CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Jessica
I realized I should respond to Cynthia’s remark. “I’m remembering a few things. Not much,” I stated for the record. I typed, “Need to talk,” and hammered my finger down on the period key.
Cyn nodded. “Do the best you can. That’s all we can ask,” she said for the benefit of unseen listeners.
She took over at the keyboard and typed, “Hard to arrange. Shooting Lucius wasn’t part of the plan, but I’ll come up with an excuse. You understand I needed to make it look like I hated you?” Cyn continued to type, but I knew where she was going. That explained her behavior at the hotel. Why she slapped me so hard. She had to regain whatever trust she’d built with this group of wackos. She’d only just managed to get hold of the data, but hadn’t seen it yet. And she wasn’t sure how to get it into the right hands without implicating herself.
Cyn was still typing, when I grabbed the pencil. “Why didn’t the Feds just TELL me about you?” I scribbled.
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