She infused her voice with every ounce of mom-guilt she could muster. “Don’t you look at him. You look at me.”
As their expressions shifted to guilty, she shook her head. “He’s gotten to you. He’s gotten to all three of you, hasn’t he?” The sick churn turned into full on knots as she realized that everything she’d imagined on the drive over here was probably only the tip of the iceberg.
Holt stepped toward her. “Cayla, honey, we’re handling it.”
“You’re handling it? You’re handling it. By keeping me in the dark? That’s not acceptable. Not now, not ever. Not to me.”
Regret flashed over his face. “Look, I’m sorry, but I didn’t want to worry you until I had more information—”
She held up a hand and struggled to modulate her voice. “No. We are not doing that shit. Information is power, and I will not be cut out. Not for what you perceive to be my own good. Not for any reason. I am too far down this path with you. I won’t live like that again. Right now, I’m calling my contact with the FBI, and all three of you are going to give him whatever information you have, because it is very clear that my ex-husband is up to his old tricks, and he’s not satisfied with trying to just ruin me.” She rounded on Holt. “Then we are going home to have a conversation about this.”
As her phone vibrated with a reminder of her upcoming meeting, she blew out a breath through her nose. “Scratch that. You’re talking to Special Agent Marquez, and then I’m going back to work. After which, I will see you at home, and we are having that conversation.”
With shaking hands, she jabbed at the buttons on her phone, putting through the call to her contact. Thank God he’d given her his direct cell number.
“Ms. Black, is everything all right?”
“That is a decided, ‘no’. My ex-husband is up to his old tricks again. I have three people that you need to talk to. Hopefully, they’ll be able to give you enough to continue building a fresh case against him.”
With a fulminating look, she handed the phone to her husband and leaned back to listen.