Page 83 of What Remains

Julian: She had to have made contact somehow. I’ll keep digging.

Carter: Jezebel was careful with Wi-Fi and electronics on the island, right?

Suppose that question is for me. Zoey, too. But something tells me she’s not going to join this conversation. She didn’t earlier when the group text was initiated. She’s been quiet and detached all day. Haunted by ghosts of her past and her guilt that her pursuit for revenge, in part, brought us here. Though, something tells me if they hadn’t dangled the bait for Zoey to get us to that island, they’d have found another way.

I sit upright, throw the covers aside, and twist around to drop my feet to the hardwood before responding.

No cameras on the island. Nothing that could be tracked or hacked.

Carter: Jezebel wouldn’t have risked a digital footprint to hire these guys, then, which means it was an in-person job offer. Someone else had to approach them. Find out who. Give yourself a three- or four-month window. The compound on the island was only activated the first week of December, right?

So the intel Molly provided Zoey indicated, yeah. And based on what I could tell when we arrived, that timeline tracks.

I exit the group chat and send Gwen a private text, worried about her.

You okay?

I give it a few minutes, and when no text or bubbles appear, I switch back over and play catch-up on the back-and-forth conversation. It’s mostly Gideon and Carter discussing next steps and theories.

An incoming call has me standing. Gwen. I tear a hand through my hair and answer, “Hey.”

“Sorry, I just got out of the shower. Still hiding out in my bathroom, but with the water running so Dad doesn’t hear me. He hollered through the door to wait to read the group texts until I’m with him and Natasha. I assume that’s why you messaged asking if I’m okay?”

I drop back onto the bed, resting my forehead in my palm as I hold the phone to my ear. “Yeah.”

“A lead?”

“A possible one from Gideon’s team down in Brisbane that ties to . . .” I don’t need to finish that line of thought. She’ll find out soon enough.

“Oh.” A soft little sound travels through the line. “Does that mean we don’t get to sleep?”

“No, you’re going to bed. That’s an order.”

“So bossy.”

Now I’m smiling. How is that possible?

“If there’s nothing I can do to help tonight, then I’ll listen to you.”

“There isn’t.” I drop my hand to my lap, sitting taller. “For me, either.”

“So, you plan to sleep, too?”

“I’ll try.”

“And are you already washed up and in bed?”

“Yes and yes.” I shift around, lie down, and prop my arm under my head in an attempt to relax. Hearing her soothing voice is definitely helping me do that. I’m also aware I’m ignoring the notifications that continue to ding over my phone from the group text, and I don’t care.

“Whatcha wearing?”

I grin as if she can see me. “Really asking me that, are you?” My voice drops an octave deeper than it should on its own damn accord, too.

“The Ralph Laurens or the Lululemons?” She’s searching for another distraction from the group texts and reality, and she just loves to get under my skin (and currently, my underwear) in the process.

“Lulu,” I confirm.

“Is that all you sleep in?”