THE WILDE TOUCH: Book Two of The Touch Series

by Stoni Alexander

  To his left sat his cousin, FBI Case Agent, Danny Strong. A dedicated agent, Danny’s expertise with surveillance equipment made him a subject matter expert. Over the past several months, he’d advocated hard for state-of-the-art surveillance equipment. This meeting was step one in the agency’s mission to improve operations.

  The three lead members for the source selection evaluation panel from the FBI’s Criminal Division included the Contracting Officer, Deputy Director of Field Operations, and Surveillance Program Manager.

  Though today’s outcome was critical to Crockett both personally and professionally, he was neither nervous nor excited. The determination that spurred him forward also anchored him to work late into the evening and on many-a-weekend. He was driven, but his motives were selfish. Staying focused redirected his constant pain and utter frustration. Some called him obsessed but he didn’t give a fuck what anyone said.

  All eyes stayed glued to the stealth Horse Fly as Crockett maneuvered the tiny robot in mid-air before achieving a flawless landing on the Formica. Another tap on the tablet and the Black Fly rose undetected from the corner of the floor. It blended so well with the carpet that the Deputy Director of Field Ops jumped when it hovered next to her.

  “Very lifelike,” she said, quickly composing herself.

  “Thank you,” said Crockett. “The insect on the table is modeled after the Horse Fly. The Black Fly is airborne.”

  Crockett’s cousin, Danny, pulled two flying beetles from his pocket and set them on the table. “For comparison. These surveillance devices are what the agency currently uses.”

  Crockett tossed him an acknowledgement nod. Wilde Innovations’s bugs were half the size of the inch-and-a-half beetles. That alone could secure this lucrative deal.

  “The one that’s been perched on my head is designed after the Moth Fly.” Crockett activated the third insect, but it wouldn’t budge. With a steady hand on the tablet, he tried again. Still, no movement. Dammit. This had never happened with any of his surveillance devices.

  “I’ll be darned.” The Surveillance Program Manager craned to see. “Has that been in your hair the whole time?”

  He set the bug on the table in front of him and hoped no one would ask him why he hadn’t flown it there. “It’s mission critical that these devices mimic real insects. We’ve camouflaged them as much as possible. The challenge slowed down the prototype, but we worked out the kinks.” Or so I’d thought.

  “Great job,” said the Contracting Officer between wheezy breaths.

  Signaling an end to the demonstration, Crockett landed Black beside Horse in the center of the table. As casually as possible, he slipped Moth into his suit jacket pocket. If anyone asked him to fly that insect, the most important surveillance opportunity of his career would crash before it got airborne.

  “You’re welcome to handle them.” Crockett picked up Horse and passed it to the Deputy Director. “These UAVs—Unmanned Aerial Vehicles—are sturdier than they look, but if they get crushed underfoot or wheeled by a tire, we lose a $65,000 bug.”

  “No kidding.” She turned the drone over and examined his underside. “I would have guessed these cost six figures.”

  “They did, but after several iterations, along with retooling the manufacturing, we reduced cost without sacrificing quality,” Crockett explained. “Everything we produce at Wilde is American made and assembled.”

  The Program Manager placed Black in his palm, then removed his glasses to examine the insect up close. “Impressive.”

  These bugs weren’t life-size replicas, but they were as close as Crockett and his innovators could manage, yet still design a powerhouse machine that would act as the undetected eyes and ears of surveillance agents.

  While the tiny equipment was passed around and examined against the current working models, Crockett redirected the discussion to better understand the agency’s needs. The conversation lasted all of ten minutes. Vague summed up that portion of the meeting.

  Crockett rolled back his chair. While today’s attendees had shown keen interest, this was step one in a three-part process. And each round would be more grueling than the previous one. Though Crockett had secured a contract for his Spy Flies with another government entity and several law enforcement agencies, doing business with the FBI had always been his primary goal.

  Unfortunately, the agency’s vendor award could take anywhere from a few weeks to several months. The wheels of bureaucracy moved too slowly. He bit back the rising frustration and forced a smile.

