*
Wilde started back toward the Ramapo Mountains. He figured a night under the stars near the Ecocapsule would do him good, but he also wanted to see Laila.
Laila.
She hadn’t invited him over, and he never made assumptions where that was concerned. That wouldn’t be fair to her. If she wanted him there, cool. If she didn’t, who was he to get in her way with Darryl or anyone else? Wilde was chewing that over when his phone vibrated. The caller ID read “PETER BENNETT” again. Wilde answered and said hello.
“I have something for you.”
It was Boomerang Chris.
“I’m listening.”
“You asked me to look into the compromising photos of Peter Bennett—the ones already out there and the ones McAndrews threatened to release.”
“Yes.”
“First off, from what I can tell, McAndrews was intending to double-dip.”
“How?”
“You already know that someone hired McAndrews to ruin Peter Bennett via online innuendo and bullying.”
“Any idea who?”
“Not yet, no. That’ll be trickier. Like you said, they paid McAndrews through his son’s law firm to protect themselves via attorney-client privilege. This isn’t an uncommon move, but it adds an extra layer. All I can tell you is that whoever hired McAndrews also emailed him those compromising photos.”
“Okay.”
“So that’s the first thing. The second thing is more intriguing.”
Wilde waited.
“The photos are real. For the most part. I mean, they aren’t photoshopped.”
“What do you mean, for the most part?”
“They’re solid—no shadow errors, no warping. Even EXIF metadata is right for these images. But someone intentionally blurred the edges and cropped them in weird ways.”
“Weird how?”
“Well, maybe not so weird. It’s Peter. No doubt. But whoever sent the pictures? They didn’t want to be seen.”
“You mean whoever he’s having sex with?”
“Yes.”
“That would make sense. They wanted to be anonymous.”
“Maybe,” Chris said.
“You said McAndrews intended to double-dip,” Wilde said.
“Yes.”
“You mean sell the photos to Peter?”
“Exactly.”
“Did they meet?”
“Peter Bennett and Henry McAndrews? I don’t know yet. I’ll keep digging.”
They hung up. Wilde started into the woods. Night had fallen. He let his eyes adjust to the darkness. He started up the mountain toward the hidden Ecocapsule. It would be a two-mile hike. Not an issue. The tree branches were silhouetted by the moon tonight. The air was crisp and still. His footsteps echoed in the black. This was Wilde’s kind of night. He had experienced thousands in his lifetime. A man could think in this stillness. He could relax his mind and ease his muscles. He could see and comprehend in a way that was impossible for those facing lit-up screens and noise and energy and even other humans.
So why didn’t it feel right?
Why was he—he who had spent his life diving into the dark, he who loved to bathe in the solitude—suddenly unable to focus under the best of conditions?
When his phone rang again, the interruption, usually the most jarring of annoyances, felt like a reprieve, like a life preserver. He saw the call was from Matthew.
“Hello?”
“You coming back?”
“It was getting late so—”
“You need to get here.”
“Why? What’s up?”
“I got into the final DNA site. DNAYourStory.”
That was the site that had matched Wilde and Peter in the first place. “You found a match?”
“Yes.”
“It could be me,” he said.
“No, it’s not you. It’s a parent, Wilde. It’s either Peter Bennett’s mother or his father.”
Chapter
Thirty-Seven
Wilde sat next to Matthew as he brought up the link in DNAYourStory.
“Okay, see, there it is,” Matthew said. “A fifty percent share. Now we know that means either a full sibling or parent.”
“Why are you so sure it’s a parent?” Wilde asked.
“Here,” Matthew said, pointing to the screen. “This account goes by the initials RJ, but the key thing is, they list their age. Sixty-eight. That seems a little old for a full sibling, right?”
“Right.”
“So the most likely conclusion is that RJ is Peter Bennett’s mother or his father.”