He lunged forward, covering the monitor with his torso to shield it from her view. “I’m so sorry,” he mumbled, fumbling to close all the images. Emma’s own face was burning, too, but she couldn’t keep a nervous giggle from escaping.
“That was all on his phone?” she exclaimed. “Like, that’s what he takes with him everywhere he goes?”
“Just let me . . .” Ethan kept hiding the monitor from her with his body, typing furiously. The back of his neck was scarlet. And suddenly, Emma couldn’t help herself—she laughed. After all she’d been through, after everything that had happened, they were so close to finding out the truth. The only thing stopping them was a few hundred pictures of boobs.
By the time Ethan managed to close all the pictures, Emma had reined in her laughter. She moved closer to his desk and put a hand on his shoulder. He was still bright red with discomfort and was looking carefully away from her. “That was like my worst nightmare come true,” he muttered.
She looked at the monitor over his shoulder. “Was there room for anything else on his phone?”
“We’ll find out.” Ethan’s fingers flew deftly over the keyboard. He typed in several commands she didn’t understand, then paused for a moment before striking hard on the “enter” button with his index finger. Pages of texts and e-mails immediately shot open. Her jaw dropped.
“Now who’s amazing?” she breathed, leaning down to kiss his cheek. His flush, which had started to drain away, brightened again.
The most recent texts included an exchange between Travis and a girl named “Sapphire” that started with the line HEY GIRL WHUT U WEARIN? Ethan made a disgusted face. “You lived with this guy?”
“Child Protective Services didn’t exactly give me a lot of choice,” Emma said, leaning over. “What’s in his e-mail from back in August?”
He hesitated. “We’re not accidentally going to find naked pictures of him on here, are we?”
She grimaced. “I never said this would be easy.”
Emma watched as Ethan scrolled down to the e-mails from August. All of Travis’s friends had e-mail addresses like markdogg69 or bluntmeister. She rolled her eyes. Then she saw it. On August twenty-ninth, someone named hollier_hell had sent a message with the subject line Check this out.
She lifted a trembling finger to point to it. Ethan’s eyes widened. “‘Hollier_hell’?”
She tucked her hair behind her ears, catching a lock in her hands and twirling it around her finger. “Open it.”
Ethan double-clicked on the message.
Hey man, thought you might like this video of your sweet little foster sister. Do me a favor and show her, too.
Below that was a link. Emma was willing to bet it would be dead now, but she was certain that back in August, it had led straight to the Sutton in AZ video that started it all.
“This is two days before the murder,” she said, a clammy feeling descending over her body. That meant that Sutton’s murder had been premeditated—not a crime of passion or an accident. And it meant that Garrett had been watching Emma, too; had known where she lived and with whom. It meant she’d been a part of his plan all along.
Travis had replied: That is some freaky shit, bro. Thanks for the link. But what’s in it for me if I show her?
Hollier_hell answered: $5K sound good to you? But don’t tell anyone about this. Delete these messages. If Emma leaves town you’ve done your job. Then meet me at 5784 W. Speedway in Tucson on September 15. I’ll be there with the money.
The last e-mail in the thread was from Travis: I’m game. Sept. 15. Be there.
Emma clenched her fists, her fingernails digging into her flesh. Travis had sold her to her sister’s murderer for $5,000. “Ethan. Do you know that address?”
“I’m on it.” A map flew open on the browser when he searched for the address. It was on the outskirts of Tucson, on the west side of town. When Ethan selected the pin on the map, the name of the business sprang up.
“Holy shit,” Ethan muttered.
The address the murderer had given Travis was for Rosa Linda Storage.
Slowly, Emma reached over him. She slid open his desk drawer and pulled out the tiny silver key they’d found in Garrett’s locker, holding it up next to Ethan’s monitor. She stared at the scratched-out second word again.
Emma’s blood went still in her veins. The glittering key dangled motionless between her and Ethan, catching the bright overhead light. There it was: Under the scratches and the scars on the metal, the second word was suddenly clear. It couldn’t be anything but LINDA.
Emma pulled the burner cell out of her tote. Wordlessly, she keyed in the number on the website. Ethan opened his lips to ask what she was doing, but she held her finger to her lips. The line rang five times before someone finally answered.
“Rosa Linda Storage,” croaked a man’s voice in the receiver. Emma took a deep breath.
“Hi, this is the tenant of unit three-fifty-six,” she said, using a brisk, important voice. “I’m calling to find out when my next payment is due.”
A crackling silence came from the other end of the line. After a moment, the creaky voice replied, heavy with skepticism. “This is Arthur Smith?”
Her heart sank. She’d hoped it would be in Garrett’s name—if it had been, all she’d have had to do was turn the key and Travis’s phone over to the cops. But of course Garrett had covered his tracks.
She cleared her throat. “This is Mrs. Arthur Smith, yes.”