Bell to Pay

by Jeremy Waldron

  Chapter Seventy-Five

  Travis was speeding out of the Motel 6 parking lot faster than I had time to text King.

  This might not be over. I just learned something about Damien Black. Loxley might still be alive.

  I swept my gaze up, watching the contrails of color fly past us as Travis floored it onto I-70 heading east. He was telling me that Hyland’s name kept coming up when he was trying to learn who hacked the paper. My nerves were frayed. It took everything I had to focus on what he was saying because all I could think was how absolutely insane this was to be chasing Damien like we had the authority to make an arrest.

  “I followed the clues Garcia left and it led me down this rabbit hole.” Travis kept flicking his gaze between me and the highway as he filled the gaps to his story. “That’s when a second name kept showing itself.”

  We locked eyes when I said, “Damien Black.”

  A knowing glimmer flashed in Travis’s eyes. “So I did some research and learned who he was.”

  “A world-class hacker.”

  “And one who had a history of stealing corporate secrets.”

  I knew it. It’d had Damien in my sights early on but lost confidence without the evidence to suggest he could actually be the man sending me messages. But, even worse, was that I left Susan with him.

  I wanted to tell King everything I was hearing, but there was no time. He was taking care of the scene at Garcia’s suicide. It was all surreal—almost unbelievable.

  Still holding the report, I asked Travis, “Was the paper the only company Damien hacked?”

  “It’s the only company I had access to.” He dropped his right hand and gripped the gear shift. “Maybe, but probably not. I’m sure there are others.”

  What Travis was accusing Damien and Hyland of running was a genius scheme unlike anything I had ever heard of. And they nearly got away with it, too.

  The only hole in this theory was that Garcia admitted in his note to killing Thompson, Counts, Collins, and Hyland. Everything suggested Damien would have been the murderer.

  I saw what happened in the back of that restaurant, even looked Damien in his eyes. What I saw was fear—so much so that I believed it to be his true feeling. Now I was questioning if that was real or if it was just one hell of an act.

  Flipping through the report for a third time, I asked, “Who told you to install Hyland’s cyber security software on our computers?”

  “I knew it was a good program before I was told to install it,” Travis said. “Not more than a week before I learned our system had been breached, a sales rep from Hyland’s office came to me pitching the latest version of their software.”

  “Coincidence?”

  “Couldn’t be.” Travis shook his head. “I refused their offer, said that our systems were doing just fine.”

  “And you think Damien hacked the paper after they didn’t close the sale?”

  “I’ve yet to figure that part out, or nail down an exact time when the hack occurred, but now I’d say it seems likely that’s what happened.”

  I pulled my hair back and hooked it around my ear. It was one hell of a business model if proved to be true. Damien exposed the vulnerability and Hyland provided the solution to solve it. They each cashed out and Travis had the details laid out with the evidence to back it up. I wondered how many other companies, small businesses, or even government institutions they conned. And that Susan was right to be cautious of Damien Black from the very beginning.

  “Get off on Colorado,” I said, telling Travis where to go. I was leading him back to the restaurant, but I knew our chances of finding Damien still there were slim.

  By the time we arrived, Travis let me out near the front. I hurried inside and was quickly told what I already knew. Everyone who was here before was now gone. The staff was busy cleaning up and forgetting what happened earlier. I could smell the preparations being made for the soon-to-be dinner rush.

  Pulling my phone out from my back pocket, I called Susan.

  “Sam, you all right?”

  “Joey’s dead.”

  “Jesus, I can’t take it anymore,” she cried.

  “Any chance you’re with Damien?”

  “No. Why? What’s going on?”

  “I’ll explain later.”

  “Sam, I don’t like your tone. What’s really going on?”

  I turned around and exited the building. “I’m with Travis, from work, but it appears we may have been fooled by Damien.”

  “What do you mean, fooled?”

  Travis was staring through the open passenger side window, looking at me like he was listening. “I’ll explain later. I was just hoping you knew where Damien went.”

  Susan didn’t know where he’d gone, but I doubted he would have gone back to Backstage. He was probably on his way to the airport, jetting off to some faraway place.

  “Any luck?” Travis asked as soon as I was buckled in my seat.

  I shook my head no and shoved my fingers through my hair. What were we going to do? I said, “He’s got to know that his secrets are out.” My head wouldn’t stop shaking with disbelief. “This is such a bad idea,” I said, picking up the report again. “We need to hand this case over to the authorities and let them decide what to do.”

  Travis looked me in the eye and said, “I have a better idea.”

  I gave him a sideways glance.

  “Let’s hack the hacker.”

  My eyebrows squished. “You can’t be serious.”

  Travis shrugged. “If he’s on the run, it’s our only chance to get him before he’s gone.”

  We had nothing left to lose. I’d given everything I had. I had to at least let Travis try to catch this bastard.

  “All right. Let’s do it,” I said.

  Chapter Seventy-Six

  Ten minutes later, we arrived to a duplex in a quiet neighborhood on the north side of the city. I stared out my window the entire drive, feeling my adrenaline spike waning. My day was quickly catching up to me, exhaustion settling into my bones. But I couldn’t let Damien disappear. If he did, I knew he would go underground and never surface again.

