Chapter 30
VINCENT
Forty minutes after I got Smith’s call, Brooklyn and I were seated in his office, listening to him explain the situation. He’d given me vague details over the phone with the promise of elaborating in person.
“It took us a while, but we were able to trace the number to the perp’s burner phone,” he said.
“He made a mistake and connected to the internet on that phone. We found the IP address and, by extension, him. The text itself isn’t incriminating enough to arrest him, but we used it to get a warrant and search his house. We found this in his bedroom.”
Smith slid a photo across the table. Brooklyn and I leaned in together. Her sharp inhale mirrored the twist in my gut.
The photo showed a shrine to me. There was no other way to describe it.
A giant framed photo of me sat propped against the wall.
It was surrounded by news clippings, signed memorabilia, and collages of paparazzi shots.
I recognized bottles of the cologne I repped as a brand ambassador and a limited-edition doll of me that came out a few years ago.
It wasn’t the crochet doll they’d left in my house, but it was similar enough that a shiver snaked down my spine.
“Oh my God,” Brooklyn said. “That’s…”
“Disturbing, yes.” Smith pushed another photo across the desk. “Do you recognize him?”
I stared at the photo. A man in a Blackcastle shirt stared back.
He looked like he was in his early to mid forties.
Dull brown eyes, hair the color of dishwater, and a face that was unique only in its complete lack of distinction.
If I passed him on the street, I wouldn’t have given him a second thought.
I shook my head. “I have no idea who that is.”
“Ethan Brown. He’s an office manager at a paper company. Blackcastle season ticket holder, amateur sports blogger, and all-around super fan. He confessed to paying a hacker to get your private phone number and to digging through your rubbish for items to include in his DuBois shrine.”
“Jesus.” Bile surged up my throat.
“We’ve charged him with trespassing and unlawful acquisition and use of personal data. I also highly recommend you file an injunction against him.”
“What do those charges mean? Will he be able to come after Vincent while he’s awaiting trial?” Brooklyn asked.
She’d insisted on coming with me earlier. I hadn’t argued. She was the only person I trusted to keep me levelheaded in situations like this.
“There won’t be a trial,” Smith said. “Trespassing is a civil offense. While his obtainment of private information is in breach of the Data Protection Act, it doesn’t mandate imprisonment, especially since Vincent wasn’t harmed. The most we can do is fine him.”
My stomach sank. That was it? After months of anxiety and being on edge, all the perp got was a fine and a slap on the wrist?
“What about the break-in?” I said. “He left that doll in my house.”
“He hasn’t admitted to that crime, likely because he knows it carries a heavier sentence.
We don’t have concrete evidence tying him to the break-in yet, but we’ll find it.
We know who he is now.” Smith swept the photos back into a folder.
“That’s why I suggested you file an injunction.
If he violates it, it’ll help us build our case. ”
“Did he say why he’s fixated on Vincent in particular?” Brooklyn’s brow furrowed. “What’s the point of all this if he—Ethan—doesn’t want anything from him?”
“Fans often form parasocial relationships with celebrities. Sometimes, they cross the line, as is the case here,” Smith said. “There’s no other rhyme or reason to it.”
The whole thing seemed anticlimactic, but I supposed that was better than the circus a trial would bring. I filled out some paperwork, thanked Smith for his help, and left.
“I’m shocked they found the perp,” Brooklyn said on our way back to my car. “I was convinced they were just sitting on the case.”
“Me too.” I made a mental note to call my lawyer tomorrow and file that injunction ASAP. “I guess that’s it. Case closed, as long as the guy stops harassing me.”
“I think he will. Now that he knows the police are onto him, he wouldn’t be stupid enough to pull something new.”
“Maybe.” But something hitched in my mind, a missing piece that snagged like a thread on a nail. “Do you find it weird that he went to so much trouble to cover his tracks with the doll and photo, but got sloppy enough to use the internet from his burner?”
“A little,” she admitted. “But everyone slips up eventually. Maybe he didn’t know you could trace a burner from internet usage. I wouldn’t worry too much about it. Just enjoy being free for now.”
We reached my car. “Maybe.”
“The best part is, you don’t have to live with my dad anymore—unless you want to,” Brooklyn teased. “You guys must have bonded a lot during those early morning runs.”
