by Ash Harlow
When it had finished, Adam turned to Lulah. “Is there anything you can tell us?”
“What do you mean?” Her voice was shaky and confused.
“That’s your Facebook page, Lulah, and the video links directly to your YouTube account. Although the thing has gone viral and is now on God knows how many video sharing sites, personal sites, other Facebook pages, blogs…the fact is, it originated on your YouTube and Facebook accounts.”
Lulah’s face was ashen. “My accounts must have been hacked.”
“Really.”
“You’ve got to believe me. I have no idea about this. I haven’t used those accounts in ages. You can check that. Look at the history.”
Adam scrolled through the dozens of Facebook messages and status updates posted over the past few weeks. They told a story of dangerous dogs they tried to rehabilitate at the Sanctuary. There were photos of snarling pit bulls and dog bites on dogs and humans. “Looks to me like you’ve been in hyper-mode, Lulah.”
“I would never do anything to harm these dogs…this place…Marlo or the Dog Sanctuary.” She turned to Marlo, shoulders high, hands open. “You know that.”
“I know.” She faced Adam. “Lulah wouldn’t do this. She’s as passionate about saving these dogs as I am.” She watched as he held her stare. The void in his expression made her throat constrict.
He turned to Lulah. “Tell me why we should believe you.”
“Because I love what I do here. It’s my life. These dogs are more important to me than anything else in the world.”
“What about the anti-pit bull lobby?”
“They’re ignorant. They need to come here and see the sort of work we do…see what these dogs are really like. What they become with a bit of love and help.”
“Have you ever met any of them?”
Lulah had been twirling a ring on her finger but now, as her face lifted, she was flushed with defiance. “No, never.”
“What makes you so sure about that?”
“Adam, I’d know.” She was becoming agitated.
“And how would you know? Because these people—the real lobbyists and agitators—they don’t broadcast their affiliation. They cozy-up alongside you, become your friend, your confidante and without you realizing it, they extract all the information they want.”
Lulah shook her head. “I don’t know any of them.”
“What about Vince?”
Lulah’s mouth dropped. “Vince? Vince is one of them?”
“Possibly. You guys don’t know anything about him. He turns up here out of the blue. He hides behind a wall of silence when it doesn’t suit him to speak. His behavior is questionable at times and he’s pretty good at disappearing when it’s convenient.”
Lulah shook her head. “No, hey, no. Vince is a good person.”
Adam gave her a long stare. “Vince could be anyone. He’s in the perfect situation for the activists. He’s befriended you. Does he have access to your computer?”
Marlo broke in. “Adam, back off. Vince is fine.”
Adam stayed with Lulah. “Is that what you think?”
She swiped at her eyes. “Jesus, I don’t know…yes, he’s a good person. He has nothing to do with this.”
“They’ve hacked your online accounts, Lulah, so dig really deep. Have you met anyone you now might think is suspicious?”
“No…I haven’t.”
“What about online? In forums, Facebook, Twitter? Have you engaged in any discussions of that sort?”
“Once again, no! And do you know why?”
Adam watched.
“Because I’m not bright enough to hold my own against them in a debate, so I stay out of that sort of thing.”
‘You’re bright, Lulah, I can see that. And if you’re passionate about something, you can certainly put up a pretty good argument.”
“The words matter with me,” Lulah went back to worrying her ring. “I’m dyslexic. I’ve learned that online, once your spelling lets you down the attacks become personal. If you check all the way back through my status updates you’ll see that I haven’t used Facebook for over a year. If there are new updates on my account, they certainly weren’t made by me.”
Adam nodded. “Thanks, Lulah, that’s all for now.”
Lulah stood to leave.
“Wait, Lulah.” Marlo took hold of her wrist before she turned to Adam. “I want you to apologize.”
He raised one eyebrow. “Pardon me?”
“I think you should apologize.” She fixed him with a quiet, calm stare.
They faced off for a second before Adam turned away, not willing to step up to her challenge. “Lulah, you can go. Thanks for your help. I’m sorry if I seemed harsh. I might need to talk to you later.”
“Over my dead body,” Marlo muttered. She waited until Lulah was out of earshot before rounding on Adam. “You prick! Where do you get off treating Lulah like that?” She stalked the room again, back and forward across the office. Fala was in her bed in the corner, and she looked up and whined. “Does that work for you…for your ego? Does it make you feel powerful? Was it good? Did it give you a hard-on, Mr. Cop?”
“No, it doesn’t give me a hard-on. I’m looking for information, Marlo. I’m sorry if that’s unpalatable for you, but that’s how it works.”
“What? By bullying her?”
“I’m doing my job.”
His words hit her like a punch, jerking her chin. “Oh, great, the classic line that’s exonerated bastards for decades. Just following orders.” She shook her head. “You cops are all the same. Whatever made me think you were different?”
Adam stood and blocked her path taking hold of her arms. “Come on, you don’t mean that?”
She stiffened immediately. “Hands off.”