  Travis opened his door and I asked, “Is this your place?”

  Travis nodded and stared at the closed garage we parked in front of. “It’s not much but it’s home.”

  The yard was well-kept, and I could see a raised bed garden along the side of the house—a nice early season sprout taking off. I kicked my door open and stepped out, thinking how unreal today really was. There hadn’t been one, but two deaths already, and just the thought of another made me want to vomit up what little food I had inside.

  Travis held the front door open for me. “I have my computers set up in the kitchen.”

  I entered the dark house, pausing a moment by the door to allow my eyes time to adjust. There was an odd odor I couldn’t place. I would do anything to ensure that no one else died today, but with each minute that passed we were losing precious time that only filled me with doubt.

  Travis headed straight for the table where he had two laptops already open and running. Tapping away, I floated close behind, checking my phone as I went.

  There was still nothing from King, but then I noticed I was also without service. I fell into the wooden chair opposite Travis. Restarting my phone, I asked, “How are you going to hack him?”

  Without taking his eyes off of his work, Travis said, “I’m hoping I can use his cell phone number.” He paused and locked eyes with me. Then, as if reading my mind, he added, “I found it on Backstage’s website. I’ll use that to track his location.”

  Once my phone was powered on, I still didn’t have any bars. “You have service?”

  Travis fingered his cellphone, resting near the right side of the keyboard. “Huh. Nothing.”

  I clicked my tongue and gazed out the window.

  “If I can get inside his phone, I’m hoping he’s dumb enough to have installed Hyland’s own security app. With that, I should be abl
e to triangulate his approximate location.”

  As Travis spoke, I couldn’t help but think of Allison. The only difference between them was that Allison spoke a language I could actually understand. I just nodded along, trusting he knew what he was talking about.

  I angled back to the table and suddenly felt my foot accidently tap Travis’s beneath the table. Then, acting as if that was some kind of invitation, Travis slid his foot up my calf.

  My eyes widened a fraction as I froze, hoping he was joking. Slowly, I lifted my gaze and found him staring with a glint in his eye that had me scrambling to figure out how to tell him no.

  “Travis—” Things quickly got awkward.

  “I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  Feeling extremely uncomfortable, I asked, “Is there a bathroom I can use?”

  Travis was slow when pointing to the back. “Yeah, it’s just around the corner.”

  Taking my things with me, I locked myself inside the small room, turned on the faucet, and splashed my face with cold water. I needed to cool off—wash away my sudden anger. It was a mistake. Nothing more. But how could he have gotten so distracted when I hadn’t even made an invitation to flirt?

  Gripping the sink ledge, I stared at my reflection and reminded myself to stay focused.

  After drying my face, I opened up the medicine cabinet and began peeking around out of sheer curiosity. There were a couple toothbrushes, first-aid stuff, deodorant, and a comb. I picked up the comb and gave it a closer look. There were strands of hair attached that were much darker than Travis’s dirty blonde.

  Maybe a girlfriend, I thought, placing the comb back where I’d found it. I didn’t know what I was looking for or why I did it, but I popped the top on the clothes hamper and gingerly pulled out one shirt after another.

  There was a scent I recognized, but it wasn’t Travis’s. The clothes seemed to be much too big for a man his size. I closed the lid and stood there with a racing heart. Thinking back to when we arrived, I didn’t remember seeing any photos of people, and the duplex seemed only half lived in.

  Did he just move here? Or was he a minimalist who didn’t own any stuff? I couldn’t explain it, but something felt off.

  Turning to the door, I pressed my ear against the wood and listened. It was quiet. Gently, I exited the bathroom and tip-toed my way across the floor until I reached what I assumed to be the garage door. Holding my breath, I turned the knob and cracked the door open.

  That’s when I saw it.

  A black Ford Explorer.

  The same vehicle that had been following all of us.

  With my blood thrashing in my ears, I wondered whose house we were really at, because it certainly didn’t appear to be Travis’s. Feeling my adrenaline kick in again, I knew I needed to escape without being seen. But my phone was dead and the house was much too small to slip out the backdoor without being noticed.

  The hairs on my neck stiffened the moment I felt the cool breeze of someone breathing down my neck.

  I froze—my entire body went stiff.

  I slowly turned around and flinched as Travis swiped his hand through the air before stabbing me in the neck with something sharp.

  My eyes popped wide and I crumbled to the floor like dead weight, watching my world go black. Then everything went cold, and I was out.

  Chapter Seventy-Seven

  After briefing the upper brass on what happened, Lieutenant Baker wanted to get an official statement from Samantha. She was first on the scene, and the only witness to hear what happened. If Garcia was Loxley, the department needed to close out the case properly before moving on.

  King exited the motel room, promising to get Samantha’s statement, and headed back to where he’d left his girlfriend sitting on the curb minutes ago. King’s stride shortened as he approached. He looked around with a furrowed brow, wondering where she disappeared off to now. The spot was empty, As King looked around, he could only hope Sam was seeking shelter in the shade and didn’t follow a scent that would take her in a new direction.

