But that was two weeks ago. Now Maggie knew exactly how she felt about this mystery boy. She was terrified. Somehow their conversations had taken a shift, and Rachel was too naïve to notice. He knew too much about Rachel, and not just things he would know about her from school. But she was too preoccupied, constantly trying to coerce him to meet—before school on the breezeway, at lunch in the library, and if not in person, then by webcam. Each time he refused—until he finally offered his own suggestion. To meet after school. After school didn’t work, Rachel responded. Her dad picked her up. Not at school, he clarified. After she got home. At the park by her house.
Rachel continued to insist they meet at school, which gave Maggie only a small degree of relief. They debated, and it was through the debate that Maggie was certain no fifteen-year-old boy was on the other end of the conversation. She had to stop Rachel, but how?
Sam had not monitored Rachel’s online activity in weeks. He left in the morning with Rachel and Olivia, worked all afternoon, picked up the girls after school, and then filled her role and his the rest of the evening. Besides, Rachel used her real account to message this boy, not one of her fake ones. And instead of leaving easy access for Sam to see her online activity, as she had done previously to deceive him, she logged out when she finished. Unless Sam decided to look at the site specifically, he would never know the danger Maggie feared was stalking their daughter.
And now Maggie’s horror escalated. He won the debate. Rachel typed on the screen: ok when?
Thursday 8:15 say u r sick go to bed early and sneak out i’ll try
The word sweet appeared on the screen. Maggie felt sick. She placed her finger on the power button and pressed down. The screen went black.
“Uh, not again!” Rachel pounded the keyboard. “Dad, my stupid laptop died again!”
Sam dropped off the girls at school. He had to make a decision. Should he go to the house and work even though Gary wouldn’t be there? Gary had some place to go he had said, and reminded Sam all the structural work was complete. Whatever task Sam wanted to tackle for the day he was capable of, because, as Gary assured him smiling, he’d had such a good mentor the past four months. He wasn’t as confident in his new skills as Gary, but there was always a wall to be painted, and he was plenty competent enough to do that on his own. Or should he go to the station and sign those darn retirement papers? Neither option was appealing. The recliner, an old movie, maybe a nap—that was appealing. He turned the pick-up toward home.
Sam walked into the kitchen, tossed his keys on the island, and noticed the pile of clothes in the laundry room. If he settled into his recliner, the pile would still be there tomorrow, so he started sorting. He put the first load in the washer, adjusted a knob, and pushed some buttons. He waited for the water to begin filling, but instead he heard a beep and saw the red cancel light flash. The washer shut off. He repeated the start-up operation, waited for the water to begin filling, and . . . the beep. The washer shut off again.
“You have got to be kidding me.” He stared at the machine and decided not to tackle it. It was probably the computer system, and a repairman would be better suited for that job. He opened a drawer in the kitchen island and searched for a business card. He dialed, waited through five rings for an answering machine, and left a message.
He poured another cup of coffee and started toward his recliner. A faint noise stopped him. The noise grew louder. Music—and it was coming from Rachel’s room. He had just left her at school. Who could be in her room? Instinct took over. He set his coffee gently on an end table and moved quickly, quietly toward the hallway. Rachel’s door was open, as it should be. He listened for movement, but he could hear nothing over the blaring music. He walked stealthily toward the room, paused outside her door, and listened again. Then he pivoted to enter, scanning every corner. Nothing. Still on guard, he checked the closet, under the bed. Nothing. Only the music coming from the laptop.
He punched a few keys and the music stopped. A log-in screen appeared. He recognized the website, the one Rachel messaged on. She hadn’t shut down her computer, again, but that didn’t explain the loud music. Then he remembered Rachel complaining about her laptop acting strangely. The laptop. The washer. He didn’t feel like dealing with this.
Suddenly the blinking cursor on the screen moved to the log-in box. One by one, letters appeared. Rachel’s user name. “What the—”
The cursor moved to the next box. Dots indicated her password was being entered. A virus. Rachel must have downloaded a virus, and it was automatically logging her in. Surely it was possible for a virus to take over a computer, wasn’t it?
