37. Fisher
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
fisher
The dull buzz perforates my state of concentration, the sound getting closer, but I won’t stop until this is done.
I finished the hard part—getting into the account—five minutes ago.
Now I just need to leave the gift. I type out the number quickly, then click the box.
Half a heartbeat later, the voices are close. Just down the hall.
In the week since Libby and I returned to the island, I’ve been singularly focused on my mission.
I’ve never felt the desire for violence before.
However, when Libby poured her heart out, along with her tears, opening up about what Brad did to her, I wanted to end him.
I wanted to track him down and beat the shit out of him. I want him dead.
But that isn’t possible.
Libby and Sutton need me.
This way, they can still have me while I seek a modicum of vengeance. While I silently make Brad Fedder’s life a living hell.
On our first day back on the island, his security alarm malfunctioned.
Ninety-nine percent of the day, the system doesn’t work.
But every morning at 3:06 a.m., the alarm blares for seven minutes.
No matter how many times he types in the code to disarm it.
All emergency personnel report to his house.
Police, fire, and ambulance. For no reason.
Not one of the many people from the alarm company who have been called to service the system can figure out why.
Day two, his phone reset. All the data just poof , gone. Oddly enough, his iCloud has no history. He’s just shit out of luck.
Day three, his password key went nuts, suddenly populating the wrong password for every account and on every site.
Day four, all of his bank accounts were frozen by Homeland Security. Although no one can explain why, it will take time to sort through the channels to release the funds.
My time spent torturing this bastard has been the highlight of my week. It’s also ensured that he hasn’t had the time or ability to fuck with Libby. And, thankfully, no one has bothered her at all in weeks. With any luck, the fucker has given up.
“ Hacker. ” Apparently Sheriff is no longer fitting, so Libby has taken to calling me Hacker.
“Yeah, Princess?” I black out my screen and swivel around, leaning back in my chair.
“Was that Instagram?” She narrows her eyes on the screen behind me.
“You know I don’t have Instagram.” I stand and pull her out of my room.
She doesn’t need to know what I’ve been up to.
Plausible deniability and all that. Although typically, when someone is paying me to break into their network, it’s all above board, these side projects with Brad fall into a gray area.
“Maggie, Sutton, and I were thinking…” she says, her lips tipping up.
“That right there is enough to scare me,” I tease as we head down to the kitchen.
Libby shakes her head. “Look at you suddenly learning how to joke.”
“Oh my gosh!” Sutton bounces on her toes as she looks up from my laptop. It’s set up on the counter for her to use with supervision. “Did you see what Logan posted?”
Expression neutral, I watch her, waiting for what comes next.
“Logan?” Maggie asks.
She lifts her hand and stage whispers, “That’s not his name. That’s his name on the show.”
“Oh.” Libby’s eyes cut to me. With everything that’s been reported this week, it’s possible that she suspects I’m up to something. “What did Brad post?”
“Right, Brad.” Sutton spins the computer, and Libby’s eyes widen.
Maggie gasps. “Holy heck. He gave the world his cell phone number.”
Yep. Day seven is officially taken care of. Now Brad will be sorting through millions of texts and phone calls. He’ll have to change his number. Too bad he lost all his contacts and has no way to inform the people he wants to communicate with.
Under Libby’s scrutiny, I cross my arms over my chest and blink.
“That man must have earned himself some bad karma.” Maggie shakes her head. “It’s been one thing after another for him. The news reported that first responders keep having to go out to his place because his alarm has been malfunctioning. And then his Tesla shorted out in the middle of Rodeo Drive.”
Day five. I couldn’t plan where it would happen, but I set the virus that would kill the computer system of his beloved car to kick in after five miles. Now it’s just a pretty brick.
“And that video of him freaking out on the alarm people? The alarm that no one can seem to fix,” Maggie adds.
Day six.
“And now he’s doxing himself?” The way Libby’s tone gets higher says she doesn’t believe it.
This isn’t even half of what this asshole deserves, but at least it’s something.
I turn away to hide the smirk threatening to overtake me. Though I pull up short when I catch sight of my best friend. He’s lying on my sofa, arms crossed over his chest, legs crossed at the ankle. “Wilder?”
“Don’t mind me. I’m hiding.” He doesn’t even bother to open his eyes.
“You should be, looking like you do,” Maggie teases, coming up behind me. “You really need to trim that thing on your face.”
“I did. Yesterday.” He sits up and straightens his T-shirt. Today’s reads Battery Life 1% Help me . He glares at us. “I’m being stalked and not a single one of my friends cares.”
