She put the call on speaker so her friends could hear. “That’s right,” she barked into the mouthpiece. “Ian just sent us a threatening text.”“Are you sure it’s Ian?” Wilden’s voice crackled on the other end.“Positive,” Spencer said. She looked at the others, and they nodded. Who else could have sent this, after all? Ian had to be furious at them. Their evidence had sent him to jail, and their testimony—specifically her testimony—at his upcoming trial would put him in prison for the rest of his life. Plus, he’d reached into his pocket just as the limo door had closed, as if searching for a cell phone…“I’m a couple miles from your house,” Wilden replied. “I’ll be there in a sec.”They heard his car pulling into the driveway a minute later. Wilden wore a heavy, down-filled Rosewood PD jacket that smelled slightly of mothballs. There was a gun in his holster and his ever-present walkie-talkie. When he took off his black wool hat, his hair was matted.“I can’t believe the judge let him out.”
