Torn - Cynthia Eden Page 0,70
was gone.
See you soon. “He had access to all your contacts, Wade. Your e-mails. Any data you had on your phone.” She shivered. “He had you.” For hours, and she hadn’t even known it.
Worse, though . . . he’d had me. The conversations flashed in her mind and shame washed through her. A killer had been toying with her. She was supposed to be a professional. She should have known—
I didn’t know. But he knows me. He knows what I did.
“I want to see those texts, every single one of them,” Wade said. “We’re pulling Dace in. Whatever the perp is planning, we will stop him, I swear it.”
Her gaze darted to the busy street once more.
And the crowd just kept walking right past her.
SHE HADN’T SEEN him. It had been a very near thing.
Luckily for him, she’d given away the game. I want to understand you.
As soon as she’d written those words, he realized that Victoria knew she wasn’t texting Wade Monroe. She’d realized the truth. She’d thought to play him.
She wasn’t at his level, not even close.
He pulled up his collar as he walked away. He’d rather enjoyed that little dalliance with Victoria, and the phone he’d collected from the beach had certainly proved useful. He’d obtained all sorts of helpful pieces of information from Wade.
He’d use that information soon enough. But first, he had another man to visit. Someone who’d offered to make a trade, but then tried to change the rules.
A trade is a trade. Jim Porter had been told exactly what to do. He should have waited in the little cottage. Stayed there. Instead, he let Melissa run, and then he’d gone out, too.
A violation that would be punished.
He kept his steps slow and easy. After all, he didn’t want it to look as if he were rushing away from the scene. And it was so hard not to look back. He really wanted to glance over his shoulder and see Victoria once more. But . . .
Soon enough.
He’d see her again, when the time was right. When Wade Monroe wasn’t at her side. When she was alone and waiting.
The perfect prey.
“LET ME GET this shit straight,” Dace said as he paced in his office. The guy looked tired—the seriously rough kind of tired that a man appears when he hasn’t had sleep for twenty-four hours. “You’re telling me that the killer . . . he’s been texting you for hours? Sending you all kinds of notes?”
Her hands twisted in front of her. “Yes, that’s exactly what we’re saying. And we found the phone he used—Wade’s phone—right behind our B&B less than thirty minutes ago.”
Dace stopped pacing. “Impossible.”
“No.” Wade shook his head. “That bastard was still on the scene when I untied Melissa. I left my phone there, and he took it. I just—hell, I just forgot about it during the search. Didn’t even give the thing a damn thought.”
“No, no, I’m saying he couldn’t have been texting her. He couldn’t have been in that alley . . .” Dace exhaled on a rough breath. “Because I’ve got my suspect—Matthew Walker—in custody! He’s been in my custody for hours. There is no way he’s been texting you. I let him make one phone call. One. To his lawyer. He isn’t—”
“Then he isn’t the killer we’re looking for,” Wade said, cutting through his words. “Because I’m telling you—that guy had my phone. He was making contact with Victoria. The bastard was stalking her.”
She didn’t flinch at those words, but she feared Wade was right.
Dace looked at Wade’s phone, which had been sealed in a clear plastic bag. Wade had been trying to protect the evidence as much as possible. “I want to read the texts,” Dace said.
Victoria hesitated, then offered her phone to him. Wade’s phone would only be touched again by crime techs, so no more contamination could occur. But Dace could easily read the texts on her phone. She kept her face expressionless as he scrolled through them.
“These times—shit, the times listed for the texts are when Matthew Walker was in custody!”
“Then I think you have the wrong man in custody,” Wade said quietly.
“He owns a damn Jag! He rented the cottage! His name was on the rental contract. Okay, yeah, so the guy was blowing smoke and saying the signature was a forgery and that he’d never been to the cottage, but I know he was involved with Melissa Hastings. He was sleeping with her.” A muscle jerked in his jaw. “The same