The Big Bad Wolf Tells All

by Donna Kauffman

  Now she was the one moaning. Damn but he felt wonderful. She loved the way they fit together, the natural give and take of their kisses. No one led, no one followed. It was the most perfect of kisses. But when she slid both hands into his hair and moved her hips against his, he shifted his weight to accommodate her . . . and his knee gave way, almost taking both of them down to the floor.

  He swore, she winced, they both looked at each other and half laughed, regretful for a moment lost. She helped him limp into the front room, angle his body onto the futon couch. She shoved a stack of papers over so he could prop his foot up on the coffee table.

  She straightened and put her hands on her hips. “We aren’t behaving too responsibly here, are we,” she asked with mock seriousness. “What would J.B. and the boys think if they knew their coach was—”

  “Oh, I think J.B. saw enough out in the truck, thank you very much.” Riley shifted and she flinched at the audible popping sound his knee made. “Don’t worry. It hurts like a son of a bitch when it does that, but it will start to feel better now.” He sighed and leaned back. “And I’m not their coach.”

  “I think they feel differently. Have you ever thought about that? Coaching professionally, I mean?”

  She noticed he looked away, down at his foot, his knee, anywhere but at her. Hmm.

  “Briefly. But my dad needed me.” He shrugged. “And though the family business wasn’t my first choice, for all his faults Finn is good at what he does. We make a pretty decent team.”

  He didn’t have to add “when he chooses to do his part,” but Tanzy heard it all the same.

  He looked at her now. “He trained me well, I took some additional courses with an eye to expanding the business, got my license.”

  She leaned against the doorway. “But it’s not what makes you happy.” She didn’t make it a question.

  He shrugged. “I’ve fulfilled more of a dream than most people ever get to. So it didn’t end like I’d planned. And no, I didn’t plan on bailing my father out. But it’s what came next, so I’m giving it my best. It’s what you do.”

  Tanzy thought about that, about obligations to family. It didn’t make her think about her mother. Any obligation she might have felt there had been blasted away a long time ago. However, to Millicent she owed a great deal. Most recently for caring enough to do something to ensure her safety, regardless of whether Tanzy felt it was warranted or not. She loved Millicent all the more for loving her enough to want to watch out for her. “I guess you have a point. But does your father know? That given a choice you might choose something else? Does he care about that, or don’t you talk about it?”

  Again, Riley half lifted a shoulder as he continued to massage his knee. “He was counting on me.”

  Tanzy’s eyes widened. “Counting on you turning pro and taking care of him for the rest of his life?”

  Now Riley looked defensive. “Yeah. He gave up a good chunk of his life for me, for my mom. She died of cancer when I was in high school. He knew I was good enough. I knew it. Hell, everyone did. I wanted it, for myself. And yes, I was fully prepared to take care of him for the rest of his days. I owed him. He’s my father. He’s all I have.”

  Tanzy respected the love and admired the devotion, but she wasn’t too sure about owing anyone anything. His father had made his choices, banked on hitting the NFL lotto, and it hadn’t paid off. It didn’t mean Riley should be his indentured servant for the rest of his life. She thought about saying what was on her mind, even liked the fact that under normal circumstances she could be this open with him. This direct. It made her realize how much different a role he already played in her life than anyone she’d known. But then, Rina had been right. She’d never really let anyone in.

  And yet, here was Riley. Already in, planted in her life as firmly as he was presently planted on her futon. In pain. Which was why she didn’t badger him about his dad and perceived obligations, and left to get him some pain relievers and some ice.

  She was one to talk about obligations anyway, she thought as she stepped into the small bathroom off the hallway and rummaged through the medicine cabinet. She made a silent promise then and there to sit down with Millicent and talk over what kind of role she could take on with the various foundations. She’d have to make it clear she had no intention of running anything, but it was high time she started to give something back to the woman who had all but raised her. The fact that Millicent would never expect her to, as Riley’s father apparently had, made her want to do it all the more.

  Snagging the Advil, she grabbed a couple of sodas from her kitchen, thinking she’d pop back out to his SUV and retrieve the sandwiches, if they weren’t hopelessly crushed, anyway. They could eat while they went over the contents of the envelope.

  She balanced the sodas in one arm and scooped the envelope off the foyer floor where it had fallen during their passionate embrace. She sighed, wondering how long it would take to go through whatever it was they had to look over. About as long as it would take for the pain relievers to kick in, probably. Work . . . then play, she thought. Sounded like a good plan to her.

  A plan that would have to be put on hold, she realized with regret as she paused in the doorway to her front room.

  Riley’s head was tipped back, eyes shut, mouth slack. She felt another pang of guilt for making him sleep in his SUV. Between the chilling rain and his bum knee, it couldn’t have been easy. She grabbed the crocheted throw that Mariel had made her in her learn-something-maternal early-pregnancy phase, and tucked it around him.

  “Out for the count, big guy,” she murmured, then leaned down and kissed him. He smiled in his sleep. Pretty damn cute, if she thought so herself. And she did.

