falling into Tate’s arms. The scene that played out just moments ago.
She twisted in her seat and looked out the back window expecting to see Clint standing there filming them. Nothing. No one. Not even a shadow moved in the dark parking lot.
“How the hell did he even get my number?”
She thought about it. “We gave our numbers to the officer who arrested Clint at the ranch. Either he memorized it, or more likely his lawyer gave him a copy of the report with all our information.”
“Shit.”
She checked everywhere, but saw nothing in the parking lot. “Where is he?”
Tate slammed her door and took a few steps toward the end of the truck and yelled, “Come out, you coward.” Nothing. Clint had either fled or had sense enough not to face off with Tate. “I didn’t think so.” Tate walked around to the driver’s side, climbed in, turned the key in the ignition, and drove out of the lot. “He thinks he wins by sending me that video, but he won’t come right at me.”
“Where are we going?”
“To the police station to give Valdez these videos. Something needs to be done about that asshole.”
“He’s taunting us.”
“No, he’s taunting me. He wants me to know he ‘had you first.’ He can get to you whenever he wants, and he’s going to make you miserable until we split or you leave me.”
“That’s never going to happen.”
Tate reached over and touched her face. “He wants it to happen. He wants you alone, so he can have you.”
Those ominous words sank their claws into her heart and wouldn’t let go.
Tate kept an eye on Liz while she wrote out her statement for Valdez. The detective sat on the other side of the desk with Tate’s phone watching the video Clint sent him. Liz’s cheeks burned red, but she kept her head down and the pen moving across the page.
He didn’t know how she held it together so well.
Sure, she’d had a moment. She deserved it. If he didn’t feel such an urgent need to hit something, he might cry, too.
It wasn’t fair or right.
Valdez slammed the phone down on the desk. “I’m sorry, Liz. But I had to verify it’s you and Clint.”
Liz glanced at Tate out of the corner of her eye, but didn’t say anything.
“The other video . . . well, it’s called a deepfake. Viewers will find it hard to tell if it’s real or fake. Most won’t question it. My guess, Clint used an online service to make it. Most of them are made with celebrity photos over porn stars’ faces. Some folks want a woman they think they can never have or who shot them down. There are tools online to make the videos using the slew of pictures people post on social media online.”
“Are you saying he used my Facebook and Instagram pictures to make that filth?”
“That and pictures he took of you. Stills from videos he has of you. It’s becoming more common. I read about a couple of big cases in LA. One was from Nebraska. A guy had a video made of an ex. He used it to blackmail her.”
“And let me guess, he got away with it.” The bitterness in Liz’s voice stung. Tate wanted to do something to make this right and make it disappear but he couldn’t. Which only made him feel useless. He needed an outlet for all this anger. Too bad he couldn’t get his hands on Clint.
“Unfortunately, the laws haven’t caught up with technology. If he put it up on the internet, it’s nearly impossible to take down.” Detective Valdez looked as frustrated as Tate felt.
“So this is going to follow me my whole damn life.” Liz sat back and stared at the wall of posters of fugitives.
Clint was number one on Tate’s Most Wanted list.
“I think it’s time for you two to come up with a plan.”
That got Tate’s attention. “What kind of plan?”
“A code word or something to alert the other you’re in trouble. Keep more than one phone with you.”
Liz pulled two phones from her purse. “Done.”
“You’re still carrying your old phone?”
“I picked it up at my condo when I packed my clothes. Clint doesn’t have my new number.” She sighed. “Or maybe he does. If he got yours from the ranch arrest report, he got mine.” She shook that off. “Anyway, I thought it best that I know if he’s texting or trying to call me.”
“Has he?” Tate didn’t even consider she’d kept this from