The wheels in my head spun, and gradually I began piecing together the possibilities. “Okay. So who has it?”
“Me, of course. Michael Pope, and a select few at the company we sold it to.”
“Why aren’t the police talking to them?”
He sighed heavily. “I’m assuming they are, but all of this is so close to me that they aren’t looking much further. I’m their best bet. Beyond that, it seems like Evans is on some sort of mission. Wants to nail me for what I did a decade ago with some fresh charges.”
I’d gotten the same impression from my brief time around Evans. Carmody didn’t inspire trust either, but between the two of them, Carmody didn’t act like he already knew the absolute truth. He was still looking for it, and it remained to be seen what either of them would find in an effort to paint Blake as the guilty party.
My mind spun over this new information. Banksoft was a multibillion-dollar company. That they’d have a leak, one with any interest in the Massachusetts governor’s election, seemed unlikely. If Blake was telling the truth, and I believed he was, the breach had to be rooted from Michael’s copy. Michael would never hurt Blake, but his son Max certainly would.
“Do you think Max could have given Trevor access to it?”
Blake nodded slowly. “I’m assuming that’s the case.”
“Did you tell the police that?”
“No.” The simple answer was clipped.
“Because fuck them.”
I gasped. “Fuck them? They’re trying to send you to prison, Blake. You’re not even going to try to point them in the right direction?”
“They have nothing on me, Erica. I was out of the country. They’re going to waste weeks looking for some shred of actual evidence linking me to the election, and they won’t find it, because I didn’t goddamn do it.”
My breath was ragged in my chest. All of this new information had my adrenaline spiking. “That’s it? You’re going to wait for them to clear your name?”
“What do you want me to do?” He threw his hands up.
I walked closer, my hands fisted tightly by my sides. “I want you to work with them to get to the bottom of this. You and I both know this wasn’t random. Trevor has targeted both of us. He’s been trying to infiltrate your work for years, but this is different. This is your freedom we’re talking about, not some website that we’re working on.”
“They aren’t going to work with me. I don’t have access to the code. If I did, I could find what they aren’t finding.”
“Then let’s find it. You know how to get information.”
“I’m under a fucking microscope. They’re going through my computers with a fine-tooth comb. You think they aren’t going to be watching what I do like a hawk now?”
He looked away, his gaze fixed on some point on the distant horizon. I didn’t know where he was, but I needed him back with me. We needed to get to the bottom of this, and quickly.
“Why do I feel like you don’t want to fight back even if you could?” I sat down beside him and took his hand. “It’s because of what happened to Brian, isn’t it?”
Silence filled the room as he held his ground. Finally he turned, his eyes tired and devoid of the fierce determination that I had grown to love about him.
“This has nothing to do with Brian.”
“I think you’re wrong. I think it has everything to do with him. Whatever happened between you two back then, the guilt has stayed with you. You haven’t let it go, and neither has Trevor. And now history is repeating itself, and that’s exactly what Trevor wants. He wants to see you suffer for what happened to his brother. And while you’re getting interrogated and our lives are being ripped apart, he’s out there somewhere planning his next move. He’ll never stop until he takes you down.”
I startled at the tone.
He rose quickly. Cursing under his breath, he grabbed his jacket and moved for the door.
I hurried after him, unwilling to accept him leaving again so soon. “Where are you going?”
“I have to meet with the attorney and figure out a game plan. We need to be ready for whatever they come at us with.”
“Does he know about Trevor?”
He turned to face me. “Let it go, Erica. I’m taking care of this. It’s going to blow over. Trust me.”
“How is that you ‘taking care of it’?”
“Just . . . trust me, okay?”
His eyes widened. “No?”