Page 207 of Ruin My Life
And the rest?
Lola:
Bank needs some time. 48 hours minimum.
Me:
I figured.
Don’t forget plan B.
Lola:
Just try not to fuck up plan A, darling.
After sending the encrypted email to Matthias—with the evidence file, the terms, and the $500,000 transfer—I exhale for what feels like the first time all morning. It’s all in motion now.
Phase two:complete.
My phone slips back into my pocket as I leave the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind me. I pad barefoot into the kitchen, where Lee is still parked at the island, watching my laptop with focused intensity while R.O.S.E. scrapes through the CCTV feeds.
“Anything yet?” I ask, climbing up onto the stool beside him.
He shakes his head, eyes never leaving the screen. “Not yet. But this program…” He whistles low under his breath. “It’s impressive. How’d you come up with it?”
I shrug. “School project. We had to design a program with real-world application. I wanted something that could help find missing people—replace the need for Amber alerts.”
Lee looks at me like I’ve just handed him the lost gospel. “Tell me you got an A.”
I scoff. “Nope. Prof said it was too dangerous of a concept. Called it a breach of privacy.”
He laughs under his breath. “And now you’re using it to track a murderer.”
“Funny how that works.”
We’ve been like this for hours—me using R.O.S.E. to try and get us an image of what happened, and hopefully a decent picture of Jennifer’s killer, and him tracking activity in the NYPD’s case files while also trying to trace the hacker who cracked into King’s Eye. His code crawler is a brilliant piece of programming. Not quite as advanced as R.O.S.E., but it’s already dug through more of the police firewall than I thought possible.
Connor’s still on door duty. Arms crossed. Gaze unfocused. He hasn’t spoken much, and his usual smugness has dimmed into something colder, more withdrawn. He seemed so awake and ready this morning, but now the dark shadows beneath his eyes make it look like he hasn’t slept in days.
Something about it scratches at my nerves.
He volunteered to be here. No one asked him. But he looks...pissed. I can’t help but wonder if he’s still angry at me, despite our truce last night.
I try not to dwell on it. I need my focus.
Lee suddenly sits up straighter. “Police database just updated.”
I lean in closer.
He clicks through the file. “They got DNA from under Jennifer’s fingernails. She fought back.” His voice drops. “But the DNA didn’t return a name.”
A chill needles its way down my spine.
Just like mine. Just like Amie’s. The cops told me the same thing after I woke up in that hospital bed.
No match.
They said the DNA would stay in the system. That it could be connected if the person ever committed another crime.
