“I was three years older than her.” Tomas straightened, composing himself. “Her parents forbade her to see me. So I created an email account for her, wrote the address and password on a piece of paper, and gave it to her at school. She never had a chance to use it. That night, she and her entire family died in a car accident.”
A hot ember formed in Luke’s throat, and he swallowed, grasping for words.
“I’m so sorry, Tomas.” Vera stepped forward.
Tomas held up a hand, warding her off. “I started emailing her. I just…couldn’t let go. I know she wasn’t receiving the messages, but I needed to talk to her. Fuck, I needed her. She was my best friend. My girl. My whole fucking world. So I wrote to her through email. For years.”
“The email account…” Luke cleared his voice, uncertain why Tomas chose this moment to tell him this. “It eventually exceeded its size limit, right?”
“Every few months, I cleaned it out. I had the password, and other than spam, I’m the only one who ever sends messages to it.” He held the phone up and stared in a daze at the screen. “Every time I go in to wipe the history, I intend to delete the account. But I can’t. The messages I’m writing are dangerous and stupid, but I can’t stop. I couldn’t…”
His spine tingled. “Dangerous how?”
“I’ve told her everything over the years. Every time a miserable goddamn thing happens in my life, I write it in an email to her. Every tragedy, every victory… Every secret.”
“What secrets?” Luke stopped breathing, seeing the writing on the walls.
“Our secrets.” Tomas met his eyes, his face bloodless. “I told her about Van and everything before and after.”
“Like a journal.” Vera touched her throat. “You write to her as if composing your thoughts in a diary.”
“Diaries are forbidden in our business.” Luke couldn’t stop the ire from leaking into his voice. “No incriminating evidence. You know the rules, Tomas.”
“Yeah. I fucking know, Luke.” Tomas bared his teeth. “I always email her from a fake account and also… She. Is. Dead!”
“Do you use your real name in the signature? When you end each message?”
“Just Tommy.”
“What about locations, events, missions? Other names, like Matias? Mine? Did you include any of that in your love notes?”
“Yes.”
“Goddammit!” Luke seethed.
“The night before we came here, I sent an email from a new untraceable account, stating it was my last message. I intended to delete her account the moment we returned. I was finally prepared to move on.”
“What happened?”
Tomas handed over the phone and paced away, gripping the back of his neck.
Luke woke the device, and an email app filled the screen. It showed the inbox of Tomas’ fake account, which had one single message. A correspondence with Tommysgirl.
Oh, fuck, Tomas. What have you done?
He opened the email and read the initial message. It confirmed that Tomas had composed a short, incisive goodbye to Tommysgirl.
Knowing the cartel monitored every transmission, Luke was relieved to see nothing in the text that could condemn their operation.
“Did you log in to the Tommysgirl account from this device?” Luke asked.
“No, I’m not a fucking moron.”
But there was a problem, and it stared back like a ghost from the grave.
Someone had responded to Tomas’ goodbye email.
His pulse exploded as he opened it.
Tommy,
Please, don’t stop messaging me. I’ve been reading your emails for ten years, anticipating and living each and every one. I’m sorry I never responded, but I didn’t know what to say. At first, I felt terrible for logging into this account. I found the login information in the pocket of a coat that I bought at a thrift store.
I shouldn’t have logged in, but investigation is my job. After your first few messages, I knew the account belonged to someone you lost. A girl you loved.
You grieved so painfully in every email you wrote I couldn’t ignore it. You loved her deeply, and I felt it deeply. I’ll be honest, I envied her. To be on the receiving end of such devotion… I wanted to be her.
But I remained silent. I listened and looked for signs of self-danger in your words.
Then your messages stopped. For ten weeks, I thought I lost you.
Until you wrote again.
You changed. After everything that happened to you during those weeks, you became so cold and angry. You needed an ear, someone to hear your story and watch over you. I was here for you, even when you thought you were alone.
Over the years, I felt your continuous evolution and adaptation to the dangers around you.
I know you better than you know yourself. I’ve heard every feeling and thought you sent. You needed this outlet. A place to share your thoughts without judgment or consequence. And through it all, I realized I needed it, too.
Please, don’t end this. I know you don’t know me. But I need to see you. I’ve been sitting on your emails for so long, worrying about your safety and telling no one.
I’m still worried.
I’m on the good side of the law, Tommy, and I sense you spiraling. You’re trying to do the right thing, but you’ve gone too far.
Meet me in one week. I know you have the means to fly home. Your childhood house is still abandoned. I’ll be there at sunset on Saturday.
Come alone.
“Fucking fantastic.” Luke passed the phone to Vera, his nerves strung like a live wire. “Assuming she’s a she, does she know where you are now? That you’re here on a mission that involves the Mexican cartel?”
“Some of it, yes. I wrote about gearing up for this operation.” Tomas set his hands on his hips, his posture challenging and angry. “I’ll handle it.”
“Yeah, you’ll fucking handle it.” He strode toward his friend and lowered his voice. “She knows who we are, what we do, and every crime we’ve committed.”
“She’s also delusional.”
“Whether you like it or not,” Vera mumbled, her eyes on the email, “you’ve been talking to this woman for ten years. She knows your entire life story, and it sounds like she just wants to help. Like she cares about you.”
“She’s in law enforcement,” Luke said.
“Doesn’t mean shit.” A vein bulged in Tomas’ forehead. “She’s probably a small-town cop. I grew up in the Chihuahuan Desert in Texas. She must be a local there. It’s the only way she would’ve ended up with my girl’s coat.”
“She probably printed every message you sent. She could send those transcripts to someone who can destroy us.”
“I said I’ll handle it.” Tomas gritted his teeth.
“La Rocha will see the email she sent, if they haven’t already.”
“There’s nothing damning here.” Vera gave the phone back to Tomas, her brow furrowing. “She was careful in her wording. She knows exactly what she’s doing.”
“It could be a trap,” Luke said.
“I’ll find her before Saturday and follow her.” Rage boiled through Tomas’ voice, turning his neck crimson. “I’ll figure out who she is and what she wants before she ever sees me. If she sees me.”