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Margo: Yes. We’re sitting in his office. He hired me to find and protect you.
Jennifer: Why?
Margo: He’s worried because he hasn’t been able to reach you, you’re not returning his calls or messages.
Jennifer: I don’t want to drag him into this.
Margo: You already did when you showed him the data from Desert West. I don’t care about that right now. I know who you really are.
No response. “Can you trace this?” I said to Logan. “Like, trace her IP address so we know where she is?”
“No. I mean, I could try, but she’ll have a VPN, which is difficult to trace.”
I had to trust Logan on that; tech was not my strength. I refocused my attention on convincing fake Jennifer to trust me.
Margo: Your name is Virginia Bonetti. Jennifer White was your best friend until she was killed when you were both freshmen in high school. Your family moved from Orlando to Miami. I don’t know why—yet—but you don’t think it was an accident, like the fire investigators determined. I also have your mother’s autopsy report.
No response. I waited a beat, then continued.
Margo: You told Logan that someone was following you. I tracked down the individual to a local PI, who I believe was hired by your father. I know you’re scared—I can help you. Logan will help you.
No response. What other angle could I use?
Margo: Someone saturated Logan’s house with nitrogen to knock you out in order to steal your laptop. That’s our best guess. They could have killed you. Then last night, someone set fire to the Desert West building after they wiped the system. Three people were inside.
Jennifer: Are they okay? Was anyone hurt?
Bingo!
Margo: Not seriously. But someone at Desert West is trying to cover their tracks. I don’t know if you’re in danger from your father, but you are definitely in danger from this guy. Do you suspect someone specific?
No response, but I hoped she was thinking.
Jennifer: If I’m wrong, I could ruin his life.
Margo: I will prove it one way or the other. Call me, Jennifer. Let me help you.
I typed in my cell number and waited. She didn’t respond to my Discord message, nor did my phone ring.
“Dammit!” I said. Where had I gone wrong?
“I’ll try to trace the connection,” Logan said. He started typing and code flashed by, making my head pound. I stood and paced.
“I might know where she is,” I said. “Not specifically, but she had books on Arizona history and had marked Bisbee. Plus, she has nearly every J.A. Jance book—she writes mysteries about a cop in Bisbee. I can go down there, ask around, but if I’m wrong it’s going to waste a full day.”
“Hmm,” he said as if he barely heard me.
Two minutes later, as I seriously considered jumping in my car and driving to Bisbee, my cell phone rang.
“Who’s this?” Jennifer said.
“Margo Angelhart.”
“Okay. Don’t put me on speaker. Logan’s in the room with you, right?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t want to hurt him.”
