She didn’t say it as an accusation, just a point of information. I handed it to her.
“Several things. Diego admitted he’d been following Addison around, and there are tons of pictures to prove it. The usual obsessed former lover portfolio.”
“Diego says he and Addison were lovers? That’s not what she told Nick.”
“No, it’s not. But the photos on that phone back up his story—they were an item before Addison came to Georgia. But that’s not the most interesting thing. The night someone took a shot at Nick? Addison said she was at home working. But Diego has pictures of her leaving the house an hour before. Time-stamped.”
“Addison was lying about being home all night?”
“Yep.”
“Deception in the information age. Not easy.” Finn swiped through the images, shaking her head. “What else did you find?”
“Diego used this celebrity-sighting app to track down Nick, who became his target after Addison got a restraining order. Here. Let me show you.”
I pulled up the app on my own phone, went into the Nick Talbot group. It had almost two hundred members. The sightings and shared photos had started right after he arrived in Atlanta, but changed dramatically after his stints in rehab. No more club shots, drunk shots, limo shots. Now it was Nick at Whole Foods, Nick chowing down on Mongolian barbecue, Nick jogging on the Greenway. Ordinary moments only. Yet he was still catnip to a certain kind of female, still gave off a whiff of danger.
“Diego is one of the few guys in there—the rest are female groupies.”
“You think one of them is dropping inside information, like where the base camps are?”
“That would be my guess.”
Finn pocketed the phone as a group of women in booty shorts and fitted tanks filed inside the gym, no doubt headed for Trey’s class. Finn followed them. Inside, the speakers poured out a grinding nightclub noise punctuated by grunts and clanging weights. Behind the check-in desk, a corkboard featured photographs of the trainers and instructors, including Trey, an older photo from before I’d met him.
The owner looked up and grinned at me. He was short, bald, and heavily tanned, a semi-pro body builder. “Looking for Trey?”
“I am.”
“Check the ab station.”
I signed the check-in sheet, put Finn down as a guest. “Thanks, Mac.”
“No problem.”
He flashed a smile and went back to sorting protein bars. Finn followed me down the narrow corridors between the lat pulldown and the row machine. I spotted Trey in the corner, upside down on the core extension, knees locked on the pads, hands behind his head. When he spotted us, he curled himself up and off the equipment. Three women in the corner pretended not to watch, so I pretended not to see them when I kissed him hello.
He wrapped a towel around his neck. “We can talk in the classroom.”
I followed him inside, Finn right behind. It was familiar territory to me now, this bare room with the padded floor and heavy bags and the smell of leather and sweat. Trey rubbed at his face with the towel and held out a hand. Finn handed a file to him, and one to me.
I opened the folder. “What are these?”
“Paperwork for your covers.”
“Our what?”
“Covers. Nick wants the situation to remain under wraps. Only he and Quint and the Talbot Creative Board know why you two will be at the press party. And Addison. After I explained to Nick the danger she was in if he didn’t tell her, he relented and spilled the beans. But those are the only people privy to why you’re actually there. Et voilà…covers.”
I opened my folder. It was a dossier as well-collected as any background profile. Photographs, résumés, news clippings, social media sites. She’d pulled my college transcripts. Multiple classes at multiple institutions, including two semesters in the archeology program, but no actual degree. All the shop’s information was included as well.
I waved the file at her. “But this is still just me.”
“Not quite. I had them do a pretty significant scrub.”
“Them?”
“The ORM specialists. Online reputation management. Before they took a broom to your online presence, do you know what the number one autocomplete suggestion was for Tai Randolph?” She smiled. “Murder.”
I swallowed hard. “The mess this spring.”
“Oh, that’s the most recent hit, yes. But lots others. No longer.” She smiled bigger. “Do you know what the number two suggestion was?”
“Let me guess. Reckless?”
Finn shook her head. Trey looked up from his folder.
“Me,” he said.
Finn nodded. “Yep. The ORM specialist couldn’t quite delete you, but he did pile a lot of stuff on top of you.”
I was a little stunned. “That’s it? You just erased Trey from my life?”
Finn scoffed. “Of course not. I wish it were that easy. No, anybody seriously looking will find the connection in an instant. We’re just trying to discourage the casual “who the hell is she?” crowd. I had a good foundation—you did business with Talbot Creative when they first came to town, and I simply piggybacked on that. You’ll be just another local with Hollywood in her eyes. They’ll fall over themselves ignoring you.”
“But they saw us at the set. Both of us. And then Trey put a takedown on Diego.”
“Only the security team knows that. Otherwise Trey was a shadow that day. We just need to…” Finn wiggled her fingers at him. “You know. Blur him a little bit. That’s why we’re getting Mr. Seaver a new persona for the event.”
Trey looked up from his folder. “You can’t be serious.”
She eyed him shrewdly. “I needed a background you had the skill set to inhabit. That meant killing people or being a valet. I chose the one where you parked cars. Until you got fired anyway. But I’m assuming that wasn’t for lack of parking ability.”
He glared at her. Her eyes sparkled. She was baiting him. He was rising to it.
He extended the folder back to her. “Absolutely not.”
Finn ignored him. “Why not? Being at the valet station will work very well for this particular operation. You
