by Leah Braemel
“Talk to her and see if she’ll tell you anything.” Chad dragged his thumb across the screen of his smartphone. “Our other suspect is Ms. Guidry’s former boyfriend. Goes by the name of Mitchell Young. But he’s lied about his name–the Mitchell Young who works at ITF is African American. The guy we’re after is Caucasian.”
“Maybe that’s why Jazz broke up with him. Maybe she found out he’d lied to her.” Or maybe she’d tried to blackmail him and he’d broken it off. Or maybe he’d simply decided to move on to the next chicky.
“Sandy got any pictures of him? Of either of them?”
“We have one of Ms. Guidry—I’m forwarding it to your email—but nothing for our alleged hacker. Sandy’s given us a description of him so we’ll have to go on that for now.” He consulted his notes. “Five-ten, maybe five-eleven, around two hundred pounds, Caucasian. Mid thirties.”
“Maybe Ms. Guidry’s taken a photo of her boyfriend. I’ll bet she’s got at least one on her cellphone.”
“Here’s hoping.”
“So the question is,” Scott interrupted, “is Young working on his own or for someone else?”
And had Jazz helped him? It cheesed him off that she had sat there the entire weekend, pretending to be Sandy’s friend, when the whole time she’d been using Sandy’s connections.
“That’s what we want you two to find out.” Chad held up a key. “Sandy’s given us a key to her place. I want you to go over there and see if you can lift some fingerprints and perhaps find anything else that might be of interest while Miss Guidry is working.” In other words, toss Jazz’s room for evidence she was in on the plot. Although all she’d had to do was copy Sandy’s list of passwords, so unless they found that, Scott doubted they’d find anything incriminating.
“Dan Bridges is going to go with you to check out Sandy’s router,” the IT manager added. “We need to make sure her security password is changed on her router and he’s also going to check to see if there are any network extenders hidden anywhere nearby. Who knows, maybe it’s one of her neighbors.”
“How do we know it’s not someone spoofing the IP address?”
John went into a long explanation that lost Scott within the first five words but Andy seemed to follow all the geek speak. From the way John responded, his partner was asking intelligent questions. Huh, who knew the former cop was a closet geek?
Twenty minutes later while Andy drove a plain white van, Scott scrolled through the files on Jazz.
Andy checked over his shoulder at the tech then lowered his voice. “I saw Sandy’s roommate at the bar. She hit on Kris. He liked her. Said he wouldn’t have pegged her as the type to use her friends.”
Scott grunted. “What about you? Did you peg her as being a stripper and possibly a hooker?”
“No, and, not all dancers earn their money on their back. A lot of them are students trying to pay for college.”
“If you say so, but I’m not ruling anyone out. It says a shitload about her character as far as I’m concerned.” Shit. Had she snooped around Troy’s place for info? What if she’d been snooping around, letting them think she was going to the bathroom?
What type of agent was he that he hadn’t picked up that she was no good? A fucking useless agent. Just like he’d been to Dev in Colombia. “It pisses me off that she lied to Sandy. That she may have used her.”
“Look, this guy lied to her, and to Sandy, even to Troy. If Troy didn’t suspect him, why would she? Besides, Sandy said they’d broken up. Maybe she found out something and dumped his sorry butt. First rule of investigation is don’t assume. So don’t judge her guilty yet. Not until you’ve heard her story.”
“You can pamper her all you want, but I’m not buying her shit.”
“I guess that means I’m playing the good cop today.”
Didn’t he always?
Never had he been so glad to arrive at a potential crime site as he had when Andy pulled into Sandy’s parking lot. He grabbed the fingerprint kit and headed up to the third floor, Andy behind him. Who gave a fuck if they’d left the tech to struggle with his equipment by himself? Being on the move, having a mission, helped him focus and let him shove his ire at Jazz aside.
Upon reaching Sandy’s door, Scott bent down to examine the brass casing around the lock. The brass gleamed bright compared to the dulled finish of the other apartments’ locks. From the security report Chad had given him, the alarm system in Sandy’s apartment had only been installed a few weeks before, and the new deadbolt had been installed at the same time. Troy’s doing, no doubt. “Doesn’t look like it’s been picked.”
