by Kylie Brant
“We deliberately didn’t change the locks on the apartment. Had hoped to apprehend anyone who might break in. The police being summoned stopped that.”
“How long did you spend in lock up?” Caro quipped. “I assume you got fingerprinted like the common crook you are.”
Jude’s tone was not amused. “Hunter and Blake got there just in time to get caught up in the whole mess. It never got as far as taking us downtown. Sorry to disappoint you.”
“I should have been there.” Mia shook her head, furious at the missed opportunity. “That’s twice now I’ve missed the chance to question her.” She arrowed a glare at Jude. “I should have been there!”
“No, you shouldn’t have been,” he countered calmly. He tapped the edge of the remote against the table, his only sign of impatience. “My services expressly revolve around keeping you safe. Your security interests demand you being kept somewhere far away from danger. Which is why you’re here.”
Frigid just a moment ago, Mia was boiling now. And all the frustrated emotion was aimed at the man surveying her much too calmly. “I can handle Four. I proved that in Vietnam. And it was my decision to make. Not yours.”
“These decisions are best made by someone who can be rational about the risks.” The inference was clear. “After I explained things to the officers, they questioned the gentleman in the neighboring apartment, and the elderly landlady. She admitted to supplying duplicate keys to someone she thought was you over three years ago. Said the woman had dark hair, and showed her your driver’s license.”
Mia was stupefied. “Mrs. Nelson has known me since I was a kid. And Four looks nothing like me.”
“Yeah, well you once told me you hadn’t spent much time there, especially after your grandmother went to the nursing home. Years later she sees a young pretty female, about your age. Similar color hair and style to the picture on the ID…she was probably easy to fool.” He paused a beat. “I assume you had your purse with you when you were kidnapped.”
She had. Of course she had. Her purse. Her ID. Credit cards. Keys. The keys wouldn’t have helped him once Jude had changed the locks years back. So Four had been sent to acquire new ones.
Fury came on the heels of that realization. “She was in my home.” Her fingers balled into fists and for a moment—for one scant second—she was tempted to take a swing at him. “She was our best chance to find him. Twice she’s gotten away. Raiker won’t be happy this opportunity slipped away again.”
“Adam isn’t foolish enough to use witnesses as bait.” The note of finality in his voice said more clearly than words that for him the topic was closed. Aiming the remote at the computer screen again, he said, “Blake took a video of your possessions. Take a look and see if there’s anything missing besides the vase she destroyed.”
Sullenly, Mia folded her arms across her chest. Her eyes were on the screen, but her thoughts were elsewhere. She’d spent the last five years running. Never feeling safe. Never feeling secure. Haunted by memories of the past. Thoughts of the women she’d left behind were never far from her mind. If anything the last few days had shown her she’d been on a fool’s errand. Safety was an impossibility. She’d never be out of danger while he was still free.
And every minute that he was allowed to operate in anonymity, nine other women suffered in her stead.
It was a self-defeating attitude. She watched the video clip of her Gran’s things—she never thought of them as hers—in silence. Dr. Halston had chided her for it more than once. She wasn’t the cause of the others’ continued captivity. Logically she knew that. Emotionally though…
“Where’s my laptop?” She leaned forward suddenly as the camera panned around the bedroom she used. “It should be on the desk across from the bed.”
Jude backed up the film. Slowed it. “I’ve watched this once and didn’t notice a computer anywhere.” He glanced at Caro. “What about when you went to get some of Mia’s things?”
The sturdy blonde woman shook her head. “There wasn’t a computer in the room a few days ago.”
“It was there when I left the country. I wiped the hard drive before leaving.” Paranoia had ruled her life at that time. Comparatively speaking now she was a bastion of rational thought. “Nothing was left on it but the operating system.” She saw Caro and Jude exchange a glance. “What?”
“We know last night wasn’t the first time Four was in your place. She was likely looking for a lead to where you’d gone. A computer can be a wealth of information.” Jude leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs, his voice deliberately neutral. “We did a thorough search of your place before supplying you with your first personal protection agent five years ago. We didn’t find a laptop.”
His words flayed, leaving a sting of guilt. “It was in a safe in my bedroom.” He wouldn’t understand that after three years of captivity she’d been both hungry for and terrified of freedom. The web had offered her a way of catching up on news and cultural events that had transpired in her absence. And it had given her an avenue to search for her own leads in an investigation that had never really gotten off the ground.
She surged from her seat. Paced. “I’m not an idiot. I was a freshman at MIT when he…when I…before. I had a better than average grasp on computer technology.” She was even better at it now. The last five years had given her a lot of time to learn everything she could find on personal safety.
Jude shrugged. “She wouldn’t know nothing was on it. Or maybe she figured the information could be recovered.”
“She was alone in the video. She was alone in Vietnam.” The realization swept over her, but it was still hard to fathom. Mia hadn’t believed that The Collector would have trusted the woman so much…given her such freedom... A trust that was warranted, it seemed. Because she didn’t doubt that the woman had gone back to him after the first time she’d been in Mia’s apartment. A traumatized homing pigeon, programmed to return to its abuser.