Adam kept his hold. Damn. Every time he opened his mouth the mess got bigger. “Don’t pace, Marlo. Please, stand still and listen to me.” He searched her face, watching her discomfort, ready to dispel her fear. “We must find the source of this quickly. They’ll come after Justice. Getting their hands on him will be the most spectacular coup they could imagine. They are radicals, and they won’t stop until they get what they want. Everyone is vulnerable here…CRAR, any future dogs that are rescued, you—even you’re in danger. This has to be stopped, and I’m sorry if my methods are distasteful, but it is how this stuff works.”
He wanted to add that if she was in danger, well, that’s how he would continue to work, because he would not fuck it up again.
He paused, breathed deep, squeezed his eyes shut, and clutched a handful of control. She had to understand. “You live out here in the country, closeted from the real world, but it doesn’t matter how much protection you put around yourself, how removed you keep yourself from everyone. The real world doesn’t give a shit about that distance when it wants to bust in. That moat you’ve built around your life isn’t impenetrable. We know that already.”
Marlo remained stiff beneath his hands.
Oh, brilliant, now he’d frightened her. Adam’s fingers closed around her arms. “Breathe deep and slow. You know what to do.”
She shook her head.
“Turn around,” he ordered, but she didn’t move. “Marlo, turn around and put your back to me. I’m going to do something to help you.”
She stayed frozen in place.
He quietly begged her not to fight. With a fixed grip, he slowly eased her to turn her back to him, holding her firmly. “I’m going to place a hand on your forehead and one on the back of your head, at the base of your skull. It’s going to help you. It will take you out of the place you’re in right now. Okay?”
She didn’t move, but she didn’t protest so he carefully released one hand and placed it across her forehead. Christ, she was rigid. He continued with his other hand, slipping it beneath the tumble of hair to the base of her skull, and held, praying this would work.
Within his hands, she was clammy with stress sweat. He watched the minutes pass on the wall cl
ock, over the top of her head, and a little after the three-minute mark she started to relax. Her breathing was coming back to normal and gradually she sank against him. “That’s it,” he spoke into her hair. “Well done.”
She relaxed further and leaned into him, and his cock twitched. Oh, hell, not now. Can we please not take inappropriateness to an Olympic-qualifying level? He pitched his hips away slightly, so she wouldn’t feel him. He slipped his hands down to her shoulders. “How is that?”
“Good,” she replied softly.
“Your stress level has dropped?”
Marlo nodded.
“When I was doing that, did it bring up any new issues?”
“I don’t understand?”
“Did you remember or think about anything else, maybe from the past that made you stressed?”
“No.”
She twitched her head to the right, not a full shake of the head that would signify denial, more a flick of distaste. She’s in conflict; there is something there from her past. “We can keep doing this until all the stress has gone. It can be so helpful.”
“I’m fine now. Thank you. What was that, anyway?”
“A little calming technique I learned. It’s called frontal occipital holding.”
“Do they teach that at Police College in your country?”
Adam shook his head. “No, it’s something I learned to do after Emma died. It cured me of some of the more extreme pastimes I’d taken up, like hurtling off the rails and punching walls. That’s the first time I’ve tried it on anyone but myself. I’m glad it worked for you.”
“Me, too.”
Once more she relaxed and pressed herself against him. He would do anything to be able to wrap her in his arms and take all of her stress away. It took every ounce of inner strength he had to steer her over to a chair and sit her down. “Crisis averted. On to the next crisis,” he said, pleased that she would never guess what he really meant.
That thing he’d done, holding her head, was amazing. The stress had simply slipped away, and…oh, hell…the journalist. How on earth had she missed the journalist? She dragged her teeth over her bottom lip. “Adam, you might want to sit down.”
Adam dropped into a chair, his long legs stretched out before him, ankles crossed. He rubbed his hands through his hair, mussing it until he had a rumpled and rugged effect.
He doesn’t even know he’s done that. Some spend a fortune to get that result; he gets tired and rubs his hands about and looks devastating in the best possible way. His face told her he’d prepared not to be annoyed. “You’ve got to promise not to shout at me.”
“I would never shout at you, Marlo.”
“You might change your mind when you hear what I’ve got to say.”
“Why not tell me what you think has happened and don’t get twitchy when I ask questions. It doesn’t mean that I’m accusing you of anything.”
“Okay.” Trying to remember as much detail as possible, Marlo described the visit from the journalist and photographer. How they’d arrived early, and she’d discovered them in her office. The photographer had been by the filing cabinet where the camcorder discs were kept, messing about with his cameras. He had two bags but only one camera. He could easily have copied the discs. Even as she relayed the story she could see the gaping holes and what was worse, the bits that should have set off alarm bells.
Adam winced. “Why didn’t you tell me about this visit before?”
“You were away. I’d put it out of my mind by the time you returned. Until this happened, it seemed irrelevant. I was waiting for the story to be printed.”
