A Loaded Question Page 12

  The computer was typical, the usual PC that could be found in just about any office. There was a flashing cursor on the screen, waiting for him to input the key code in order to get to the home screen. “Zoey, I have a problem. Need a PIN. Any ideas?”

  “Whose office are you in?”

  He hadn’t seen a name on the door and there were a variety of names all over the memos he had flipped through. Glancing at the walls, he saw there was a picture of a young family, a husband with a wife who was holding an infant. “Whoever this office belongs to, they likely just had a baby.”

  “Good,” Zoey said. He could hear the click of keys in the background. “Anything else that can help pin this person down?”

  Beside the computer screen was a mug. It read Daryl.

  “I think his first name is Daryl.” He chuckled. That was one name that was entirely too close to Bob.

  There was a burst of keystrokes. “Got it,” Zoey said. She paused for a few seconds. “Try 0127.”

  He typed in the pin number and he was met with the home screen. “Holy crap, Zoey. That worked. How in the hell did you know that?”

  “I could lie and play it cool by telling you it was a lucky guess, or I’m that good, but that’s hardly it... That is the birthday of his son.”

  She was damn good at her job. It was no wonder that she and her family had started their own contracting company, one with deep ties throughout the US and several foreign governments.

  “Now, I want you to go into his email. Give me his address.”

  He clicked on a few keys, taking him to the man’s inbox, and he read off the email address associated with the account.

  “Good,” Zoey said, typing. “In a few minutes, I’m going to send an email. It will have the subject line Bagels for today’s meeting. Click on it. Download. And I will handle the rest.” The phone line went dead.

  That was one thing he was never going to get used to with Zoey, no matter how many times he was on the receiving end, and as unsettling as her hanging up was, he found he liked it. No fluff.

  He filtered through some of the other emails on the man’s computer, but most appeared to be as unimportant as the memos he had first seen. The only one that looked at all interesting was from a woman at the company. Mr. New Baby must have been unsatisfied at home.

  His dislike for the intern grew, and the tiny ping of guilt for hijacking the man’s computer he had felt deep—make that very deep—in his core disappeared. If anyone found out the company had been hacked, they might eventually find out whose computer and account had been the weak link and the man would be fired.

  At least, here was hoping.

  A new email pinged—bagels. He clicked on it and did as Zoey had instructed. He half expected the computer to flicker as he downloaded her file, but nothing happened aside from a pop-up that announced that his document had been successfully downloaded.

  No wonder there was a Bob problem; it was entirely too easy for someone who wasn’t aware of danger to download malicious code or malware. This, this right here was the reason banks and insurance companies were forced to pay billions in IT security each and every year.

  There was a knock on the door and he flipped off the computer. Job done. This was in Zoey’s hands now.

  He cleared his throat. “Yeah?”

  “You in there?” Kate asked. “Can I come in?”

  He stood up and walked over to the door, opening it. She was standing with the detective, and from the look on her face, she was deeply uncomfortable. The man must have been asking questions.

  “Thank you for letting me get into my office. I just needed to get a couple files sent out to clients today. You know, no rest for the weary,” he said, careful to cover up any kind of tells that would give away his lie. “Besides, I know Mr. Scot wouldn’t have wanted work to come to a halt—and deadlines missed—all because of him. He was a good man.” He gave a respectful nod of the head, hoping that the detective would buy it.

  He walked out of the office, carefully closing the door behind him as he looked up. The detective was giving him a once-over, analyzing his body language. Thankfully, the detective didn’t know he was sizing up a man who had spent his entire life learning how to avoid detection, and when detected, learning how to get out of trouble.

  “If our department was as dedicated as you, we would always stop crimes before they were even committed. Good friend you got there, Agent Scot.” He gave Kate a pat to the shoulder, solidifying the physical bond as well as trying to reassure her. “I got to get back in there, but I hope you know...you need anything, got any more questions... I’ll give you what I can.”

  Kate nodded and smiled at the detective, but Troy could sense the fire behind her smile. It made him wonder if the detective could as well.

  “I’ll walk you guys out,” the detective said, making it clear that they were no longer welcome.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Fury flooded Kate as Troy drove her to her home. She hadn’t been this angry since she had gotten a flat tire on the way to her final interview for the FBI.

  She had thought the sacrifices had been worth it right up until now. How dare a detective think he could pull rank on her and force her out of an investigation that involved her family? Sure, she didn’t have jurisdiction, but there was a damn thing called professional courtesy.

  He should have thrown her a solid, just as she had done by not involving the FBI from the get-go. The last time they had worked together, she had broken a murder case for him, pulling strings in order to get him DNA samples in record time so that he could file official charges before the suspect disappeared. While he had thanked her, he had never repaid her.

  That was the last time she helped him out.

  She sighed.

  That wasn’t true. She allowed herself to be furious, but in her heart of hearts, she knew that if he came to her with another case that she could help in bringing down a bad guy, she wouldn’t pass up the chance. She loved to make the guilty pay. It was what kept her going.

