Page 88 of The Pilot

Kash: Yum. Not sure about the time though. I’ll see if I can find out.

Linc: How’s the competition going?

Kash: Fine.

Linc waited for Kash to say more, but when there were no dots on the screen indicating that he was still typing, he frowned.

Linc: Everything okay?

Kash: Yes.

Linc: Okay, Bud. Your mom and I miss you. We can’t wait to have you home. The house has been too empty without you.

Kash: Yeah. I miss you guys too. Gotta go.

Linc: Okay. Good luck today. Can’t wait to hear all about it.

Kash: Bye.

Linc stared down at his phone. Something niggled at the back of his brain. He remembered reassuring Harper when she’d had the same feeling, and now he felt bad for not asking more questions.

Because she was right. Something seemed off. He’d have thought Kash would be full of things to say about the competition. About spending a couple of nights in a fancy hotel. About Portland. About the robots.

He was still frowning at his phone, racking his brain about what could be going on with Kash, when Harper walked into the kitchen.

“Morning,” she said in a husky voice.

Looking up, Linc’s heart melted. She looked amazing. Her hair was mussed, she had small abrasions on her neck from his beard, where he’d nuzzled her all night, and under the big fluffy robe she had on, he could picture the hickeys he’d loved putting all over her body. She looked like a woman who’d been thoroughly ravished, and he’d been the man to do the ravishing. Just seeing her made his cock twitch.

“Morning,” he returned, holding out an arm in invitation.

She didn’t hesitate, just walked into his space and leaned into him. “Is that Kash?” she asked, nodding at the phone still in his hand. “Did he tell you what time he was getting back today? How much time we have to ourselves before we have to leave to go get him?”

The last part was said suggestively, but Linc couldn’t tease back. Not when he still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

“He’s not sure about the time . . . but you know how yesterday, you said you thought something was off about him?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I agree. Here, look at our conversation, see what you think.” Linc handed his phone to Harper, and she read the short texts they’d exchanged.

When she was done, she looked up at him. “I can’t put my finger on what’s different, but something is. Do you think maybe it’s that they aren’t doing as well as he’d hoped?”

“No. Kash would see that as a challenge. He’d be disappointed, but I don’t think we’d be getting these weird vibes from him. It’s something else.”

“He’s usually much more verbose,” Harper suggested with a small frown, still looking down at Linc’s phone.

He was staring at the screen as well when it hit him. He reached for his cell without a word and scrolled up. He read a few texts they’d shared from earlier in the week, and then last week.

“Holy fuck. Harper . . . I don’t think this is Kash texting.”

“What? But it’s his number,” she argued, straightening from where she’d been leaning against him.

“I know, but look—every other time he texts, he doesn’t bother with punctuation, or uppercase letters, or anything. He abbreviates words where he can. Uses that text language kids like to use so they can type faster. But in this conversation, he’s using apostrophes, periods, capitalizing each word at the beginning of a sentence.”

Harper took the phone and scrolled back and forth between old texts and the conversation from minutes earlier.

When she lifted her head, Linc could see the panic dawning. “So who’s got his phone? Who’s pretending to be him, and why?”