Page 43 of Filthy Liar

Ellie gives me a sidelong, skeptical glance. “Didyouget any sleep?”

I’ll sleep when this is over. “I’m fine.”

Wilson’s happy to set his food aside. “What fucking nonsense is someone playing at?”

“And why would they send it to this phone?” I shake my head. “It doesn’t make any sense. We can’t track the location from a single text, right?”

Wilson shakes his head. “To start to triangulate a location, I would need to send some silent data requests along with responses. I’d want at least three replies in short succession. The chances of getting that aren’t great. But if we can get them to send an image…”

Ellie’s hands are shaking. She clenches them together in front of her body. “Do we ask them for a request for proof of life?”

I make a doubting face. “One that they don’t have?”

“Maybe they’ll doctor it?” She gestures at Jeff Mayfair’s dossier, still open on Wilson’s screen. “Look at how easy it is in the right hands.”

“A good fake takes time. If we ask for proof of life, they’ll have to come up with something quickly.”

We’re still arguing over how to respond when Cole and Tag arrive. We brief them, then Wilson throws his hands in the air. “I dunno. Six of one, half-a-dozen of the other. Who’s in favor of asking for proof of life?”

Ellie throws her hand in the air. Cole joins her, and Wilson shrugs, then shoves his hand up, too.

“Three to two,” Ellie says triumphantly.

Tag does a slow blink. “I was still thinking.”

I huff a sigh. “Fine, we’re all in agreement. Reluctantly. I want them to engage back and forth a bit, first.”

“Deal.” Ellie grabs Wilson’s note pad and scratches out a couple of responses. We tweak them to make them as response-prompty as possible, then Wilson types back to the pretend kidnappers, using an app on his computer that clones the phone and ghosts a data ping request beneath the text message.

555-788-2119: I don’t have that kind of money available. I can get it, but it will take time.

We all wait. It takes longer than I like for them to reply.

555-451-1765: No stalling. We know what you are capable of. We know who you really are.

Ellie rolls her eyes. “That’s more bluster.”

“Who knows that you are Caroline’s best friend? You, as in, Melinda Gray.”

“Nobody,” she says immediately and without hesitation. “There is nothing that ties her to me as a reporter.”

“Then who else might they think would be at the other end of this text message exchange, if not an infamous journalist?” On Ellie’s burner phone, this exchange is the start of the texting history. “How often does she clear her history? What might they see on her phone?”

Ellie chews on her bottom lip. “Our texts are…friendly. No, I guess it’s more intimate than that. We’re vague about locations and never share anything identifying. Notintimateintimate, get your mind out of the gutter, Cole.”

He waves his hands in the air. “Whoa. Yeah, no, I don’t care what you do with your friends.”

I care an absolute fuck ton, but also, not actually my fucking business. I grind my teeth. “So they might mistake you for her lover.”

Ellie thinks about it. “Yes. Sure, that’s just as likely.”

“Do you know who her lover is? Five hundred thousand is a curious ransom amount. It feels specific. Like it’s a known amount that might actually be feasible for their target.”

Her face pales. “No clue. I wish I did. As far as I know, she’s been single for months.”

“Any secret affairs? A married partner?”

“Not Caroline’s style.” She hesitates. “Should we ask her?”

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