  After a round of handshakes, Crockett retrieved their cell phones from his safe, and delivered his guests to the elevator bank. Only Danny stayed behind.

  “Thanks for pulling this together.” Crockett patted his cousin on the back. “You know the players. What’s your take?”

  “They were impressed and that carries weight. I know you’re pushing for these to hit the streets—like yesterday—but there’s a lot of moving parts.” Danny paused for several seconds, his expression growing somber. “I’ve heard back from forensics.”

  “About the girl’s remains?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Let’s talk in my office.”

  The two men, looking more like brothers than cousins with their dark brown hair and bright blue eyes, strode down the hall to Crockett’s corner office. After closing his door, Crockett leaned on the corner of his large, somewhat cluttered desk and crossed his arms. His pounding heart thundered in his ears. Please don’t be her.

  With his back to his cousin, Danny stared out the window of the Crystal City building as the steady stream of planes landed at Reagan National Airport. After a moment, he said. “It’s not Sophia.”

  Hope, mixed with the familiar feeling of frustration, leapt from Crockett’s guts. “Confirmed?”

  Danny turned to face him. “Dental records.”

  “This is good news.”

  Danny’s phone rang and he silenced it. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” Crockett pinned him with a hard stare. “That means she’s alive.”

  Danny’s brow knotted, but he stayed silent. Crockett knew all too well what his cousin wanted to say. “Just because we haven’t found her remains doesn’t mean she’s still with us.” But Crockett believed his sister was alive. That single hope kept him from going insane. His fingers ached from gripping the desk and he pushed off the sturdy furniture. “I’m relieved, but we’re no closer to finding her.”

  “It’s a big world and a cold case. She was abducted a long time ago, Crockett.”

  For thirteen years his pain and anger had festered. A sore that wouldn’t heal until Crockett found her. “How’s Allison?” Crockett purposefully changed the subject to Danny’s wife.

  “We’ve been trying to get pregnant but encountered some problems.” Concern etched Danny’s eyes.

  “Nothing serious, I hope.”

  “We’re waiting for test results.”

  “I’m here if you want to talk.” Crockett shook his cousin’s hand. “Give my love to Allison and thanks for today.”

  “You did a helluva job.” Danny got two steps from Crockett’s door and turned. “Almost forgot. I asked one of our forensic artists to sketch a facial approximation of Sophia from a photo I had of us as kids. Thought you’d want a copy.” He handed Crockett a folder, then left.

  As Crockett stared at the rendering of his sister, his chest tightened. The artist had captured the innocence in her eyes, something he assumed was long gone. She’d been fourteen when she was taken. His attention drifted out the window. Like clockwork, planes landed every ninety seconds. Where are you, Soph?

  Had she been forced into a vehicle and driven hundreds of miles from their childhood home? Was she being held prisoner in another country? Or had she been murdered years ago? Am I chasing her or her ghost? He wanted to punch his fist through a fucking wall, but he knew, firsthand, the only thing that accomplished was breaking bones.

  Even with three different private i
nvestigators on retainer, his sister had vanished as if she’d never existed. Shortly after her disappearance, police had found her backpack in a woodsy area near the Wilde home in Uvalde, Texas. She’d been abducted on her way home from high school. Law enforcement had little to go on.

  With any luck, he’d be awarded the FBI contract. His army of robotic flies would be deployed and one of the skilled agents would track down his sister. He slid the folder into his computer bag. I’ll never give up on you, sis.

  Regardless of Crockett’s constant heartache, he was so damn proud of his team. His hard-working employees deserved his utmost gratitude. But his problem with Moth needed immediate attention. He pulled the tiny robotic bug from his pocket and set it on his desk, then texted his Chief Innovator and second in command, Decker Daughtry. “Man down during demo.”

  In less than thirty seconds, Decker jogged into his office. “What happened?” His hair, usually tied back in a man-bun, fell loosely around his face.

  “I have no fucking idea. When I activated wheels up, nothing.”

  “Which one?”

