I have the feeling someone’s watching me from the massive windows of my house. I hate that. But for the moment, I’m alone with Elliot.
“Kind of suffocated, actually.” A breeze kicks up and whips my hair across my face, but I push it back, so I can meet Elliot’s eyes. “My family won’t let me go out unaccompanied. It’s one of them and a bodyguard at all times.”
Elliot crosses his arms. “Probably a prudent decision. There are still one or more killers at large. You don’t want to chance running into one of them, especially if you’ve got no idea what they look like. I hate to add more fear to your situation, but any stranger on the street could be one of them.”
One or more killers. What he means is that Rome is behind bars, leaving the rest. Could be one. Could be more. I never did see the man wearing the mask. Never did establish if it was just one psycho visiting us, or several. Rome swore there were three of them when he spent time upstairs, two guys and a girl, but so far the cops don’t seem to be taking anything he says seriously. Elliot hasn’t heard a word I’ve said over the past weeks protesting Rome’s innocence.
I stop myself from launching into the same tirade I’ve already shared multiple times. I’ll deal with the Rome situation and make sure his name is cleared. But first, I need to know if my ex-boyfriend is stalking me.
“It’s not strangers I keep running into.” My heart beats faster as the pieces click into place. “It’s my....ex-boyfriend. Will. I only started leaving the house this past week, and I’ve seen him everywhere. All over the city. Just now in Colma. It’s too much to be a coincidence. I don’t think it’s malicious, but it’s freaking me out.” I pause momentarily, suddenly gripped by a horrible feeling that I’m betraying somebody who loved me–and only me–for the better part of a decade, even with all my family bullshit and baggage.
Still. If I don’t ask the question, I won’t get an answer. “Do you guys have some tacit agreement to keep tabs on me? It’s getting weird.”
Weird is an understatement. I’m ready for Elliot to laugh. To crack a smile. To say that there’s no possible way anyone’s paying this much attention to me.
But he frowns. A chill skitters down my spine. “That is weird,” he agrees.
“He’s a good guy,” I say quickly. God, am I trying to expose him or defend him? Neither? Both? I’m so confused.
“Do you have a phone on you by any chance?” Elliot asks.
The burner phone. Damn it. Of course.
I don’t want to tell the detective, in case I’m wrong, and then I lose the only thread of freedom I possess. I definitely don’t want to give that up, especially if Elliot is working with them. I look up at the house, catching movement in the ground-floor window. They are fucking watching.
“Are you on my uncle’s payroll?” I blurt out. Elliot looks startled. My legs are aching, and I sit down on the bottom step that leads to the front door, the smoothie in my hand warm now. I set it down and focus my attention back on Elliot, who is hovering at a respectable distance.
“It’s not a big deal,” I add. “Half the SFPD is.”
“No, I’m not,” he says emphatically, sitting across from me so we’re facing the long driveway and wrought-iron gates that are firmly closed. “I’d have a much better car than that piece of junk if I was getting under-the-table payments from your family.”
I believe him. I don’t know why, but something about him is… I can’t quite put my finger on it. The weary expression in his blue-green eyes and the tattoo sleeves peeking out from his shirt sleeves tell of a life harder and more complicated than your average paper-pusher working for the SFPD downtown.
Neither of us say anything for a moment. It’s a nice afternoon, the breeze slight, bees merrily collecting pollen from the roses my mother painstakingly tended for years before she died. The sky is a brilliant blue with occasional fluffy clouds hurtling overhead on their way inland. The sun is warm on my face. I should feel happy. But suspicion and betrayal twist painfully in my gut, their presence turning all of the good things dark.
“He gave you a phone, didn’t he?” Elliot guesses.
I nod. “I thought he was trying to be helpful. My family isn’t exactly… letting me have my own life right now, if you know what I mean.”
My family is driving me fucking insane with their constant hovering, truth be told, but it comes from love, so I haven’t said anything about it. Yet. I haven’t had to, because this phone has given me the lifeline I thought I needed.
“You got it on you?”
“I do.” I scoot closer to him and open my purse, taking the phone out. It takes everything I have to put it into his hand.
“Password?”
I rattle off the four-digit code and Elliot types it in with his thumb. He flicks back and forth through the apps. There aren’t many, but he lands on one in particular—I don’t think I’ve ever tried to open it. I spend all my time on the browser, trying to find out what’s happening to Rome.
“Avery,” he says quietly, and it scares me more than a shout would have. “Does anyone else have access to this phone?”
I push the hair out of my face again and gather it into my fist to hold it back against the breeze. “Nobody has access to it now. Will—he’s the one who brought it to me in the hospital.”
He turns the phone around so I can see the screen.
At first, I don’t understand what I’m seeing. I know apps like this exist—everyone does. I’ve just never seen one, and especially not on my own phone.
It’s innocuous. A little search icon with a blue background. I don’t use separate apps to search the internet because I’m a normal fucking person who uses Google.
Underneath that icon is a series of lines of text. They say things like transmitting data.
Transmitting location.
Transmitting messages.
Transmitting search queries.
Everything.
It’s been sending Will everything.