“Sure, we bonded the way a captive bonds with their kidnapper.”
She laughed. My lips curved in response.
She was right. I should stop overthinking the situation and take the win. If Ethan turned out to be a vengeful monster who wouldn’t back off even with a injunction…well, I’d cross that bridge when we got there.
It was the holidays. We’d won our first post-break match, and I was with the girl of my dreams. I wasn’t going to put a damper on it by worrying about hypotheticals.
“My parents like you,” I said as I started the engine and pulled onto the road. “They’re usually in a snippy mood when they’re near each other, but they stopped arguing long enough to talk to you. It’s impressive.”
“I like them too. I think they’re hilarious.” Her voice softened. “But the divorce must’ve been hard on you and Scarlett.”
“The divorce itself was pretty civil, but the hardest part was moving to a new country.” I gave her a crooked smile. “On the bright side, I learned fluent French. Girls ate it up whenever I traveled abroad.”
“Of course that’s what you cared about.” Brooklyn rolled her eyes, but her face was filled with good humor. “Honestly, I love that your parents can be in the same room together. Mine can’t even stand hearing the other’s name.”
“Was their split that bad?”
“Oh, yeah. My mom hasn’t stepped foot in the UK in twenty years, and she actively hates football.
But from what they’ve told me, they were never compatible as a couple.
Their personalities were too different. But they were also young and beautiful, and…
things happened. Then they had me, and they were tied together for life.
” Her mouth twisted into a wry smile. “I don’t think my mom ever forgave me for that. ”
I had a lot of choice words to say about her mother, but I kept them to myself—for now. “She’s lucky to have you.”
“Maybe.” Brooklyn stared out the window. The trace of sadness in her voice made me want to hop on a plane to California right that second. Fuck propriety. Anyone who treated Brooklyn as shittily as her mum treated her deserved a verbal lashing.
Since I couldn’t do that, I settled on the next-best option. “Would you rather head back to the party or go somewhere else?”
When we left, we gave everyone a shoddy excuse about helping Coach with a “work emergency.” That’d been almost two hours ago.
The party was likely over. If it wasn’t, we could easily explain away our absence by saying we wanted “personal time.” No one would question us, given we were an official couple now.
“Where did you have in mind?” Brooklyn sounded intrigued.
I grinned. “It’s your last week at Blackcastle. I think you should say a proper goodbye.”
I made it a point to get to know everyone on Blackcastle’s staff, from management to the maintenance staff.
They were all crucial to the success of the team, and I actually enjoyed talking to them.
Most of them anyway. I remembered their birthdays, bought them Christmas gifts, and asked them about their children’s graduations and anniversaries.
It was my way of appreciating them for the work they did.
As a result, I was beloved by the staff—and one of the perks of being beloved was my ability to ask for wild favors on short notice, like tonight.
“Where are you taking me?” Brooklyn sounded wary. “It smells like…dirt. And mildew.”
“You’ll find out soon.”
“We’re not in the back alley of the Angry Boar, are we? I know it’s the team’s favorite pub, but I can say goodbye to Blackcastle in other ways.”
“Patience, buttercup.” I laughed. “We’re almost there.”
I’d fashioned a blindfold out of her scarf and made her wear it before I drove us here. I’d expected her to figure out where we were going from my hints, but her brows furrowed with confusion as I guided her through the tunnel.
Nelson had pulled through for me, and the key weighed heavy in my pocket.
Two minutes later, we stopped in front of a metal door. I unlocked it, gently pushed Brooklyn through, and untied her blindfold. “Open your eyes.”
The cashmere material fell away. She blinked and look around, her jaw going slack.
Rows and rows of empty seats surrounded us, stretching up to the night sky. Massive stadium lights cast a soft glow over the pitch, and the air smelled like a mixture of fresh grass and cold winter.
Blackcastle stadium.
It was electric when seventy thousand people packed the stands, their cheers so loud it shook the very earth. But when it was empty and still, with nothing but silence and the dreams of glory echoing across the pitch?
It was magic.
“How did you do this?” Brooklyn breathed.
“I had some help from the head groundskeeper. I told you I can charm anyone.”
The night guard also cut off the security feed to the pitch for us so we didn’t get in trouble. We had two hours before he needed to turn the cameras back on, but that was more than enough time.