How long would it have taken, Mia wondered, a finger of fear tracing down her spine, before she had been turned into something similar? Every human spirit had a breaking point. A psyche could only tolerate so much abuse before becoming other. Sub-human. With every element of humanity in tatters.
Or perhaps something had already resided in Four that made her more malleable. Maybe for the woman evil hadn’t been such a stretch.
“They’ve gone to pretty great lengths to find me.” An eerie sense of calmness settled over her. The events of the last few days crystalized into a picture that was all too easy to read. She knew what she had to do. Perhaps on some level she’d always known. “Four won’t stop trying.” Her reasons would be personal now. Mia had done worse than kill her…she’d scarred the woman. Four had been right. She’d be rejected now by The Collector. Imperfection would never be tolerated.
Was that why Eight had died? Thoughts of the woman brought a violent pang. Had the woman sustained some outward injury that made her unworthy in his eyes? There was no way of knowing. The only people with answers were the woman who’d been in her apartment last night, and the master she served.
And despite Jude’s argument otherwise, it was very clear to Mia that there was only one way to get the answers she sought.
* * * *
The young woman was nude. Spread-eagled on the mattress in the back of the van. Gagged. Bound. The bonds weren’t needed right now though. The drugs he’d given her had done their job, and she was only barely conscious. Squirming and moaning as he completed his examination with the help of a handheld magnifying glass with light.
He tried to quell the excitement coursing through him. He’d been fooled before, in his earlier days. Sometimes the mind wanted something so much, the eyes passed right over slight flaws that were all too noticeable once the initial exhilaration was satiated.
But he’d conducted his analysis twice. Had first washed the makeup off her face. Natural beauties would glow without it. She had. Next he’d turned on the overhead light and used
the glass. Peered at every inch of her body from her earlobes down to her soles. Back up again. Turned her over and repeated the process.
His breathing was coming faster. Okay, perhaps it was time to get a little bit excited. She may be…just may be… Putting down the glass he pressed his knee between her legs, opening her to him. He shoved one gloved finger inside her. Then two. Withdrew them to turn her over and probe her ass. Almost wept with the sheer joy of his find.
The most flawless beauty was marred if she’d been bored out by frequent fucking. It used to be if he chose them young enough he could guard against that. Not anymore. Even the youngest of women could be as indiscriminating as dogs. It was too much to hope for a virgin, but she was suitably tight.
Reluctantly, he withdrew his finger. He’d driven to a deserted road, pulled the van into a copse of trees. If she’d been less than suitable he’d have his fill of her now. He may be stringent on the requirements for his collection, but he wasn’t above taking advantage of what was right in front of him.
But she was suitable. Perfect even. He’d take her to boot camp and begin her training. Condoms would have to be used until the results were back on the mail-in lab kit he’d use. A necessary evil. STDs were a nasty reality. But once she had a clean bill of health….
He sat back on his heels, peeling the latex glove off his hand and allowed the elation to take over. It was so long between true treasures. A less exacting collector would be more easily satisfied. But he thought his high standards yielded the most lasting gratification.
He had his Thirteen. Trembling with giddy joy, he ignored his straining cock and awkwardly climbed to the driver’s seat. He wasn’t superstitious enough to believe the number was unlucky. He started the van. Inched it out of his hiding place until he could be certain there were no nearby cars to see him. Thirteen wouldn’t be jinxed, he knew it.
Because he’d already had his fill of misfortune with Eleven. The van bounced as he pulled onto the gravel road again. But his fortunes were about to change. He had a new piece for his collection.
And very soon Eleven would be back where she belonged. His fingers clenched on the wheel as he thought of her. It would be an exquisite pleasure to restart her training. He’d obviously been too soft before.
He wouldn’t make that mistake again.
6
Mia pushed back from the computer Jude had sent to the apartment, stunned disbelief stirring through her. “You’ve looked at that screen all morning,” Caro remarked walking up and handing her a cup of coffee. “My eyes go blurry when I’m on it that long.”
She reached for the coffee and wrapped both hands around it, needing its warmth to counter the shiver working through her. Mia wanted to be wrong. She needed to be. The tremors were getting stronger, racking her body with enough strength to have the coffee splashing precariously close to the rim. “I need to talk to Jude.”
Caro sipped from her cup, eyes watchful. “Jude texted while I was pouring the coffee. He’s on his way up.” Peering past Mia, she looked at the news story still on the screen. “Did you know this guy or…”
The alert on her phone sounded and the woman broke off to set her cup down, check the screen of her cell. Then she went to the door. Moments later Jude entered. His gaze went immediately to Mia where she sat grasping the coffee cup as if it were a lifeline. “What’s wrong?”
There was a feeling of relief at his presence that was distantly alarming. He may have made it possible for her to disappear five years ago, but she’d spent the intervening time becoming completely independent. There were dangers in trusting someone else. Something that had just been brought home in the most brutal of ways.
She rose and stepped away from the computer. “I told you I’d been cautious overseas.” She was incapable of preamble. Not with the fear and guilt clawing inside her chest. “I know how to disguise my IP address so my web location can’t be traced. I’m skilled enough to cover my tracks online. And I was careful. Never used the same Internet café twice in a six-month period. I thought my precautions were good enough.” Her voice cracked a little then. “But I didn’t consider the risk to the person I contacted.”
