Page 75 of The Nanny Game Plan
I consider the question before shaking my head. “No, I don’t think so.” We pause beside the door leading inside. “At least, I never have been before. But if anyone can make me develop a jealous streak, I think it’ll be you.”
He wraps an arm around my waist, drawing me closer. “Iwas jealous. I saw your friend get out of his car, and my thoughts were…not good.”
“Oh, yeah?” I arch a brow. “Is that why you were creeping outside my door?”
“I told myself I was just making sure you were okay, but…yeah.” He rolls his eyes self-consciously. “I didn’t like the thought of you having a sleepover with some hot young guy.”
“Don’t worry,” I say, leaning into him as I tease, “I only like old guys now. You’ve made me a believer. Be old or be gone, that’s my new motto.”
He laughs. “Thanks? I guess?”
“You’re welcome.” After a goodbye kiss that is crazy hard to quit—note to self: no more goodbye kisses with tongue—I head upstairs. I’m so giddy from the events of the past hour that I forget about Plato’s “present” until I’m on my way to the shower and spot a folded piece of paper with my name on it on the kitchen table.
Veering over, I grab the note and open it to read?—
Okay, don’t freak out and DON’T do anything crazy—AND DON’T SO MUCH AS GOOGLE THIS GUY OKAY? YOU DON’T WANT TO LEAVE A DIGITAL TRAIL ON YOUR DEVICES—but, brace yourself…
I finally tracked down that speed camera footage the police said had been deleted by accident. It hadn’t been deleted, and I got a clear shot of the man who hit you abandoning the stolen truck at an intersection.
His name is Dex Valerie.
I need to dig deeper when I’m not about to fall asleep, but it looks like he’s a big deal in the UFC community around here. He used to be a fighter. Now, he runs a gym and fight club downtown. No smoking gun yet, but a lot of cops like the club’s social media. Like…A LOT a lot.
Looks like your gut about a crooked cop cover-up might have been on point. Which means we need to be even more careful moving forward.
VERY VERY CAREFUL!
Talk to you tomorrow, okay?
Hugs,
Plato
P.S. Congratulations on banging your boss. It sounds like you guys are having a great time down there, LOL.
P.P.S. I’m not mad. I promise. Halfway through the drive over, I realized I was exhausted. I almost called to tell you I wasn’t coming, so I’m happy to head home. And I’m really happy we’re closer to having some answers for you.
P.P.P.S. But seriously, DON’T do anything yet. Like I said, don’t even Google him, just in case. If this is a cover-up, we have tomake sure we have all our ducks in a row before they realize we’re on to them. Once my dad sobers up tomorrow, I’ll talk to him about the best next steps and text you, okay?
I sit down hard in the wooden dining chair, reading through the note again.
Then, a third time, a part of me unable to believe this is real. That I’m finally close to holding the asshole who hurt me accountable.
Or that I at least know who did it.
Sounds like holding him accountable might be a more difficult thing…
I’ve suspected there was something fishy going on with my case for a while now, but seeing evidence that it might be true—even circumstantial evidence like NOPD officers liking this man’s social media—is chilling.
And enraging. Sickening.
This man could have killed me, Bea,andher unborn baby, and he absolutelydidderail my entire life. He caused me pain and suffering and fear and forced everyone who loved me to rearrange their lives to help me get through the first few months after the accident.
Blue and Beatrice have both seen my bare ass while helping me off the toilet because of this man.
This…Dex Valerie.
I want to Google him so badly, I can hardly stand it. But I trust Plato. If he says it’s best not to leave a digital trail, I’m sure he’s right. He’s way more knowledgeable about hacker stuff than I am, and his dad’s a retired private detective.
