“There’s more than one set of footprints.”
Durdan glanced down the path at the line of footprints but bit his tongue to stop from stating the obvious. “I’m not sure I understand,” he said instead.
Lazorus motioned for him to get closer. Durdan obeyed.
He craned his neck and squinted. “What am I looking at?”
“It’s the same IP address,” Lazorus said. “But there are two different access attempts.”
Durdan got down on his hands and knees, getting so close that his nose was practically in the mud.
Lazorus reached past his face and pushed down on the footstep. When he pulled his hand back, there was a slight sucking pop, and a yellow thread pattern came free, sticking to his fingers. He shook his hand, and the print broke free of his hand and floated in the air.
Durdan followed the floating footprint with wide eyes. Then he looked back down at the mud and saw another print, this one a dark blue, with just enough contrast that it was hard to distinguish the edges from the muck unless he was right on top of it.
“There was someone else,” Durdan said excitedly.
Lazorus shook his head. “She probably just came in twice,” he said. “Same path, same IP, same trick.”
Durdan frowned. “That doesn’t seem right,” he said. “She only needed to add Jacob to Missing Persons once. Why would she come back?”
“Could have been to see where else she could pivot to.”
“Maybe . . .” Durdan looked at the footprints again. “What were the timestamps on those?”
Lazorus waved his hand, and the times appeared in yellow and blue text.
“I was with Haley at the hospital for this one,” Durdan said, pointing at the blueprint.
“Well someone got in,” Lazorus said.
“It couldn’t have been Haley,” he said.
Then it clicked.
Durdan checked his watch. “Sorry, sir. I forgot I’m supposed to meet a source in an hour,” he said. “Can we keep going tomorrow?”
Lazorus looked at him, annoyed. “You couldn’t wait to check this, and now you’re running off?”
“I know; sorry.”
Lazorus flicked his hand dismissively. “Whatever,” he said. “Just make sure you finish that report on that Social Security scam. The DA wants an update tomorrow. Oh, and I just got a note that there’s a Fed waiting for you out front.”
Durdan frowned.
“A Fed? Which agency?”
“FBI.”
Durdan sighed. “If this is another recruitment pitch—”
“I’ll give him the boot myself,” Lazorus said. “I’m not ready to lose you yet.”
“Glad to hear I haven’t worn out my welcome,” Durdan replied. “Better not keep him waiting, though.”
The trenches dissolved in a cloud of ones and zeroes, and Bradley was left sitting at his desk.
He rubbed his eyes, then pushed his chair back and started toward the front desk. The receptionist looked up as he pushed the double doors open, then nodded toward a man examining the motivational posters hanging on the waiting room walls.
The man’s hair was white, but he had the slim build of a man younger than Bradley. His suit was well cut, but not custom, and his shoes were polished to a ridiculous shine.
“Hello? I’m Detective Pitt.”
The man turned, and Bradley guessed he was actually a bit older, but clearly didn’t have any issues getting to the gym.
“Special Agent Thompson,” he said, holding out a hand.
Bradley took it. The man’s grip was firm, but he didn’t try to crush Bradley’s hand.
“Why don’t you come back to my desk, and we can see how I can help?”
“Is there a conference room we could use instead?” Thompson said as he picked up a briefcase at his feet. “I’d prefer a bit of privacy.”
Bradley raised an eyebrow, then nodded.
They weaved through the maze of doors and hallways until they got to the Cyber Crimes bullpen. Rather than turn toward his desk, Bradley headed toward the conference room.
Bradley waved toward the leather chairs, but Thompson set the briefcase on the table without sitting.
“You’re aware of the Russian efforts in Crimea?” Thompson said as he unclasped the briefcase.
“You mean the fact that they’ve invaded?” Bradley asked. “Hard to miss.”
“Does the term ‘BlackEnergy’ mean anything to you?”
“Sounds like something a mustache-twirling villain would call their doomsday weapon.”
Thompson snorted. “You’re not completely wrong,” he said. “It was the name of a bit of code that took down parts of the Ukrainian power grid and was part of a broader effort to destabilize the region ahead of the physical invasion.”
“Sounds nasty,” Bradley said. “Are you worried it’ll be used against DC?”
“The Russians have been increasing their cyber operations over the last decade, and Ukraine has become their live-fire sandbox.”
He pulled a sheet from the briefcase and handed it to Bradley.
“We intercepted this chat between a member of a group known as Snuggly Bear, a proxy for the FSB’s cyber operations, and a high ranking member of the Volkag crime organization.”
Bradley’s eyes went wide as he read. Large sections were redacted, but it wasn’t difficult to read between the lines.
“You think they’re working together?” Bradley asked. “That the Russian CIA is getting a bunch of gangsters to do their dirty work?”
“I know they are,” he said. “And they’re using something that was built on the bones of BlackEnergy. Some of the brass thinks they’re just building it in case it ever comes to blows with Russia.”
He let his voice trail off, but his eyes watched Bradley intently.
“But you think there’s a more immediate threat?”
