Deep Dark (21 page)

CHAPTER 24

“You don't really think this is some guy bumping off his mistress, do you?”

Reed looked at Jay in the passenger seat. “No. Why?”

“Then why are we wasting our time with him?”

Reed didn't have a good answer. Laney had insisted from the beginning that Ian Phelps wasn't their man. And he was inclined to agree with her.

“He lied to me,” Reed said. “So it's worth a conversation.”

Was it a personal hang-up? Maybe. He'd had a thing about people lying to him ever since he'd caught Erika screwing around on him. He could probably get past it if he was willing to sit in a therapist's office for a few hundred bucks an hour and rehash all his emotional bullshit, but Reed would rather hold a gun to his head.

“Well, Laney knows him, right? I saw them talking at the funeral,” Jay said. “If he stonewalls us, we can get her to feel him out, see if he knows anything useful.”

“I told her to stay out of it.”

“You told her.”

“Yeah, this has gotten dangerous. I told her to leave it alone.”

Jay shook his head. “Man, bad idea. You used to be married, too. You should know better.”

“What?”

“Girl's a hacker. Finding ways into restricted areas is what she does. Telling her to stay out of it, you just issued her a challenge.”

Reed didn't say anything.

“So what was that with Veronica before the meeting?” Jay asked.

Reed glanced at him. Jay definitely had a thing for the woman.

“She got the ballistics back on the Gantz shooting. Could be something useful there, but I have to do some more checking.”

Reed didn't volunteer anything more. He planned to follow up, but he had other problems to tackle at the moment. He turned onto the street for ChatWare Solutions and glanced up and down the sidewalk. It was busy with pedestrians, lots of Austinites out enjoying the sunny Friday afternoon.

There were no free parking meters so he pulled their unmarked police unit into a loading/unloading space behind a minuscule Smart car. They climbed out, and Jay shook his head.

“I couldn't get my big toe in one of those things.” He looked at Reed as they walked down the sidewalk. “You think Phelps is at his office? These sales guys travel.”

Reed focused on the café on the corner. “He's in town. Looks like he's having a late lunch.”

They walked to Francesca's, where the chalkboard menu listed the day's specials. Reed cut around the sign and approached Ian's table. He was on the phone again, and his expression darkened when he noticed Reed.

Reed took a chair to Phelps's right. Jay took the one on the left. The man's gaze shifted from Reed to Jay and back to Reed again.

“Um, so listen. I've got to go. I'll call you back later.” Phelps put his phone down and squared his shoulders. “Detective Novak.” He glanced at Jay. “And you are . . . ?”

“Detective Wallace.” Jay flashed his badge, and Phelps darted a nervous look around the umbrella tables.

“I'd love to talk to you guys, but—”

“This won't take long,” Jay said, settling back in his chair and taking a comfortable look around. “Nice place for a coffee break. We need one of these at the station.”

Phelps pushed away the half-finished cappuccino in front of him and sat back in his chair, pretending to be relaxed. “What can I do for you?” His gaze settled on Reed.

“I asked you about your relationship with April. You told me you were friends. We'd like to revisit that topic.”

“There's nothing between me and April. I told you—”

Reed held up his hand. “We have the emails, Ian, so don't waste our time. I want to know when it started.”

Phelps clenched his teeth and stared at him.

Jay reached over and grabbed a scone from the plate beside the coffee. “Mind? I love these.”

Phelps glanced at him, then at Reed. “Last summer. It was on again, off again, totally casual.”

Reed lifted an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“So when's the wedding?” Jay asked around a mouthful of food. “I hear you're getting married.”

Phelps shot Reed a glare. He looked down as he composed his story, then glanced up. “I broke it off with April weeks ago, way back in June.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. And that has nothing to do with . . . what happened to her.”

Reed looked at Jay.

“Hey, I've got another question for you.” Jay finished off the scone and dusted his hands over the table. “What do you know about computers?”

“What?” Phelps looked startled.

“Computers.” Jay paused. “You know, those machines—”

“What does this have to do with anything?” He looked across the table, and Reed gave a shrug. He looked back at Jay. “I work at a software company.”

“And what do you do there?” Jay asked. “You write code, answer phones, what?”

“I sell software. I meet with clients and manage relationships.” He looked at Reed.

“Would it be fair to say you're more the ‘Chat' side than the ‘Ware'?” Reed asked.

“Both. What does this have to do with April?”

“We're just curious.”

He sighed and looked at his watch. “I have a meeting—”

“One last question,” Reed said. “You ever heard of a website called Mix?”

“Mix?”

“It's a dating site.”

“I know what it is. But I don't use dating sites. I mean, come on.” He smiled. “Women come to me.”

“Is that what happened with April?” Reed asked. “She came to you? Or was it more like you were dogging her, getting some on the side, and she got sick of hearing about your upcoming wedding?”

“I broke up with
her
.”

“Really?” Jay asked. “And she did what then, threatened to rat you out to your fiancée? And then you two had a fight? Maybe you had to get a little rough with her, show her who was in charge?”

“April and I had a consensual relationship. I broke it off. Read the emails if you don't believe me. You think I chased
her
? Right.” He looked at Reed, and there was a hint of desperation in his eyes now. “
I
broke things off. I let go. Period. I'm not the guy who did this. I'm not some stalker. Go find someone else to harass.” He tossed his napkin onto the table and stood up. “I've got a meeting.”

“Wait.” Reed put his hand on his arm.

He sat down, fuming.

“Why'd you say ‘stalker'?”

