Shot in the Dark (Blackbridge Security #2) - Marie James Page 0,19
don’t have local friends because saying it would make me feel even more like a loser.
“Why does your mind always go to sleezy hotels?” I ask after realizing she’s made the reference more than half a dozen times since I’ve known her.
“My traumatic childhood isn’t up for discussion,” she responds in a chipper tone, but I can still hear some of the pain she tries her best to hide.
That’s a conversation for another day, I guess.
“I’ll come to Missouri and do it myself if I have to!”
I laugh at her ridiculousness.
“I’ll change the sheets on the guest bed.”
“Perfect. So, what else has been going—”
“Fuck,” I hiss. “Sarah, I have to call you back.”
“Are you ditching me to play online games?”
“No, it’s work. Talk soon.”
I hang up before she can respond. Actually, I’ve been ignoring Wasp’s messages on TalkToMe and the ping I get occasionally from the Orc’s Realm game I have running in the background because the assignment I’ve been working on has become more difficult than I ever anticipated.
Mr. Jones paid very well for this research—the stuff he all but said is an investigation on a high-stakes player in the organization—but it isn’t exactly leading me to where he was thinking it would.
I’m finding suspicious activity, but it isn’t related to the Bureau. The things that are popping up are more personal in nature, as in what I’m staring at right now confirms that William Theold isn’t screwing over the FBI, he’s screwing over his wife.
Big time.
So hard.
I take another look at his travel schedule, the one that was easily grabbed from the records in an FBI database. He splits his time between Boston and San Diego—offices literally the entire length of the country apart.
He keeps a home at both locations because of the extensive traveling. His wife and two sons live with him in San Diego. His mistress and son live at his home in Boston.
This man is literally living two separate lives.
“What a piece of shi—no! Fourteen years?”
I dig deeper, the Jerry Springer episode playing out before my eyes as more information flashes across my screen. I’m mining it in quick succession, so I’ll have to dig into the details later. It’s never safe to stay in one spot electronically very long. It increases the chance of leaving a footprint behind.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
He has two fucking sons with the same damn name. Does that make it easier when he’s home lying to both women?
I wonder how old little William Theold, Jr.—either of them—will be when he Googles his own name online only to discover another kid that looks nearly identical to him because of course, good old Willie has a type. Seems thin, blonde, and oblivious is what appeals to this guy.
I know I’m removed from the situation, but I can’t imagine the firestorm that will occur when these women find out about each other.
The dossier I was provided to start my research on Mr. Theold questioned his loyalty to the Bureau and suggested he was taking bribes. I have several other programs running to dig deeper, but this isn’t FBI related. Although they may have a morality cause, in which case, he’s in big trouble.
Even as shitty as this guy is, if I don’t find anything related to what Mr. Jones is looking for, I don’t know if this is something I should hand over to him. I mean, if I don’t find anything professional related, it’s not going to stop me from setting this man’s world on fire because no one deserves to be swindled like these two women, but that doesn’t mean Mr. Jones is privileged to what I’ve found. He does have three children to take care of after all.
“What the what?”
My head snaps back when I check dates. The wife, a beautiful woman named Amanda, was actually the second relationship. He was in a domestic partnership with the equally gorgeous Rebecca for two years before anything with Amanda started tracking. Amanda got the ring, whereas Rebecca was stuck with some shoddy-ass common law label?
I can’t even make this shit up even though it’s reading like some damn twisted novel.
“Oh no,” I whisper when I delve into their social media. “Make that five kids.”
You guessed it, both women are currently pregnant.
“Disgusting.”
I shove the drawer holding my keyboard closed and stand from my desk. I’ve dealt with some horrible stuff. Honestly, stuff worse than this—there are a lot of predators online.
This man. God, a man that’s supposed to be a beacon of