  “Moth.”

  “This is bad.”

  “I figured that part out on my own.” Crockett raked his hand through his tidy hair.

  “Tell me they didn’t notice.”

  “We got lucky. I redirected their attention back to Horse and Black.”

  As Crockett updated him on the three-round procurement process, Decker snatched his phone from his jeans pocket. “I’ll work with Engineering and Quality Assurance.”

  “Try to fly her now.” Crockett waited while Decker tapped his screen.

  As if the glitch earlier had never happened, the tiny surveillance device lifted gracefully into the air. Decker zoomed her around the room but paused her in mid-flight, to study her wing rotation. “She’s fine.”

  Crockett’s jaw ticked. “Like hell she’s fine. Goddammit, she had a malfunction.”

  “Is it possible you thought you’d powered her up, but hadn’t?” Decker landed the Spy Fly on the conference table.

  Crockett let out a grunt. “Winning this contract is top priority. Don’t question me like I’ve never run a damn demo before.”

  Shuffling from side to side, Decker shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. “Righto. I’ll order extensive testing and let you know.” After collecting the device, he bolted.

  Though Crockett continued working, the nagging concern over Moth’s failure gnawed at him. This was a problem he’d never before encountered. What happened to that bug?

  At six thirty, he closed his office door, changed into his black karate gi and left. He’d unleash his mounting frustration on a punching bag.

  Plowing through rush hour traffic, he wolfed down two power bars and arrived at the martial arts studio twenty minutes later. After a quick bow at the entryway of the spacious dojo, he stopped short. Not only was the large room buzzing with activity, several more rows of steel chairs had been added to accommodate parents, grandparents and siblings. The lower belts are testing tonight.

  Ignoring his aggravation, he shed his running shoes, pulled his black belt from his duffel, and shoved everything else into a wall cubby.

  Crockett had been working exclusively with the white belt tiny tots since the class began, so he couldn’t duck out. He’d be needed to observe and assist while Sensei tested them. As a part-time instructor, he received a small salary, but forfeited his wages to the karate school’s education fund so financially challenged families could benefit from martial arts training.

  Working with the children was the one thing that calmed him and, on occasion, made him smile. They were full of enthusiasm and soaked up everything he taught them. Crockett wanted—no, he needed—to teach them about self-defense. If his younger sister had taken karate like he had—

  “Hello, Mr. Wilde,” said Sensei. “Ready for next month’s black belt competition?”

  Annie Rodele owned and ran Rodele Karate. Students learned Taikido Jitsu, a mixed martial art that incorporated techniques from Budo Taijutsu, Tae Kwon Do, Hapkido, and Ju-Jitsu. Besides receiving excellent training, Crockett liked how she taught her students life lessons, respect, and offered the best self-defense training in Northern Virginia.

  “I’m ready to get my butt kicked,” Crockett said.

  She laughed. “Nah. You’re as prepared as you’ve ever been.”

  Even as a sixth-degree Taikido Jitsu black belt, there were no guaranteed wins. Time and training had taught him to never underestimate his opponent. “Thank you. Big crowd tonight.”

  “I want you to lead the white belts,” Annie said. “I’ll back you.”

  His eyebrows jutted up. “You always handle testing.”

  “You’ve been working with this young group since late summer. They’re comfortable around you and they trust you.”

  “I’d be honored,” Crockett said.

  “It’s a piece of cake. Just like class, only smile more.” She grinned. “You’re going to be featured in everyone’s home videos and photos.”

  He chuckled. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Excuse me, Mr. Wilde,” said a small voice next to him. Hannah, a dark-haired squirt with bluish-gray eyes, tugged on his karate uniform. Her timid nature had stolen his heart.

  Annie smiled at the six-year-old. “You ready for your test, Hannah?”

  “Yes, Sensei. ” Hannah looked a little pasty.

  “You’ll do great.” She patted Hannah’s back, smiled warmly at Crockett, and took off toward the rowdy group of green belts.

  With her hand still gripping the edge of his uniform, Hannah whispered, “I don’t want to do this. I’m scared.”