He continued to watch the cursor move across the webpage and click to open a discussion. It had been a while since he creeped Rachel’s online activity, as she called it, so he pulled out her desk chair, sat down, and read the most recent message in the conversation.
Panic clawed at his spine and crawled up the back of his neck. Rachel sneaking out to meet a boy in the park? He placed his fingers on the mousepad and took control of the cursor, clicking from message to message. He didn’t have to read much to realize all the signs were there. He calculated. It was Tuesday. They were meeting in two days. He grabbed his cell phone.
“Wade, this is Sam. Where’s Nikki Shaw? Get her and get to my house now. Yes, it’s an emergency. No lights or siren. Just get her here.” Sam hung up, struggling between the two parts of him that wanted to take over, a father penetrated by fear or a detective with an adrenaline rush and a case to solve. He had no choice but to let the latter win.
Maggie had no words to describe the relief that flooded over her when Sam hung up, unplugged Rachel’s laptop, and moved it to the dining room table where he waited until the detectives knocked on the door.
She also had no words to describe how she felt when Sam asked for Nikki Shaw specifically. Was it suspicion? Was she jealous? Why should she be? Sam had made his choice. He’d come home to her. But now, Maggie was no longer an option. So when Nikki Shaw walked into her home, Maggie inspected her like the betrayed wife she had been. The flowing red hair, the trim waist, the confident stride. She was a threat.
Sam directed Shaw to the website. She scrolled through the messages and confirmed his suspicion. “This is no kid. Let me trace the IP address and find out where this is coming from.”
“You called the right detective.” Wade assured Sam as Shaw started digging.
“She’s the expert.” Sam knew that because he’d made her the expert by sending her to the best cybercrime conferences in the country, including Atlanta. He ran his hand through his hair.
“She’ll find this guy, Lieutenant.”’
“Who would do this? Why Rachel?” Sam paced as Shaw manipulated the laptop to exhume information.
“Creeps are all over these websites.” Her eyes were locked on the screen. “They message lots of kids until they find one they think is vulnerable.”
Shame rushed through Sam. When had he allowed his daughter to become vulnerable? It was his job to protect his family. Had he become so oblivious that he’d let Rachel become a victim?
“I got it.” Detective Shaw scribbled on a notepad and looked up at Sam. “It’s local. We have to get to a judge and get a warrant for the ISP, and we have to do it now. We’re on the clock.”
“Call Judge Hubbs.” Sam directed the order to Wade. “He’ll push this through.”
“I’m on it.” Detective Wade punched numbers on his cell phone as he walked toward the door.
Sam’s pulse quickened as Wade stepped outside, leaving him alone in the room with Shaw. He tried to ignore it, but the atmosphere changed. When he glanced at Shaw, she quickly looked away, appearing to study her notes. The silence was thick. Did she feel it, too? He couldn’t leave it this way. He had a chance and he couldn’t walk away again—like he walked out of the hotel room—and continue to pretend nothing ever happened.
“Detective Shaw, I’m sorry—”
“No bother, L
ieutenant. It’s been a slow couple of days.”
“No, I don’t mean this. I mean—”
When he hesitated, Shaw looked up from her notes and stared straight ahead. He waited for her to respond, but she remained silent.
“I was wrong. What I did to you. I never explained or apologized. I hurt you. I hurt my wife, my family. It was selfish and I will never forgive myself. I loved my wife. I still love my wife.” Sam paused to judge her reaction, but none was visible. “It may be too late to apologize to her . . . but I can apologize to you.”
Her face remained stoic. Sam felt a sense of urgency. He needed to finish this, before he lost his nerve, before Wade returned.
“Please, will you forgive—”
“Yeah, sure, Lieutenant.” They were the right words, but her tone was flippant.
“Nikki.” Sam let her name hang between them.
