Touch of Red (Tracers #12)(18)
“What do you mean?”
“You’re tense.”
“I’m worried.” About the child, she meant, but she didn’t have to say that. Sean knew.
His gaze was steady, and she looked up into those sharp eyes that missed nothing. Was he this perceptive with everyone, or just her?
He reached over and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “We’ll find him, Brooke.” He rested his hand on her shoulder.
“I know you will.”
? ? ?
Brooke went directly to the cybercrimes unit on the Delphi Center’s top floor. The lab seemed strangely deserted for a Friday morning.
“Where is everyone?” Brooke asked as she approached Alex’s cubicle. A row of vintage Star Wars figures lined the wall she shared with the neighboring cube.
“We pulled an all-nighter. Child-porn ring out of Dallas.”
“God. I don’t know how you do that.”
“Same way you do.” Alex pushed over a chair for Brooke to sit in. The slender brunette had a low-key way about her that always put Brooke at ease. “I hear you caught the Samantha Bonner homicide. Sean and Ric are on it?”
“They’ve got a whole team.”
“Are we running all the evidence? I haven’t seen a computer or a cell phone, but if they send something over, I can bump it to the front of my line.”
“Thanks. I’ll tell Sean.”
“Here.” Alex nodded at the phone on her desk. “Have a look at what I found.”
Brooke eyed her phone with apprehension. It sat atop the mouse pad, and Brooke’s glittery-white phone case was off to the side. “Did you have to take it apart?”
“Actually, no. Turns out your culprit is a stealth app.”
“Stealth?”
“It’s not visible. Unless you installed it, you wouldn’t even know it was there.”
“You did.”
“I know what to look for. Thwarting electronic surveillance is my specialty.”
“Electronic surveillance.” A bitter lump rose in Brooke’s throat.
“That’s right.”
Before joining the Delphi Center, Alex had run a PI firm that specialized in helping women in trouble disappear. Many of her clients were in abusive relationships and needed to drop off the radar.
Brooke had never imagined herself in that category. She wasn’t. Not really.
“Brooke?”
“Sorry, what?”
“I said, have you heard of Tagger?”
“No.”
“It’s a spying app.”
Damn him.
Damn him, damn him, damn him.
He’d gotten hold of her phone. When had he done it? And how had he known her password?
“Can you prove who put this app on there?” she asked Alex.
“That’s what sucks. We can’t. It’s completely traceless until someone comes up with a program to crack it, which hasn’t happened yet. Believe me, I’ve looked around.”
“When did he do this?”
“I can’t tell. But it could have been done remotely, so the possibilities are pretty wide-open. You think it’s your ex?”
“Who else would it be?”
Alex stared at her.
“What?”
“You’ve told me he’s controlling, but . . .”
“But what?”
“Is there anything else?” Alex asked. “Anything physical? You could press charges.”
“No.”
“You could. Trust me. I’m married to a cop, and he could help you.”
“Thanks, but it wasn’t like that. It never got to that point.” Not really. “I saw where it was heading and I got out. At least, I thought I did.”
Alex nodded. “Good for you.”
Right. Good for her.
Brooke wished she could feel good about it, but instead she felt angry. And embarrassed. Yeah, she’d gotten out, but not before he’d maneuvered himself into a position to control her life from the inside out. And he was still doing it.
Tears of frustration burned her eyes as she stared at her phone. “So . . . what does this app do, exactly? He’s able to see where I am? Listen in on my calls? What?”
“He knows your location anytime your phone is with you.”
Brooke’s chest clenched. “Son of a bitch. I hate him.”
He’d been tracking her movements when she went out with friends, or to the gym, or on a solitary run to clear her head. God forbid she ever went on a date again.
No wonder he’d been showing up all the time.
“The good news is, this app’s GPS only. He hasn’t hijacked your camera or anything.”
Her heart skittered. “That’s really possible?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“Guess I’m lucky, then, huh? And, hey, what would it matter anyway, since he’s seen everything already?”
“It’s your privacy, Brooke. It matters.”
She looked away. “Sorry. I’m just . . . pissed.” She wiped her cheeks, embarrassed now all over again for crying in front of Alex.
This was not her. None of it. Brooke didn’t cry over guys.
She didn’t let guys control her or jerk her around. Or tell her what to wear or how to cut her hair or what to eat, for Christ’s sake. Except that she had, and now everything had gotten so out of hand.