Thompson nodded. “But I need more proof. And I think you know someone familiar enough with the Volkags that can help me get it.”
Bradley unlocked the door and pushed it open.
Dana looked up from the kitchen table in surprise.
“You’re done early,” she said.
“Got a break in a case.”
She cocked her head to the side.
“That usually means I don’t see you, as you scramble to get the bad guys before they get away.”
He dropped his bag next to the door and stepped inside.
Dana saw the look on his face and stood slowly. “What is it?”
“You told me that Haley was the one that added Jacob to the Missing Persons database.”
“I did,” she said carefully.
“She couldn’t have,” he said. “I just saw the timestamp, and she was with me at the hospital when his records were inserted.”
She was now an arm’s length from him, but he didn’t move to embrace her.
“It was you, wasn’t it?”
She regarded him for an eternity before she spoke. “Yes.”
He let out a breath and looked at the ceiling, trying to collect his thoughts. He looked back down at her. “Why did you lie?”
“I didn’t think it really mattered,” Dana said. “Haley gave me a few scripts, but all I did was run them and type up the actual profile.”
“You realize that makes you an accessory?” Bradley snapped. “That you could go to jail?”
“You think that would have stopped me?” Dana took another step toward him. “If you didn’t have that information, you may never have found him.”
“You could have just told me!”
“I didn’t know you then,” she said. “It wasn’t like I could have just said, ‘Hey, we have to work with the Russians, and they may want to hack you, but pretty please?’”
“That’s exactly what you should have done,” he said. “Now I have to clean up this whole mess.”
“I’m sorry that Haley’s son being kidnapped and nearly killed is causing you some stress at work.”<
br />
“That’s not what I mean,” he started. “I was—”
“What am I to you?” she interrupted. “A side piece? A source?”
“Just stop,” he said. “You know neither of those are true.”
“No?”
She jabbed a finger into his chest.
“What did you think was going to happen when you came here? Did you think I would just burst into tears and ask you to save me from the big scary prison? That I’d lead you to Haley to save my skin?”
“I was hoping you’d help,” Bradley said. “I’m just trying to protect her.”
Dana shook her head.
“You think you’re protecting her,” she said. “But you’re just starting a fight in a bar. Let her disappear into the shadows instead of drawing the wolves’ attention.”
The muscles in his jaw clenched.
“I might have been able to before I knew you were involved,” he said. “Now the DA has someone within reach; he’ll want to press charges.”
“Then don’t tell him.”
Bradley rolled his eyes.
“Don’t tell my boss that I found one of the hackers that caused an outage that embarrassed him in front of half the city? Even if I wanted to, Bill saw the same thing I did. It’s only a matter of time until he figures out that Haley couldn’t have been the hacker. And it doesn’t take a genius to see who else could be the culprit.”
“And did you find any evidence of someone else in the system?”
“Don’t try to change the subject.”
“I’m not,” Dana held his gaze. “You need a scapegoat? How about the person trying to kill Haley.”
“How did you . . . Jesus, you knew?”
“Wipe that stupid look off your face,” Dana said. “You thought you were the only one that she told?”
“I assumed she was limiting who knew.”
“I’m her freaking sister,” Dana said. “I know how to keep a secret. And she needs my help. Just like she needs yours, as long as you’re willing to help her how she needs it.”
Bradley ground his teeth. “You’re asking me to betray my oath as a cop.”
Dana’s eyes softened. She shook her head slightly, and a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips.
“I’m asking you to protect those that need protecting,” she said. “Haley is a victim, granted a highly capable one. She deserves your help, and she deserves justice. You don’t know this world. Let her call the shots. I promise she won’t ask for anything that will violate your oaths.”
Bradley shook his head. “You’re asking me to trust someone who lied to me the entire time I was working with her.”
“I’m asking you to trust me,” she said.
She put a hand on his cheek. It was warm, and he closed his eyes briefly to savor the feeling.
“You already got one Darkweb asshole,” she continued, her voice soft. “Work with us, and we can help you protect and serve the people who are looking to you.”
Bradley took a deep breath. “Today’s just been full of surprises,” he muttered. Then he sighed. “What do you need?”
Chapter Twenty-Four
“You’re sure about this?”
Bonnie rolled her eyes. They were back in the western saloon that she’d first met Gettis in. The piano still played in the corner, and the blowhards were still at one another’s throats. The only thing that had changed since her last visit was they were playing Texas hold ’em instead of five card draw.
“I’m as sure as I can be,” she said. “Can you get a warrant?”
“I don’t know,” Durdan replied. “This isn’t exactly a slam dunk.”
“It’s slammy enough,” Rogue replied.
“If I knew where it’d come from, that’d go a long way,” Durdan said.
“Then you can’t claim you didn’t know where it came from,” Bonnie said. “And that kind of defeats the purpose.”
“Just say it came from a CI,” Rogue said. She smiled and put a hand on his arm. “But it’s good info.”
Durdan sighed. “You realize that I could end up giving out parking tickets if we bust into someone’s grandma’s house and give her a heart attack, right?”
