40. Colt

40

COLT

Grabbing the towels from the closet, I headed back to the deck, ignoring the fact that I was getting water all over my house. But after an afternoon with Ridley, I shouldn’t have been surprised. Chaos reigned in her wake, but it was the beautiful kind, the type of disarray that meant you were truly living.

I stepped outside, letting the screen door snap closed behind me as Bowser nosed at Ridley’s leg. But her hand didn’t drop to pet him the way it normally did. She didn’t move at all, nothing except the small shiver that racked through her as her now-wet shirt clung to her body.

My pace quickened, and I wrapped one of the towels around her. Ridley still didn’t move or make a sound. I followed her line of sight to the phone in her hands. She gripped it so tightly her knuckles looked like they’d lost all blood flow.

That’s when I saw it. The vile comment at the bottom of the screen.

I wonder, will Ridley’s screams sound the same as her sister’s? I can’t wait to find out.

Bile surged, rage hot on its heels. “What the fuck?” The words were more growl than anything else.

Ridley whirled as if just realizing I was there. She didn’t make a move to attack, but her eyes were wide and her typically tan face was a sickly shade of pale. “I—there’s—a lot—” She wasn’t making sense, but it didn’t matter.

“Inside,” I ordered. Even Bowser seemed to understand my tone.

I grabbed my discarded clothes and guided Ridley quickly toward the back door. But my head was on a swivel, looking for anything out of the ordinary, anyone who might be watching.

Hell.

Stripping down and jumping off my deck had been the height of recklessness when just a couple of weeks ago, Ridley had been attacked. I knew there was someone out there who wanted to do her harm. I should’ve been a hell of a lot more cautious than risking the kind of moments we’d just shared in that lake.

Slamming the door, I quickly locked it and set the alarm. I took Ridley’s hand and led her down the hallway to my bedroom. She didn’t say a word as I headed for my closet. I reemerged with a thick gray bathrobe. Gently, I slid one of her arms into it and then the other.

Ridley shivered, then stared down at the garment. “You have a bathrobe.”

“Yes,” I said, a hint of defensiveness making its way into my tone.

“It’s fluffy,” she mumbled, skating her hand over the fabric.

“Comfortable,” I amended.

“Cozy.”

I grunted and took her face in my hands. “Will you be okay for a minute?”

Ridley nodded. “Not gonna break.”

“That’s my girl.” I released her and slipped back into the closet, quickly changing into jeans and a tee. But I left the door open. I couldn’t stand not having eyes on Ridley for even a second. My alarm was set and the doors were locked, but I still wasn’t about to risk it.

The second I was changed, I headed back out to my bedroom and took Ridley’s hand, leading her back to the living room. The moment we sat on the couch, Bowser dropped his head into Ridley’s lap. Her free hand immediately began to scratch and pet, but her other still held the phone in a death grip.

I tried to keep my voice steady, calm, even as anger surged in fiery waves. “Can I have it?”

Ridley didn’t make a move to hand the device to me for a moment, just kept petting Bowser. Finally, she flipped the device over and punched in a passcode. She didn’t make any attempt to keep the code from me, but whether that was from shock or her simply telling me she had nothing to hide, I wasn’t sure.

I gently took the phone from her. The Instagram app was still open. I fought to keep my expression as neutral as possible as I took in the endless stream of comments. There were countless screen names with threats and other disgusting messages.

The use of Emerson’s name in more than a handful had me pulling out my own phone and assigning an officer to sit outside her house for the night. But it wasn’t long before I saw a pattern. There were only about twelve unique phrases and even fewer names. It looked as if someone had put them all in a jar and kept mixing them up to use over and over again. A computer program of some sort maybe?

Ridley’s phone dinged in my hand, and I scowled at the screen.

Baker

For fuck’s sake, call me. We need to get a handle on this.

This prick needed to take a flying leap.

“I need to call him,” Ridley said. Her voice wasn’t quiet. It was robotic. So unlike her.

“The hell you do.”

That had her pulling up, a little life flooding back into her cheeks. “He’ll never leave me alone otherwise.”

“Maybe he’s the one who’s leaving the comments in the first place.”

Ridley’s jaw went slack as shock set in, but it quickly fled as she mulled over the idea. “It’s possible. He likes any sort of press attention.”

