34. Gwen
Gwen
“Give us a second. We’ll be right in,” Dad says in the hall, reaching for my forearm, a silent request to hang back.
I exchange a quick look with Easton, nodding that I’ll be okay. I mean, of course I will be, I’ll be with my dad.
“I’m going to talk to my wife. Give you all some space to figure this out.” Uncle Gray tosses a thumb over his shoulder. “Grab me if you need me.”
Dad nods. “Will do.” He lets go of me and gives Easton his keycard. “Emory is asleep in the second bedroom, so—”
“We’ll keep it down,” Easton acknowledges.
Once Easton goes inside with Nash, Dad twists around to face me and cuts right to it. “I’m sorry about what happened back there. I lost control.” He tears both hands through his hair, messing it up. “I had no idea those men—”
“You couldn’t have possibly known.”
His hands fall to his sides as he exhales sharply. “Easton was there. He knows.”
All I can do is nod, because my throat is growing thick, emotion clogging it.
“He held you back there. Had to protect you from me.” He curses low under his breath. “What you saw me do when I snapped hurt you. I—”
“Dad . . .” I drag out his name. “Don’t go there. It’s not true, and you know it.”
He heaves out another heavy breath. “I’m grateful he was able to”—his Adam’s apple bobs with a hard swallow—“help you.”
“He did.” The side of my mouth lifts into a partial smile. “He’s always there for me.”
Dad’s gaze flicks to my shirt, and he’s registering the fact I’m in Easton’s tee, wearing the same confused expression I clocked from Uncle Gray earlier.
“It’s not what you think,” I blurt out, fidgeting with the hem of the shirt. “I’ve had this forever. I have a habit of stealing his stuff. Just happened to have it on when I asked him to watch a movie.”
Dad grabs hold of the back of his neck and rotates it side to side. He’s processing. Thinking rather than reacting.
Well, that’s good . . . right?
“I should go in. Check that footage,” I deflect, knowing this is not the time or place for any deep conversation about my love life.
“Right,” Dad agrees, his tone distant. I face the door, prepared to knock, but his hesitant tone and words have me going still. “I like Easton.”
I gulp, my heart thudding wildly. “I would hope you do.” I let the strange moment stretch between us before I finally knock.
Natasha opens up and lets us inside. “Emory’s asleep, so we have to keep it down.”
“Yeah, Dad told me.” I look over to see who all is here as I walk farther in.
Nash is boxed in on the couch by Carter and Constantine, and it looks like they’re acting as his prison walls until he’s officially cleared. Easton’s standing behind the couch, eyes sharp on me.
The look on his face—it’s one of the rare times I can’t get a read on him. He must also be out of gum, because he’d be chewing the hell out of it now if he had any on him.
“I was about to do another check to see if the footage is real,” Natasha says, “but since you’re here, and you work a little faster than me, why don’t you do it?”
I head to her desk chair, which is already pulled out and waiting for me. “Yeah, of course, I can take a look.”
She keeps her voice low, catching me up to speed on what she’s already done, and then I get to work.
I’m not sure how long I’m lost in bits of code while the room waits silently.
“The timestamp is what sold it,” I say once I hit the jackpot, and relief fills me.
Nash told us the truth. “Right after Christmas. That was intentional framing.” I pull up another clip.
Then another. “Real footage ages inconsistently.” I pause the screen and zoom in. “Compression decay isn’t linear.”
“Shit, you’re right.” Natasha leans over my shoulder, bracing against the desk beside me for a closer look. “Every frame degrades the same way.”
“Which means this date isn’t when the footage was created, just when they wanted us to believe it was.” I peek at Natasha, worried she’s about to feel guilty for not finding this. “You just discovered this. There’s no way you could have figured that out on the first, or even third look. Don’t—”
“I’m not blaming myself,” Natasha responds with a small smile. “But this is why we were”—she not-so-subtly clears her throat and peeks at Dad—“planning to wait to speak to Nash until we did a deeper dive into what we found.”
