Bell to Pay

by Jeremy Waldron

  Allison’s gaze locked with Susan’s. “My point is, you’re falling into his hands like putty. And you know what else?”

  “What?” Susan said through clenched teeth.

  “I think you might like him.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Susan turned her head away before Allison could see her cheeks bloom like red roses.

  “I don’t know.” Allison’s head swiveled on her neck as she looked around. “This place seems legit. I don’t think there’s anything you have to worry about.”

  After their rendezvous at Samantha’s house early this morning, they’d spent the rest of their morning arranging their work schedules before making a list of potential hackers who could possibly be behind the mysterious intrusion to Samantha’s home network.

  “Maybe I should just call him and tell him today isn’t a good time.”

  “He’ll show.” Allison assured her. “Relax, would you?”

  Susan shifted her weight and sighed. “Aren’t you worried about Sam?”

  Allison’s lips closed. “Yes, but Sam knows what she’s doing.”

  “Her house was hacked. Someone is watching her. Who knows exactly what other stories she’s investigating.”

  “Listen, I’m scared too, but this isn’t anything new for her. She’s seen it and done it before. Let’s also not forget that she’s dating a highly decorated detective who is more than capable of protecting the woman he loves.”

  Susan knew Allison was right. King wouldn’t let anything happen to Samantha—unless he didn’t know about what was happening. Argh. Susan felt more unsettled than before.

  “Screw it, Mr. Black can meet us inside.” Susan reached for the knob, swung the door open, and stepped inside.

  Allison was a step behind. As soon as they entered, a half-dozen young eyes lifted to see who walked through the door. Many of the young men and women were busy working on a collection of different projects, many of which also required them to be on a personal computer.

  “It’s nice,” Allison said, taking a deeper look after her first glance around.

  Susan agreed, watching Allison begin interacting with the students. Allison spoke their language, was easy to relate to, and soon laughs were shared and high fives were given as Susan found herself in the front of the room looking at a poster pinned to the bulletin board.

  “Ali,” Susan called. “Come take a look at this.”

  Allison was all smiles as she made her way to the front of the room.

  Susan jutted her jaw toward the poster. “Should I still be cautious?”

  Allison tipped her head back and read what it said. Her eyes narrowed into tiny slits and Susan knew that Allison was thinking the same.

  “Tell me I shouldn’t have brought you along.”

  “This doesn’t mean anything.” Allison tossed her hitch hikers thumb over her shoulder and pointed it at the announcement for a hacker event coming up. Speaking in a hushed tone, she said, “It’s a computer lab. These types of events happen all the time.”

  Susan raised her eyebrows and felt the tightness in her chest squeeze. Could it be that she wouldn’t have thought much of it if hackers hadn’t already been on her radar? Maybe. But it was enough of a coincidence to further convince her to get to know Damien Black before signing him on as a new client.

  The door jangled behind them. A warm breeze swept across the floor and Susan turned to find Damien enter. His dimples deepened above a strong jawline that had Susan smiling. Making his way across the room, he greeted several students as he passed. They seemed happy to see him, and Susan considered that a good sign.

  “I’m sorry I’m late,” he said to Susan, not once mentioning anything about not waiting for him outside like he requested. “Have you had some time to look around?”

  “We have.” Susan introduced Allison. Damien shook her hand and Allison gave her elevator pitch into what she did for a living. Susan knew they would hit it off, and they did.

  “Is that right?” Damien exuded a warm glow.

  “Great place you have here,” Allison said enthusiastically. “I wish I’d known about it before; I know of several kids from my neighborhood it might have benefited.”

  “We’re getting our name out,” Damien said. “Slowly, but surely.”

  “I couldn’t help but notice the hacker event.” Susan turned to face the bulletin board. “Are you the one sponsoring it?”

  “Not me.” Damien had his hands inside his pants pockets when he stepped forward. “But I encourage all our students to consider competing.”

