Page 1 of Hacker Salvation

1

Annabella

“Ma’am, put down the knife.”

I looked up from the bloody knife in my hands to see a Los Angeles County sheriff’s deputy standing at the entrance to Nate’s bathroom. The man wore the typical law-enforcement uniform of a tan button-down shirt and green pants. His aviator glasses sat on top of his short, spiky blond hair. He rested his hand on the butt of the gun in his holster.

This might be bad. Really bad.

I shut my eyes and hoped he was a figment of my imagination. When I opened my eyes again, he was still there in my house. “Why are you in my house?” I asked quickly. “I never heard the doorbell ring. Why did you let yourself in?”

My eyes darted to where the deputy tapped his finger on the top of his gun. “Your housekeeper let us in. Now please put down the knife and step back from the crime scene.”

The words “crime scene” slowly sank in as my eyes took a second look around the bathroom. Needing to explain more, I stepped forward without putting the knife down.

The deputy drew his gun from his belt. “You need to put the weapon down.”

When I’d gotten home last night, I had been exhausted from working a thirteen-hour day on the set ofLast Love,my latest film. Nate and I had gotten into an argument over him not helping with the wedding plans. His breath had smelled like alcohol, and his clothes had smelled like another man’s cologne. Earlier in the day, Nate had sent me a text, saying he’d gotten an email with our results and couldn’t wait to show me mine. I’d rushed home after work to find him not home yet. We’d made plans to look at our 23andMe reports. Nate had told me he was going to print off the results so we could look at them over a glass of wine. I didn’t know much about my father’s side, so I chose to leave my name public when I filled out the documents. I couldn’t wait to find out if I had family I didn’t know about. Most people would look at the results online, but Nate and I wanted to read ours together, so he was supposed to bring them both home tonight for us to look at. Instead, he’d chosen to ditch me to go out to the bar. I’d gone to bed, and he’d left. This morning after I’d woken up, I noticed he hadn’t come back.

Nate and I had been friends since grade school. We’d stayed close even though he had gone to Harvard Law School and I had pursued acting at Stella Adler Academy of Acting and Theatre. Still, we’d always made time for each other. Ever since we were little, I’d known he was gay.

His family, on the other hand, had a different idea for him. He was to marry the daughter of another successful family to help grow his parents’ business. They owned a law firm. Last year, Nate had refused to marry who they wanted, and he’d told them he was gay. Two days later, he came home with a broken arm and a black eye. When I asked what had happened, he just asked if I would marry him.

Over the years, I’d gotten sick of men using me to advance their careers in showbiz. So I’d agreed to be his wife on paper and live with him. Nate was my best friend. He’d never used me to get his name in the tabloids.

After my long workday, I’d driven to the house we shared. Nate’s car had been sitting in the driveway. I’d screamed his name as I walked around the house. A smudge of blood had caught my eye when I passed his bedroom. I walked through his bedroom to see where the blood came from and found his bathroom covered with blood. I thought he’d gotten hurt and someone had taken him to the hospital.

“I won’t repeat myself,” the deputy said firmly. “You need to put the knife down.”

I laid the heavy silver carving knife on the marble countertop and stepped forward, only to slip in the blood. A screech left my mouth as I flailed backward, trying to grab anything on my way down. When my ass hit the marble floor, the impact knocked the breath out of me.

I slowly sat up. My once-white dress was red, and my hands were stained with blood. I gripped the counter and pulled myself off the ground. I was leaving a trail of bloody handprints on the bathroom counter. The sheriff stood at the door, watching my every move.

I glared at him. “Can you please give me a moment?” My tailbone hurt from hitting the hard floor.

The sheriff frowned at me. “The sheriff’s office is not going to treat you any differently than a normal criminal. We don’t care how famous you are. Please step out of the bathroom.”

I didn’t know if it was from the stress of the day or having a gun pointed at me, but my eyes started to water. It felt as though my life was about to be turned upside down. I tentatively stepped forward, trying not to slip on the floor again. When I reached the doorway, the sheriff grabbed me by the arm.

I pulled back. “Wait! I need to wipe my feet off.”

The officer yanked me forward. “We don’t have time.”

My blood-covered foot sank into the white plush carpet. Each step left a bloody footprint. I glanced around Nate’s room one more time, hoping he would jump out and scream, “Gotcha!” But he didn’t. I blinked a couple of times to clear my vision.

When we reached the grand staircase, which opened to the entryway, I noticed two officers talking to our new cleaner, whom Nate had hired a week ago. She turned and pointed at me. I hadn’t spoken to the new housekeeper yet, but if I had to guess, she was in her late sixties. She was wearing a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Her gray hair was pulled up into a loose bun. But it was the glint in her eyes that made me think she knew more than she was letting on.

“Wait.” I stopped the deputy before he pulled me down the stairs. He turned his narrowed gray eyes on me. “I need to change. I can’t walk around covered in blood.”

The deputy pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t like repeating myself, Ms. Harper. You will not get any special favors because of who you are. You need to be processed now since you decided to contaminate the crime scene.”

I took a couple of deep breaths. “Why do you keep saying crime scene? Who is missing? Why are you here? I don’t understand.”

He sneered as he spoke. “If you would follow me downstairs, we can talk about your missing fiancé.”

My feet faltered under his words, and I fell forward but caught myself on the railing before I went headfirst down the stairs. I couldn’t hold back the tears. “Nate,” I whispered. This couldn’t be happening. Last night, we’d had an ugly fight. We had both said things we couldn’t take back. But he was my best friend. Even though I was mad at him, I would never want him to go missing.

With each step I took down the white marble staircase, my mind swirled with questions.Is Nate really hurt? Why did the housekeeper call the cops without talking to me?

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