by Jan Coffey
Now, though, if she were given a chance to go through it all again, she doubted she’d do it.
“This should get me started,” Jeremy said, breaking into her thoughts.
Carrying the box, he started for the back door, and she followed.
Liz stopped him at the door. “I didn’t want to say anything when Conor was down here, but how do you think this creep knew about Ben Colter and his accident?”
“Could be he was watching the house and following Emily today. Same way he followed them to Lime Rock yesterday.”
“But you had a patrolman out front.”
Jeremy shrugged. “I don’t have any answer to that. It could also be that he’s hacked into her other computers. Maybe even monitoring her phone calls,” he said. “I’ll have a couple of our guys do a complete sweep of her house. We can at least make sure there are no bugs or minisurveillance cameras planted anywhere. As far as checking the security of her computers, though, she’s the most qualified person to do that.”
“Surveillance cameras? You think he might have been in her house?”
“There’s no way for me to know. These guys can get pretty weird.”
Liz shuddered.
“Don’t spook her more than she is now, Liz.”
“I won’t. But she’s supposed to call me again later. I have to tell her about what happened with Conor and the instant messenger stuff.”
“I agree, but don’t wind her up too much about it. Conor was never in any danger.”
She nodded, remembering how upset her sister had been at the hospital. Liz opened the door for him and a rush of cool night air came in, raising gooseflesh on her skin.
“You know, Emily and I have never experienced anything like this in our lives. To have somebody lurking in the shadows and not know who it is. Not know if he might be listening to everything you say. Or watching you.” She shook her head. “What do you think he really wants?”
“He wants Emily,” Jeremy said bluntly, stepping down onto the alleyway. He shoved the box under one arm and turned to her. “So far, everything he’s done matches the behavioral profile that we would expect. Sending gifts. Following her. Collecting things and photographs. Aborted communication attempts. Gradual increase in obsession to the point of veiled intimidation. Open threats could be next, unless we can steer him into revealing himself, and then we grab him.”
“This is so wrong. She didn’t ask for this,” Liz said tensely. “She doesn’t do a thing to bring attention to herself. She’s a total innocent when it comes to men. She’s so different from me. She doesn’t deserve it.” She stopped, feeling Jeremy’s eyes boring into her face.
“You think you deserve something like this?”
Liz crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the doorjamb. “Look, I walk blindly into relationships without a second thought about the consequences. I make mistakes all the time. I’m not saying I deserve this, but if there’s anyone who could blunder into something like this, it’s me.”
“This is not a contest, Liz. These are criminal acts. No one deserves the kind of attention this weasel is giving to Emily.”
“I know that. But if it had to happen to me or Emily, then it should have been me.”
Jeremy shook his head. “I don’t get—”
“And I need to do something about it,” Liz continued, straightening up and letting out her anger. “I’ve never felt this kind of frustration before. I want to wring someone’s neck. I want to hit him in the balls so hard he wished he never had any. I’d like to clock him with a two-by-four and hang his head on my mantel.”
“Wow, vigilantism at its most colorful,” he said. “Well, I’m glad you’re directing all that latent violence toward Emily’s stalker. I’ve been staying away, thinking you wanted to do something like that to me.”
The shadows of the buildings nearly hid his face, but she could see he was smiling. Liz paused a moment, surprised by his comment, but then became even angrier when her stomach began to twist in all kinds of delicious knots. She took a deep breath.
“I’m serious, Jeremy. I’m not a mother, and I never knew I had one shred of that protective instinct they talk about. But I will make this creep suffer in ways he could never imagine if he does anything to my sister.”
Jeremy came back up onto the step, and he touched her bare arm for just a moment. “Emily is a pretty special person, and so are you. We’ll catch this guy. Nothing will happen to Emily.”
Liz stuffed her hands into the front pockets of her jeans to stop herself from reaching for him. He went back down the steps and walked toward his pickup truck, only to stop as he reached it.
“Liz, mind if I come around again?”
“I gave you everything Emily told me on the phone to give you,” she replied, deciding it was safest to misunderstand him.
“No, I mean, I have tomorrow night off.”
Liz leaned against the doorjamb again. “That’s nice.”
“How about if I stop by after you’re done at the café?”
She shook her head. “I promised Em I’d watch Conor.”
“What are you doing next weekend?” he asked, opening the passenger door and putting the box he was carrying on the seat.
“Working.”
“I could stop by around closing time on Saturday. We could go out…or hang around here. Whatever you want.”
Liz thought about how he used to come by at closing time. About how often they hadn’t been able to make it upstairs before starting on each other. Emily’s desk had been a favorite place. Even the tiny stock area next to the bathroom. She felt the heat spreading through her, felt the tingling start. She shook off the thoughts.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jeremy.”
“Why not?” he asked. “Been there, done that?”
“Seriously…” She let the word trail off.
He was frowning now. “I’m just an old shoe, is that it?”
“No,” Liz said. “It’s true, we’ve been there, done that. But I’m…I’m still recovering.”
