Page 47

CHAPTER 47

Tristan

Marcus sets his cup on the counter and quickly works his phone. “She’s not alone. She has details you’ve trained yourself, Tristan.”

I pace the kitchen, my mind racing with the worst possible scenarios. “Then why the fuck aren’t they picking up?”

“I’m tracking their route on the GPS. No unusual traffic. The two cars are intact.”

The ringing clips in my ear. “Sir?”

A thread of relief courses through me when I hear Brandon’s steady voice. “Report.”

“Our principal is in her car with Riley. I’m following them in mine. I’ve just checked with Dixon. He’s securing the destination. It’s clear.”

“Any sign of Torrance or suspicious vehicles?”

“Negative. Route is secure.”

Thank God. She’s safe, at least for now. “Brandon, what’s your ETA to the P.O. box location?”

“Nine minutes, sir.”

“Maintain present overwatch protocols but keep a sharp eye out for any anomalies. Comms checks every three minutes, updating locations at each new turn. Call in immediately if Torrance is spotted in the perimeter. Once you reach the destination, maintain tight perimeter control, but no need for heavy presence up front. Only you can accompany her for the mail retrieval, with the rest of the team providing mobile cover watch and securing intersecting routes.”

“Me, sir?”

“Yes, Brandon. I trust you. This is your operation now.”

“Copy. I won’t let you down.”

Marcus eyes me warily as I hang up. “Why him? She hates Gatsby.”

“Every second she’s out there is a risk. I want her to get that mail and head back in no time. When you do a job with someone you don’t like, you do it as fast as possible, and you don’t get new ideas about running other tasks either.”

“Did she want to do something else other than getting the mail?”

“Not that I know of, but better safe than sorry.” If she doesn’t find a note from the stalker, my gut tells me she’ll try to do something to provoke him. That’s why she went out on that date. I get it now. It wasn’t a break from stress, a stupid crush, a punishment or a competition. She did it for Butterfly Man. He didn’t make a move, so she made hers. What is more provocative than watching her going out with another man?

“And Torrance? You really think he’s working an angle here? Setting up an ambush because he’s Butterfly Man?

“I don’t know what to think, but he’s up to something. I can feel it.” I rest my hands on the counter and exhale a long breath. “Whatever it is, it puts Birdie at risk. Until we know the full scope, we’re playing this by the book.”

The radio crackles. “Sir, you’re needed in the control room. There’s something you need to see.”

“What now?” Marcus huffs, taking his cup with him, and comes with me to the control room.

On the monitors, two vans are parked a few feet away from the house. One has MVTV printed on the doors, and the other has a huge red 5 with the word LIVE above it.

“Are these news channel cars?” Marcus asks. “Did Birdie book an interview or something?”

“She doesn’t do interviews,” I say distantly, searching the websites of these channels. I freeze at the first search result.

Fatal Karma For Copycat Scribe After Author’s Maniac Fan Vowed Payback!

“What the hell?” I scroll down the headlines. There’s more than one.

Literary Feud Explodes In Fatal Crash After Psycho Fan’s Death Threats!

Plagiarism Scandal Turns Tragic: Copycat Writer Dies in Suspicious Crash

Deadly Crash Fuels Speculation Over Author’s Deranged Stalker

Question Marks Surround Death of Plagiarist After Author’s Fan Threats

Marcus peeks his head and glances at my phone screen. “Guess the cat is out of the bag. Our low-key celebrity has turned into a real one overnight.” He shakes his head, watching the monitors. “What’s next, paparazzi or another homicide investigation?”

More cars approach the premises, and people with cameras and microphones spill out of them. “Fuck. Marcus, you and Morrison secure the front gate. Form a barricade and don’t let anyone of these vultures come close. I’ll handle the backside.”

My phone chimes with a text message from Brandon. Mail retrieved safely. No sign of Torrance. On our way back.

I call him as I sprint to the backyard. “Switch cars with Birdie.”

“Is something the matter?” Brandon asks.

“Don’t tell her that, but there’s press outside the house. You’ll drive her car to the front gate, linger in the driveway and let the press hover around you while I sneak her in through the back. Do not let the reporters take her photo. I repeat, no photos under any circumstances. Your jobs depend on it.”

“Yes, sir. Will switch cars right away and keep you updated.”

This is a nightmare. The case was closed. Who leaked this shit?