The geek shifted his case from one arm to the other. Whatever the tech carried had to weigh fifty pounds. If he didn’t think to put it down while he waited, that was his own damned fault. Laughing to himself, Scott ran a hand along the metal framework. “Hard to tell if someone used a 2x4 to pop the frame but it doesn’t look like it.”
Probably wouldn’t work. He’d bet the new deadbolt would be a good two inches long.
“Of course, they could have used a bump key,” Andy helpfully suggested. From the way he choked out the suggestion, Andy had realized Scott’s delaying tactics and was equally amused by the tech’s cluelessness. “That wouldn’t leave any mark.”
“I suppose that’s true.” He stared down the hall and scratched his nose. “Maybe we should interview the neighbors to see if they’ve noticed anyone hanging around.”
“We should interview the superintendent too. Maybe see if there’s any security cameras or anything around?” Andy made a studied inspection of the ceilings as if he were searching for cameras. It was the tech’s own fault for not noticing his partner’s shoulders shaking in his futile attempt to stop himself from laughing out loud.
“All right already. You can make love to the doorframe all you want, and I can tell myself there aren’t any security cameras,” the tech groused. “Just let me get in the damned place and put this damned equipment down, would you? It’s fuckin’ heavy.”
Scott unlocked the door and stepped inside to disable the security system. While the tech unpacked his equipment, the two operatives set to work dusting for prints. Scott concentrated on the area around the lock and the frame; Andy dusted the router and the modem.
“Probably wasting my time,” the tech grumbled. “I bet they don’t have the WPA turned on, so whoever’s in the neighborhood can steal her bandwidth.”
“You’d lose the bet, kid.” Andy held up his smart phone. “I already checked. The security is activated and password set.”
“Big deal. I’ll bet she’s used ‘password’ as her password. People think they’re so fucking clever.”
Scott tuned him out as he lifted the prints off the inside of the door. The prints scanned and emailed to the office, he finally investigated the apartment. From the knickknacks on the windowsill to the quilted pillows to the photos on the bright freshly painted walls, the place screamed Sandy was here. No wonder Troy had been spending more time over here than he had been at his own place.
By the time he’d finished dusting Jazz’s room for prints, he was ready to punch a hole in the wall. How dare she lie to Sandy? Use Sandy to earn money or whatever the hell her motivation was. Worse, he’d bought into her act hook, line and fucking sinker. When the fuck was he going to learn that you couldn’t trust anyone?
Finished lifting prints from its case, Andy examined the router and read out the model number.
“Yeah, that’s a wireless N router.” The tech opened a case and withdrew an electrical wand to check for electrical devices. “Company claims you can get a signal from about fourteen hundred feet away, unobstructed of course.”
“So it’s possible our guy could have sat in the parking lot right below and accessed it?”
“Yeah, it’s possible. There may be an extender to boost the signal that may have given him an even wider area. That’s what I’m checking for now. But I’m betting whoever it was sat right there on the couch.” Dan
waved the device over the desk. When he didn’t get any reaction, he started scanning around the door to the balcony.
“What the fuck are you doing in my place?” An extremely pissed Jazz Guidry stood in the doorway, her hand in her pocket as if she were clutching a can of Mace. Possibly a taser? If she were really smart, she would have walked right on by and phoned the police without them knowing, instead of confronting them. The color drained from her face. “Oh my God. Scott! Is Sandy okay?”
She was either sincerely worried about Sandy or she was a helluva good actress, Scott had to admit. He bet on the latter. “Sandy’s all right. But we need to ask you a few questions about your relationship with Mitchell Young.”
“Mitch?” Her voice was thready and her color hadn’t returned. “He didn’t come back and hurt her, did he?”
Hurt her? Shit. Just what the fuck type of person was this Mitchell if that was her first question?
Chapter Seventeen
“Where is she? I want to see her.” If Mitch had come back, if he’d hurt Sandy…oh God. Two seconds before her mouth had been dry, now she had to swallow convulsively or throw up. She clutched her purse as her knees wobbled beneath her.
