“Is that what Dallas would say?” Colson counters.
Alex lunges at Colson and grabs the top of his vest, backing him into the wall, “You don’t know the half of why Dallas is doing what she’s doing,” he snarls, “and she wouldn’t need to if you or I had been here instead of thousands of miles away. This has always been our problem and our responsibility and I’ll die before I let her spend the rest of her life worrying that Bowen fucking Garrison is lurking in the shadows.”
“Don’t let your emotions overwhelm intelligence,” Colson glares at Alex with his piercing eyes, “don’t forget, we’re not the only ones with a stake in this.”
I stare at them, wide-eyed, neither of them taking notice of me with my jaw hanging down to the floor. I don’t know half of what they’re talking about, but I’m starting to get lightheaded again.
Alex casts me a brief glance and then loosens his hold on Colson.
“Let me figure this out,” Colson nods to me, “and then we figure it out.”
Alex doesn’t take his eyes off Colson, and after a moment he finally nods and turns to head back to the desk. “He won’t get past the gate,” Alex barks over his shoulder, “and if I see him first, he’s dead.”
●●●
My back and shoulders are so tense, they feel like they’re made of marble, but my legs feel like pure Jell-O. Colson’s stride is so long that I have to jog to keep up with him through the lobby toward the long hallway of offices off to the right. When I glance up at his body armor, fastened back into place, I have the sickening realization that Colson is now my escort through the building rather than my coworker.
My Tahoe remains outside the front gate, parked next to the security building after Colson ordered me to get my work bag and meet him at his car.
“What’d you say to Dave?” I ask as I try to organize my thoughts, “What’s going on?”
“I took care of it,” he states plainly.
“How? I’ve been fired—quit—whatever…” I don’t even know how to explain what’s happening.
“No, you haven’t,” Colson leads me through the vast corridor of offices to the back of the building, “I told him you didn’t send the email and then told him what’s going on.”
My eyes round, “What did you tell him?”
“Only that your safety’s been compromised,” Colson looks over his shoulder at me, “so, you still have your job if you want it.”
He comes to a halt at the last office at the end of the hall and Dallas’s face lights up as soon as she sees us in her doorway. Standing behind Colson, I can’t see his face, but her wide, crimson smile fades the longer she looks at him.
He sits down in one of the black chairs in front of her desk and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, “Can you find spyware on a phone?”
Dallas stares at him blankly for a good five seconds, then cracks a smile, “Can I find spyware on a phone?” she repeats in a mocking tone, “Did you click on another link to a celebrity sex tape by accident?”
Colson stifles a smile and nods to me, “It’s for Brett—someone got into her emails.”
“Oh, no!” Dallas furrows her brow in concern and thrusts her hand over the desk, “I can take a look.”
I dig my phone back out, unlock the screen, and hand it over. She starts swiping and tapping, pausing periodically to respond to her own texts and IMs.
“Why are we looking for spyware?” I murmur to Colson.
He swivels his head, speaking in a soft tone, “Do you leave your email open on your phone?”
I shake my head, “Not my work email.”
“Someone sent that email to Dave, so they had to know how to get in.”
I know what Colson is implying, and I know he’s probably right, but I don’t want to come right out and say it yet. But the longer I watch Dallas swipe her manicured black spiderweb nails over my phone, the more I think about the letter from Emily Fox tucked in my bag at my feet.
Colson peers at me out of the corner of his eye, “Did someone really pick up your book?” he whispers.
I’m dreading the answer, so I continue focusing on Dallas and her bright blue eyes framed by a pair of thick-rimmed purple glasses. Her dramatic makeup is always immaculate and she has one of those faces overflowing with feverish enthusiasm. It’s like nothing ever bothers her, like she’s too busy to be inconvenienced by turmoil. But she’s a Lutz, so she’s no stranger to turmoil.
“Yes,” heat rushes into my cheeks and I can’t even turn to face Colson, “Jada wanted to, but before I could send it to her, it disappeared.”
“What do you mean disappeared?”
“It’s gone,” I rasp, “when I went to send it, I couldn’t find it. It’s not on my hard drive or the cloud.” I give a curt shake of my head, having finally accepted the defeat. “It’s just gone.”
Colson is silent, shifting his gaze around the room pensively.
“Aha!” Dallas exclaims, “There you are,” she jeers and holds the speaker to her mouth, “I found youuuu…” she sings into the phone with a devilish giggle.
I can’t help but smile, “What are you doing?” I ask with confusion.
“See that blue basketball icon?” She rotates my phone and holds it up, “It looks like the usual pre-installed bloatware, so you’d probably never open it anyway. But this one is spy software disguised as a default sports app. It’s super common.”
I peer at the unassuming icon, “What does it do?”
“A few things,” she explains, “whoever installed it can access any password-protected apps you have, which is pretty standard, but this one also listens. Maybe voice-activated? It doesn’t copy everything you do on your phone like some spyware, otherwise you probably would’ve noticed some major lag or your phone would stop working because it’s a mega drain on your data. But yeah, I Googled it and it’s like starting a tape recorder whenever it detects a voice in certain proximity.”
“So…” I trail off for a moment, the sinking feeling coming back, “someone can listen to everything I’m saying?”
“It’s only as good as your speaker is,” Dallas continues, “so, if it’s in your pocket or a bag, it’ll pick up less. But I wouldn’t consider that any comfort. I mean,” she grabs her own phone to show me, “I have my phone out all the time.”