Finally, she looked at him, unguarded, and he saw the hurt that had been masked by anger since the day she returned from Atlanta, alone.
“I’m so sorry. Can you forgive me?”
As she continued to stare at him, he wished he could read the thoughts racing behind the emerald eyes he once could not get enough of, the eyes that now penetrated into the deepest crevice in his soul where he had hidden his darkest secret.
“Lieutenant—”
“Nikki. Please don’t—” He closed his eyes and held up his hands. When he opened them again, she had turned away.
She wiped a smudge on the laptop screen, took a deep breath and dropped her hands in her lap. “Sam. It happened. I’m not sorry it happened, but it was wrong.” She paused. “We were both wrong.”
Sam bowed his head. Something inside of him wrestled free and released. The words had not come easily for Nikki, but before he could respond, Wade walked in.
“Judge Hubbs is waiting for us, Shaw. Lieutenant, we’ll be back as soon as we have the exact location and a predator to arrest.”
“Put your daughter’s laptop back in her room.” Nikki transformed back into a detective and hurried to the door. “And don’t act like anything is up. We can’t risk her tipping this guy off or saying something to make him suspicious. And keep an eye on her. I know the plan is for Thursday, but he can change that in a second. I have her login and password, and I changed the settings, so I’ll get notifications on my phone when they chat. I’ll monitor their communication.”
The door shut behind them, and Sam stood alone in the aftermath of a tsunami. How in the world did Shaw expect him to return the laptop and act normal? Right now he wanted nothing more than to pick up his girls from school and barricade them inside his home for the rest of their lives. How could he allow her to continue to communicate with a—
Sam paced, running his hand through his hair, looking from the laptop to her bedroom, willing himself to pick up the machine and obey Shaw’s instructions. He felt like he was handing his daughter the world’s most venomous serpent. But, that was the father in him. Sam clenched his jaw and summoned the detective he knew he was, knew he had to be, to protect his daughter.
Maggie watched Sam mutate into a man she didn’t recognize—and didn’t want to know. She felt like she had entered a holy sanctuary, uninvited and unwelcome, as she eavesdropped on the conversation between her husband and the other woman. However vague, Sam acknowledging his sin was an intimate moment between the two of them, which Maggie was forced to witness. It was also foreign for her to see him plead, to genuinely admit his fault, to ask forgiveness. Maybe, she decided, that absolved Sam’s transgression.
But that was not important now. She focused on Sam as he paced, fear visible in his expression. She didn’t understand everything about the ISP, the judge, or the warrant, but she knew she’d been right to take control of the laptop—to play the music and type out the password and force Sam to see the threat that had invaded their home. She also knew the terror that trembled through her was justified.
CHAPTER 26
Rachel sat on a bench in the courtyard near the school entrance, pretending to read To Kill a Mockingbird for English class. At first she felt obvious, like a bullfrog in a koi pond. But soon she realized she was invisible. Kids ambled by in groups, loaded down with backpacks, laughing and elbowing, or in pairs, heads together, sharing secrets or answers to last night’s homework. Occasionally, a couple walked by, hand in hand, floating in a little world created for just the two of them. Her heart fluttered. Would that be her soon?
She scolded herself for getting distracted. She had to stop watching the crowd and instead seek out an individual. He would be alone perhaps, like her, and look smart, with glasses. And his hair probably wasn’t styled like the popular boys. But if others would really look at him—and not through him—they would see his dark brown eyes and a huge smile and realize he’s cute. At least, that’s how she imagined him.
She gazed into blankness, picturing the boy she was searching for, instead of actually searching. She would never pick him out of the flow of traffic if she didn’t focus. She had to watch closely, for a sign perhaps. Maybe, just maybe when he saw her, he would summon the courage to identify himself—a shy wave of the hand or a wink. Maybe he would say her name silently, and she would recognize it as his mouth formed the syllables. Or maybe it would be a glance, quiet, all knowing, shared between the two of them caught in the middle of this sea of students hurrying to first period.
