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“There it is,” he says leaning further in. “He paid a . . . Jackson Investigation. Okay, looking for that. PI based in freaking Baltimore. Good. Found his phone and his network, so while I work on this asshole’s computer and cell here . . .” He moves to the middle screen. “I’m going to look for cameras.” He says it while his fingers are still moving, and only looks back at us for a brief moment to offer a too-bright smile considering how brief it is. When he turns back, a grid of surveillance cameras appears. It’s⁠—

“Is that his⁠—”

“Yup, his building.” The building I lived in only months ago. “Does he have cameras inside the apartment?”

“N-n-no,” I stutter. “Just outside in the hallway.”

“Well okay. Let’s see his office.”

And there it is, the feed of the cameras in the building where his medical practice is.

Goddammit, who the fuck is Eli?

“Wait,” Eli says after seeing something on the right monitor. He spins around and faces me. “This phone isn’t the model that’s the second phone on his plan.” It takes me a second to understand while he holds up my phone to me.

How does he know?

“Yeah, uh. When I decided to come here, I left the phone he paid for in the apartment. I got this one the day I left.” Part of me wants to tell him that Smitti just gifted it to me, but I keep that quiet because I kinda want to see if he figures that out on his own.

“Huh.” He stares down at the device for a second then shakes his head and turns back around. “What day was that?”

I don’t know why that’s relevant, but I tell him.

“March twenty-fifth.”

“Let me see what he was up to that day.” He hums and murmurs to himself for a while, and I can actually see a square appear on that right monitor. The background Henry’s had for years—of the view from his parents’ house—all the apps, and I see as he goes looking at his texts, his emails.

“Jesus,” I whisper.

“It’s going to be all right,” Tucker whispers right into my ear. I nod mutely, because what else can I do?

“Here it is,” Eli says but the cheer has completely left him. “He sent an email to a William Garret⁠—”

I feel myself pale, but still find the strength to speak up.

“That’s my former boss. He . . . Henry slept with him.”

Both Eli and Tucker grumble at that, muttering some choice words, but Eli doesn’t lose focus.

“He asked him if you’d been in contact three days after you left. Then a month later asked again. Garret said no both times, then May thirty-first Garret writes him and sends him your new number.”

“The first text came in the next day,” I whisper.

“How did he get it?” Tucker demands, but I know.

“The job application, at Luxton.” I turn to look at him directly and feel Eli spin around again. “My number was in my resumé of course, but I didn’t put Principal Garret as a reference, only the people who gave me letters of recommendation. I didn’t even ask him.” I whisper the last part to myself, and get lost in the sea of information.

“Luxton would’ve called the school directly.” Eli’s voice sounds like it’s underwater in my head. “Let me see if I can find anything there.”

I don’t catch most of what they say for the next minute or so, wondering what the fuck I ever did to Principal Garret for him to sell me out like this. Sleeping with my partner was one thing, but this . . .

But when Eli sounds more serious, more forceful, I surface back to the present.

“Okay, I need to make a call. Which means you two are about to hear a conversation, but you’re not actually going to hear it, okay? He’s gonna know you’re here, Tuck, but not you, Sunny, so not a peep, got it?”

“Sure,” Tucker says, and starts to rub my back in gentle circles.

I hold my breath while the line beeps once, twice, then five times, until it connects.