Hidden

by Laura Griffin

  “And they provided it?”

  “Yeah. The email looked legit. It was only off by two letters from a real Granite Tech email address. But it was phony, of course, so the list got sent to someone outside the company. We found out what happened when April rolled around and people started discovering someone had filed fraudulent tax returns and claimed refunds.” He shook his head. “Like I said, it could happen to any company. It happens way more than you would think, but when the press got a hold of it, we took a real beating.”

  “That was three years ago?”

  “Four.”

  “And now?”

  “Well, that coincided with a rough patch, financially.” He paused. “Can we talk off the record for a minute?”

  “Okay.” She put down her pen.

  “Tensions were running high here at that time. We’d just had a round of layoffs. I know you know what that’s like.”

  She nodded. “It sucks.”

  “Right. I had to do some of the firing myself.” He rubbed his forehead. “Worst experience of my life. And, you know, it was stressful on a personal level, too. I kept my job, but I’d just forked over savings to pay off my student loans.” He shook his head. “They say you’re supposed to have something like six months’ expenses in reserve? I had, like, six weeks, maybe, and we were doing layoffs everywhere. I was sweating it, thinking I was going to show up for work one day and find out I didn’t have a job.”

  “I know the feeling.”

  He nodded. “So, you escaped the cuts at the Herald?”

  “Barely.” She smiled. “That’s the beauty of being new and cheap.”

  Seth was watching her now with a certain eagerness that felt a little intense. She peered over the railing and watched the employees rush back and forth ten stories below.

  “What’s it like to work here now?” she asked.

  “Better. But still, everyone works insane hours and does the job of two people.” He shrugged. “But we have a young workforce. They can take it. You ready?” He nodded at her coffee.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll show you our Infinity Studio. Another new perk we added.”

  They walked down a glass catwalk, and Bailey got slightly dizzy overlooking the side.

  “On the record again,” she said, “have there been any more data breaches since the phishing scam?”

  “No. And I say that definitively.”

  “How do you know?”

  “We reviewed all our security procedures, tightened up everything, held training seminars to eliminate the human error angle.”

  “How do you eliminate human error?”

  “Well, ‘minimize,’ I guess I should say.”

  They reached a window looking out on a two-story fitness room. “This is our Infinity Studio. Another benefit everyone is enjoying.”

  She looked out over rows and rows of weight machines, treadmills, and ellipticals, all with a view of Lake Austin, the iconic Pennybacker Bridge, and the city skyline in the distance. The studio was packed with thin, sweaty young people.

  “It’s busy,” she commented.

  “Like I said, it’s a popular perk here.”

  Bailey counted twelve Peloton bikes, all in use and all tuned to different scenic ride channels. The views included a rain forest, a beach, a rugged coastline with waves crashing against the rocks.

  “Plus, it fits in with our wellness program, so people get points.”

  “Points?”

  “It’s part of our company health plan,” he said. “You accrue points and get a cash bonus if you meet certain standards like, say, not smoking or eating a plant-based diet, or working out one hundred twenty minutes a week.”

  “They monitor your diet?”

  “We have an app that does it. You’re laughing.”

  “I’m just imagining the Herald implementing a program like that. Most of us eat a Whataburger-and-coffee-based diet.”

  “It’s popular because people get cash for it. The program’s very innovative.”

  “Sounds intrusive.”

  He shrugged. “People love it. Especially the boss. It’s her brainchild.”

  “Lucinda Oberhoff came up with it?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “Her name’s quiet a mouthful. Does she have a nickname? Maybe Lucy or Cindy?”

  “I’ve never heard anyone call her anything but Lucinda or Ms. Oberhoff.”

  “What’s it like working for her? She seems a bit uptight.”

  Seth made a pained face. “She comes off that way.”

  “But she isn’t?”

  “No, she is. But she didn’t use to be so . . . driven, I guess you’d say. That came after.”

  “After what?”

  He looked surprised. “You don’t know about what happened?”

  “No. What happened?”

  “I figured you would have read about it.” He sighed and took a moment to sip his tea. “Her family was on a vacation in California. Lucinda and her husband and their two daughters. Her eight-year-old was abducted from a water park.”

  “When was this?”

  He tipped his head to the side. “I guess it’s been five years now.”

  “I missed the story. Did they ever find her?”

  “No. Not a trace of her. It was horrible. Lucinda took a six-month leave while they searched, but the police never found anything.”

  “I’m surprised she came back.”

  “She had to. I think it kept her sane. She plunged into work, and it distracted her from Avery being gone. And there was a divorce, too. She’s really been through hell. She’s a survivor, though.”

  Bailey heard the empathy in his voice, and his affinity for his boss made a little more sense now.

  He kept walking and they neared a solid black door. A pair of women paused and turned to look into a small glass window before opening the door.

  “What’s that?” Bailey asked.

  “One of our labs. Our biggest one, actually.”

  “Mind if I see?”

  “I’d show you, but it’s strictly employees only.”

  “Just a look? I don’t need a walk-through.”