Right. I turn in the chair to check on Dad. He’s holding his palms open in silent apology, but then his facial expression abruptly changes to a concerned one. “Wait.” He blinks, arms falling to his sides. “Are you saying Allie was taken, just not the day we thought?”
Nash starts to stand, but Carter stretches his arm out, a clear cue to remain seated.
“No,” Natasha says calmly. “Someone created this fake footage more recently, then they dropped it back in time so we’d assume Nash betrayed us to save his wife.
” She clarifies, “They needed the timeline to line up with the texts. For it to appear Allie was taken before Nash messaged her about the trip, so it looks like he was forced into helping them out. They knew the conclusions we’d draw. ”
“My texts were to Allie, though. I wasn’t texting someone else,” Nash says, eyes narrowing in confusion.
“Yeah, but they probably wanted us to believe you were only pretending to talk to your wife to cover your arse when handing over those details about Dubai.”
Nash digests my words, then asks in a shaky voice, “And you’re sure she’s really okay?”
“Give me one second. I’ll pull her up on the home security feed now so you can have a look yourself.
” It only takes me two minutes to hack their system and authenticate it’s real.
“Got it.” I swivel around and stand, then carry Natasha’s rig over to show him his wife in her kitchen feeding a golden retriever.
Nash stares at the screen for a few quiet seconds, then asks, “And you’re sure what I’m seeing is real?”
“I am,” I promise. “Not another fake.”
His jaw flexes, then he nods. “Does this mean you believe me now?” he asks once I return to the desk.
“If I ever believed you could be capable of betraying me, you wouldn’t be on this team in the first place,” Carter speaks up first, then tips his head toward my dad. “But don’t be mad at him for doubting you. She’s his daughter, and—”
“I’m not.” Nash lifts his hands. “I get it.”
“But the second you realized you might have accidentally been the leak, you should have come to me,” Carter adds, his voice dropping a few octaves. Something tells me the two of them will be having a private conversation about that another time.
“I’m sorry.” Nash looks at me next, and I can tell he’s about to apologize directly, but I hold up my hand.
“I’m just glad you’re innocent and your wife is safe,” I say before he can speak.
Carter rises. “We need to put security on Allie.”
“They might consider using her as bait,” Dad adds. “Take her for real to try to split us up. Distract us with a rescue mission.”
“If they wanted leverage, wouldn’t they have already taken her before we were clued in?” I ask.
“They’re looking to plant seeds of doubt,” Carter guesses. “Create chaos amongst us.”
And they achieved that. “And like Dad said, divide us.”
“I should protect Allie myself.” Nash stands. “She’s still my wife.”
Easton circles the couch, eyes on Nash. “We made a mistake by jumping the gun on your guilt, and I apologize for that.” He winces. “We won’t do that again, but we need to stay together. Send someone who’s not already here. We already split up and—”
“Went to London,” I whisper, meeting Easton’s eyes as a thought strikes me.
“What if that footage of Molly was also planted to split us up?” I white-knuckle the armrests.
“The hotel bombing didn’t really happen.
The Aussies thought they were under attack and took out the compound on the island. And now this footage of Allie . . .”
“I should call Zoey and the others.” Carter removes his mobile from his pocket and goes into the hall.
“Do they need a hacker for this, or . . .?” Constantine asks once the door shuts behind Carter.
“An engineer and skilled hacker. Someone who builds systems, and can also break them apart,” I answer, and Natasha nods, on the same page. “I can do both, so it’s possible they have someone like me who can as well.”
“There’ll never be anyone like you.” Easton’s deep voice and sweet words catch me—and probably the rest of the room—by surprise.
He looks away, and Constantine helps deflect the attention off him. “My brother has a place in Nashville, and he’s there now. That’s where your wife is, right?”
“Yeah, in Franklin,” Nash confirms. “The suburbs.”