“Liz…”
She backed into the building and closed the door before adding to the running tab of mistakes in her life.
Twenty-Two
“They can have the car for whatever they want to do,” Adam said quietly into the phone. “We’re done with it. Emily used the disk-imaging tool to make a bit-stream duplicate of everything on the ECM. She called it a ‘forensically sound’copy of the original disk, so we’ll have something for the court, if it goes that far.” He paused, listening. “That’s right. This way there will be no tampering with evidence, and anything she does here will not damage the original.” Pausing. “She’s doing the analysis on the copy right now.”
Emily flexed her tired shoulders and looked up at the wall clock of the lab. It was 6:05, and she could see sunlight seeping through the blinds on the lab windows. Scores of computers, set in clusters, filled a climate-controlled room the size of a basketball court. Glassed-in conference rooms and rooms filled with sensitive electronic equipment lined one side of the space. On the other side, doors with small windows led to a long corridor connecting this lab with offices, a lunchroom and classrooms. There were two other smaller labs on the second floor. The computer forensic lab in Meriden was funded by the state, with the university system overseeing the facility. Less than a year old, it was one of the best-equipped laboratories of its kind this side of New York City, and it was frequently used for training local and state law enforcement computer specialists. For Emily, the use of the equipment was one of the perks of teaching in the state college system as an adjunct once or twice a year. A couple of phone calls last night, and she had no difficulty getting inside the building. In another two hours, though, the lab would be bustling with at least a half dozen graduate students, lab personnel and instructors.
Across the room, Adam still had his cell phone glued to his ear, his feet propped up on one of the bench stations. She wasn’t sure if he was speak
ing to Gina or Ben. Adam caught her looking at him, and he immediately lowered the phone.
“The boss is begging to talk to you before they dope him up for surgery. Will you grant him this one wish?”
Emily smiled, pushing to her feet. She hadn’t stood up for hours, and her knees wobbled slightly. She leaned against the white Formica desktop for a second to let the light-headedness pass. Adam came across the room, and she ignored his look of concern as she took the phone from him.
“Hi,” she said softly.
“This is definitely not fair. I want to be there with you.”
He sounded like a kid missing Thanksgiving dinner. “The preliminary setup stuff has been moving at a snail’s pace for most of the night. You’re not missing much.”
There was a pause at the other end. “I think I am. I’m missing you.”
Emily sat back down in the chair, feeling her face grow hot. Glancing around, she saw Adam going out the door with both of their paper coffee cups in hand.
“They must have started sedating you.”
“I’m serious.”
She tried to think of something to say. “How did you sleep last night?”
“I didn’t. I figure I can get plenty of rest later.”
“What time are they taking you to surgery?”
“Supposedly at eight,” Ben said. “But they’ll be in soon to start the pre-op stuff.”
“Nervous about it?”
“No,” he said softly. “But I am worried about you. This is not the way I imagined things would go. I didn’t want you to get thrown into it like this, working around the clock, carrying the entire load.”
“Adam did the lion’s share of what needed to happen at the garage. And Gina has been on the phone with him several times overnight. And even you. You’re supposed to be resting and not worrying about everything.” She shrugged. “Everybody is doing their share, Ben.”
“The other two are used to it.”
“This is what I do. Don’t worry about me.”
“Have you talked to Conor?” he asked.
“I have. He’s fine. Staying with Liz.” Emily decided to not say anything about the instant messenger incident. She had spoken to Jeremy, Liz and Conor individually last night. She’d wanted to hear every version and make sure her son was in no danger. She was relieved that the detective had been at the café when it happened. And she would trust Liz with her life. She knew Conor would be safe staying with her.
“I can’t afford to burn you out, Emily.”
“You won’t. I’m used to deadlines.” She stifled a yawn and rubbed her neck. “I’m really glad we worked on this all night. There was no way I could have slept with all these accidents hanging over us.”
“You could have stayed here at the hospital. I’m guessing we could have thought of a few things to keep our minds off the job.”
Emily tipped back in the chair and stared at the tiles of the white drop-ceiling. It would be very easy to get lost in a daydream that featured Ben Colter in a leading role. She had to keep her mind on what she was doing, though, especially when she was this tired. “Are you sure they haven’t already started you on the medication?”
“Look, I’m completely sober. I’m flirting with you, Em.”
She ran a hand through her hair, beginning to rock gently in the chair. She was glad that Ben couldn’t see the smile on her face. “I thought I vaguely recognized the intent.”
“Come on. It hasn’t been that long.”
“Aren’t there any pretty doctors or nurses in that hospital for you to flirt with?”
“Plenty, but none of them are my type.”
“And you think I’m your type?” she asked incredulously, leaning forward and placing her two feet squarely on the linoleum. She shook her head. “Listen, don’t answer that. How did we get onto this line of conversation?”
“Well, I said—”
“Ben,” she said, cutting him off. She just couldn’t go down this road. “You called to find out where we are with our part of the investigation.”
“Sure, but Adam—”
“Well, right now I’m doing the initial analysis of the drive content.”
