The line goes silent. Nobody speaks.
Aside from my blaring siren, I have nothing to distract me from how awkward that was.
Then someone snort-laughs. A single snort.
Shit.
“You know what I mean,” I tack on, then tap the mute button before I say anything else idiotic.
In my defense, Kenzie has psychotic tendencies.
“Uh. Alrighty then.“ Carson clears her throat, probably buying time to get the mirth out of her tone. “I did some fancy footwork to identify how Psycho accessed the internet while using the app. Other than a few messages when she was using her carrier’s data signal, all other communications were sent via a single wifi signal. Lila Kent is the named account owner for the ISP, and it’s registered to the apartment she shares with Kenzie. It was either Lila or Kenzie sending those messages to Ginny.”
My gut twists into a huge knot, entangled with barbed wire.
Andrews responds for me. “Timing rules out Lila. She’s been staying elsewhere the last few days.”
Thank fuck he said that. I sure can’t find my voice. And what if I said something else moronic?
The SSA attempts to wrap this up. “We have a lot more work to do, people. Kenzie Hayes may be an innocent victim. Or she could’ve been involved in the crimes and has fallen prey to Carnage’s housecleaning efforts. Either way, we need to find her before it’s too late. You all have your orders. Let’s?—”
Carson interjects. “One last thing.”
What the fuck else?
Through the cyclone of thoughts in my mind, I lock in on the explanation that follows.
“Ginny got another message this morning from Psycho.”
“What did that one say?” Chase asks.
Carson responds flatly, sounding like she’s reading it aloud. “Mission was a bust. Coming down right now. Roll with Plan B.”
With the typical inflection returning to her voice, Bianca continues, “And then Ginny responded with a thumbs up and a car emoji, which is her preferred language in the app with other users. Not a prolific writer, that one. And nary a capital letter or punctuation mark in sight.”
Worrisome dots connect in my mind, and I ask one last question. “Where was my sister’s phone around the time the message was sent?”
“Checking.” The clack of the keyboard comes through the line. “Yeah. Good call, Reed. She was at your condo. It was right before she was taken. In fact...”
After a few seconds, she finishes her thought. “Shit. Ginny was parked two blocks from your place, which I already knew. We figured they were watching for Kenzie’s exit. The timing is too perfect, though. Ginny started driving immediately after getting that message from Psycho. Within five seconds. Whichmeans... Kenzie gave them a signal that triggered her own kidnapping. Intended or not, that’s what happened.”
Did Kenzie orchestrate her own abduction?
And why?
If she wanted to leave with Ginny—which is beyond baffling—why make it look like an abduction? More importantly, why do it in front of my place when she could have done it anywhere? What was she trying to get from my condo?
With my next breath, I answer my internal wonderings with one word. Four letters.It isn’t a what. It’s a who.
Lila.
FIFTY-FOUR
Welcome to Rio
LILA
As I’m whiskedacross town by an unfairly attractive contingent of Redleg Security bodyguards, a question runs through my mind on a loop.
