Page 243 of Heart So Hollow

Dallas stares at him blankly for a good five seconds, then cracks a smile, “Can I find spyware on a phone?” she repeats in a mocking tone, “Did you click on another link to a celebrity sex tape by accident?”

Colson stifles a smile and nods to me, “It’s for Brett—someone got into her emails.”

“Oh, no!” Dallas furrows her brow in concern and thrusts her hand over the desk, “I can take a look.”

I dig my phone back out, unlock the screen, and hand it over. She starts swiping and tapping, pausing periodically to respond to her own texts and IMs.

“Why are we looking for spyware?” I murmur to Colson.

He swivels his head, speaking in a soft tone, “Do you leave your email open on your phone?”

I shake my head, “Not my work email.”

“Someone sent that email to Dave, so they had to know how to get in.”

I know what Colson is implying, and I know he’s probably right, but I don’t want to come right out and say it yet. But the longer I watch Dallas swipe her manicured black spiderweb nails over my phone, the more I think about the letter from Emily Fox tucked in my bag at my feet.

Colson peers at me out of the corner of his eye, “Did someone really pick up your book?” he whispers.

I’m dreading the answer, so I continue focusing on Dallas and her bright blue eyes framed by a pair of thick-rimmed purple glasses. Her dramatic makeup is always immaculate and she has one of those faces overflowing with feverish enthusiasm. It’s like nothing ever bothers her, like she’s too busy to be inconvenienced by turmoil. But she’s a Lutz, so she’s no stranger to turmoil.

“Yes,” heat rushes into my cheeks and I can’t even turn to face Colson, “Jada wanted to, but before I could send it to her, it disappeared.”

“What do you mean disappeared?”

“It’s gone,” I rasp, “when I went to send it, I couldn’t find it. It’s not on my hard drive or the cloud.” I give a curt shake of my head, having finally accepted the defeat. “It’s just gone.”

Colson is silent, shifting his gaze around the room pensively.

“Aha!” Dallas exclaims, “There you are,” she jeers and holds the speaker to her mouth, “I found youuuu…” she sings into the phone with a devilish giggle.

I can’t help but smile, “What are you doing?” I ask with confusion.

“See that blue basketball icon?” She rotates my phone and holds it up, “It looks like the usual pre-installed bloatware, so you’d probably never open it anyway. But this one is spy software disguised as a default sports app. It’s super common.”

I peer at the unassuming icon, “What does it do?”

“A few things,” she explains, “whoever installed it can access any password-protected apps you have, which is pretty standard, but this one also listens. Maybe voice-activated? It doesn’t copy everything you do on your phone like some spyware, otherwise you probably would’ve noticed some major lag or your phone would stop working because it’s a mega drain on your data. But yeah, I Googled it and it’s like starting a tape recorder whenever it detects a voice in certain proximity.”

“So…” I trail off for a moment, the sinking feeling coming back, “someone can listen to everything I’m saying?”

“It’s only as good as your speaker is,” Dallas continues, “so, if it’s in your pocket or a bag, it’ll pick up less. But I wouldn’t consider that any comfort. I mean,” she grabs her own phone to show me, “I have my phone out all the time.”

Right then, everything makes sense.

I know where you go, I know who you talk to, I know what you do when you don’t think anyone is paying attention…

It’s why everything is happening. It’s how he knows everything.

I glance briefly at Colson. He looks calm—unbothered—and I have no idea how. Then I look at my phone, staring at it with dread. Every interaction I’ve had with Colson since he set foot in this building flashes through my mind. Every word, every sound—all captured by the small device sitting no more than 10 feet away at any given time.

“How do I get rid of it?” I ask as I fight a wave of nausea rising in my throat.

Dallas swipes her finger around the screen a few times and then hands the phone back to me, “There, it’s gone.”

My eyes dart between her and my phone, “That’s it?”

She smiles with a shrug, “It’s just an app.”

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