Sorry to lay all this on you when your focus needs to be on Brooke,” Jack said. “For what it’s worth, I know she loves you. She couldn’t fake that. No one could. And it’s hard to believe that she killed anyone, let alone her own father. She must have gotten caught up in something pretty awful.”
“I have to find out,” Ethan said as he headed toward the door. “I’m going to find her.”
Jack exclaimed, “You don’t have any idea where she is!”
Ethan turned back, a look of frustration on his face, and shook his head.
“What do you know about Clinton Godeaux?” Sean asked as he entered the foyer. “Other than he’s her brother?”
“Just what the FBI told me,” Ethan explained. “There were inheritance issues. Her brother suspected foul play, asked for the autopsy. The autopsy proved that the father was murdered. Seems straightforward.”
“What else?” Sean pressed.
“He secretly funded our company and used an account with just his initials—C. G.—as well as all the privacy settings. And when Brooke married Benjamin Carver—your employee, Rufus Wall—he got a face recognition match on our site and discovered that she was using the name Brooke Shaw. That’s all I know.”
“So he can find her now?”
“That’s why she’s running, I assume…” And then Ethan’s eyes brightened and he stuttered with excitement, “Unless…unless she just wants it to look like she’s running. Maybe she wants her brother to come for her. Maybe she’s leading him to her, setting a trap. She can’t go to the cops. And knowing Brooke, she’d take care of the problem on her own, without putting anyone else in danger. Including me.”
“Sounds feasible,” Sean agreed. “She kept her brother away all this time, after all.”
“As soon as our Face Match Mode goes up,” Ethan added, “she gets a driver’s license, which requires a picture that goes into the main databank we have access to.”
Jack jumped in. “So the Face Match Mode lights up and her brother knows that she’s using the name Brooke Shaw.”
“She probably got the driver’s license because she needed a legit photo ID to get a marriage license,” Ethan said, “and that goes into the public record.”
“So then the Face Match Mode lights up again,” Jack added, “tells her brother that she married a guy named Benjamin Carver.”
Ethan nodded. “She knew there would be a public record. She knew that her brother would get a match and come for her.”
“Or send some tattooed thugs to find her,” Jack said.
“She didn’t get married to run away, but to be found.” Ethan started pacing, completely consumed. “She’s trying to get her brother to come to her. But why? Why would she concoct such an elaborate system to keep him away and then lure him to her? Why would she move to Big Sur and preach mindfulness and balance to tech entrepreneurs and put such a value on privacy?”
“And there’s something about the way she was so involved with Hounddog’s company culture,” Sean added, “and the way she avoided yours.”
“She never wanted to discuss Stalker business,” Ethan agreed. “She only expressed her concern. But why? What did our site do to threaten her safety that Hounddog didn’t?”
Sean walked across the room slowly, taking some time before he answered. “At Stalker you use biometrics primarily to find people, but at Hounddog we use biometrics mostly for privacy. We find ways to block a trail and send false leads. Much of that came from Brooke. She led us down that path. Stalker and Hounddog are basically using the same technology but for opposite purposes.”
“She supported technology that helped protect privacy, for people like herself that needed to hide. Anna Gopnik told me that Brooke had put tracking devices in our phones. Brooke warned me that the police were coming for me. She sent me texts and told me where to hide. That’s how I ran into Anna—”
“The tracking apps we created for her were spec concepts never meant to go to market,” Sean said. “Our guys love working on extracurricular projects, and we encourage it as long as they get their work done. I believed her when she told me they would only be used to help people that had no other options. But I didn’t ask enough questions.”
“This explains the missing people in Big Sur,” Ethan said. “When she lived there, she was hiding, right? Maybe she also helped other people on the run. She got cozy with tech companies that could help her develop tools to do just that.”
“To hide people who deserved a second chance,” Sean blurted. “She once told me that thousands of people drop off the grid every year, cutting all ties, changing their identities, hiding their money. Maybe that was her concept for Dancing Rabbit… The people who live there valued privacy so much. Maybe she had us develop apps to help some of them turn into ghosts.”
“That sounds more like her, helping people who deserved a second chance, a second lease on life, living mindfully. She always talked about people looking through different prisms, how there are always two sides, a paradox. Maybe the reason was because she deserved another chance. I can’t imagine what kind of justification there is for killing her father, but until we hear her side…” Ethan’s wheels were spinning, and he turned to Sean. “Any chance you have the book Tropic of Cancer by Henry Miller?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Why is that relevant?” Jack asked.
“When I was running from the police,” Ethan explained, “the text told me to go inside the Henry Miller library. Anna Gopnik was hiding there. I asked her why she was faking her death. She told me that no one shares how or why they disappear. That’s how they prevent any leaks. She told me that Brooke knew that I might come looking for her. And she gave me a copy of Tropic of Cancer. Brooke’s copy. Brooke had underlined a weird passage. I thought Brooke was trying to send me a message.”
Sean grabbed his laptop. “I can download the book from Amazon in ten seconds.”
Once he did, Ethan found the section that Anna had shown him and read it out loud: “‘As soon as a woman loses a front tooth or an eye or a leg she goes on the loose. In America she’d starve to death if she had nothing to recommend her but mutilation.’” Ethan looked up at Jack and Sean.
They shook their heads.
“She’s not missing a tooth or an eye or a leg,” Ethan said. “She would starve if she had nothing but what she lost… I asked Anna, was Brooke trying to help me? Was she trying to keep me away or on a leash?”
“What do you think?” Jack asked.
Ethan’s smile returned. “I think she’s trying to tell me to shed my devices—and vices—like she told me when we were at Dancing Rabbit the first time. Remember when she took my phone away? She wants me to be the one to disconnect. Unplug.”
“I don’t understand,” Jack said. “Where did you get that?”
“If she only had what she lost, which must be her family, her broken heart, she’d die. But she has me now. And I can’t get to her with the FBI tracking me, or whoever else is listening in on this thing. Her brother was using technology to find her. He even sent goons to look for me, right? He’ll do anything to find her. He’s dangerous. That’s why she wanted me to stay away. But there’s another side to her story and I’m going to find out what it is.” Ethan set his iPhone on Sean’s coffee table. “I have to find her. Unplugged.”
“Without your phone?” Jack asked, incredulous. “How can you go without your phone?”
Ethan smiled. “They call it mindfulness.”
Just as he was about to make his dramatic exit, he stopped, froze, and groaned. “Oh damn!”
“What?” Jack asked.
“My car only has a few miles’ worth of charge left.”
Jack laughed. “Told you that car was a bad idea.”
“You can’t take your car anyway,” Sean said, approaching. “If she really does want you to come for her—unplugged—she doesn’t want you bringing cops and FBI agents, and they know what you’ve been driving.” Sean tossed his car keys to Ethan. “Take mine.”
Ethan saw the Maserati symbol on the keychain. “Much more discreet,” he grinned, unable to hide his love for fast and fancy cars.
Sean’s love for cars was even deeper. “It’s a special edition and only came in one very discreet color called deep plum. You’ll be fine.”
“Thanks. I’ll try not to scratch it.”
Jack grabbed Ethan’s shoulder just as he turned. “We won’t be able to get in touch with you. Be careful. Please.”
“I will.”
“And just for the record,” Jack added, “I’m glad you know about me, that there are no more secrets—”
“Just for the record,” Ethan cut him off, “I’m happy for you. For you both.”
“Thanks.” Jack smiled as if an enormous weight had lifted, or more like an amputated leg had just grown back. “Now go find your girl.”