He closed his eyes. The text message flashed behind his eyelids. If only we could be together. Longing ached in his chest. He opened his eyes. “The interview was fine. I mean, no, it wasn’t.” He scrambled to collect his thoughts. What had happened again?

Jesus, he was a frigging lawyer. He needed to pull it together. He jumped to his feet and strode to the mini bar. “Detective Ellis had identified the suspect,” he said, his heart hammering once again at the thought of Leah Roberts. How could so much destruction be hidden inside that awkward, brilliant brain? Had she any idea how much damage she had wrought?

And did he have any idea how much damage he had wrought?

He didn’t know where that thought came from, but he drowned it away with a large dose of scotch. It was fiery, immolating his fears and his remorse. And it fuelled his anger. “Her name is Leah Roberts. She is a cyber security analyst. I knew her.”

There was a pause as his lawyer absorbed what he said. “How well did you know her?”

“Vaguely. She worked on a contract for the department. She was tightening our security protocols.”

“Why do you think she was in your parents’ house?”

“I don’t know.” He drained the last of the scotch. “My father said he didn’t know her.”

“It seems the most obvious connection is with you, Harry.” There was a slight rebuke in Randall’s voice. “And since she is a cyber security professional, do you think she was trying to access your computer?”

He swallowed. “No. I have my laptop. They never made it to my bedroom.”

“What about your computer network? Could they have done something with that?”

His head began to swim. He had logged into his parents’ Wi-Fi network last night.

And received a text with an email that had been hidden in a private, password-protected email account today.

Had Leah and the unknown suspect somehow hacked into his computer through his parents’ network?

It was so obvious that it frightened him that he hadn’t thought of it himself. “I don’t know.”

“We need to alert the police.”

“No!” There would be hell to pay if his boss discovered he’d been using a private network.

He thought of the emails he had saved in a private email account as ‘insurance.’

And he almost puked.

Jesus. The hackers would have access to those files.

“Harry, is there anything on your laptop that is classified information?”

His admission came out on a long exhale. “Yes.”

“Do you think your files have been breached?”