“Because you could fix the problem easily if you’d just tell her it’s over and ask her to leave you alone.” The man isn’t a child. This is beyond ridiculous.
Wilder flops back on the sofa. “I can’t be mean.”
“Just annoying,” I mutter.
“Hey, Sutton,” he calls. “Cover your ears, sweet pea.”
With a giggle, she cups her hands over her ears.
Libby places her hands over them for good measure. “Okay,” she calls.
With a sneer, Wilder sticks both his middle fingers up at me.
I scoff.
“Wilder!” Libby chides as she slides her hands to our girl’s eyes.
“Shit.” He drops his hands. “Sorry. I meant eyes. Cover your eyes,” he mutters. “See? I’m losing my mind.”
“It’s not the first time,” Sutton giggles.
Libby glares at my best friend.
Wilder chuckles. “You’re not helping my case, sweet pea.”
“I know what you can do.” My little girl scoots around the counter, heading for the sofa. “It would be the best thing ever.”
“You name it.”
She plops down next to him on the tweed sofa and looks up at him from under her lashes. Whatever this is, he’s going to agree. He’s a sucker when Sutton and Lindsey break out the puppy dog eyes. “Convince Fisher that we can do the Monhegan Goodbye today.”
Head tipped back, I groan.
“Oh.” Wilder sits up. “Let’s do it. I’ll jump with her.”
“Hey,” Libby chimes in. “Maggie and I were going to do it with her.”
“We’ll all do it.” He’s suddenly all smiles. “This is great. I can be outside and have fun and still avoid Nic. There’s no way that prissy woman is jumping in ice-cold water. This is a win-win.”
Six hours later, I am absolutely not winning.
Both of my girls are ready to plunge into the icy water behind a moving ferry.
The line of summer people getting ready to board the boat runs down the dock and up the path toward the bakery, and piles of luggage have been loaded onto the boat for the twelve-mile trek back to Boothbay.
“You’re sure you want to do this?” I ask Sutton as the waves crash against the rocks on either side of the dock.
Her entire body droops under the black wetsuit I insist she wears when she goes in the icy waters. She sighs, the sound one of pure annoyance. “Yes, I really want to. It’s high tide, so the jump is only, like, ten feet, and it’s warm today.”
Warm is a relative term. The temperature is currently hovering at seventy degrees, and there’s a decent breeze. At least the sun is out.
Libby gives my hand a quick squeeze. “We’ve got this.”
When I focus on her again, all I see is skin. So much skin. Damn, she looks hot in that bikini and cut-offs. Every inch of her. Even her feet are hot. Pink toenails and rhinestone flip-flops and all.
There is no denying how gone I am for this woman.
“And you’ve got our towels. I’m sure you’ll do a great job warming us up when we get out.”
I angle in so my lips brush her ear. “I’ll warm you up tonight, Princess.”
She rolls her lips together, but there’s no hiding the flash in her eyes. My girl likes that idea.
“Who’s ready to do this?” The high-pitched voice claws at my ears a second before Flora steps onto the dock next to the line of people now filing onto the ferry.
“Oh no, it’s Flora,” Sutton mumbles as she steps closer to Libby. “You’re not jumping, are you?”
Judging from the wetsuit pulled up to her hips and the towel in her hand, she is. “Yes, I heard from Mrs. Knowles, who heard from Blue, that you’re jumping for the first time. I thought it would be fun to join you. I can hold your hand.”
“Sorry, Flo.” Wilder steps into our little circle on the dock, and with a thunk his large hand lands on my shoulder. “I’ve got dibs on our little sweet pea.”
Wilder understands his role. His job is to make sure Sutton surfaces quickly and gets safely to shore.
“We’re going to race Maggie to the rocks.” Sutton’s blue eyes brighten as she looks up at my best friend. “I climb on your back, and you swim like the fishes.”
“Exactly!” Wilder holds out his fist and Sutton pounds it.
“Well, I swim like the sharks.” Maggie steps up next to Wilder, wearing a purple bikini. “So good luck beating me.”
Wilder turns, and I swear he stiffens. He blinks once, twice, and his mouth opens, but nothing comes out. Like he’s forgotten how to speak. Eventually, he clears his throat. “I like the purple, Mags.”
“Thanks.” Maggie’s cheeks go pink. “Libby’s been helping me with shopping.”
“See.” Libby nudges her. “I told you this one would be amazing.”
“Yeah.” Wilder shakes his head. “Looks good.”
I look from one friend to the other, eyes narrowed. Are they…? Do they?—