The video ended with that same brilliant flash I’d seen the first time I’d plugged in one of his thumb drives.
“He’s definitely part of the Killingblondechicks conspiracy,” I said, thinking about Flint’s insistence that someone had hijacked his computer.
Then I thought about the fact that the fake Alden Lindel had mailed the flash drive to me rather than bringing it in person.
“He knew I’d figured him out,” I said.
How? That flash at the end of the videos kept playing in my mind until I formed a very strong suspicion.
“I think there’s a good chance he’s bugged my computer somehow,” I told Bree. “And maybe the FBI’s. That would keep him ten steps ahead of us, wouldn’t it?”
CHAPTER
76
WHEN I FINALLY got in the shower, I was no longer merely suspicious but convinced my computer had been compromised by the fake Alden Lindel. I’d called Rawlins and Batra at the FBI to alert them, but neither of them picked up the phone. I left them messages saying that I believed their system was at risk as well, and I hoped they’d call sooner rather than later.
Under the hot water, I felt sickened again at what Flint had done to those animals and at the fact that he claimed there were tens of thousands of subscribers to the websites he sold his footage to. Was that true? What possible pleasure could someone find in innocent animals suffering?
It was so beyond me that I got angry. That anger only deepened when I considered my inability to make headway in the hunt for the missing blondes, especially Gretchen Lindel. What a brave thing she’d done, standing up to those men like that, defying them.
When at last I turned my thoughts to the trial, I got angrier still, and then depressed.
Two eyewitnesses had testified that I’d shot three people without just cause. There were videos of the shootings and no sign of computer-generated imaging or anything to suggest I was being framed.
The weight of those cold, hard facts kept growing as I showered myself into a darker mood. A conspiracy had been hatched and directed at me. The conspiracy was working. The gears of justice were grinding, and I could see no path out.
I got dressed and went downstairs in a black cloud.
“Doesn’t it’s-a-secret smell incredible?” Bree said when I came back into the kitchen.
Distracted, I nodded.
Out in the great room, my dad chuckled. “I think I love it’sa-secret.”
“You will,” Nana Mama said. “Where’s that Ali?”
“Where he’s been the past four days,” Jannie said with a roll of her eyes. “Up in Dad’s old office in the attic with the door shut.”
“He’s still working on his Houdini paper?” I said. “I’ll go get him.”
“Let me,” my dad said, coming into the kitchen. “Give me some time to bond with my grandkiddo.”
Drummond disappeared. I helped Bree set the table, wondering how many more times we’d get to do this simple chore together. I opened a bottle of white wine and poured myself a generous glass.
Bree was watching me.
“One healthy one,” I said.
“You deserve two healthy ones.”
“Dinner’s on,” Nana Mama said, bringing a big iron skillet with a lid to the table. She set it on a lazy Susan. “Rice is coming. Where’s that Ali, now?”
Before I could reply, she left the kitchen and went to the bottom of the stairs. “Dinner, Ali! You don’t want dinner cold, you better come on down.”
“Two minutes,” my dad called. “He’s showing me something.”
My grandmother came back, muttering under her breath. She’d always been a stickler for us being at the table when she was ready to serve, and she had a sour expression on her face when she brought a big bowl of steaming jasmine rice in and sat down.