  Shoving his fingers through his hair, King muttered, “Where did you go, Sam?”

  King could feel it in his gut. Samantha had left without telling him why or where she was going. He knew her well enough that it must have been something enticing to get her to leave so quickly.

  “Hey,” King stopped a uniformed officer lingering in the area, “there was a woman sitting here a minute ago.” He pointed to the curb. “Have you seen her?”

  When the officer looked confused, King gave a description of Samantha. Again, the officer shook his head. “Sorry,” he said. “Haven’t seen anyone sitting on the curb.”

  King gritted his teeth. “Ask around. Go find her. She’s our only witness to what happened here.”

  The officer nodded and marched off to do what he was told.

  King straightened his spine, held his hand above his brow to shield the sun from his eyes, and began searching for Samantha’s car. If she was here, her car would be, too. Not having any luck finding it, he began weaving his way through the parking lot. After clearing the front, he made his way to the back of the building. There, Samantha’s Subaru Outback was parked near the chain link fence. But there still wasn’t any sign of Sam.

  King jogged to the car and lifted the door handle. It was still locked. He peeked inside through the glass and saw her purse sitting on the front seat. Now King was beginning to worry. She would never leave her purse behind unless she left in a blind panic.

  Reaching behind his back, he retrieved his cell phone and was about to hit dial on Sam’s number when he noticed she’d already messaged him. The crease between his eyebrows deepened as he turned his back to the sun beating down overhead. Reading her message, heat rose behind his eyelids.

  Damien Black?

  He twisted his spine and glared at the motel building behind him.

  The sky spun overhead as King tried to make sense of what Samantha was trying to tell him. He’d read the note Garcia left behind. It read like a suicide note, but was it? They had been treating it as such, but should they not be? Now he was more confused than ever.

  Pounding the green button on his phone, King called Samantha.

  It went straight to voicemail.

  “Sam, I just got your message.” King started making his way to the front of the building. “Where are you? What information are you going on? This is a serious allegation. Call me back as soon as you get this.”

  As soon as King lowered his phone from his ear, Alvarez was waving him in with his arm. “King, you’ve got to come see this.”

  Picking up his pace, King asked his partner, “What is it?”

  Alvarez was already heading in the direction of the motel room when he said, “You’ve got to see it to believe it.”

  Stepping back into the room, King wiped the sweat off his forehead and watched as a team of technicians worked on Joey’s body.

  “They found this in his hand when they flipped over his body.” Alvarez lifted up the evidence bag and handed it over to King.

  King pinched the bag at its corner and moved into the light. He read the scribbled words.

  Brett Gallagher knows the truth.

  King asked, “What the hell does that mean?”

  “We’re thinking it has something to do with a message one of the investigators found on his computer.”

  King turned and looked over his shoulder. The investigator was still searching through Joey’s laptop. King walked over and peered over the man’s shoulder, asking himself who Brett Gallagher was. A clock was ticking down, almost to zero, but it was the message flashing across the screen that caught King’s attention.

  “Who sent it?” he asked.

  “No idea. I’ll have to send it to the lab for further research.”

  King rubbed the back of his neck, thinking that something wasn’t lining up here.

  “Any ideas?” Alvarez asked.

  King sh
ook his head as he took a step back.

  “Where’s Samantha?” Alvarez cast his gaze through the door, squinting into the bright light. “Get her inside, have her take a look at this.”

  King turned to Alvarez and said under his breath, “Sam’s not here.”

  Alvarez’s eyes flashed with surprise. “Where did she go?”

  King shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  Alvarez scratched his jaw as he walked to the door. King nudged him outside and said to follow him. Leading him away from others, King told him about Sam maybe having gone after Damien Black again.

  “But—” Alvarez pointed to the motel room where Joey’s body was being loaded up on a gurney.

  “I know.” King wet his lips. “I don’t know the details, but what if she’s right?”

  Alvarez locked eyes with King. “You read Garcia’s suicide note. He admitted it was him.”

  “He never specified he murdered these men, only that he was sorry for extorting each of the named victims.”

  With both hands on his hips, Alvarez rolled his eyes toward the motel room. After a pause, he asked, “Who the hell is Brett Gallagher?”

  King didn’t know, but now he was starting to think Garcia may have been coerced into divulging something he wanted to keep a secret. Clearly, whatever it was was worth taking his own life over.

  Alvarez asked, “What are you thinking?”

  “That whoever is behind that timer ticking down on Garcia’s laptop must also be the computer whiz who’s killing these powerful men.”

  Alvarez’s chest rose as he sighed. Then the officer King asked to help find Sam interrupted. “Detective, the woman you were asking about—”

  “Did you find her?”

  The officer shook his head. “But was told she left with a man. Six foot. Sandy blonde hair.”

  “And the vehicle they left in?” King assumed they took off in a car. “Did anyone see that?”

  “Toyota 4Runner. Seen leaving about fifteen minutes ago.”