Hurrying? Rachel pulled herself out of her imaginary world once again. She must have missed the bell, and if he had walked by, if he had tried to give her a sign, she’d missed that, too.
Detectives gathered around the dining room table for the second day in a row. Maggie had been forced to silently, helplessly, witness many difficult moments in the past several months, but none were so agonizing as listening to the detectives, to her husband, gamble with her daughter’s life.
“It’s a decision only you can make, Lieutenant.” Detective Shaw glanced from Sam to the other detective and back to Sam. “But if it were my daughter, I know what I would do. I would go with the plan that gave me the optimal chance to bust this guy and put him away for a very long time. I wouldn’t risk leaving room for a technicality or reasonable doubt to let a jury go soft on him.”
“It’s unorthodox.” Sam’s jaw was set. “We get a stand-in or we wait for the guy to show up. We’ve got his messages, he makes an appearance at the location he selected, and we make a good arrest.”
Detective Wade remained a silent spectator beside Maggie.
“A good arrest maybe. But there’s risk. What if he recognizes the stand-in isn’t Rachel? He won’t make contact, and then he’ll drop off the grid and we’ll never find him—well, not until he victimizes some other innocent young girl.”
“If he doesn’t make contact, you have an address. We’ll go pick him up.” Sam sat back in his chair, laced his fingers through his hair, and squeezed his hands into fists. Was he giving in?
“Then why don’t we do that now?”
Maggie recognized the challenge Shaw threw down. Sam released a disgusted sigh and thrust his hands in the air. He was about to admit defeat.
“Because the address is a boarding house.” Shaw spoke slowly, reminding him of the complication. “If we go, we don’t know which boarder we are after. If we spook him, he’s gone.”
Sam rested his elbows on the table and buried his face in his hands. “I know. I just wish there was a better way.”
Wade broke his silence. “I know it’s not ideal, Lieutenant, but we need to get this guy. If it were anyone else’s kid, I’d never agree to this, and Shaw would have never suggested it. But Rachel is going to be safe.” Wade pushed a legal pad toward Sam and pointed to a diagram of the park. “The guy wants Rachel to wait on this bench by the parking lot. Their meeting time is near dark, so he is counting on the park being empty, no witnesses. SWAT will be in this tree line. These restrooms here. Shaw and I will be behind them. We’ll have full view and can get to Rachel in seconds. Unmarked cars will
be near both park entrances.”
“As soon as he makes contact, we go in.” Shaw jabbed the table with her finger, emphasizing her words.
Maggie watched Sam consider the options. She was going to lose. He would not choose the safest plan, which was to keep Rachel out of it all together. He was going with the surest plan. How could he?
Sam pointed to the diagram. “I will be here. This dumpster gives me the closest access to Rachel.”
“Lieutenant, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you—”
“Wade, she is my daughter.” Sam’s back stiffened. “It is my job to protect her. If I am going to put her in harm’s way, then harm will have to go through me.”
Maggie thought Nikki Shaw looked too satisfied. Clearly she didn’t have a daughter of her own. Sam appeared resolved, but his pale complexion betrayed him. And Maggie herself experienced a heightened sense of terror, one she knew would only get worse in the next thirty-six hours, but still, she couldn’t imagine how.
CHAPTER 27
Sam eyed the clock on the mantel. The minute hand seemed frozen, as if it hadn’t moved from the minute before, although an hour had passed since dinner—the long, awkward, agonizing dinner. Sam had studied Rachel, wondering how she could pretend to be so calm when he was about to internally combust. But Rachel was simply meeting a boy. Another kid from school she had no reason to fear. He, on the other hand, was simultaneously risking and saving his daughter’s life. The pizza he chewed tasted like a sponge, and the bullet-proof vest beneath his loose sweatshirt added its own challenge. Sam shifted to adjust his vest. How had he worn it all day every day for twenty-two years? But he knew how. Every day is a good day when you make it home from the job, he would say. The vest was his insurance policy, and a promise to Maggie.
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