  Troy parked his car in front of her house, not hiding. There was nothing wrong with her having a male colleague over during the day. And if someone wanted to judge, let them judge lest they be judged. She was over it.

  “You know you don’t have to talk to me. I can tell you are upset. I just hope you aren’t upset with me. I was trying to make the best of a bad situation back there, and—”

  She glanced over at him, shocked. “What? You think I’m mad at you?”

  “I should have been in and out of that office before your detective friend even noticed. I compromised you. That wasn’t my intention. I was just working on the fly.” As he spoke, his words came faster and faster as his anxiety seemed to rise.

  Kate softened as he tried to recover from his perceived misstep, one that she hadn’t even noticed. He was so adorable flustered.

  “I’m not mad about anything you did. Actually, the detective didn’t even notice, and even when I went to get you, he didn’t seem to think anything. You played that off perfectly. I was impressed.”

  He gave her a confused look. “So, why are you so upset?”

  She rolled her neck, dispelling some of the stress at the admission she was going to have to make. “I was annoyed that we were dismissed. I didn’t manage to pull anything about what happened to my father. They wouldn’t let me into his office, or even close enough to catch a glimpse of the crime scene...” She paused. “Why?”

  Troy shrugged. “I think there are a lot of odd things happening... Too many for them to be just random.”

  She was more than aware of that fact. “Who are the people on Zoey’s list—the sniper suspects?”

  “One’s a guy named Sal Baker, then one Chris Michaels, and the other is...stupid. I told her that she couldn’t have been right.” He waved off his avoidance of telling her the other name like i
t was of no concern.

  “You can’t do that to me,” Kate argued. “Either tell me the whole truth or nothing.” Her voice was shriller than she had intended, but she didn’t apologize. Not today, not with everything spiraling the drain. “Same team.”

  He frowned. “You... I—I’m sorry. I’m not trying to upset you. It’s not like that. I’m all about us working efficiently together. I just don’t think Agent Peahen would ever do anything as stupid as taking potshots off a building at private contractors or you. He’s not the type.”

  “Are you kidding me?” She shook her head slightly, like the little motion would help her to make sense of what he had said. If only it would have worked.

  “I told you...” Troy said, shrugging.

  Peahen? Peahen a sniper? No.

  There was no damn way. He was capable of many things. And he was definitely the kind of man who wouldn’t have qualms about acting all tough, but he was not the kind who would pull the trigger when it wasn’t in the line of duty.

  “Yeah, you’re right. He’s not our guy.” She chuckled at the craziness of the idea. “Besides, he said he’s been in Salt Lake City.”

  “At the time of the shooting?”

  “I don’t know.” She was suddenly exhausted. “When Peahen showed up on my doorstep the other night, he just said he had been passing through from SLC. I assumed he had been down there doing something with the regional headquarters. I doubt he would try to kill somebody and then turn around and head out to see me.”

  “You’re preaching to the choir.”

  “And, plus... He has no motivation,” she continued, trying to convince herself that she had to be right.

  “Again...” Troy said, as he stepped out of the car and walked around, opening her door for her. He held out his hand for her to take as she stepped out. “I think we should look deeper into the Sal guy. See what kind of motivation he would have for taking out the surveillance team hired to look into the company. You don’t know him, do you?”

  “Sal?” she asked, grabbing her keys out of her purse as they walked up to the front door, and she let them in. “I only know the higher-ups from the company, the kinds my father would take out on golf trips around the country when they tried to work government officials in order to get new and greater manufacturing contracts.”

  “Sal wasn’t one of them?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t think so. I am only invited to the holiday parties and a few of the bigger luncheons when he wants—wanted—to show me off like a prize pony to his cronies.” The door clicked shut as they made their way inside.

  She put her purse on the table next to the door, slipped off her suit jacket and hung it on the closet’s doorknob. There was a little dribble of coffee just above her left breast that she hadn’t noticed before. She would have to change before they went back out. “If Sal is in the upper crust, then he was new to the organization.”

  “Yes. Finally.” Troy sounded excited as he walked and sat down in the chair in front of the television. He took out his phone and started pressing buttons.

  “What are you so excited about?”

  “He’s new. He has a weapon like the one the sniper used. Maybe he got himself hired at the company just to do some damage or spying. The Russians love that approach.” Troy smiled.

  “Don’t you think that is a little too Cold War style?” she asked.

  “You can’t tell me that it’s not a valid possibility. These kinds of companies have information leaks all the time. It’s why I have a job. And...more often than not, there is a foreign government behind the infiltration—be it in person or through technology. Thinking about technology...” He sent her a sly smile.

  “You gonna tap Sal’s phone lines? See if you can catch him speaking Russian?” she asked with a sarcastic laugh.

  “Hey, don’t judge. Your friends in the CIA used to do that kind of thing all the time... Though, admittedly, the tech has gotten a bit better since the 1980s. I don’t think they try to tap as many landlines these days.”