“Will Hewitt is the only other person who’s had the ability to install apps on this phone?” Elliot’s voice is meant to be gentle, but it’s a sledgehammer. My chest collapses into a black hole. My heart follows it. I can’t speak, so I answer him with a nod.
He takes his phone from the front pocket of his shirt, swipes it with a harsh movement, and dials. It’s like I no longer exist. “I need a team and I need a search warrant,” Elliot says urgently. “Now.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
ELLIOT
I take Isobel with me and a full SWAT team. My blood ran cold at the sight of that tracker on Avery Capulet’s phone. It’s evidence, clear-cut as I’ve ever seen. Maybe not evidence that he’s involved in her kidnapping, but it’s not that hard to connect the two in my mind.
It’s almost impossible to play it cool. Isobel’s the one who has to slap my arm and tell me to chill the fuck out on the way over.
Will’s just getting home when we blaze up the street in a convoy of cars. It’s not quite as many as we used for the rescue mission, but it’s enough. Five cop cars. Ten people on the team. Sirens off, so he doesn’t hear us approaching and make a run for it.
He steps out of his own car in the driveway, face pale.
“Howdy, officers,” he calls. “Something I can help you with?”
“Clear around back,” Isobel calls, and two teams split off to take care of the backyard. “I’ve got point on the front of the house.”
I’m the one who gets to deal with the man himself. Will stands there with his arms crossed, back straight, jaw in a defiant smirk. It’s only his pallid complexion that gives him away. If there’s corroborating evidence inside this will be a home run. I stride across the front lawn to the echoing shouts of clear, copy, clear from the back. Isobel waits at the front door.
“We have a warrant signed by the sheriff to search the premises for evidence of illegal wiretapping.” I take the folded warrant from my pocket and present it to him.
Will’s mouth twists
into a defiant grin as he snatches the folded warrant. “I think you’ve got me confused with someone else, detective. I’ve done plenty of things with Avery Capulet, but wiretapping isn’t one of them.”
I stare at him. I can’t help it. It’s not professional, but then again, it’s been a long time since someone walked so neatly and cooperatively into a confession. He hasn’t even unfolded the warrant yet, much less read the damn thing.
“I never mentioned her name,” I smile. It’s almost too easy. “Thanks for that.”
“I just assumed that’s who you’re here about.” Will falters, then tries again. “I can’t imagine there’s someone else who has accused me of wiretapping.” He lets out a thin laugh. “Could have used a friendly warning, McRae. I’d have cleaned up for your people.”
It’s all bluff and bluster. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Isobel testing the doorknob, then stepping back to kick it in. Will holds his keys up wordlessly, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “I’d have given her the key if she’d asked nicely,” he mutters.
“She doesn’t ask nicely,” I reply. “She prefers kicking doors down, truth be told.”
We both watch as Isobel enters Will’s house, surrounded by several SWAT officers. I’m left out here, standing with Will. One of the teams from the back jogs around and flanks me on either side. This asshole isn’t going anywhere in a hurry.
Will’s eyes leave mine to race the outside of his own house. I wonder what he’s thinking in an abstract sort of way, just to pass the time. Installing spyware on anyone’s phone is a risky proposition. Installing spyware on a phone that he specifically provided to Avery Capulet looks even worse. I’m itching to arrest him, but I’ll wait. I’ll follow protocol. Let Isobel execute the search warrant. It’s the right thing to do.
My walkie-talkie crackles to life on the front of my vest.
“McRae?”
“I copy.”
Will shifts, but so do the rest of my guys. They’re not going to let him sprint away down the street. Will seems to know it. He’s taking guilty glances at the street, the driveway, the car.
A wave of static comes next. “—evidence on the laptop.”
“Say again, Isobel?”
Her voice bursts from the walkie-talkie, loud and clear. “He’s got downloads of the camera tapes on his laptop. I’m taking it in as evidence. You know what to do.”
It gives me a sadistic kind of pleasure to take out my handcuffs. Normally, I don’t rejoice when people step outside the bounds of the law. It makes it worse for everyone. But after I saw Avery Capulet today and witnessed firsthand the dark circles under her eyes and the way she’s anxiously edging through life, I’m glad for this.
Will doesn’t unfold his arms. “What do you think you’re doing with those? I haven’t done anything wrong. So what, I left that app installed on the phone I lent her, my phone. Avery knows I’m just looking out for her with that crazy fucking family of hers keeping her locked up in that mansion. She’s not going to press charges. She loves me.”
Isobel chooses that exact moment to come out the front door of the house, fury in every step she takes, vengeance alight in her eyes. “Cuff that pretentious little shit,” she calls. “Don’t wait another second.”
“You’re under arrest on suspicion of illegal wiretapping and aiding and abetting a kidnapping.”
“Kidnapping? What the fuck?” Will doesn’t even sound convincing. I don’t believe his outrage. I do believe the pissed-off scowl he’s wearing. “I didn’t kidnap anybody.”
“You have quite a few videos of Avery Capulet on your laptop.” Isobel watches intently while I push on Will’s shoulder, then draw my other hand down toward his wrist. “Videos of her being held in a dungeon by a serial killer. Yet you did nothing.”
