Page 38 of Shadowing Her Stalker

“No.” She shook her head. “Not anymore.”

“Why?”

She pointed to his laptop. “Ironically enough, GamerGate.” Folding her hands in front of her, she let her gaze slide down to the computer. “Whenever Chris or Tom even mentioned my name in connection to the business end of things, the trolls came swarming out. So we stopped.” She dropped her eyes to her clasped hands, a rueful smile curving her lips. “I contented myself with the idea of being the face of LYYF, and for the most part, I like it better this way too. I get to be the star without the freaky hero worship Tom hides from, or the constant pandering Chris loves and loathes.”

“But in serious publications where they’re discussing the future of the business...” He trailed off, unsure he wanted to push too hard on a point that was glaringly obvious to him but may not have occurred to her.

“The lack of attribution may make people think my contributions have not been commensurate with full partnership,” she concluded.

“Or give the impression your partners feel they are not,” he said, fixing her with a pointed stare.

Cara unwound her tightly knotted fingers, splaying her hands open wide and flat on the tabletop to stretch them. “At first, I was happy to have what I thought would be a shield from the vitriol,” she said, nodding toward the laptop again. “But after things took off there were times I felt credit wasn’t being given where credit was due.”

“Did you speak to them about it?” he prompted again.

“I did. On more than a few occasions,” she said flatly. “To be fair, most of the requests for interviews have been fielded by Chris. He enjoys the spotlight more than Tom.”

“Enjoys it to the point of hogging it. In most of the articles I read, Tom is relegated to nothing more than a couple lines. Even then, he’s spoken of as some kind of tech wizard hiding behind the green velvet curtain. You’re barely mentioned at all.”

“None of us got into this to be famous,” she pointed out.

“But I have to assume the guys, at least, got into it to get rich,” he retorted. “It was basically a run-of-the-mill personal finance app until your posts started taking off.” He tapped on his phone to wake it, then opened the application. Within seconds, the Cara Beckett who’d calmed his anxieties and gently lulled him to sleep appeared. He turned the phone to face her. “You made this app what it is. Everything they built...it’s all scaffolding for your genius, not theirs.” He leaned in, his stare searching. “Are you trying to tell me it doesn’t bother them?” When she didn’t answer, he gentled his tone. “Why haven’t they called, Cara?”

She shook her head. “You don’t get it. Things are complicated—”

“No, I don’t get it.” He interrupted whatever excuse she was planning to employ to excuse the shortcomings of the men she still called friends. “And I don’t see it as complicated. If my friend was being attacked from all sides, I’d be there. If my friend had been abducted at gunpoint, I’d do more than text her assistant for updates. But then, my friends aren’t about to increase their wealth exponentially by taking a share of the money I may or may not believe to be rightfully mine.”

“Now, wait a minute—” she began, but he held up a hand to halt her protest.

“I won’t say anything more. They are your friends and your partners. You know them a thousand times better than I do,” he conceded.

“I do.”

“But I want you to know, as far as I am concerned, no one is above suspicion. Because you and I both know there’s no enemy with better ammunition than a person’s best friends.”

“I understand.”

“And you mentioned something about Zarah having access to your accounts. Do you mind if I do a deeper dive into your financials?” He didn’t need to ask, really. He could probably hack his way into every account she’d ever opened without any trouble, but she was starting to trust him, and he didn’t want to risk compromising her trust.

“My financials?”

“I only want to be certain there are no...anomalies. If people have accessed everything else, it wouldn’t be much of a stretch.”

“Oh, wow. I never thought.” She cocked her head. “I hardly ever even look at bills or account balances anymore. Zarah has everything covered.”

“Just a cursory glance,” he assured her.

She nodded and looked to be about to say more when Betsy appeared in the dining room doorway.

“Come on, you two. Enough work for one day. Jim has time for one episode before he hits the hay and I want to see if you can solve the case before Detective Pemberton figures it out.” She made a shooing motion, then declared, “I’m making popcorn.”

With a sigh, Wyatt powered down his laptop and closed the lid. Cara showed no inclination to move. Placing his hands on the edge of the table, he pushed his chair back. “Come on. Your mom is right. We’ve done enough for one day.”

Wordlessly, Cara followed him into the family room, where her father had an episode of a murder mystery cued up and ready to go.

Wyatt smirked when he saw the show they’d selected. “You remember I’m not a homicide detective, right?”

“Neither am I,” Jim answered gruffly.

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