  “Sorry. We don’t even take recruits there.”

  A man paused at the door and turned to peer into the small glass window.

  “What’s he doing?”

  “Iris scan.”

  Wow. Now she really wanted to see inside the lab. But Seth was already moving on, steering her back to the executive offices. Bailey realized they’d made a full loop.

  “Seth?”

  They turned to see Levon race-walking up to them, cell phone in hand.

  “I was just looking for you two.” He gave Bailey a beaming smile. “Ms. Oberhoff has an opening at four forty-five. I squeezed you in.”

  * * *

  * * *

  LUCINDA’S OFFICE HAD the same view as the Peloton brigade—hills, lake, bridge, and the distant Austin skyline. When Bailey stepped into her office, the CEO stood beside the wall of glass talking on her phone, and Bailey noted that she’d changed clothes. Instead of a suit and stilettos, she wore a form-fitting tank top and bike shorts. She had a hand planted on her hip and an elbow jutting out. Silhouetted against the glass that way, she looked like a scarecrow.

  Levon led Bailey to a black leather seating area.

  “She’ll be right with you,” he whispered.

  Bailey sat down on the sofa and pulled a fresh notebook from her purse as she glanced around the austere office. No framed photos or diplomas. The desk was a huge sheet of glass balanced on a slab of granite. The only knickknacks on the desk were a trio of smooth stones, and Bailey craned her neck to read the words engraved on them: SECURITY. PRIVACY. LIBERTY. She managed not to roll her eyes.

  Luc
inda ended the call and dropped her cell phone on the desk. “Ms. Rhoads.” She strode over and reached out a hand. “Glad to have you here.”

  The handshake was firm and bony. Lucinda had her hair back in a stubby ponytail. Up close, Bailey saw the lines on her tanned skin. Clearly, she spent a lot of time outdoors, and Bailey wondered how that fit in with her workaholic lifestyle.

  “Excuse the clothes,” she said. “I’m on my way to a ride.”

  “Do you go on the lake or—”

  “I ride home every night. That’s nine point two miles. I’m training for a triathlon in Napa.” She perched on the arm of the sofa, looming over her, and Bailey resisted the urge to scoot away. “I understand you’re writing an article about data security?”

  “Not exactly. I’m interested in one of your clients in town. The Villa Paloma Museum?”

  “Our clients are confidential.”

  “I understand.”

  “But I can tell you the list includes an array of Fortune 500 companies, as well as several universities, museums, hospitals—”

  “What about government clients?”

  She paused a beat. “No, actually. We’re in the exploratory stages right now, but nothing’s come through yet.”

  “I understand your main service is background checks?”

  “That’s one of our services. We also provide cloud services, document security, and on-site security guards in some cases—although we outsource that to a third party. We facilitate drug screening. The list goes on. I can have Seth provide you with a comprehensive list.”

  “I think I saw one on your website. How does all that work, exactly, when it comes to data security? People provide you with such sensitive information.”

  “We have strict procedures in place to protect any and all information that comes to us, I can assure you.”

  “Do you ever share client data with third parties?”

  “Never. How would we stay in business?”

  “What about selling client data to marketers?”

  “Never. And we don’t sell data that has been stripped of identifiers, either. Some companies do, but Granite Tech doesn’t engage in that practice. Security and privacy are our top priorities, which is one reason we’re going on three quarters of double-digit growth in market share. Write that down.”

  Bailey did as instructed. “Have you ever had issues with data being targeted by hackers?”

  “No.”

  Bailey paused to give her a chance to expand. “I thought I heard about a phishing scam from several years ago.”

  “Oh, that.” She waved her hand. “That was minor. I think maybe twenty people were affected by that. Really, nothing worth noting, even though the local press made hay with it. We did a comprehensive security review and changed our internal email procedures after that incident.”

  Bailey scribbled a few words, conscious of Lucinda’s gaze on her notepad. She used a shorthand barely anyone could read, but it was entertaining when they tried.

  “And since then?” Bailey asked. “Have there been any data breaches, to your knowledge?”

  “No.”

  “None at all?”

  “None.”

  Levon stepped into the room. “Ms. Oberhoff, it’s five o’clock.”

  She stood up. “I’m sure Seth can answer any further questions. Oh, there he is. Seth, Ms. Rhoads needs a comprehensive list of our services for her article.”

  “Absolutely.”

  Lucinda grabbed her phone off the desk and zipped it into the back pocket of her bike shorts. Levon handed her a silver water bottle with the Granite Tech logo on it.

  “Nice meeting you, Ms. Rhoads. Seth will show you out.” She gave him a flinty smile. “Make sure you give her the full tour. Don’t miss the Infinity Studio.”

  CHAPTER

  NINETEEN

  JACOB WATCHED THE trail, getting more and more impatient as the minutes rolled by.

  “It’s been an hour,” Kendra said. “How long can he go?”

  Jacob didn’t answer.

  “Figure an eight-minute mile, we’re at seven and a half, at least.” She glanced at him. “That’s some stamina.”