“I’ve never seen videos like that.” Will resists, but not much. He’s panicking, now. This is not part of the narrative he thought he’d be living through when he saw us approach.
I cuff his hands behind his back. “If there are videos of that on my computer, then somebody else put them there. I’m being set up. Can’t you see that?” Will jerks his hands in the cuffs, growing more agitated. “I was at the hospital with her every day. I fucking love her. You assholes think I had something to do with her being taken? Being tortured?”
Will’s voice rings with disbelief. It’s pretty damn convincing.
“Your father really taught you how to act,” Isobel says, whistling as though she’s impressed. “You’re almost believable.”
“You have the right to remain silent,” I begin the spiel of reading him his rights. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Will spits. “I didn’t have anything to do with that. All I did was help Avery out after her family tried to lock her away.”
“You have the right to an attorney,” I continue. “If you cannot afford one, one will be provided to you.”
Isobel winks at him. “I’m sure your daddy will hire you the biggest, meanest lawyer to get you out of the slammer before you drop your soap in the showers. If a judge even grants bail.”
It’s a clear, sunny day, people walking in the neighborhood, witnessing the arrest. Agents swarm the outside of the house now, looking for any additional evidence to be collected. We got a search warrant within an hour of discovering the spyware on Avery’s phone. Now this is a crime scene.
“Time to get in the car.”
“For what?” Will can’t stop himself. “For what?”
Another vehicle pulls up to the curb. It’s a tricked out Range Rover, brand new, top of the line. We’ve taken almost all the available space, running up onto Will’s yard, but the driver finds the last bare stretch of concrete. I recognize the car in a vague way.
The passenger door opens, and Avery Capulet climbs out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
AVERY
Nathan wouldn’t let me come alone, but he should have. I’m ready to burn this place to the ground. Will’s house, Verona Heights, the greater area of San Francisco...all of it. The world. The universe. I just can’t fucking believe that Will would do this. He’s somebody I trust, somebody I love. When he slipped me that phone, I thought it was an act of love, not an act of malice. If I can’t trust him, who can I trust?
There are a million cops here. A million, or ten, but none of them do anything to stop me. I’m stepping out of the car before Nathan has even thrown it into park, my vision tunneling to one spot: Will’s front door. There’s no traffic in what is normally a busy street and no sound other than the afternoon breeze whispering over the manicured lawn in front of his house.
“Avery. Avery, wait.” Nathan’s voice gets louder as he catches up to me, grabbing my elbow. “I didn’t drive you here so you could kill him before he goes to trial.”
I whirl on Nathan, pushing him away from me with both hands. I probably push a little harder than he’s expecting, because he has to step back to balance his footing.
“Don’t ever grab me,” I hiss. “Either shut up and let me do what I’m about to do, or get the hell out of here.”
“Avery,” he protests. “You’re acting like a crazy person.”
I don’t care that I’m acting insane. I don’t care what Nathan says. I haven’t cared since the moment Elliot looked me in the eye and told me what Will had really done to my phone.
Will. My Will. How could he do this? How could he fucking do this? He sat there next to my hospital bed and he read out the list of all the injuries I’d sustained. None of those injuries come close to the throbbing ache of betrayal. I told him I was okay. I comforted him in my time of darkness when he couldn’t even bear to look at me. I stroked his hair and wiped away his tears.
And he played me for a fool.
Elliot gets out of my way before I crash into him and I plant myself in front of Will.
“You bugged my phone?”
“It
’s not what you think, Aves.” Will’s eyes are wide, panicked, his usually tanned face drained of blood. “I swear to Christ, I can explain.”
“You’re lying. How could you possibly explain the fact that I trusted you, and you’ve been stalking me? After everything that happened to me, you thought it would be a good idea to follow me around like a fucking pervert!?”
Will flinches. He looks so pathetic, standing there in handcuffs with Elliot’s hand clamped around his wrist. Isobel, Elliot’s partner, stands nearby wearing a thinly veiled look of disgust.
“Okay. Okay.” Will’s eyes dart from me to Isobel to Elliot. I’m putting him in a bad position, and I know it. The old Avery Capulet would back down and give her enemy a chance to explain. The new Avery Capulet is incandescent with anger. My rage right now is brighter than the fucking sun. If he’s getting arrested, they can use his confessions against him and I’m going to stand here until I get one. Audience be damned.
“Okay,” Will says again. “I put some tracking software on the phone. An app. But it was only because—”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“I wanted to protect you.” A note of anguish creeps into his voice, and in that moment, I’m back in the mausoleum with him, hearing it again under the force of his anger. “Someone’s out to get you, Aves. I had to—I had to know. I couldn’t risk losing you again.”
“You can’t spy on me to protect me. I’ve been watched for weeks. I’ve been tortured, and recorded—”
“He knew that, too,” Isobel interrupts. “He has video files of your time in captivity saved on his computer.”
It’s as if all the air has been sucked out of my lungs. This isn’t a panic attack; this is a death.
“I’m going to throw up.” I press my hand to my mouth, swallowing bile back down until my reflex to vomit all over Will is tamped down.
VENGEFUL QUEEN Page 14