“There’s a pattern in these. A few root phrases. I’m guessing it was done with a software program. I want to get your phone to our tech team?—”

Ridley snatched it out of my hold. “No.”

I pinned her with a stare. “This isn’t something you can just brush off.”

“I know that. And I’ll give you my Instagram login and password, but you don’t get my actual phone. I need it. It has access to the tip line app, and it’s how I’m in contact with sources.”

My molars ground together as I struggled not to lash out in search of control. “Maybe you should be taking a break from all that.”

Ridley sent me a look that asked if I was a moron.

I should’ve guessed as much. These past couple of weeks, while we'd put as many pieces together as we could, Ridley was doing the same on her show. She even interviewed a psychologist who specialized in the developing criminal mind. If she didn’t pause after an attack and concussion, she wasn’t going to pause for anything.

“Fuck,” I muttered.

“I have a friend who can help. He’s good with computers and all things tech,” Ridley assured me.

My eyes narrowed. “What kind of friend?”

She sent me a wincing smile. “One that bends the rules of legalities but gets excellent results. The white hat I told you about before.”

“Jesus.” I dropped my head to my hand, pinching the bridge of my nose.

“My contact can find out what’s going on. Probably even track this creep’s IP address.”

My spine snapped straight. “None of which I’d be able to use because it was gotten illegally.”

Those blue eyes twinkled, and while I was happy as hell to see Ridley find a little more of her fire, I didn’t want to even guess what she was about to suggest.

“I happen to know that anonymous tips are made to law enforcement at every level, even the FBI. And those tips are admissible in court as long as law enforcement doesn’t know for a fact they were obtained illegally.”

I stared at the woman next to me. “I’m a little scared of you. You know that?”

She just grinned wider, as if I’d told her she was the most beautiful woman in the world. “Thank you.”

“It wasn’t a compliment,” I muttered.

“Actually, it was,” Ridley shot back, taking the phone back and typing out a text. Moments later she received a ding back. She bit her bottom lip as she chatted back and forth with whoever it was. “He’s on it.”

“And how the hell do you know this contact ?”

Ridley shrugged. “He came forward with some files that helped me break another case two years ago. He helps how he can now.”

“Have you ever met him?”

She shook her head. “I don’t even know where he lives.”

“Goddamn it. He could be the unsub.” I pushed to my feet, wondering how the hell I was going to get the location on a hacker.

“Law Man, breathe.” Ridley stood, crossing to me and placing a hand on my chest.

“I don’t want to breathe,” I gritted out. “You could’ve been talking with the monster like he’s your BFF.”

Her lips twitched.

“It’s not fucking funny.”

“He’s a consultant with the FBI.”

I stilled. “He what?”

“Consults with the FBI. I verified it with them. But I don’t like making that public knowledge. For his protection.”

“I’m. Not. The. Public,” I growled.

Ridley winced. “Sorry. I know. I’m just used to not telling people, so I didn’t think.”

I let out a long breath. “Okay. But I’m running him by my own contact who used to be with the Bureau. Anson will know if he’s legit.”

Ridley’s phone rang with the theme song of Jaws . She scowled as she hit accept . “I’m dealing with it, Baker. Just give me a second.”

I could hear him go off on a tear on the other end of the line, but Ridley didn’t cower.

“No, I’m not going to LA. And no, I don’t need your security detail. I’ve got my guy on it, and I’m staying somewhere safe.”

I couldn’t hear the muffled words on the other end of the line, but Ridley’s scowl deepened.

“If you say another word about Colt, I will use that emergency clause in my contract and drop your ass midseason; don’t think I won’t.” She paused as Baker kept talking, her shoulders relaxing. Then they stiffened right back up again. “You’re still here?” Another pause. “Fine. I can meet you in an hour. The Whiskey Barrel.”

My whole body tensed as Ridley hit end on the call. “Tell me you didn’t just say you’d meet that asshole.”

Ridley lifted her blue gaze to meet mine. “If we want to figure out if he left those comments, I need to ask him to his face. Baker is a lot of things, but a good liar isn’t one of them. If he’s bullshitting, I’ll know.”

But doing so would mean leaving Ridley exposed. And we already knew there was at least one person who wasn’t afraid to hurt her to get what he wanted. What if there were more?