“Whoa, hang on there, Miss Guidry. Sandy’s fine.” The other guy—not Scott—caught her arm and led her to the couch. “Put your head between your knees and breathe in nice and slow for me.”
He pressed her head down before she could object, then crouched in front of her as she gulped in air. “Slow down or you’ll feel worse. Just inhale, then exhale.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. It’s all an act,” Scott snarled. “She copied Sandy’s passwords and gave them to her boyfriend and is now pretending to be all upset to try and throws us off.”
He stomped off to the bedroom. Her bedroom, not Sandy’s. Why was he going in there? And what was his problem with her all of a sudden. He’d been so nice to her over the weekend. She lowered her head to her knees again, wondering if she’d ever learn not to trust guys.
“Come on, Jessica, don’t worry about him.” His partner touched her knee to get her attention. “Look at me, honey.”
Her head fuzzy, she raised her eyes to meet his. He was kinda cute in a rough sort of way. There was a scar over his left eye cutting through his eyebrow, and his goatee had a lot of red in it while his hair was a sort of sandy brown. Just like the guy… “Hey, I know you.”
“I’ve seen you at Rusty’s a couple times. I’m Andy Walters. Now take a deep breath for me, Jessica.” She did and he smiled. He had a nice smile. The type that probably made people tell him secrets without thinking. Which meant she had to be on her guard.
“It’s Jazz. I hate being called Jessica.”
“All right, Jazz it is then.” He picked up Xander, who wound around her feet. The traitor of a cat began purring at the first scratch behind his ears. “Who’s this?”
“Xander. I named him after the guy in Buffy the Vampire Slayer because he’s only got one eye too.”
“Can’t say I’ve ever seen that show. What night’s it on?” Andy’s obvious attempt to put her at ease worked.
“It’s not on anymore.” She was just starting to breathe normally when Scott reappeared with her laptop under his arm.
He set it on the kitchen table and hit the power button. “What’s your power-on password?”
“I don’t have one.” Was she supposed to have one? It’s not like she had any state secrets on her hard drive. Shoot. They’d find that damned video clip Mitch had sent her the next morning. Oh God. Had Mitch posted it somewhere like he’d threatened? Maybe sent it to Sandy? From the snippet she’d managed to view, she’d looked like she was consenting. That she’d enjoyed what he’d done. Maybe Sandy had shown it to her boss and they’d done a credit check on her. Her employer would show up on a credit check, wouldn’t it? Fuck. “Look, I can explain…”
“You don’t need to. We figured it out. Either you showed your boyfriend where Sandy keeps her passwords or you copied them yourself and gave them to him. All we haven’t figured out yet is what you’re looking for.”
“I never gave—” You showed your boyfriend where Sandy keeps her passwords. Crap. She had shown Mitch where Sandy kept her passwords. And he’d always booted up his laptop as soon as he’d arrived after that. Crap. Crap. Crap.
“Yeah, okay, he knew about her notebook but I didn’t mean to show it to him. He was teaching me how to create videos with this new software I got. We’d put some pictures we’d fixed on a flashdrive and Sandy left it somewhere on the desk. If he used the passwords to hack into your system, I didn’t know about it.”
Still holding Xander, Andy exchanged a glance with the geek who was waving some wand straight out of Ghostbusters over the top of the bookcase. “A flashdrive? Do you know if Mitch ever used it on his computer?”
“Yeah, it was his.” Oh crap and a half. He’d played her for the sucker she was. God, what a fucking idiot, she’d been.
“He probably had a password collecting program on it then. He wouldn’t have needed the list at all if that’s the case.” The ghostbusting geek put down his wand and started searching the desk.
“He may not have captured the passwords he needed,” Andy suggested. “Maybe Sandy didn’t log onto the network while he was collecting them or maybe she didn’t check Sam’s email or whatever it was he was looking for. Or maybe she changed her passwords because the thirty days were up. After all, he didn’t get into her system until this weekend, right?”
