“I didn’t hack into anything personal,” he says quickly. “No medical records or grocery lists.” He circles the island and tosses the peppers into the egg and cheese mixture, then adds, “I secured the phone first. So no one else can access it. You won’t have to worry about anyone pinging your location and finding you here.”
My stomach lurches. I hadn’t even thought of that. Some private investigator I am.
“Anyway,” he continues, “Anything you had stored in the cloud, I transferred it over. There wasn’t a lot?—”
“There wasn’t?” My voice pitches up. “What do you mean there wasn’t? I store tons of stuff there. My case files, all my photos…”
“It’s possible I missed something.” Though it’s clear from Nico’s voice he doesn’t think he did. “Take a look. Let me know what’s missing.”
I turn the phone over in my hands. “When did you have time for all this? We didn’t stop talking until almost 1 AM.”
Nico turns to the stove and adjusts the burner. Quietly, he replies, “I couldn’t sleep last night. So I thought I’d work on that instead.”
My heart tugs again.
It shouldn’t, but it does.
“It’s still best you don’t tell anyone where you are,” Nico says. He pours the eggs into the pan, then scatters the peppers on top. “Just to be safe. Not that anyone can get to you here, but?—”
“I won’t.” I unlock the phone—it still has my same passcode, but I decide to let that one go for now—and swipe through the apps. Everything looks the same as I remember, except this phone doesn’t have a tiny chip at the corner of the screen. It doesn’t have the worn case with an A-1 Investigations sticker on the back.
Rather than start with the cloud storage, I click into the messages app. There are ten missed texts, four of them spam, and the other six from Brian.
I immediately read his messages, starting with the last one first. It’s from the night of the first attack, so I don’t remember the conversation. But it was innocuous enough, just chatting about the weather and taking his grandkids to a car race in Florida. Nothing to stir my memory, unfortunately.
But with each progressive message after that, his concern becomes more evident.
Everything okay? Never heard back from you last night.
Hope you’re not working too hard. Take a break sometimes.
Maybe it’s time for a vacation. There’s room if you’d like to come for a visit.
I hope you’re being careful with those nighttime stakeouts. Do you have the pepper spray I gave you?
I’m getting worried. Are you alright?
And finally.
Sofia. Text me. I’m worried.
“Crap,” I mutter.
Guilt squeezes my chest.
Nico looks at me with alarm. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong, exactly. It’s just—” My fingers hover above the screen while I debate what to tell Brian. “It’s my old boss. Brian.”
Nico’s features go still. In a carefully calm tone, he asks, “What about him?”
I can tell what Nico’s thinking. He thinks Brian might be a part of this. But it’s not possible. First, because Brian’s in Florida. And second, Brian’s the closest thing I have to a dad. He would never do anything to hurt me.
But Nico’s father hurt him, didn’t he?Elio Parisi didn’t just hurt you. He hurt Nico, too. And if Nico’s own biological father could do that…
No. Elio Parisi is an asshole of the highest order. Brian isn’t. And there’s no way Brian would send a crew of masked attackers after me. He wouldn’t.
“He’s just worried,” I reply. “I guess I was texting with him the night of the attack?—”
