So now Chris helps people in a different way.
He’d formed Boomerang in order to help those who were being attacked and couldn’t fight back. He punished not only those who created secrets but those who lied, abused, bullied—and did so anonymously. He went after those who served no positive purpose whatsoever in society and only eroded and destroyed the good. He worked hard now to make sure that the mistakes he made as The Stranger were minimized. His old work had been a volatile compound. He couldn’t control it.
With this—with Boomerang—he could ensure safety.
Not always. Not a hundred percent of the time. There was always the chance, despite his absolute best efforts, that an innocent person would be punished. He got that. He wasn’t blind or dumb. It was why he double-checked and triple-checked. If Boomerang was going to go after you, Chris wanted to make sure you deserved what was coming. Sure, he could stop altogether, leave it to the authorities who were still lagging way behind in defending those being attacked in the new online world, but do we stop doing the right thing just because we fear mistakes? Our justice system is imperfect, yet no one suggests that we get rid of it because of the occasional error, do they? We don’t just give up. We try to improve and make it better. We do our best and hope the balance sheet at the end of the day shows we did more good than bad.
Boomerang helps people. It protects the innocent and punishes the guilty.
But now he read the name again.
Henry McAndrews.
Chris looked up the name and found the file.
This was bad news. Very bad.
Chris—the Lion—grabbed hold of his burner phone. On it was a dark web communication device that was as untraceable as possible. He composed a message that no one other than Alpaca, Giraffe, Kitten, Panther, and Polar Bear would understand.
CATEGORY 10
The urgent signal. Then he added, just to be sure:
NOT A DRILL.
Chapter
Seventeen
It’s so nice to meet you,” Jenn Cassidy said to Hester. “I really love watching you analyze a court case on TV.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ve been a fan for years.”
Jenn’s voice was a little breathy. Hester was usually good at reading people, but it was hard to tell if the reality star was being authentic here or not. Jenn Cassidy was beautiful in a classic all-American way—blond hair, toothy smile, bright blue eyes. Her makeup, as was the wont these days, was a tad too heavy for Hester’s taste. Jenn had those overtly fake eyelashes that looked like two tarantulas baking on their backs on hot asphalt. Still, she gave off a friendly, approachable, even trustworthy air, and Hester could see why she’d be cast as the perfect good-girl reality star. Nothing about her beauty felt intimidating.
The doorman held the door for them. Jenn led Hester across the lobby of the giant glass tower of the Sky building. Once inside, she pressed the button for the second floor.
“We used to be higher up,” Jenn explained.
“I’m sorry?”
“I still say ‘we’—meaning Peter and I. I have to stop doing that. Anyway, when we—there I go again—when Peter and I were a couple, they had us up on the seventy-eighth floor in a four-bedroom duplex. Now I’m in apartment two. It’s maybe a third of the size.”
“You downgraded after the breakup?”
“Not me. They. In this case, the owners of the building. See, buildings like this always have unsold apartments. Since they’re sitting empty anyway, they give them to influencers for free under the condition we post photographs.”
“I see,” Hester said. “You advertise the building?”
“Yes.”
“Like a celebrity endorsement?”
“Exactly.”
“And that’s how you make your living,” Hester continued. “Via endorsements. You wear a certain designer dress or you visit a new nightclub—and millions of people see you and so those businesses pay you.”
“Yes. Or like in this case, we barter. When Peter and I were at our most popular, Sky gave us a two-year lease on suite seventy-eight, under the condition we put it on our social media accounts at least once a week. When it was time to re-up, they moved us—well, just me now—down here.”
“Smaller celebrity, smaller room,” Hester said bluntly.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Jenn said, putting her hand on Hester’s arm. “I’m not complaining. It’s still wonderful that I’m here.” The elevator door dinged open. “I understand how this business works. Being an influencer has a short shelf life. You have to use it as a jumping-off point.”