“No,” the geek said with exaggerated patience. “We didn’t notice that someone was using Sandy’s access until this weekend. For all we know he could have been using those passwords for days. Weeks. Months, even.”
“Excuse me,” Jazz raised her voice over the lecture. “Will someone please explain what’s going on?”
“As if you don’t know. Why don’t you tell us what he’s after, sweetheart?” Scott snapped.
“Okay, I get it. Someone’s been accessing confidential files within the Hauberk network using Sandy’s ID. But what makes you think it was Mitch? For all you know, it could be someone over in Europe or China or somewhere who guessed her password.” Even as she said it, she knew it was Mitch.
“Because the connection was traced to this router’s IP address.”
“Can’t that be faked?” Damn it, she should have paid more attention to that computer course she took at night school. And the computer geeks who were always pestering her for a date.
“It wasn’t. Our IT guys checked it out,” Andy said. Shit.
“Since you’re the only one who lives here with Sandy, you’re in the perfect position to steal her passwords, wouldn’t you say?” Scott set the laptop aside and walked over to her, bracing a hand on the couch, his knees on either side of hers, boxing her in.
Jazz couldn’t stop herself from shrinking back. Damn it, what was it with guys bullying her? Did she have a sign on her forehead or something? “I didn’t steal anything.”
“We’ve figured out your game, sweetheart. Now why don’t you make it easy on everyone and tell us what you or your boyfriend want from Hauberk’s database?”
Her mouth went dry. Crap, he really did suspect her. “I told you. If Mitch hacked into the system, I didn’t know about it and I don’t know why.”
His expression hard, Scott leaned down until his mouth hovered less than an inch away from her ear and whispered, “I don’t believe you.”
“Scott. Back off. You’re scaring her.”
“No. He’s not scaring me. He’s pissing. Me. Off.” Jazz flattened her hands over Scott’s chest and pushed. Although she hadn’t expected to move him, he dropped his arm and stepped back with a scowl.
“Jazz,” Andy said softly, “what we need to know is if you have any idea what your boyfriend might be looking for.”
She shifted so her back didn’t touch the couch anymore. She hadn’t needed to see the welts and bruising in the bathroom mirror to be reminded of that night. Her shirt rubb
ing against her skin did that for her. “I have no idea. And he’s not my boyfriend anymore. As I told this asshole on Saturday, I broke up with him and kicked him out of this place Friday night. He’s history.” Except he hadn’t really left, had he?
“Yeah, yeah, cry me a fuckin’ river.” Scott rubbed his thumb and forefinger together. “Enough with the violins and tell us the truth for once in your goddamned pathetic life.”
Andy turned to Scott with a scowl. “Did you ever consider that maybe she is telling the truth?”
“Oh, give me a fucking break and don’t buy into her shit, Walters. She’s a hooker. She’s not about to tell you the truth. Look how she’s been lying to Sandy about what she really does for a living.”
Oh, fuck. They did know about her stripping. She’d known it was only a matter of time before someone found out. “I’m not a hooker. I’m a dancer.”
“You take your clothes off for money and give people lap dances. I’m betting for a couple extra bucks you let them fuck you too.”
“Yeah, I take my clothes off for money and let guys watch. You know why? Because it pays me a helluva lot more than I’d make as a waitress.” Fuck this. He wasn’t the only one who could play domination games. She stood up and strode over to Scott. With her heels on, she was almost as tall as he was. “And do you know what else? I like it. I like knowing that guys get off watching me dance.” She skimmed a hand down her belly. “I’m proud of my body. I’m not ashamed of what I do, and you’re not going to change that. But the guys who get to watch me, don’t get to touch me. Ever.”
“If you’re not ashamed, why did you lie about it to Sandy?”
Damn it, she wanted to wipe that smug sneer off his face. “Because not everyone gets that stripping isn’t hooking.” Like you, asshole. “And when Sandy moved to D.C., I thought she was this prairie princess that would move out if she found out she was living with a stripper.”
She knew better now, but once the lie had been told, she hadn’t figured out how to un-tell it.