The Fidelity Files (Jennifer Hunter #1)(64)

"John, I'm not a stalker."

He walked over and plopped down on my office couch. "Tomato, to-ma-to."

With a frustrated sigh I closed my laptop and turned my chair to face him. "This is horrible."

"Look on the bright side. You're the next Star Wars kid."

"Huh?"

John crossed his legs and leaned back, soaking in the spotlight of my attention. "Remember that kid who filmed himself having a lightsaber fight in his garage? And someone got ahold of the video and blasted it all over the Internet?"

"Vaguely."

"It's called viral marketing. Entertainment companies use it all the time for publicity. It's when something noteworthy gets put up on the Internet and it spreads like wildfire by word of mouth alone. Usually through e-mail forwards. Such as the case of yourself."

"Great." I sulked. "So I'm the new face of viral marketing."

"That's the spirit!"

I rubbed my forehead with my fingertips and moaned loudly. "What a morning."

"Can I make a suggestion?" John asked in all seriousness.

"I'm not doing any accents."

John stood up, walked over, and put his hand on my shoulder. "Narrow down your search."

I bit my lip. "I know . . . but I don't even know where to start."

"I have to get back to work. But you should start by thinking about who would possibly want to put up a Web site like that."

"Um, John... that could be over two hundred people. It's not like any of those men were exactly pleased after I left. I mean just the other day I..."

I suddenly stopped, my mouth hanging open, my mind racing.

"What?"

"Parker Colman!" I shouted out, completely disgusted. "I tested him in Vegas the other day, and when he failed he practically attacked me on the elevator."

"So you think it was him?" John asked purposefully.

"It has to be. He came after me like a psychopath!"

"And he can afford a scheme like this?"

John's question confused me. All of my clients were wealthy. When I discussed my fees and expenses, I never heard anyone complain or question the cost. Sure, sometimes I took on a few pro bono assignments, as favors to women who were desperately in need of some sort of guidance but just couldn't afford to pay for it, like in the case of Rani and Clayton. But for the most part my clients always seemed more than willing to pay whatever price to get the answers and peace of mind they were looking for. Money was never an issue.

The truth was priceless.

That's the way I'd always seen it.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I mean," John began, "spy photographers? Anonymous Web sites? Mass e-mail circulation? This kind of scheme takes some backing. Think about it. This isn't an amateur move. This is like national exposure. Someone definitely means business, and they've got to have a hell of a lot of extra cash lying around to make sure it gets done. But I guess anyone who can afford to hire you..."

I shook my head. "No, he didn't. I mean, his fiancée didn't hire me. Her father did. I'm not sure if Parker has any money at all. I think that was one of the reasons her dad suspected him in the first place. That he was just after the family trust fund."

John nodded. "Hmmm."

And the more I thought about it, I realized that some of these pictures were taken before Parker Colman's assignment. Like the one of me filling up my gas tank on the way to my poker lesson. That poker lesson was in preparation for Parker's assignment in Vegas. So it couldn't possibly have been him.

"So back to square one?" John asked as I walked him to the front door.

I sighed. "Yeah, I guess."

He gave me a long hug and squeezed me just the slightest bit tighter than he normally did. "Just think," he offered sympathetically. "This guy has got something to lose. Something big. Probably more than most."

"Yeah," I agreed. "But you have to swear you won't tell anyone," I urged him before I closed the door. "Especially not Sophie or Zo?. Somehow I don't think they would see it the way you do."

"I won't," John promised.

"You're sworn to absolute secrecy now."

He nodded. "Taking it to the grave, my dear."

"Good."

As I closed the door I immediately starting racking my brain. My mental database of names that seemed to go on forever. Every one containing a different story. A different motivation. A different interpretation of the word love.

And yet, they all blended together in my mind.

"National exposure," I said aloud.

What a nightmare.

In my quest to reveal the truth at any cost, I had blindly failed to consider an entirely different truth, one that now seemed more obvious than ever: Revenge is apparently priceless as well.





15

Universal Surrender


LATER THAT night, I sat staring at my computer screen, waiting for some brilliant idea to come to me so I could figure out how to identify the still-anonymous owner of that very annoying Web site, when I heard the front door unlock and open.

I sat very still in my seat. The pictures of me on the screen stared back at me. Mocking me. Laughing at my misfortune.