  She settled into the oversize, overstuffed chair that sat in the pushed-out bay-window part of the room, kicked off her soggy bunnies, and tucked her feet up. She polished off her Coke while doing nothing more than watching him sleep. And thinking how it would be, having him around. It was a pleasant daydream, then she laughed at herself. At best she could only hope it didn’t end in some painful emotional blowout. That was the more realistic view.

  And speaking of reality . . . She drank his Coke while going over the contents of the envelope.

  Independence. Self-reliance.

  These are things to be proud of, things that make you a stronger, more confident person. Not to mention they’re good for your general mental health.

  But can you take self-reliance too far? I’m beginning to think so. And the signs are when independence stops looking like freedom, and starts feeling a whole lot like isolation. I’m not advocating total dependence, or even partial dependence really. I think I’m talking about teaming up. Joining forces. Realizing when you can’t do it alone, and not being afraid to reach out for a little assistance. Sure, all the trust issues rise up. Along with fears of losing that oh-so-valued independence. But is it really such a bad thing to follow on occasion, instead of always having to lead? And, most important, is it okay not to feel guilty when, rather than feeling threatened by letting someone else handle a tough spot, you simply feel relief?

  Chapter 17

  Damn.” Riley continued to swear as he flipped through the pages. He didn’t even bother to look at the photos. It was bad enough that he’d crashed on Tanzy’s couch for four straight hours. Although he had to admit he felt better than he had in days. Some of it due to sleep, some due to the fact that he could look over at Tanzy and know he’d be tasting that mouth, hearing her laugh . . . Until she kicked him out on his sorry, unhelpful ass, anyway.

  His sense of well-being was rapidly dwindling as he slapped the FishNet employment list onto the coffee table. He really wanted this lead to pan out. He really didn’t want SoulM8 to be Martin. “All women.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, then sighed. “I guess I should have known after my run-in with Ms. Sack.”

  Tanzy scooped up the stack. “An all-women Internet firm.” She ruffled through the pictures, pausing to look at this one or th
at. “Hence the name FishNet, I suppose. After the stocking?”

  Riley shuddered at the mental image of Lori Sack in fishnet anything. “I suppose,” he said.

  “Interesting concept,” Tanzy mused. “Although I’m not exactly sure what her message is. Girls Can Be Geeks, Too?” She straightened the stack he’d slapped down and began looking through the names and dates hired. “This doesn’t necessarily mean he isn’t connected to them somehow, does it? Isn’t it possible that he has a gal pal and she’s the one setting up the false accounts for him?”

  Riley shook his head. “Wouldn’t fit the profile.”

  “A sister, then? Cousin?”

  Riley sighed and shoved his fingers through his hair. “A long shot there, too. Most of these types don’t have great relationships with women. Family or otherwise. Except for the fantasy ones in their heads, anyway.”

  “Well, doesn’t that rule out Martin, then? He has good relationships with women.”

  “His profile is a bit different. He’s been married all his adult life to one woman. We don’t know how close they are, but from the looks of things at the charity ball, I’m guessing now that the nest is empty, they’re discovering they don’t have all that much in common anymore. He’s not a big socializer, wasn’t all that popular in high school and college.”

  Tanzy’s mouth dropped open. “You’ve done a background check on him?”

  Riley looked at her. “It’s my job. He’s none the wiser and we’re informed. It’s the only way,” he added when she looked as if she was going to protest. “And now he’s having some kind of midlife crisis. Goes and buys a fancy sports car. Maybe starts developing an attachment to his protégée. Starts sending notes. You know, there’s a reason Martin is in a computer-oriented field. He communicates better via the written word. Nonconfrontational. Removed from face-to-face situations with other people. Starting to sound familiar?”

  Tanzy stared him down for ten full seconds, then finally, stubbornly, looked back at the photos. “I don’t recognize any of them. Or these names. Dammit.”

  Clearly she was not going to discuss the Martin angle. And Riley was more than happy to let it go. For now. He had the coyote figurine to work with. Hopefully that would put an end to their speculation. One way or the other.

  She put both piles on the table. “I know you explained this already, but why isn’t it possible that this guy is just hacking into their site and setting up these accounts?” She smiled. “I’m a failed girl geek, so indulge me.”

  Despite his frustration, his lips quirked. “Ernie tracked that. As best as he could, anyway. The way their system is set up, it would be hard to hack in that often and not get caught. On the inside, he’d have a much easier time covering his tracks. Besides, if he had that kind of technological ability, he could hack into any provider. No sense in sticking with the same one and risking getting nailed. FishNet does have some pretty tight shields in place, plus they don’t keep any of their company files stored online. It’s all backed up, and managed off-site.” He sighed. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but it is one of the main reasons Martin stays on the radar. Because of the size of the account with MainLine, he has carte blanche with FishNet on setting up email accounts. We’ve tried tracing them, but they set up dummy accounts all the time for vendors and such. He’s got a pretty good background in computers.”

  “As good as your pal Ernie?”

  “Good enough,” he told her. “But I’ll be honest, I really thought we had SoulM8 pegged as a FishNet employee. I still thought that was the stronger lead by far.” And the one he wanted to be true, for her sake, even if it meant more work for him.

