you’re absolutely right. Back to my white-collar life I go!” I pretend to skip, not so secretly happy that I work a desk job.
The most physical exertion I attempt in my career is adjusting my screen or keyboard.
Keaton has his truck backed up to our tent, breaking the thing down and throwing all sorts of poles, tarps, and cooking utensils in the trunk.
“Until next year, fam.” Fletcher salutes once almost all the work is done. “I have a meeting.”
Mom kisses him on the cheek, tells him she’s proud of him, and we all watch him go.
“He’s doing well,” Keaton observes.
I have to agree. “I didn’t think we’d ever see the day.”
“Your brother is much stronger than you all think. He may have had some stumbles, but he’ll succeed more than any of you.”
“Way to have a favorite child, Ma.” Bowen snickers.
My arms wrap around her in a hug. “All right, while it’s been fun being told I’m not successful, I have to skedaddle.”
Mom rolls her eyes at all of us. “None of you ever needed much help to achieve your dreams. Don’t twist my words.”
“Too late, woman!” I yell over my shoulder as I retreat to the sidewalk.
It takes ten minutes to walk home. Driving to the fair would have been a stupid idea, it would have taken me just as long to find my car in the miles-long gravel lot the town set up for those who decided to park on the carnival grounds.
The night air allows me to clear my head, to get the ringing of the day’s busy and loud atmosphere out of my head. Because when I get home, it’s back to work on the financial cyber-theft case.
Shooting a text off to Penelope, I wish her a good night and add in that I’ll miss her boobs. She’d asked if I wanted to come by after our booth shut down, but I know I need to solve this. It’s gotten too far out of hand, and I’m this close. I can feel it.
My house is dark and quiet when I walk in, a welcome change from the events of the day. I make a pot of coffee to sustain my energy for the all-nighter I’ll probably pull and then fire up my computer.
The first thing I open is my email and promptly drop the entire mug of freshly brewed caffeine straight to the floor. The scalding liquid drips down my leg, onto my desk chair, the mug broken into splinters of ceramic in pools of brown coffee on the hardwood.
But I can’t feel the burns clearly indenting my flesh. I don’t move to clean it up.
Because sitting there, as the first message in my in-box, is a picture of Penelope outside of her house, ushering the kids in the door. It’s been shot from a long lens, and clearly, she has no idea the picture is being taken.
Underneath, the words cause my heart to sink like an anvil. “Stop searching for me or be prepared to lose her.”
The sender’s ID has been masked, and I know I need to get to work. To run diagnostics on it, to trace the message back to its origins. I know I should call Captain Kline, tell him about the now two personal connections I have to this case. First, there was Keaton and Bowen’s businesses, and now someone is threatening the woman I love.
I should do all of that … but I just sit frozen, staring at it. I have to catch this person before he does irreparable harm to my family. And I have to do it myself. I won’t rest until he’s behind bars … or worse.
33
Forrest
“So, you couldn’t do something without my help, huh?”
Ryan stands in my doorway, huge duffel bag slung over her arm, and a sleek silver laptop case in the other.
“Just so we’re clear, my captain gave me his approval to use a consultant, but no one else knows about this case or that you’re helping me with it. So this is strictly between us.”
The raven-haired knockout walks into my house on her super-model long legs. “Whatever you say, buddy boy. So, show me what you’re working with.”
I lead her to my “case headquarters” of sorts or the part of my house that could probably be described as something out of a Netflix crime show. There are three gigantic computer screens at the back of the living room, over which hangs a huge whiteboard. The computer towers underneath the makeshift desk whir with