[background noise]

Kristen: (laughs) Or what?

Chase: I’m not fucking around. Give me the phone.

Chase: Now, Kristen. I don’t need Coach seeing this.

Kristen: You’re such a downer. Relax, I’ll delete it. See?

[1:36:09AM]

— RECORDING ENDS —

The video ended, and I stared at the frozen screen without blinking.

Just like I’d thought.

A murky mixture of feelings swirled within me. Vindication, anger, regret. I’d been so focused on funneling my rage toward Morrison that I hadn’t even begun to think about what to do with Kristen. First, she made the recording—and edited the clip to fuck me extra hard—then she sold me out for practically pennies.

At least I had the other half, time stamp and all. Should this hit worst-case scenario, at least Bailey would be spared some of the fallout. There was no way anyone could plausibly link her to the tape now.

“If you give the police probable cause when you press charges, sometimes they dig up this stuff themselves.” Vincent nodded at his phone, still in my hand, the screen having gone black. “Your audio recording, which was legally obtained, gives them a good starting point to go hunting for this. It shouldn’t be too hard to find unless the cop working the case is a total fucking moron.” He heaved a weary sigh. “Though, unfortunately, many of them are.”

With my luck, I’d end up with the fucking moron variety working my case. Problem for another time, though.

I handed his phone back to him. “Was anyone following Bailey?”

“No. But I assume you’re aware that you were being followed.”

An icy sensation trickled down my spine. “I had an inkling.” Confirming it didn’t make it any less disturbing, though.

“Another PI firm. Travers Mill. Top shelf prices, bottom tier, sloppy work. They were retained by”—he glanced down and checked his notes—“Lucas Morrison.”

No surprise there.

“How long have they been following me?”

“A month.”

Holy shit. Since he pulled the car stunt with Bailey.

He shrugged, bringing his beer to his mouth. “Like I said, they’re sloppy. Practically left behind a trail of breadcrumbs.”

“Are they still tailing me?”

“No.” The mug clanged against the table with an ominous finality. His thin lips quirked. “And they won’t be again. I’ve seen to that.”

“Wait, if no one was following Bailey, how did Morrison know all that stuff about her life?”

“Oh, Travers Mill was definitely poking around in her life.”

Another arctic blast filled my body at the idea of Luke’s minions snooping into Bailey’s personal affairs. I tried to push it out of mind, focusing on the takeaway message. They were gone now.