  He knelt down and offered a reassuring smile. “It’s okay and perfectly normal to feel scared or nervous. Sensei has given me permission to lead the test”—her eyes lit up—“so it’ll be just like class. All you have to do is follow my instruction. You can do that, right?”

  “Uh-huh.” She fiddled with the ends of her white belt.

  Crockett spied another student entering the dojo. “Isn’t Aleesha your partner?”

  She nodded.

  “Well, she just arrived.”

  Hannah spun around.

  “Why don’t you tell her that I’ll be working with you guys tonight?”

  When she turned back, the color had returned to her cheeks. “Okay.”

  “Feel better?”

  She gave him several quick nods and a tiny smile, then darted toward her friend.

  Ten minutes later, the audience hummed with excitement. Standing room only. Phones at the ready. After a brief introduction about the efforts and hard work of her talented students, Annie introduced the young white belt class. She stepped away so Crockett could take center stage on the red mats. His eighteen tots lined up into four rows. Facing them, he bowed. The energetic youngsters bowed back. Next, he walked them through the basics.

  “Jab.” He thrust his fisted right arm forward.

  “Hyah!” they shouted in unison, mimicking his action.

  One at a time, he demonstrated the moves for knife hand, front and back kicks, along with heel-stomp kick. Each time they yelled, “Hyah!” with gusto as they followed his every move.

  When the test ended, fifteen minutes later, they bowed in unison and Sensei joined Crockett on the mat. “Mr. Wilde, your students are well trained. How do you think they performed this evening?” she asked, projecting so the last row of guests could hear.

  “They did a fantastic job and I recommend each student for promotion to yellow belt.”

  “Congratulations, students!” she said.

  The audience applauded while Crockett awarded each tyke with a certificate. The other adult instructors quickly added a yellow strip of adhesive tape to their white belts. As the proud little ones traipsed off the mats, Crockett shook each of their small hands.

  “Thank you, Mr. Wilde.” Hannah beamed. “That was fun.”

  Pleased with her newfound confidence, Crockett smiled.
“You did a great job, Hannah.”

  An hour and a half later, Crockett left the karate studio still brimming with pent-up energy and no foreseeable outlet. He tossed his duffel onto the passenger seat and jumped into his truck. Two minutes from home, his cell rang. Kimberly Mitus. He hit the speaker.

  “Hi, Kimberly, are you okay?” Crockett tried to hide his concern for the late night call. He worried about his best friend’s mom. She’d been undergoing chemo and radiation treatment for brain cancer. Initially, she’d had a tough go of it, but the recent change in her medication seemed to be helping.

  “Goodness, yes. I’m checking to see if you’re going to Colton’s party Friday night.”

  “I wouldn’t miss giving him a hard time about getting engaged. Do you need a ride?” he asked.

  “You might not be my child, but you’re definitely my favorite.” He could hear the smile in her voice. “Thanks, but Alexandra is taking me. Have you seen her since she got back?”

  “No,” he replied dryly. He hadn’t spoken with Alexandra in eleven years, though their last conversation had been branded into his long-term memory.

  “I can’t wait to meet Brigit,” she said, breaking the silence Crockett refused to fill.

  “She’s good for Colton. You’ll love her.” He pulled into the garage of his Rosslyn high-rise.

  “Alexandra said the exact same thing.”

  Persistent like a Mitus. “I might lose you.” He cut the engine in his assigned spot. “I’m parking in my building.”

  “Thanks for emailing me the photos of your new condo. Beautiful views. Who did I ask to work with you again?”

  “Tammy Mackley. I’m sorry it couldn’t have been you.”

  “Me, too.” Kimberly sighed. “Maybe you can help Alexandra find a place. She’s renting a room in the Lyon Park area of Arlington.”

  He wanted to laugh. Kimberly led one of the most successful real estate teams in Northern Virginia and she wanted him to help find her daughter a place to live. “How are you feeling since the doc changed your meds?” Crockett asked, refusing to take the bait.