. She is safe, and he’s going away, for a while at least.
I input Lila’s phone information and connect remotely. Watching as the program searches for malicious code. The results make my stomach turn. Eli has installed multiple tracking apps, a keylogger that records every message she types, and software that forwards copies of all her texts and emails to his accounts. He’s been reading everything,seeing everything. Including my blocked number. He knew she was at the club.
With a few keystrokes, I activate the cleansing protocol. Cainen’s software systematically removes each piece of spyware, replacing it with dummy code that will continue to send fake data to Eli’s accounts and wipe all the old information. He won’t immediately realize it’s been changed. In case he has others working for him. Sometimes men like him will enlist others to play in their sick games. Now he’ll see only what I want him to see. Normal, mundane activity that won’t give him any ammunition when she divorces him.
When the program finishes, I sit back and stare at the confirmation screen. Lila’s phone is clean now. For the first time in probably years, her digital life is truly private. Except, of course, for my own surveillance. The irony isn’t lost on me. I’m no better than Eli in some ways, watching her without permission. The difference, I tell myself, is intent. I’ve never used that information to hurt her and I’ve never read her private messages.
But intent only matters so much. Results matter more. And today, the result was Lila getting thrown down a flight of stairs while I watched helplessly from afar.
I pull up her contact on my phone. According to the hospital records I shouldn’t have access to, she’s being treated for a couple of broken ribs, contusions, a sprained wrist, and possible concussion. She’ll be kept for at least two days for observation. My finger hovers over the screen as I try to find the right words.
Finally, I type:
Unknown Number:I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you today. I should have been there sooner. Ishould have seen him coming. I’ve removed all of the spyware from your phone. No one can track you or read your messages anymore, including me. I want you to know that when your divorce is final, I’ll show you who I am. No more masks, no more secrets. You deserve the truth, and I promise you’ll have it. Until then, I’ll be waiting for you.
I read it over three times before hitting send. It’s more vulnerable than I’ve allowed myself to be with her, even during our most intimate moments. But after today, I owe her honesty.
I watch the screen, waiting for those three dots to appear that will tell me she’s responding. One minute passes. Two. Five. Maybe she’s asleep. Maybe she doesn’t want to talk to me. Maybe she blames me for not being there when she needed me most.
Just as I’m about to set the phone down, the dots appear. My heart pounds as I wait for her reply.
Lila:I knew it was you who called the police. Thank you for that. I don’t know how to feel about everything else right now. I need time.
It’s not forgiveness, but it’s not rejection either. She needs time. I can give her that.
