“Of course not. They just want anything Chris may have used.”
“But if they take my things, his name will come out.”
“He’s a minor. He’ll be shielded.”
“I won’t be,” she cried and, visibly trembling, hugged her middle. “Everyone in town knows he’s my son. Once they hear my name, they’ll have his name—and don’t talk about innocent until proven guilty. That’s bull. If they take my things, Chris won’t be protected. I won’t be protected. Everyone will be looking at us. Our names will be all over the place.”
I rubbed her arm. She was getting ahead of herself, but I understood her panic. As unorthodox as Grace could be, she was no exhibitionist. I might be her closest friend, but I had no idea who was listed in her phone contacts, who starred in her nightmares, or what she kept in a box under her bed. Her private life was private. She trusted Devon for the same reason our clients did. Everyone had secrets. No one wanted them exposed.
Nina simply said, “They have warrants for your devices.”
Grace’s voice was high and tight. “Fine. They can have the computers. They’re at home.”
“Computers, phone, tablets.”
“No. N. O. Not my phone.”
“Grace,” I said, knowing that cooperation was wise.
Her eyes flew to mine. “Clients text me. It’s part of my work.”
“I know, and you’ll have the phone back.”
“They’ll need the computer here at the Spa, too,” Nina said.
It was only one more computer, but its implication reverberated, sending a tremor from Grace’s arm to my gut and back. If Spa clients had been victimized, some part of the investigation would, of course, have to be here. But involving the Spa meant involving the Inn, which did not include scandal on its list of amenities. Management would not be pleased.
Grace had to be thinking this, too. What she said was a high-pitched, “Why in the world do they need the Spa computer? Chris doesn’t use it. He’s never touched it. He has no access to it at all.”
“That’s the point of hacking,” Nina said. “Hackers take access where none is given.”
“My son isn’t a hacker,” Grace cried and swung to me, eyes wild, voice reedy. Her hand was back on her chest, as if holding her heart in place. “They have him at the police station. I was his phone call, Maggie. What do I do?”
Run, I thought. Get as far from this place as you can, or so the terrified voice in my nightmare always cried. I sucked in a breath, wanting to sound like I was considering her options, rather than trying to calm myself. In those few seconds, I refocused. This was about Grace, whose big, brown eyes were imploring me now. For her, I had to be a voice of reason.
“First, a lawyer,” I said and glanced at Nina. “Jay Harrington?”
“No!” Grace cried.
“He’s the best,” Nina said.
“Not Jay! Jay does leases.”
“He did criminal work before he moved here,” I told her, as my lawyer in Boston had told me. True, Jay did real estate work in Devon. After burning out in the city, he had taken refuge in a place where criminals were few and far between. He had handled the closing on my cabin, but he knew nothing of my past. Lawyer-client privilege kept that information in Boston. In the event that I ever needed him on that score, I had a letter of introduction from my Boston attorney, along with copies of pertinent papers. They were in the green velvet box that had been my grandmother’s, stashed now under my bed along with other mementos of my life before this one.
“He’s been here long enough to know the town,” Nina was saying to Grace, “and he knows you.”
“We had a thing once. It didn’t end well.”
I did know that. Grace liked men but never stayed with one for long. Jay wasn’t alone in having a “thing” with her that hadn’t ended well. My roofer was another, and still she had called him when she needed him. At this moment, she needed Jay Harrington.
“And anyway,” Grace argued with a feeble glance behind, “I can’t leave now. I’m working.”
She wasn’t thinking straight, I knew. But I also knew something else. She loved her son more than life itself. “Chris is waiting,” I said. “I’ll stay here and reschedule—”
“No—come with me, Maggie—please? I can’t go alone!”
My stomach twisted. Being involved with anything law-related was risky for me. I had spent my time in Devon