  He didn’t bother saying what they were both thinking. The man might have spotted their unmarked police car and wanted to dodge them, for any number of reasons.

  “We should have come in your truck,” Kendra muttered.

  Jacob downed the last of his lukewarm coffee.

  “What, no comment?”

  He looked at her. She’d draped her jacket over the seat, and her white button-down shirt already looked wilted. It was barely after seven a.m.

  She turned to face him. “Okay, Merritt. Enough. What’s the deal with you?”

  “What deal?”

  “You’ve been sullen and quiet for two days now. What gives?”

  Jacob adjusted the vent. The engine wasn’t on, so the fan was just circulating warm air at this point.

  “It’s Bailey, isn’t it? You’re seeing her.”

  Jacob looked at her.

  “Shit, I knew it.”

  “I’m not seeing her.”

  “Right.”

  Jacob wasn’t seeing her, not the way she meant. And he didn’t know what Bailey was up to right now, but he was pretty sure it involved wading deeper and deeper into the shitswamp that had become this case.

  The case he’d been officially removed from.

  The case that was no longer his, or Kendra’s, but that they were working anyway against the explicit instructions of their boss.

  Kendra laughed and shook her head.

  “What?” he asked.

  “It’s funny, really. You usually hate reporters.”

  “I don’t hate reporters.”

  She snorted.

  Jacob wasn’t going to argue with her.

  “You know, she once dated Skip Shepherd.”

  He looked at her. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “This was right before her paper did that big exposé about the vice squad. I’m just saying.”

  “Those guys were dirtbags. If the Herald hadn’t exposed them, someone else would have. Good riddance.”

  “I agree. I’m just saying, don’t forget she’s a reporter.”

  Jacob didn’t comment. It was impossible to forget that about Bailey. She lived and breathed her job. It was part of who she was, and he respected that. He only wished it didn’t make it harder for him to trust her. Whenever their conversation shifted to work—which was often—he always got the sense she was holding information back. He recognized the signs because he did the same to her.

  Objectively, it was a bad idea to get involved with Bailey. But he couldn’t get her out of his head. He’d been thinking about her since that first afternoon, and his interest had only ramped up after that kiss in his truck. He should have shut her down. He should have, but he hadn’t. Pushing her away had been the very last thing on his mind.

  “Jacob?”

  “What?”

  “Do you hear what I’m saying?”

  “Yes.”

  She sighed, not sounding convinced. He wasn’t surprised she’d picked up on his interest in Bailey. Had anyone else?

  Jacob fixed his attention on the trail again as a woman plowed up the path, pushing a jogging stroller with one hand while texting on her phone with the other.

  A man sprinted up behind her and came to a sudden halt. Six-two, brown hair, medium build.

  “Heads up,” Jacob said.

  The man bent at the waist, catching his breath. Then he veered off the trail and walked to the drinking fountains, stretching his arms above his head as he went.

  “That’s him,” Kendra said, grabbing the scrolled paper she’d stashed in the cup holder. They’d printed out
the DPS record for twenty-nine-year-old Christopher Reynolds, who had been caught on a security camera entering the hike-and-bike trail from the parking lot around six a.m. all five days prior to Dana Smith’s murder. Last Saturday, he’d arrived at 6:02 and departed at 7:10 in a black Jeep Renegade with Texas plates. The last call made on Dana’s phone had been at 6:26, and the phone had been dropped—likely by her or her attacker—in the woods behind the juice bar several miles up the trail.

  Jacob watched Christopher Reynolds as he made his way across the parking lot.

  “He’s big enough,” Kendra said.

  True, but it didn’t take much to overpower a 116-pound woman, especially one who was unarmed and taken by surprise.

  “The fact that he’s here today shrinks the odds he’s our guy,” Jacob said.

  “That’s if you buy the hit-man-from-Chicago theory.”

  He looked at Kendra. “You don’t?”

  “It’s the best we’ve got so far, but we certainly haven’t proved it.”

  “Either way, he might know something. He could be a witness.”

  Reynolds crouched beside the Jeep and untied something from his shoelace. A key fob. He unlocked the Jeep and opened the door, then stripped off his T-shirt and tossed it in the back.

  Kendra gave a deep sigh. “Wow.”

  Jacob looked at her.

  “What? The man’s hot. Look at him.”

  Jacob pushed open his door. “We doing this, or what?”

  “You talk. I’ll observe.”

  A suspect interview was like a dance, and he and Kendra had their choreography down pat after years of partnership. They moved together through the conversation, communicating silently as they sussed out weaknesses and zeroed in on the best way to exploit them. Working in tandem, they almost always extracted more information than they would have working alone.

  They crossed the parking lot as their witness-suspect took a long swig from a bottle of water and set it on the Jeep’s roof. Then he grabbed a new T-shirt and pulled it over his head.

  He caught sight of Jacob and Kendra and instantly went on alert.

  “Christopher Reynolds?” Jacob held up his ID.

  “Yeah.” His gaze went to Kendra, whose hand rested on the butt of her Glock.