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I fumble for my phone, hands shaking so badly I can barely unlock it. Who do I call? The police? Keith? Maggie? Hunter?
Before I can decide, a text message pops up on my screen. It's from an unknown number, but there’s only one person who could have sent it.
Hope you enjoyed our little chat earlier. Consider us even now. Sweet dreams, Emily.
Chapter Forty-Five
Hunter
A single word summons me to Emily’s door: Help.
With my gun in my right hand, out, loaded, ready, I raise my left and knock on her door.
She answers, tears in her eyes, and throws herself into my arms. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. I just… It’s all gone.”
“Hold on, tell me what happened,” I say, embracing her while she soaks my shirt with her tears and I do my best to survey the room behind her. Her apartment’s dark, disheveled, looks like a herd of buffalo on meth ran a stampede through it.
“Someone broke into my apartment,” she gasps between sobs.
“I can see that, but right now, Em, it’s important you take a deep breath, calm down, and walk me through everything from the very beginning.” I keep an arm around her and guide her into the apartment and to her couch. She slumps into the cushions, then buries her face into her hands. I pull her back into an embrace.
“I… I went out for a drink after work.”
“Did you see anyone there? Anyone suspicious?”
She sobs, then shakes her head. “I was with Sophie. I just needed to unwind after everything, you know?”
Sophie is mildly suspicious and severely thirsty, but not the type to do this, or the answer I’m looking for; I need to get Emily to focus. I need to know if she even glimpsed whichever of Moretti’s men did this. Any scrap of information could be useful in tracking down the men who seem intent on circling and threatening everyone I love. “I know. Take a deep breath and look at me. You’re safe now, OK? I’m here, and whoever did this will not touch you as long as I’m with you.”
A long, shaky exhale, then a long, shakier inhale. “Thank you.”
“Talk to me about what happened. Walk me through it all.”
“I met Sophie at the bar after work. I wasn’t there long, just enough to have two drinks and vent to her about the case, and then I came home. Then I found everything just like it is. My stuff is all ruined, smashed, broken, but I don’t even care about that, Hunter. That doesn’t matter.”
“It doesn’t?” I say. If it doesn’t matter, why is she so torn up about it? I want to press her to go back, start from the beginning, tell me the name of the bar she was in, how many people were there, if anyone was looking at her too long, but I bite my tongue.
“Whoever broke in got on my laptop. They deleted my files. My paper. It’s gone,” her voice cracks, unleashing a torrent of sobs and tears, and she buries her face into my chest, shaking.
“Oh fuck. I’m so sorry, Em,” I say. I take a second to even find those words. I’m so thrown that whoever Moretti sent would be so diabolical that they’d even think to delete Emily’s research paper. What kind of fucking madmen am I dealing with? Whoever the fuck they are, they’re disturbingly thorough.
“This is my dream, Hunter. My dream. And it’s gone,” she wails. “If I don’t turn it in, the best I can hope for is they’ll give me another year to repeat all my classes and try again. But they won’t. I’m done. It’s over.”
I hold Emily tighter, my mind racing. This is more than just intimidation; it's a calculated move to destroy her future. Moretti's men are playing a game I hadn't expected, and I'm struggling to keep up.
"Emily, listen to me," I say, gently pulling her away so I can look into her eyes. There’s so much pain in there, such mortal terror at seeing her dreamed-for future ripped to pieces right in front of her eyes. I can’t let that happen. I have to help her. "We're going to fix this. Your work isn't gone forever. There has to be a way to recover it."
“I… I have an old draft. A really old draft. It’s one I gave to Maggie for her input. I keep it in my desk at work. It’s not much, it’s basically scratch paper at this point… But it doesn’t even matter. None of it matters. I’m done for. I have to go to work tomorrow. There’s all this court stuff. I don’t have the time to do anything. I’m fucked, Hunter. It’s all over.”
The beginnings of a plan form in my head. If whatever demented killers Moretti sent are after Emily, it’s best I stay close to her. And, if I’m staying close to her, the least I can do is make life easy for her and give her a fighting chance at the degree she deserves.
“Let me see your phone,” I say.
She flinches, takes it from her purse, and hands it over. “Here.”
I dial. Maggie’s voice comes over the speakerphone after the second ring. “Emily? Did you finish everything early? It’s a little late for me right now, but if you did, I’d be happy to join you for a quick drink.”
“It’s not Emily. It’s Hunter. Hi Maggie.”