“Okay. Tell me what you’ve got.”
Emily forced back her unexpected disappointment. She had to focus. “There’s definitely something not right with the event log on your car. The recorded disk activity doesn’t jive with the peaks in memory usage. I’m a hundred percent certain that there was some tampering involved. This is all preliminary, though. I should have something solid really soon.”
“Adam said there were no software upgrades done on the Aston during the six months that I’ve owned it.”
Ben was all business when he spoke. Emily was glad he was focusing on work, too. It was much easier this way.
“That’s right,” she responded. “Which means that whatever went to work on steering your car for you yesterday was planted in the factory or by one of their suppliers at the fabrication level.”
“If that’s right, then it means that a lot of cars…and different types of cars…may have the same thing planted in them.”
“That’s a strong possibility.”
She could hear him moving in the hospital bed. “How fast are they going to get you duplicates of the disks on the other cars involved in these accidents?”
“Adam has left messages for a number of different people, but I might not have to see those personally. If I can decipher whatever code was used on your car’s ECM, I can have others look for the same signature.”
“That sounds too easy.”
“It might be, or it might not. The person behind this could be a fourteen-year-old kid in Russia who’s doing it for fun…or it could be a seasoned computer engineer in a high-level design position at some Fortune 500 company. One might think this is a glorified video game, while the other might be planning to sabotage the nation’s transportation system.”
“Or he could be working for some terrorist group.”
“Maybe. There are overseas hackers with political agendas who are constantly looking for ways to cripple our networks. But if that were the case, I would have thought they’d target the vehicles of some high-profile figures in Washington or New York. I should think Wickfield, Connecticut, is a little off Al Qaeda’s radar screen,” Emily said, standing up again and stretching.
“Adam said he’s keeping Gina informed of everything. She’s prepared to notify one person or a thousand, depending on what you find.”
“Like I told you before, everyone is doing their job,” Emily said gently. “Which brings us to the fact that you should do your job, too, and get better. Now, go back to being a good patient.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
Adam walked back into the room, carrying two cups of coffee. Emily mouthed a thank-you and took one of them. “And I have to get back to work before the regular mob shows up here and wants to take over the lab.”
Emily heard voices through the phone, and Ben grumbled at whoever had walked into his room. She didn’t think he would be an easy patient to take care of.
“They’re here,” he told her.
“I could tell.” It was impossible for Adam not to overhear her end of conversation. Emily wished Ben good luck with the surgery, hoping she sounded somewhat professional to her new colleague.
“Will I see you today?” Ben asked before she could hang up.
“I’ll try to report in tonight if I’m done here.”
“Good,” he said in a lighthearted tone. “Because I’m not done discussing my new favorite type of woman.”
Emily pretended to search for the off button on the phone while the heat in her face subsided. Adam was too tired or perhaps too polite to notice she was still blushing when she handed the cell phone back.
Before getting back to work, she remembered Jeremy’s request last night. She took her laptop out of the case and booted up. She hadn’t used any of her own equipment for the work she was doi
ng now. She knew the systems were more than likely infected—zombies under the control of her stalker. Cleaning them up was a job for another day. Still though, for what she wanted to do, her laptop served her purposes perfectly.
Emily wrote an e-mail to Jeremy.
Lunch sounds wonderful. Why don’t you pick me up at noon? By the way, thank you for last night. You were amazing.
Love, Em
Her fingers hovered over the send button. Emily just hoped Jeremy knew what he was doing.
Twenty-Three
Debbie was one of those people who selected each pair of shoes she owned with the same care that Michelangelo used in selecting marble for his sculptures. Of course, she also believed that there was no way a woman could possibly own too many pairs of shoes. As a result, with the exception of old sneakers, she would never throw a pair out or just leave them at someone’s house.
Or at least, that seemed like a perfectly good reason to justify what she was doing…if she got caught in there.
For most of Monday morning, the key to Lyden’s condo was burning a hole in the pocket of her jeans. She peered through the half-drawn blinds of her kitchen window at least a dozen times after finally deciding that she was really going to do it. One more time, she looked out at the private development’s road and the parking spaces across the way. Only two cars still occupied the ten slots. The old, battered Chevy parked right across from her condo was hers, and the new Cadillac five spaces down belonged to an ancient couple that lived in the last condo in the row. Mr. and Mrs. Romero and Debbie were the only ones who didn’t work an eight-to-five job.
Her first class on Mondays wasn’t until one o’clock, which meant she didn’t have to leave the house until twelve-thirty or so. She didn’t feel all that good today, though. What happened yesterday still lay heavy on her mind. She was out of sorts; she couldn’t get her head together and figure where she’d gone wrong. Where she always went wrong. At first, Lyden seemed like a nice guy, even normal. But she now knew that he wasn’t. His temper had scared the hell out of her. There was also something strange going on with his supposed girlfriend. Emily, he called her. The way he talked about her, though, made her sound unreal. Or maybe she was dead, chopped up and stored away in a trunk in his basement office. Maybe he just kept her chained to the wall down there.