“Well, at least we’ve got somewhere to start now. Can you get the original request from the publishers for me? I’ll check them out. Somehow, I don’t think they’re going to be legit.”
“I broke rule number one by not asking to see their credentials.”
“Don’t worry about that. If this little piece of work had been their intent you can be certain they would have equipped themselves with a valid-looking set of credentials. Anyway, it’s too late for that sort of thinking. Grab me that information and I’ll run some checks on them.”
“All communication was done via email. Do you want me to forward them?”
“Yes. Do that and I’ll get someone to work on them.”
Marlo’s stomach tumbled. How slim was the chance that the ‘someone’ would be Barrett? Should she tell Adam about him? She could break the story down to something snack-sized and palatable. Give him a version that wouldn’t send him into some sort of revenge or protector mode.
No. That story was hers to take care of and safeguard. Sharing risked losing control of it. Much better to keep it locked away. That meant she needed to get her name off all the emails before sending them.
“Could you maybe check through the emails from here, rather than me sending them on? It’s probably nothing, I don’t want to waste anyone’s time.”
Adam stared at her. That disconnected police stare that told her he knew she was hiding something. She smiled and cocked her head slightly.
“Is this a ‘not wanting to get involved with the police’ thing? Because really, you’re involved right now and however difficult you’re finding it, we are all following the same ball to the end of the pitch.”
“Yeah, I know, but I feel a bit weird about sending off my emails.”
“Is there anything else I should know?”
She shrugged. “No, don’t worry, it’s me…ever-so-slightly paranoid Marlo.”
“One day you’re going to tell me what on earth is churning about in that head of yours.”
Not if she could help it. She went to her computer and set up a search for the emails. Opening each one, she simply cut out the pertinent information and pasted it into a new email for Adam. She made certain no reference to her name remained in the information…just in case.
Adam watched her. “I can see what you’re doing, Marlo.”
“I don’t care,” she replied.
“It’s spinning a very odd tale.”
She continued to study the screen. “I’m pleading the Fifth.”
“Who are you hiding from?”
She shrugged.
“You’re protecting yourself. Why do you need to do that?”
Marlo shook her head. “Where do we go next with this thing?”
He watched her for a couple of moments. “I need to take the discs so that we can check the video against your raw footage. If it turns out to be your footage, we could get some sort of theft charge going on. The problem is we still need to identify who hacked Lulah’s YouTube and Facebook accounts.”
“And they’re working on that, I guess?”
“Yes. CRAR is issuing a press release this afternoon, and you guys here have to sit tight. The blanket ban on talking to anyone about this remains.”
Marlo nodded.
Adam took a deep breath. And here comes the bit that’s going to push her to the edge. “There’s something else we need to talk about.”
Chapter Fourteen
Marlo’s stomach clenched. A quick movie of scenarios flicked in her mind before she shut it down, because suddenly Barrett was playing the lead role. Her hand on the computer mouse made nervous twirls on the desk, and the corresponding circling arrow on the screen was mesmerizing. She blinked a few times to stay focused. He’s not going to talk about Barrett. Adam couldn’t possibly know anything about him.
“CRAR are concerned about Justice. They think his rehabilitation here has been compromised.” Adam’s words flew straight at her, his tone adding authority as if it would make them tolerable.
“Justice is fine. You know that he’s fine!” She was still jittery, and her voice pitched tight and high.
“I know, but think for a minute, hon. The group that made the video; they know he’s here. Someone may try to take him.”
She clung to the little endearment he’d used, hoping he’d crossed the line from impartiality to her side. She could
validate that step for him with the right words and a quick smile. “He’s safe with me. Please, you can’t move him—it’s too early. He’s likely to regress.”
“Justice is supposed to be invisible. His status isn’t like that of a regular rescue dog. For now, he’s the property of the Federal Government. CRAR are under orders to keep him hidden, and he’s pretty much on display. You know all this, Marlo.”
Nope, he stayed with impartial. “Speak to Mae. Adam, God, they can’t take him. It will destroy him.” She stood and turned to him. Please, please, not the cop face. She couldn’t bear it.
Her anguish was all on show in her clenched jaw and tightly held fists, and it tugged at a small part deep within him. A part that had been in solitary confinement for years. He knew how to regulate and control his emotions, and he’d put so much work into this, yet one look at Marlo, and they completely unraveled. He understood he should never have let himself feel this way about her. Never should have looked any deeper into Marlo beyond the superficial layer. If he hadn’t enjoyed a glimpse of what was in there, he would still be capable of going ahead with something that was going to cause her such pain. Even if it was for her own good—for her own safety, in the end.
He had to make a final attempt at getting her to understand. “Marlo, I’m not choosing to do this…” She stepped past him and walked toward the window. Oh, God, sit down. Please, don’t start that pacing again.
She stopped at the window and rounded on him. “Listen to yourself. Do you ever do that? Do you know how often you’ve spouted weasel words today? That this isn’t your choice? At what stage do you take some responsibility for what you’re doing?”
