Back then, my doubts about Jacob cleared up. Am I mistaken to suspect him now? Have I been mistaken to clear him then?
“Birdie, this is very important,” Jacob emphasizes. “You need to see this for yourself. I shouldn’t even be doing this, but I must show you the evidence. Just tell me where you are, and I’ll come to you.”
The cadence of his words crawls under my skin. It’s too smooth. Too polished. A net cast, waiting for me to swimwillingly into its center. Still, if Jacob is genuine, if this is about Blake, I can’t afford not to know.
Tristan’s face is a hard no. He is watching me like a hawk, his body coiled and ready to snatch the phone away if needed, ‘I told you so’ written across his expression.
I can’t stop thinking what if Jacob isn’t who he claims to be, no matter how much I want to believe he’s not Butterfly Man. “Wait, did you say you stopped by theretreatand my house?”
“Yes,” he answers, and I gesture for Tristan to contact Marcus to confirm.
Tristan pulls out his phone and walks toward the chair he’s left his laptop on. I follow him and ask Jacob, “When?”
If Jacob’s story checks out, that means he’s not my stalker, and I can trust him.
“Yesterday, and then I tried your house again today because that cabin didn’t have anyone in it.”
Tristan, reluctantly, shows me Marcus’s text in response.Affirmative. He showed up at the cabin before the breach, and then at the house. I told him she wasn’t in. Same thing today.
“Before the breach?” I mouth to Tristan. That doesn’t make any sense. Why would Jacob go there and then, later on the same day, put on his stalker getup, go back to the cabin, where he must have seen the security system, and let himself get caught on camera?
I shake my head, angry but relieved. Jacob can’t be Butterfly Man. Period.
“Uh, what does that have to do with anything?” Jacob asks. “Birdie, are you listening to me? This is no longer about theinvestigation of your assistant’s and rival’s murders. I have evidence that could change everything you know about your husband. I’m seriously worried about you and your safety. You could be in real danger. Please let me know where you are.”
Tristan warns me with his glare. His fingers are working fast on his keyboard.
No. I’m done listening to the doubts he’s sowing in my head. Jacob has done nothing but help protect me. He can’t be my stalker. He’s warning me about Blake. He must have something concrete to make him call me with this urgency. I need to listen to him. I must see that evidence myself.
“Jacob, I’m not in—”
Tristan’s phone chimes with an alert. He bolts, eyes wide, and then he blinks at me three times, shoving his phone in my face.
“—Martha’s Vineyard.”
“Okay. Where are you?” Jacob insists. “I can still come over wherever you are. Just tell me.”
On Tristan’s phone there’s an image. A photo of a police academy graduate. It’s Jacob’s, a younger version of him, but the name under it is different. Reid Ashford.
Then I read the last line under his name, and my hand flies to my mouth.Florida Law Enforcement Academy, Miami Dade College.
“Birdie, you still here?” Jacob—Reid—asks, and I’m going to be sick.
Detective Torrance is a liar. He lied about his name. He graduated from Miami Dade. He must have worked in Miami PD, too.
This can’t be a coincidence. Tristan has been right to suspect the detective. All evidence is pointing at Detective Reid Ashford.
He is Butterfly Man.
“Birdie?” he repeats.
My eyes squeeze shut.I think you know exactly where to find me.
CHAPTER 35
Tristan
Knuckles white against the steering wheel black leather, I navigate through Jacksonville night traffic. In my rearview mirror, Birdie curls up in the backseat, eyes blocked by sunglasses, breathing too controlled to be natural sleep. She’s avoiding any conversation. She hasn’t even asked where we’re going.