Without a word he strode over and sank down in the chair she’d vacated. Scrolled down the screen as he read the news story displayed there in silence. A long minute passed. Pushing the chair away from the desk he turned to look at her. “How do you know this Dr. Halston?”
She drew a breath, battled it through the knot in her throat. “I contacted him the first time while I was in Panama. He’s a British forensic psychologist of some distinction. Although retired now he maintained a professional presence online. I…” Her gaze went past him to the computer screen again. “I knew I needed help. I researched. And in the end I reached out to him online. Assumed name. Just a few details at first. A couple questions. Then later…more. He was…kind.” The word seemed artificially understated. Dr. Halston had saved her, emotionally speaking. And he’d died for doing so.
“The article said he was killed in a home invasion.”
“I had just discovered that the last day in Da Nang. But this one also says although robbery was suspected, little was taken. His wallet. His computer.”
Jude appeared to follow her line of thought immediately. And when he spoke there was a new softness to his tone. “You just said how careful you were. You can’t know that this has anything at all to do with you.”
She shook her head mutely. The fear had taken hold in her now and was wringing remorse with tight little talons. Getting up, she crossed to the desk and set her cup down beside the computer, leaning past Jude toward the touch pad. Brought up her browsing history. Finding a previous site she’d looked at, she clicked on it and straightened to let him read it. Mia looked away while he did so. Certainly she didn’t want to see the words again.
Eventually Jude sat back. “So what is this, a blog or something?”
“Not Dr. Halston’s. But it seems that he appeared as a guest on this forensic science blog, and answered questions put to him by professionals in the field.”
He looked at her. “That example he used in his reply to a Dr. G about prolonged sexual abuse. You think he was referring to you.”
There was no reason for it to feel like a betrayal. He hadn’t identified Mia by name. Couldn’t have, because she’d never provided it. But she saw herself in his answer. There were others who would, too.
“There are a few specifics there that The Collector would recognize. But he wouldn’t have happened upon this blog by accident. It’s too obscure. He would have had to be searching for Halston himself.” She wrapped her arms around her waist. Wondered if it were possible for a person to be physically consumed by remorse. “I did my research before leaving the States. There would have been dozens of names in my search history. I didn’t settle on Dr. Halston until I was in Panama.” She shook her head, still unable to believe it was possible. “But I wiped the hard drive and did a seven pass erase over it before I left. I thought that would prevent anyone ever…” She stopped. Forced herself to take a deep breath.
“Seven pass erase writes a random seven character pattern to each free sector,” Jude said for the benefit of Caro, who was looking completely lost. To Mia he said, “That was a decent effort. It would take a highly skilled technician to recover the files. Most likely your computer was useless to him.”
She heard a ‘but’ in his words. “Most likely?”
He rolled his shoulders. Looked uncomfortable. “Do you have reason to believe that he has a great deal of knowledge about computers?”
She took a minute to think. Then slowly shook her head. “I don’t remember him ever saying anything that would lead me to think so. But I really wouldn’t know.”
Jude leaned forward, hands clasped between his knees, his expression earnest. “Then I don’t think he got shit off your computer. Is data retrieval possible? Depends. About the only thing that is safe from a skilled tech with the resources and time is taking
a sledgehammer to the drive. But data retrieval can be dicey, and a lot of times it retrieves fragments of information, not entire blocks. So piecing together the results becomes another obstacle.”
“I should have done a thirty-five pass, but it took too long,” she murmured. She looked down, surprised by the slight sting in her palms. Found her fists curled so tightly that her nails were digging into the skin.
He blew out a breath, and she sensed his flagging patience. “Theoretically, a thirty-five pass isn’t impossible either. But the skill level for retrieval is substantial. It requires taking out the metal platter and examining it with very specialized equipment. The fact is there are government agencies that dispose of hard drives only after they’ve been degaussed and incinerated. You have to weigh the possibility against the probability. And in all likelihood this guy doesn’t have the talent, money, equipment and time necessary to recover your search history.”
“But what if he does?” Jude was right about one thing; guilt was a useless emotion. It took more strength than she had to banish it, so she’d channel it to something more productive.
Because it helped her to think, she began to move. Nearly bumped into Caro as she paced. “That would be part of his profile, right? If he was a computer whiz of some sort?”
“Maybe.” Jude’s tone was cautious. “But could be he’s not the one with the skill. Possibly a friend. Or someone he hired. Or…and most probable…there’s no direct link between your computer and Dr. Halston’s break in at all.”
She arrowed a look at him. “If someone suspected I was in contact with the doctor, and took his computer to check, how difficult would it be to find the hundreds of emails we exchanged? Even if he’d deleted them…if the right person were looking, he’d recognize himself in the content. Are you saying that this same guy, if he’s talented enough, couldn’t trace where my emails were coming from, despite the efforts I took to disguise it?” She saw his answer in his expression and although she already had reached a similar conclusion, couldn’t prevent her heart from sinking a bit.