  “Any of your students take you up on it?” Allison asked.

  “Yes.” Damien turned his head and peered down into Allison’s eyes. “All the time.”

  Susan wanted to ask him about where she could get her hands on a list of names, but was afraid it might open up too many questions she wasn’t sure she had the answers to. Besides, it seemed like an invasive request for having only met yesterday. But her mind was still on Samantha, and this could be their ticket into learning who this mysterious hacker they were all after might be.

  “Hackers are the unsung heroes of our time,” Damien said, getting Susan’s full attention. “Without them, we’d be worse off than we already are.”

  “Vigilantes of our time.” Allison grinned.

  Susan couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Was Allison playing along or agreeing with him? Susan couldn’t decide.

  “Yes.” Damien looked to Allison with a bit of surprise flashing over his handsome eyes. “I suppose they are.”

  “I’ve heard of these events.” Allison flicked her gaze to Susan. “Hackers compete against one another to expose cracks in the code to software we all use nearly every single day.”

  “Exactly,” Damien said. “And bounties are paid to the winners. It’s cheaper for companies to pay the hackers than it is to be caught vulnerable and exposed to something that could result in something much worse and certainly more expensive.”

  Susan stood there quietly thinking about Richard Thompson and Samantha’s theories on how he died. “I guess I know nothing about them,” Susan admitted.

  Damien’s voice perked up. “Hackers receive a bad rap but, like anything, one bad actor will set the tone for everyone else who follows. But that’s why Backstage exists. I want to change that stereotype and bring the underground above ground. Events like these keep the club members interested in a healthy and productive way.”

  Susan glanced one last time to the poster, deciding her doubts were nothing more than fears keeping her from thinking hackers could only be bad.

  “Come.” Damien motioned for them to follow. “Let me show you the lab.”

  Over the next half-hour Damien walked them through the different projects the lab had to offer. They spoke to students of various ages and learned about all things technology; computer programming, engineering, robotics, drones, games, and A.I.—artificial intelligence.

  “It’s truly impressive,” Allison said, grinning as she let her eyes drift across the room. “But I know how much all this equipment costs, and it’s not cheap. How do you afford all of it?”

  Damien rolled his eyes over to Susan. “Funding is always a challenge to keep things going, but that’s where I was hoping you could help.”

  “I’m almost there, but first tell me how you select the students who are here?”

  Damien explained how each student goes through a lengthy application and interview process before being accepted into the program. “As much as we would like to allow anybody to be part of our lab, we want only those who are most serious. Once they’re accepted, it’s free tuition until they take their skills out into the real world.”

  Allison was staring at Susan when she said, “What more do you need to know?”

  “There is one more piece to the equation that might help you decide.” Damien cleared his throat. “We don’t have much time, and if we can’t secure a large donation soon, Backstage will be forced to close.”
r />   “Oh, my God.” Allison gasped.

  “The lease is too high.” Damien nodded, his voice going soft. “But what scares me most is, if these doors close, then where will these young men and women be? Their alternatives are grim, and the last thing I want for them is to turn to a life of crime.”

  Chapter Forty-Five

  “What she’s suggesting is that the insulin pump malfunctioned.” King turned his attention to his partner who was still twirling Donny’s insulin pump inside his hand, shaking his head.

  “Everything is connected,” Alvarez said without looking up.

  “What are you saying, that maybe it was hacked?”

  Alvarez lifted his gaze, stared out over the dash, and shrugged. “Maybe. Donny was a computer guy and we live in a world where machines are more eager to learn than humans. It’s why jobs are being outsourced to robots. It won’t be long before we’re half-robot, half-human.”

  King stopped listening halfway through his partner’s rant. Looking through the glare in the windshield glass, King did think that maybe Alvarez was right about one thing. Perhaps, the device could have been hacked. “Rose did say that Donny had enemies.”

  “Yeah. But could a paper reporter pull off a murder like this?”

