Say Goodbye (Romantic Suspense #25) - Karen Rose Page 0,152

soon as Portia Sinclair had clicked on the résumés they’d uploaded. “We have ears on their phone calls now that we have the wiretap warrant. I got e-mail addresses for the network administrator and the accountant from HR’s computer and sent them messages with embedded viruses. I’m hesitant to send any additional e-mails. They could compare notes and realize that someone’s trying to break in. Now I have to wait until one of them clicks on the link. It’s called a man-in-the-middle attack. I’ll gain access to their server, but they’ll believe that their network has shut itself off, so they’ll call a network specialist to get them back up and running.”

“Traceable to us?” one of the other agents asked.

Tom wanted to scoff. “No,” was all he said.

“Good,” Raeburn said. “We know that Sunnyside Oaks is hiring a nursing assistant. We’ve had several of our candidates apply. If one is hired, we’ll use the IT network specialist role to provide backup inside. If none of our applicants are hired, the IT person will be our insider.”

“What will the IT person do, exactly?” one of the agents asked.

“Damage the network physically, for one,” Raeburn said. “And they can provide cover to our nursing assistant, helping to get her out if they’re discovered.”

“The IT person can also install cameras on the inside,” Tom added. “I might be able to get control of some of the cameras connected through the facility’s Wi-Fi, but hardwired cameras that we control would give us even broader visual access.”

“We’re covered either way,” Croft said.

“That’s the plan. You have your orders,” Raeburn said, rising. “You’re all on call.”

They disbanded with Croft telling Tom to go home and take a break. Tom agreed, even though he had no intention of doing so.

Molina, however, had other ideas. “Walk with me, Tom,” she said. She made her way from the room, not even checking to be sure he was following.

“Can I do something for you, ma’am?”

She stopped and stared up at him, her shorter stature having no impact on her considerable ability to intimidate. “I’d tell you that I’ll only say this once, but that’s not true. I will say it over and over again as long as you are under my command.”

Tom frowned, trying to figure out what he’d done now. “Ma’am?”

“Listen to me and listen well. If you’re serious about a career in law enforcement, you need to understand that it is a marathon, not a sprint. You burn yourself out and . . . then you’re done. Washed up. So go home. Eat food. Watch some sports thing on TV.”

His lips twitched. “Some sports thing?”

One dark brow lifted. “ ‘Thing.’ It’s a word, Hunter. A useful word. Look it up.” Then she smiled at him. “You have the potential to be an amazing asset to the Bureau. It’s my job to teach you how to do that. And I’m ordering you to go home.”

“And if I work from home?”

“Then you do. I figure you will. But you’ll be able to take breaks there. I understand you have a dog. Miss Barkley showed me photos. Pebbles, yes? Doesn’t she need to be walked?”

“Liza always—” He cut himself off with a groan. Pebbles. Liza always walked her when he needed to work late. He’d probably be coming home to a mountain of Great Dane excrement.

Molina frowned. “Is Miss Barkley all right?”

“Yes.” I hope. “She just . . . doesn’t rent from me any longer.”

Molina seemed to digest this, then shook her head. “Not my circus,” she murmured.

Not my monkeys went unsaid.

“You might as well say what’s on your mind,” Tom said bitterly. “Everyone else has.”

“Then I don’t need to. Home, Hunter. Rest. Then be ready when we need you.”

So Tom gathered his things and started for home. Luckily, the field office wasn’t far from the duplex. It was one of the reasons Liza had chosen it. It was far from the veterans’ home, though, and even farther from the nursing school. She’d said she hadn’t minded.

She’d set up his life for his convenience and comfort at the expense of her own. He could see that now. He needed to talk to her. He needed to. He needed to make this right. But . . .

I need more than that.

She needed him to back away. But . . .

He’d been about to speed-dial her when his personal cell began to ring through his SUV’s speakers. It was Rafe Sokolov. “Rafe, is there anything wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong. Nothing new, anyway. I was hoping