“I can’t believe I overslept,” she said, gathering her things again.
Wes frowned. “Who was it?”
“Hmmm?” Cara ignored him. She grabbed her purse and headed for the door, reaching for her keys where they hung on the wall. She looked at her phone and thumbed the screen. Her eyebrows drew together, her face clouding.
His instincts flared. “Is something wrong?”
Cara jumped, dropping the travel mug. The top popped off, splattering the hot liquid over her clothing.
“Damn it!” Cara tipped her head back with her eyes closed, muttering something like, “Are you freaking kidding me?”
“I’ll clean it up. Go get changed.”
Wes could tell her pride wanted her to argue, but she was already running late. Throwing her phone and purse on the sofa, she sprinted for her bedroom. Wasting no time, Wes grabbed her phone, thankfully still unlocked, and pulled up the call log.
Something had scared her. As quickly as he could, he took screenshots of the call logs from the night before and sent them to himself before deleting the pictures on her phone. Wes was just putting the phone back when he hesitated. He snuck a look at the still closed door and took a risk. He pulled up Amara’s call information and memorized the number before returning it to the home screen and putting it back with her purse.
He should feel guilty about invading her privacy, but he hadn’t liked the look on her face. It wasn’t annoyance, or even anger. It was fear.
Wes grabbed the travel mug she dropped and had just begun transferring his coffee to it when she came out again. He handed it to her wordlessly and grabbed a dish towel to soak up the spilled coffee.
Her lips pressed together. “Thanks,” she said, before stepping around the mess and out the door.
Wes finished mopping up the spill, tossing the rag into the laundry. He added Amara’s number to his contact list. In case of emergency, he rationalized. Then, he pulled up the photos he’d taken.
He stared at them for a moment, not sure what he was seeing. She had thirty-five missed calls. Pouring what was left of the coffee, he studied the numbers. He had expected that the hang-ups would have an 888-prefix, showing they were a call center, and someone had gotten the time zones messed up, but he was wrong.
There were some repeat digits, but after the first three calls, no other phone number appeared more than once. As the hours passed, the original number had called back several times.
Wes’s face darkened. It could be a prank, but someone had gone to the trouble of using a phone rotator. Why had they gone back to the number she answered?
Because Carahadanswered?
Wes opened his computer, intending to trace the phone numbers. He didn’t bother with most of the numbers. He recognized the sequence of the numbers as the product of a robo-caller. However, the first phone number that had called didn’t match the sequence of the others.
Anyone can reverse search a phone number. Wes wasn’t going to some extreme length, he told himself. He was just saving Cara some time because he was sure she would do it herself when she realized how many times the person had called. His excuse wouldn’t hold up to any sort of scrutiny, but it was enough for him.
In less than a minute, he had it entered and the result back– “Unavailable cell user.” Wes sat back, folding his arms across his chest. It would be easy to get into the carrier’s server. Less than an hour. He leaned forward, his fingers hovering over the keyboard, itching to type the commands that would allow him to hack into their accounts.
Wes’s jaw clenched.
He was 99% certain he could be in, get the account holder’s name that matched the number, and be out before they picked up he was in their system. But, there was that 1% chance that they got his IP, and that would most definitely violate his deal with the government. Wes forced his hands to unclasp, rolled his neck, and then deliberately closed the computer.
So, someone had prank-called Cara a bunch of times? It wasn’t a big deal. It's not like they had threatened her, he assured himself. It was probably some twelve-year-old at a sleepover. They kept calling her back because she’d answered. Not worth going back to prison for. Regardless of what his brain said, Wes couldn’t shake the bad feeling he had about the situation.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-FOUR
Cara wason edge all day. Even after powering off her phone, she hadn’t been able to sleep well, thinking about the hang-ups.
Anne texted her back as she was locking her car in the cast lot.
Anne: I’m sorry sweetie, I checked with Bruce—my memory isn’t what it was. We didn’t send it. Are you still coming to my birthday dinner tonight? James will be here after all. His flight gets in at eleven. I could use a peacemaker in case the twins decide to argue about the justice system.
Oh no!Cara had completely forgotten. She typed back a message to assure Anne she would be there and trudged up the hill to the makeup trailer. It would be nice to see James. He rarely got time off and seldom came to Atlanta.
The skin on the back of her neck prickled. It felt like she was being watched. She cast a look over her shoulder at the densely wooded area, but her eyes couldn’t penetrate the shadows.
First the card, then the social media, and now flowers and phone calls. She could no longer deny what was happening. Somehow, her stalker had found her. She had to assume it was the same person. What was the likelihood she had two different people terrorizing her? Almost on cue, her phone buzzed. Assuming it was Anne texting again, she swiped to open her phone.