  Alvarez sounded skeptical, and King was, too. The crowd was still marching across the street from Donny Counts’s house, shouting obscenities toward Rose’s front door. Something didn’t seem right about this—even Rose’s excuse for calling them seemed a bit farfetched.

  “There is no crime scene here,” King shook his head and said softly.

  Slowly, his fingers curled into his palm until squeezing into a tight fist. He was feeling as frustrated with this assignment as he knew Alvarez was. Worse, he was still thinking of the boy who was shot dead in the streets last night, and how the case would turn cold, just like the previous gang-related murders, because the city cared more about the rich than the poor.

  “You see that?” King pointed to a picket sign that caught his attention.

  Alvarez squinted behind his dark sunglasses. “And why would that man think Thompson and Counts are thieves?”

  “Maybe that was what Rose was referring to?”

  “Journalists just don’t go writing stories to slander people’s reputations.” Alvarez didn’t understand how the news about Donny Counts had spread as quickly as a brush fire in the hottest part of August, but that was exactly what had happened.

  “The media has done far worse.” King rolled his eyes to his partner. “But clearly, both men are guilty in the people’s eyes.”

  “You know what I’m thinking?” Alvarez flicked his gaze to his partner. “I’m thinking Rose has the most to gain from Donny’s death.” Alvarez knocked the center console with his knuckles and nodded.

  “You don’t believe anything she said about Joey Garcia?”

  “Something tells me it’s not 100% accurate.”

  King cranked the engine, put the car in gear, and set the wheels in motion. “Then I guess we’ll just have to ask him ourselves.”

  Chapter Forty-Six

  King stepped out into a neighborhood not too different than his own. The afternoon sun hid behind a tall spruce as he took a moment to glance around and gain his bearings.

  He couldn’t recall having ever personally met Joey Garcia, but he knew who he was, knew his column in the Times. King found Rose’s comments most interesting, but they were walking a thin line since Robbins and Zimmerman’s decision to bring Samantha down to the station for questioning. He was sure the Times attorneys were aware of it by now. Approaching another one of their reporters started to make it look like harassment.

  “Garcia covered Thompson’s death; maybe he’s working on telling Counts’s too?” Alvarez suggested as they approached Garcia’s front door.

  “Wouldn’t that be interesting?” King knocked.

  “You want to take the lead, or should I?”

  “I’ll take it,” King offered, thinking he had an easy way in by name-dropping Samantha if he had to. “It’s important we get ourselves into Garcia’s office without having to get a warrant.”

  Alvarez nodded just as the lock clicked over. A dark haired woman of about thirty-five answered. “Can I help you?”

  “Mrs. Garcia?”

  “Yes, that’s me.” Her eyes traveled between the two detectives. “I’m Cecelia.”

  King introduced themselves, showed her his badge. The lines on her face deepened with anxiety. “What’s this about? Is my husband okay?”

  King heard little pitter-patter sounds scampering across the floor. A cute three-year-old wedged her head between the door and her mother’s leg. King smiled and she giggled and played shy. “He is,” King said. “Is Joey home?”

  Cecelia’s eyes glistened with worry. “He’s not.”

  “When do you expect him back?”

  “Not until evening. He’s a reporter at the Times.”

  King shared a knowing look. He and Alvarez had debated taking their chances and finding him at the newsroom, but in the end it wasn’t really Joey they were after, but the secrets they hoped Joey kept hidden in his home office away from curious eyes.

  “If this is about a story he’s working,” Cecelia’s hand was on her daughter’s head, “I can call him and find out where he is.”

  A motorcycle with a loud muffler ripped past on the street behind. “Can we come inside?” King asked as soon as the noise was gone.

  Cecelia wet her lips and nodded her head.

  Stepping inside the modest sized house, Cecelia was quick to offer them something to drink which both men politely declined. The little girl kept stealing glances at King, and King made her giggle when making a funny face.

  “Has your husband seemed himself these past couple of days?” Alvarez asked.

