Page 61 of Reverb
Mish shoved him. “Hey!”
His smile belied any hurt. “I’m not saying you were ugly. You’re just not you now.”
Ray handed her phone back, and she passed it to Dom next. He cocked his head, then passed it to Adrian. After that, it went to Marcella, and she brought it to David.
He didn’t have to look up to know Mish was watching him. He felt her stare from across the coffee table. More than just her, he bet, but Mish’s was the only one that mattered.
He studied the photo on the screen. He both saw and didn’t see her in the two women in the picture. One woman—had to be her mom—had blond hair with the same curls that Mish bore. Her eyes were darker, though, and her face rounder. Mish was young, maybe sixteen or seventeen, on that cusp between youth and adult. A redhead like now, but cut so short the curls were gone. Green eyes that were shy and set into a face that hadn’t developed the long lines of Mish’s. Her clothing was conservative and she was lanky, not the muscular musician she was as an adult. Only if you knew she was the same person could you pick out the similarities.
With an entirely different name, how many people would know that this girl and Mish Sullivan were the same?
He nodded. “You grew up a lot.” He rose, leaned over the table, and handed her phone back. Her fingers brushed his gently. Almost a caress.
Then she was leaning against the couch again. “That’s one way of putting it.”
“Okay, so it’s unlikely to be someone from the past.” David lowered himself into his chair. “Still doesn’t feel like a fan gone bad, but I suppose there’s no other avenue.”
Mish rocked her head back and forth. “Or it’s some MRA-type dude who saw my photo and thinks I’d make the perfect wife.”
“Maybe.” David didn’t think so. There was something to this he couldn’t put his finger on. Gut instincts were so fucking vague.
“Question is...” Marcella rose and joined the rest of the group. “What can we do about it? What are we going to do about it?”
That was the issue at hand. The answer was simple, but unsatisfying. “Nothing,” David said. “Block email addresses. Keep logs. Keep an eye on Mish. But that’s pretty much all we can do.”
Adrian shifted in his chair. “I looked into the credit card connection.”
Ray shot him a look. “Legally?”
“Yes, of course.” Adrian sounded a little miffed. “Card was that dude’s own, not the mysterious Stan’s. If the thief got cash from that guy, I can’t find out...legally.”
Ray relaxed a fraction. “Sorry for the assumption.”
“No illegal hacking, Mr. Doran,” Marcella said.
“None planned, Ms. Crane.” He grinned. “I really do know better.”
She snorted. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”
“Stan? Who the fuck is Stan?” Mish looked between David and Adrian.
“Name the thief gave. Doubt it’s his real name.” David struggled with keeping calm. “I wish I had caught that little shit sooner, before he’d handed it off.” Guilt gnawed at him, especially since he’d missed the handoff. The stalker had been at the concert, too.
Mish skewed up her face. “Well, Stan rings no bells. I bet you’re right.” She closed David’s laptop. “So you recommend business as usual.”
He hated that, but there wasn’t any other choice. No way to draw the fucker out. “You were right all those weeks ago. Changing your habits just lets this guy think he has control.”
She nodded. “But now we all know.”
Dom fidgeted, picking at invisible lint on his pants. “You gonna be okay?”
“Yeah, hon. I’ll be fine. I have all of you and I’ve got David there.”
Zavier rubbed his chin, but said nothing. Which, David had learned over the past weeks, meant the man had something to say, but was unwilling to say it. So he called his bluff. “Zavier?”
Caught off guard, Zavier started and locked eyes with David, and there was that open expression again. “I was just wondering...at what point we go to the police? Where’s that line?”
No one in the room said anything in response. Mish stared at the closed laptop, then looked over at David. The pain in those eyes ate right through him.