“Good. I’ll send him over to pick her up. She can stay with his family until we can get a team out there. Trust me when I say no one is getting past him,” Constantine says steadily, and Nash redirects to Easton, probably wanting an OK from him on that.
“You can trust him,” Easton promises.
Nash swings back to Constantine. “Yeah, okay, then,” he agrees. “Thank you.”
“Sure.” He nods, gesturing to the hall. “Why don’t you come with me to my room? Once my brother picks her up, I’ll connect you to him, and he can put Allie on the phone,” he offers. “Not safe for you to speak to her over your phone or hers.”
It’s Nash’s turn to nod. And while he might be separated from his wife, it’s clear as day he’s still in love with her.
Once the two of them leave, it’s now just Dad, Natasha, Easton, and me here. “I want to study the code used on the fake security footage, and have Julian send me the video from London. I need to see if there’s a match in digital signatures.”
“I assume you want to use your own rig.” Natasha lifts hers, already on the move to forward me the footage before I have a chance to answer.
While she does that, Carter rejoins the suite. A notification on my mobile pops up as Dad explains to Carter where Constantine and Nash took off to.
Julian: I just heard about Nash from Carter. Sucks, I’m sorry. Glad he’s not technically guilty, though.
Yeah :(
Do you think it’s possible the footage in London is fake? I’m struggling to believe Molly risked going there if she’s somehow really part of all this.
Julian: Looks legit, but I can have another look.
More like a fourth or fifth one. I’m sure you already triple-checked it.
But it doesn’t make sense for that CCTV footage to be real if all these other videos have been bogus, right?
“Who are you texting?” Dad asks.
“Julian. He thinks the Molly footage is real, but I want him to send it to me anyway.”
Dad nods, and I go ahead and send that request to Julian, following it up with another text.
A thought just occurred to me. What if the footage is legit, but the timeline isn’t?
Julian: Possibly. It’d take someone with mad skills to time travel that footage.
I could do it in my sleep.
Julian: Of course you can. I’m talking about good enough for me not to notice on my first 3 examinations of that footage.
Ah, gotcha.
Well, it wouldn’t be the first time we’ve had to work together to beat an enemy. We’ll figure this out.
Julian: Agreed. :) Btw, my sister says hi. She’s looking over my shoulder as I type. She wants me to tell you she’s sorry. She feels partially to blame for everything since it was an op to help her that brought down Easton’s bird.
She should NOT feel bad. Someone stole her memories.
It’s not remotely her fault. But it looks like someone took advantage of a bad situation, and they used our pain to turn it into their gain.
Remind me never to use the “no pain, no gain” expression ever in my life again.
Julian: Roger that.
Side note, that op forced you to reveal yourself. Brought us all together.
Julian: I’d have introduced myself eventually. Looks like I was too late, though.
Too late?
For what?
Julian: Forget I said that. Let’s just focus on the case.
Way to make my stomach drop.
Julian: You get my email with the footage?
I open my email app to check, and it’s there.
Got it. Thanks! We’ll touch base later.
I set aside my mobile, my gaze drifting over to Carter stroking his trimmed beard, eyes lost to the floor. “What’s wrong?” I ask him.
He looks up at me slowly, his forehead tight. “I’m starting to wonder if I’m at the center of this.” He spins his finger like a helo blade. “Everyone involved in this mess is connected to me in one way or another.”
“Zoey. Easton. Nash,” I say as it clicks where he’s going with this. “Even Hollis and you go way back.” Pressure builds in my chest as the truth continues to snowball through my mind. “Then there’s me, obviously.”
“Which means it’s a fairly reasonable assumption to make that whoever’s pulling the strings on this disaster personally knows me.”
“Or, maybe someone you’ve come across before, and they know how you operate,” I correct.
“Won’t be an enemy of my past.”
“How can you be sure of that?” Dad bands an arm around Natasha’s waist, holding her to his side the way I wish Easton could for me.
“Because all of my enemies,” Carter starts, eyes sharp on my dad, “are either behind bars or dead.”