  Cecelia motioned for them to take a seat at the dining room table. King sat and watched the little girl pick up a doll. She was still giggling at King when he heard Cecelia say, “Joey has been under tremendous stress lately.”

  “Any particular reason?”

  “Personal finances and the stress of potentially losing his position at the paper.” Cecelia rolled her gaze to her daughter. “Is Joey in any kind of trouble?”

  “No. No.” Alvarez shook his head. “We just saw his story on Richard Thompson and thought maybe he was also writing about Donny Counts.”

  “I’ve seen the news,” Cecelia said without being prompted. “Heard the little bit Joey talked about it. But I don’t recall him ever mentioning anything about Donny Counts.”

  “He’s covered him in the past, though, right?”

  “I believe so.” Cecelia cast her gaze to the wedding band she was twisting around her finger. “I can’t keep up anymore.” She looked to her daughter. “Katie has leukemia, and it’s taken my attention away from Joey.” Her eyes were back on King. “Unfortunately, our relationship has suffered because of it.”

  King was staring at Katie, feeling his heart slowly chip away at the thought of her battle with cancer. “I’m sorry to hear.”

  “We’re dealing with it.” Cecelia sighed. “Praying every day that a miracle will be given.”

  Turning back to face Cecelia, King asked, “Does Joey have a home office?”

  “In the back.”

  “Mind if we take a look around?”

  Cecelia’s eyes were strong but sad as she held King’s gaze. “Sure. It’s the last door at the end of the hall on the right.”

  King nodded and stood. Cecelia didn’t follow them as they made their way to the back of the house. The office door was closed but easy to open.

  “Nicely done, partner,” Alvarez said quietly into King’s ear once they were inside Garcia’s home office.

  Each of them went to work. They divided up the room between them, opening drawers, searching files, and thumbing through papers left out on top. The computer was on but password protected. After ten minutes of quiet, Alvarez asked, “Anything?”

 
; “Only chicken scratch notes on a legal pad.” King swiveled around in the chair he was sitting in and pointed to the center of the page. “But look here, recognize any of these names?”

  “Parker Collins, Ronald Hyland,” Alvarez muttered, “and Donny Counts.”

  They shared a look. “No mention of Richard Thompson.”

  “Either he wasn’t part of this, or these names came after he died.”

  Alvarez kneeled and searched the trash bin. Digging through crumpled paper and empty ink cartridges, he suddenly stopped when finding something they’d both seen before.

  “Holy shit,” he said.

  King stole it from his partner’s grip. It was the exact copy of Samantha’s article that Robbins and Zimmerman found on Richard Thompson’s desk. “Maybe Rose wasn’t lying after all.”

  “So did Garcia try to blackmail Thompson with a Bitcoin account? Or is Garcia in cahoots with Rose and they’re in on this together?”

  King was still studying Samantha’s article when he said, “I don’t know, but I think I might know someone who might.”

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Technology was driving me mad. An overdose at the hands of Donny Counts’s insulin pump and, suddenly, I knew that my mysterious online friend wasn’t lying. Loxley had killed Counts. I still couldn’t explain how he’d done it, but I now understood what he was communicating through the messages he was sending me. But who was Loxley? Was he planning to strike again?

  “This is unreal, Sam,” Erin said, looking at me with disbelief filling her eyes.

  “I know.”

  “But it certainly fits the pattern.”

  We dropped into my Outback, shut the door, and I immediately called Allison, wanting to know if this was even possible. She didn’t answer so I left a message telling her where we were and to call as soon as she got this.

  I started the engine, but only to crack the windows. The truth was, I didn’t know where to go or what to do next. Was it even worth reporting on Donny’s potential Ponzi scheme when really we should all be asking ourselves who killed him and why? My to-do list was growing by the minute. I could call Dawson and report what I found, or I could follow up with the reason Garcia had my name scribbled next to Parker Collins. Neither of the two appealed to me.