  She sat silently for a while and he wasn’t sure what was going through her mind, but when she finally spoke up, it was about the FishNet angle. “Maybe we should stick with the family angle. Maybe a female relative or friend that looks more like one of the guys?” She nodded to the photographs, and dryly added, “Not that that description would narrow things down much.”

  Sad, but true, he thought. “It’s a possible. I do wonder why Ms. Sack never mentioned the company’s gender slant when we had our little talk.”

  “Maybe she assumed you knew.”

  “More likely she’s sitting somewhere, right this minute, cackling over my disappointment and frustration.”

  Tanzy shot him a wry smile. “Internet Feminists: one. Stupid Arrogant Males: zero.”

  “Hey,” he said in mock affront. “I’m not stupid.”

  He finally got an honest laugh out of her. “So, now what do we do? What other leads do we have?” She shot him a look that made it clear she wasn’t referring to the Martin angle, only the FishNet angle.

  Riley felt like he’d beat on her enough with that anyway for one day. He didn’t enjoy the idea that it was someone she trusted doing this to her, innocent flirtation or not, any more than she did. “I’m compiling a list of people who attended and worked the foundation benefit the night of the Crystal Ball. My original plan was to cross-check them with this list and see if any of the names popped. It still wouldn’t hurt to look. Using the sister or relative theory, maybe we’ll at least get a last-name match.”

  “And if we don’t?”

  Riley sighed and stared directly at her. They both knew where he was going to focus his attention if this didn’t pan out. “We keep looking,” he said. “We have one other thing we’re working on, but it’s taking some time to perfect. Ernie is working on a virus—”

  “Creating one, you mean? Can you do that? Legally?”

  “Ernie is working on a virus,” he began again, purposely not answering her, “to put in your machine that will automatically attach itself to your outgoing emails.”

  “And that works how?”

  “It’s called a Trojan Horse. It will email everyone in your address book and when they open it and download the attached file, it’s like a worm. It will slide into the recipient’s computer and set up shop, allowing us to go anywhere we want in his machine.”

  “Wow. I hear stories, but I always thought they smacked of paranoia. You can really do that? And if so, I don’t want to infect everyone I know.” She smiled. “Although there are a few people it might be fun to—” At his warning glare, she smoothed her mouth into a straight line, lips shut.

  “We won’t infect anyone else. We’ll set up a duplicate email account on your laptop, with only one name in the address book.”

  “Ah. But for this to work, he has to open the attached file, right?”

  “Assuming the guy is a stranger, and this is his first contact from you directly, do you really think he’d be able to resist?”

  Tanzy shuddered. “True. But what will the note say? And won’t it just encourage him?”

  “It will be a standard promotional thing. We’ll make it look like it’s something your magazine is having you send out. The file will be a list of your upcoming appearances.”

  “But won’t that encourage him to—”

  “Yes, and we hope he does show up. He can access that information from the magazine site anyway, but not in a list like this. They only announce things as they come up. He’ll see this as a personal invitation. After all, you’ve never sent him anything before, right? He’ll take the bait, trust me.”

  Tanzy rubbed her arms. “Bait. Not giving me the warm fuzzies, here.”

  “I’ll get some help and we’ll cover the audience at your upcoming talk-show appearance and also watch whoever hangs outside the radio stations, and so on. We’ll record everyone, then scan the films to see if we notice a recurring face pop up.”

  “Why haven’t we done that already? I mean, even if the virus doesn’t work, should we send him the email anyway, to spark him into action? Should we wait until he contacts me again?”

  “No, we don’t wait. And I’ve already started recording things.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since the day after the dance.”

  “Because we didn’t take him seri
ously until then,” she said, nodding in understanding. She lifted a hand when he started to speak. “No, I don’t blame you. Hell, I didn’t take it seriously, either. And I’ve been doing some online research about stalkers, too. You were just following standard protocol with these guys. Not usually a threat, only considered potentially dangerous when the pattern changes.” She looked at him and he hated the vulnerability he saw there. “And now the pattern has changed. First the note at the dance. And now no emails after my columns come out.”

  “I don’t have anything from the radio show, but I do have film from your last Barbara Bradley taping. So we don’t have anything to compare it with yet. But we’re going to ask the television station to give us a copy of whatever film was taken of the audience during your last handful of tapings. If we don’t get a name pop on the list comparisons from the charity ball, we’ll hopefully recognize a recurring face in the crowd.”

  “Okay,” she said, but he could see that it wasn’t. That although she was taking a very hands-on, direct approach to helping herself be safe, the reality of how vulnerable she was, and had been for some time, was just sinking in.

  The eyes she lifted to his made his chest tighten. There were no tears, which he hadn’t expected anyway. But there was a sort of haunted look. Or perhaps hunted was a better word.

  “I really want this to be over,” she whispered fiercely. She rubbed her arms again and looked away. “One way or the other.”

  He got up and went to her, pulled her from the chair and into his arms. “We’ll get him, Tanzy. We’ll ID him.”

  “I wanted to think the cease-fire meant he’d moved on,” she said, still sounding somewhat hollow. She looked up at him. “But it’s just another change in the pattern, isn’t it?”