“Which is why we are sure this is right,” Rogue said. “We wouldn’t want to lose our inside source after all.”
“Glad it’s clear where I stand in the food chain,” Durdan grumbled.
Rogue squeezed his shoulder again. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic, sugar bear,” she said in a patronizing voice. “You’re so much more than that.”
Durdan opened his mouth to say something but then thought better of it. His jaw closed with a click, but his eyes lingered on Rogue a moment too long.
Bonnie cleared her throat. “So this should be enough?”
Durdan looked down at the report on the wood table between them and nodded slowly. “I’ll get in touch with the Tallahassee field office and see what I can rustle up. May take a few days.”
“Anything you can do to push the process along would be much appreciated,” Bonnie said. “The longer we wait, the better the chance they relocate.”
“I get it,” Durdan nodded. “And I’m happy to help get these people off the street. But I could also use your help with something.”
Bonnie had already started reaching for the logout button, but her hand stopped halfway.
“Help with what?”
“I had a Fed come see me,” he said. “Apparently they’re getting some intel that the Volkags are working with the Russians.”
“The Volkags are Russian.”
“No, like the country,” he said. “You know, the FSB.”
Bonnie frowned. “That doesn’t make sense,” she said. “There’s not any money in working for the FSB.”
“I agree,” Durdan said. “All I’m asking is that if you hear anything, you let me know. And if you wanted to come in to talk about it in person—”
“Yeah, yeah,” Bonnie said. “I’ll let you know if I find anything.”
She hit log out before he said anything else.
Richard Blatch opened his door and ambled out to the porch, Spitfire, his six-pound Yorkie, hobbled out after him and proceeded down the two steps to the small yard to do his business.
The air was hot and humid, even for late fall. Palm trees swayed in the wind, forcing him to turn back toward the house and cover his cigarette with one hand while he lit it. He took a deep drag before turning back toward the ocean, where a flock of gulls circled over the beach beyond the house directly across from him, and the crashing of waves mingled with the sound of cars driving along the frontage road.
“Better do all your business now,” he said to Spitfire, one eye on the clouds on the horizon. “May not have another chance ’til tonight.”
The Yorkie ignored him and continued to sniff along the white fence that hugged the property line. An identical row of single-story, tan stucco bungalows partially blocked his view, but it was still better than the southern Georgia wasteland he’d lived in most of his life.
Richard took another drag, only to have the smoke trigger a hacking cough. He started to feel light-headed and bent over, his hands on his knees.
He was still doubled over when he heard the screech of tires and the sudden wail of a police siren.
Startled, Richard looked up and saw a black, armored van in the driveway across the street. The back door of the van popped open, and a team of men in black tactical gear jumped out. They ran across the front lawn and lined up in front along the wall, waiting for the whole team to assemble.
Richard didn’t even have time to yell for Virginia before one of the men swung a black battering ram. The crack of wood echoed across the road, so loud that Spitfire jumped in surprise.
The team disappeared into the dark interior, and Richard heard muffled shouting coming from inside.
Two police squad cars pulled up and formed a barrier on either side of the house. Officers got out and stopped traffic in each direction.
Richard reached up and adjusted his hearing aid. He winced as everything grew louder, he swore he could hear the cops’ breathing.
The patrol officers waved an unmarked car through the roadblock. An older man with white hair and a short-sleeved button-down got out and stopped to talk with the driver of the van.
Several minutes ticked by before one of the men in tactical gear walked back out through the front door. His helmet was in his hand, and his rifle was slung across his back. He angled toward the white-haired man, and the two spoke briefly, the SWAT officer shaking his head and gesturing toward the house. The white-haired man pursed his lips but patted the officer on the shoulder and headed into the house.
The officer started to follow but stopped when he caught sight of Richard. He hesitated a moment, then started across the street.
Richard made his way down the steps to meet the officer at the fence.
“Morning, sir,” the man said. “I’m Captain James Callahan. Do you have a minute to answer a few questions?”
“Only thing I got these days is time,” Richard replied. “What you need?”
“Do you know who lived in the house across the street?”
“Don’t know ’em,” he said. “But I seen ’em before. Man and a woman. Haven’t seen the man for a while.”
“How long is a while?”
Richard shrugged. “Probably been a couple months?” He scratched his chin. “Actually yeah, last time was July Fourth. My son was here and went to ask if we could cut through their lawn to shoot fireworks off the beach. Man answered the door and told him to piss off. What an unpatriotic prick.”
Callahan’s lips twitched up in a smile. “The woman was still there, though? When was the last time you saw her?”
“Yesterday,” Richard said. “She was going on a trip or something.”
“She told you?”
“She was packing up her car like the world was ending.”
“What kinds of things was she packing?” Callahan asked.
“Not really sure; it was all in those really sturdy cases. You know, the ones that are plastic and have foam on the inside.” Richard leaned over the fence and whispered, “Was she a drug dealer?” His voice came out as a hoarse rasp, cracking a bit at the end.
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