A Harmless Little Ruse (Harmless #2)(9)

She snorts. “You’re crazy. Quit saying that.”

“But I’m not wrong.”

Paulson’s eyes ping between us. He already knows this information. I told him earlier, when I figured it out and brought him in on the case.

“Do you have any idea how ludicrous you sound? Reviews? I’m using book reviews to communicate with someone? I’m not that nerdy.”

“Let’s pull up some of the reviews you’ve left on books lately, Lindsay. Shall we?” I pull out my own phone and tap the links I’ve stored in it.

Emotion fills her face.

It’s anger.

“I don’t have time for this crap, Drew. I’m exhausted, and Daddy’s going to chew you out for wasting his time.”

I ignore her and talk to Paulson instead.

“Clever, like I told you. If you’re constantly being monitored, how do you communicate with someone your watchers aren’t supposed to know even exists? You use code, right? Encrypted code. Except Lindsay isn’t a developer. Not a coderchick. So what does she do? She uses books.”

“Shut up, Drew.”

“Reading’s therapeutic, right?” I continue, ignoring her. “The people at the mental institution likely encouraged her to read. Pre-approved books. And when she asked for permission to leave reviews on book retailers, she probably got an enthusiastic yes. Her interest in literary pursuits was progress.”

I flash her a look designed to put her on guard. “You picked some of the most ridiculous books, but you and your helper were smart. Self-help books. Make the staff think you were focused on self-care.”

“You’re inventing all this, Drew.”

I smile. “I have your file from the Island, Lindsay. It’s all in there.” I know – and she knows – that I don’t have all the information. That’s okay.

Eventually I will.

Right now, though, I have to make her think I know more than I really do.

It’s the only way to mine her for new information.

“You want me to think that.” But she’s shaky. She might as well give it up. I figured it all out two days ago.

Almost all of it.

Every bit except for the identity of her internet helper, but that’ll come in time.

“Finding Your Inner Bitch: 365 Ways to Be Angry,” I quote with a chuckle. Paulson smothers a grin. “Nice book. We decoded your review.”

Lindsay just shakes her head slowly. She’s fighting a grin, though.

“Want to know what it actually says? You used one of the simplest codes in the world. The third letter after each punctuation mark in the review is the message.”

Lindsay’s face twists into a mask of anger and she snaps, “Cipher.”

“Excuse me?”

“If you’re going to talk about how I communicated with him, have the intelligence to use the correct words. It wasn’t a code. It was a cipher, dumbass.”

We’ve progressed to name-calling. Great.

“She’s got you there,” Paulson mutters.

“I wasn’t in this branch of military intelligence,” I bite off.

“Biggest oxymoron ever,” she says with a sigh.

“You pulled that old joke out? Oh, my hurt heart,” I say, hand over my chest. “Bottom line: we figured it out. We know what you asked your contact to research, and we know you’ve been surveilling Stellan, Blaine and John for the last few months.”

“Not surveilling. Just wanted to know where they were.”

“But you acted like you didn’t know about their success.”

“I didn’t! I only knew where they were. Not who they’d become.”

“You’re lying.”

“I swear!”

“You’ve sworn before.”

“But I mean it now!” She frowns. “I knew they were in the press. The first year there, I got secret Internet access. But the last two years they completely cut me off. That’s why I started doing the book review things.”

I give her an I told you so look.

“Fine. Yes, you figured it out.” She half smiles. “I fooled everyone but you, Drew.”

“Remember that, sweets. I will always know your secrets, especially if having them puts you in danger.”

“Don’t call me sweets! And I was never in danger. At least, not on the Island.”

“What do you know about your internet informant?”

“Plenty.”

“Who is it?”

She goes silent. Then she smirks. “You don’t know, do you?”

Paulson cuts me a look. I’m pretty damn sure Lindsay doesn’t know who her informant was, either. This whole situation stinks to high heaven. When you don’t know who to trust, trust no one.

Fox Mulder had it right.

“No, I don’t.” Why not be honest? One of us has to be.

“Don’t expect me to tell you,” she says with a huff.

“I don’t. Because you don’t know, either.”

She recoils slightly.

“We’ll figure it out. Everyone leaves breadcrumbs.”

“This isn’t exactly Hansel and Gretel.”

“It’s pretty damn close, Lindsay.”