  “Which makes them just about safer than any form of technology,” she countered. “At least with phone lines only the person tapping in can hear what is being said. With cell phones...the possibilities of seeing, reading, hearing and looking into search histories are nearly endless.”

  He laughed. “If I look around, am I also going to find a telegraph? A dictionary for Morse code?”

  “Don’t judge,” she echoed, feeling a little bit embarrassed. “There is nothing wrong with knowing an antiquated form of communication like Morse code. You never quite know when something like that can come in handy.”

  “Do you actually know Morse code?” He gave her a skeptical look.

  “I do.” She couldn’t help the pride that flickered through her voice.

  “Me too,” he said, laughing. “I thought I was the only nerd out there who loved that kind of thing. In my free time, which I admit I haven’t had a whole lot of lately, I also used to love to do origami. I did it with my mom before she died. It was kind of our thing. I haven’t made anything since the day she died.”

  “Oh my goodness, that is so sweet. What was your favorite thing to make?”

  “I always liked the cranes,” he said, a nostalgic smile on his lips. “She would tell me a story about how they were the symbol for hope, happiness and healing. And if a person folded one thousand cranes, whatever he wished for most would come true.”

  “What would you wish for, right now?” For a split second, she hoped he would tell her that what he most wished for was her, but then she brushed away the naive hope.

  There was a heavy silence as he pursed his lips. Finally, he stood up.

  Is he going to walk over to me? she thought.

  Her heart slammed against her ribs and her palms instantly started to sweat as he drew nearer. Yet, instead of stepping in front of her, he walked past her and toward the kitchen. The only things he left for her were the thin scent of his cologne and the cool breeze in his wake.

  She was so stupid. Hope had a hell of a way of jabbing a person in the gut.

  From the kitchen, she could make out the sounds of him opening a cupboard, then the running of the faucet. He came back bearing two glasses of water. “Here.” He offered her a glass, and as she took it, she was careful to avoid his fingers.

  If she touched him, she would lose what little control she had over her emotions—the least favorite of them being rejection. She was already on a razor’s edge after her father’s death, then being pushed out of the investigation.

  She should have never let her guard down when it came to him. In her current state, she saw heartache around every corner, and she set herself up for it by being way too needy right now.

  They were nowhere near a relationship. They’d been thrown together on this case, and one thing after another had led to heightened emotions.

  Though she had promised him that he could trust her, she had never made him promise the same when it came to her.

  Then again, she was being silly. They were just feeling each other out before becoming overly invested. If anything, it was good that he had rebuffed her coy advance now. In the end, it was going to save her heartache.

  And who had time for a relationship anyway?

  She certainly didn’t. Not with her father’s death. Not with the investigation. Not with her sister coming into town and all the things that would happen as soon as the medical examiner released her father’s body to the family. Her mom could really use her help handling all the details, even if her mother acted like an unstoppable and unwavering freight train. All of that activity was going to catch up with her eventually, and when it did, she was going to come to the end of her tracks, teeter over the edge of exhaustion and fall into the canyon of grief.

  Kate drained the glass of water in one long swig, careful not to catch Troy’s gaze as
he stood beside her. As she finished, he held out his hand, motioning to take her empty glass.

  “Thanks,” she said, handing it over.

  “Do you need some more? Hungry?”

  She hadn’t eaten yet today, but food was the last thing on her mind. Even if there had been a full spread sitting in front of her, she wasn’t sure she would have eaten a single bite. “Unless you have a bucket of Red Vines, I’m good.” She tried to smile, but it felt stale and flat.

  “I can whip you up some eggs at the very least, if you’d like.” He motioned toward the kitchen.

  “Nah. Really, I’m okay.”

  “You sure? All of a sudden, you seem off. Are you tired?”

  She nodded. Yes, she was tired. And confused. And wanting something from him she wasn’t sure he was offering. “So, what do you have on Chris and Sal? Anything?”

  He took a drink of water and set the glasses down on the coffee table. “Is it okay if I put these here?” he asked, motioning toward them.

  “I’m not my mother. My house is furnished by IKEA, not an interior decorator. My most expensive piece probably cost like twenty bucks,” she said.

  “Yeah, right. This place is great.” Unexpectedly, he walked over to her and took both of her hands. He looked her in the eyes. “I know what you are doing—I know you are trying to be cool. I know what you were hoping I would say about my wish. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  Though she could hear his words and they were making their way into her logical brain, all they did was make the pain and embarrassment she was feeling worse. “I don’t know what you mean,” she said, scrunching her face in forced denial.

  “You can lie to a lot of people and probably get away with it, but that will never be the way it is with me. I’ve been trained to read this kind of thing, remember?” He let go of her left hand as he reached up and cupped her face.

  She nodded, but resisted the urge to lean into his touch even though he was being sweet and sensitive—exactly the kind of man she fantasized about.