Phelps looked confused. “What?”

“You said you're not the guy. You're not some stalker.”

“I don't know.” Phelps looked from Reed to Jay. “She was being stalked by this guy, right?”

“Where'd you get that?” Jay asked.

“I don't know. In the paper, probably.”

Reed shook his head. “Nope.”

“Online? I must have read it somewhere.”

“Try again.” Reed watched for a moment. He leaned forward on his elbows. “Did April ever tell you someone was stalking her?”

“Not really.” He glanced at Jay. “Not in so many words.”

“What words?” Reed asked.

“She just mentioned, I don't know, some creep at her gym. Some guy who'd watch her from his car in the parking lot.”

“His car?” Jay leaned closer. “What kind of car?”

“How the hell would I know?”

“What else did she say about him?”

“That was it. We didn't talk about it.”

“Sounds like you did,” Reed said.

“That was all she said. It was just that one time she mentioned it.”

“When was this?”

“You want a date? I have no idea.”

“A few weeks ago, months ago, when?” Reed persisted.

“Sometime before we broke up.”

“When?”

He sighed, exasperated. “Probably five, six weeks ago. One of the last times before I broke it off with her.”

“Where were you?” Reed asked.

“At my place.”

“Where was your fiancée?” Jay asked.

“This was during lunch. She met me over there from work. Afterward she was getting dressed, and she mentioned wanting to switch gyms because this guy kept watching her from the parking lot. It had happened the night before, I think.”

Reed looked at Jay. They might be able to pin down the date through the emails. And then they might be able to drum up a surveillance tape from the gym. And then they might get a glimpse of the UNSUB or, better yet, his car.

It was a lot of mights, but it was a lead.

“See, here's the problem, Ian.” Reed leaned forward on his elbows. “You lied to me about one thing. How do I know you're not lying about this?”

“I'm not.”

“She say anything else?” Jay asked.

“No.”

“You're sure?”

“Yes. I told you. She barely mentioned it.” He stood up and grabbed his phone off the table.

Reed and Jay stood, too.

“Don't be late for that meeting,” Jay said.

Phelps glared at them, and Reed handed him another business card.

“Call me if you think of anything else,” he said. “We'll be in touch.”

•   •   •

Mix occupied a converted loft downtown, only a few blocks away from the converted loft where Laney had once worked. She looked up and down the street, noting all the expensive cars. Hard to believe this was her old stomping grounds. Amid the office buildings were construction zones crammed with bulldozers and dump trucks. Cranes towered above everything, harbingers of the coming sprawl.

When she'd been a student at UT, Austin had been artsy and eclectic, with tucked-away street markets and hole-in-the-wall music venues. But with every new Starbucks and parking garage and Pilates studio, she felt a shift in the city's personality. It was growing, thanks in part to the tech sector, and Laney didn't mind the modernization. But there was something lacking in all of it. More cars, more high-rises, and yet there was a sense of alienation beneath it, an underlying loneliness. Plenty of people on the street but all glued to their phones. Everyone was perpetually connected, but to what?

She passed the Mix building and hung a left. She circled the block looking for a space, but every spot was full, and she cursed the Friday traffic as her phone chimed with a call from the Delphi Center.

“Hey,” Ben said. “Dmitry tells me you need a hand with something. Where are you, anyway?”

“I'm at Mix again. I need you to see if it's possible to get in remotely. I've tried. Scream tried. But neither of us had any success.”

“Then I'm guessing I'll have the same result.”

“This man had to get in somehow.”

“Maybe you're making this overly complicated,” Ben said. “Could be something as simple as one of their portable devices being compromised, like a laptop or a tablet. He could have gained access that way.”

“The company did away with employee laptops,” Laney said. “Don't you remember? It was one of the first things we recommended to beef up their security.”

“Yeah, but you know how those executive types are. Always think the rules don't apply to them. Even if they got rid of laptops for the rank and file, I guarantee you the executives still have them, and something could have been stolen.”

She circled the block, scanning the streets for an open space. No free meters, but she saw Ian Phelps walking down the sidewalk. He didn't notice her—he looked to be in a hurry. Laney pulled up to the light and checked her rearview mirror.

She spotted Reed. He was standing on the sidewalk in front of Francesca's putting on sunglasses. Jay stepped up beside him, and they started walking toward an unmarked police car. Damn it, they'd been wasting time with Ian again.

“Fine, don't listen to me,” she muttered.

“What's that?”

“Nothing.”

“So what are you planning to do there?”

“There's a Java Stop half a block down,” she said. “Thought I'd set up there, see if I can hop on their Wi-Fi and maybe find an open port.”

“Sounds like a long shot.”

“Well, I have to try something. He's killed three people in the greater Austin area.” And that wasn't counting Laney's attack. “Plus, Mix.com is headquartered here. There's no way all that's a coincidence.”

“Laney?”

“What?”

“Maybe you should take a break from this thing. You sound stressed.”

“I am stressed! I think he's
here
, Ben. I think he has been for years, watching this company from the ground up, figuring out how to exploit its vulnerabilities. This whole thing's a sick game to him.”

“One way or another, we'll pin him down, Lane. You know we will. They always leave a trace.”

“Yeah, we just have to find it.”

CHAPTER 25

Laney would have made a terrible PI.

She didn't like surveillance. Or waiting. And her bladder wasn't suited for spending long stretches of time in her car. But she'd been sitting in it for hours now, running tests. She'd found no open ports that could be exploited, no sign of any rogue wireless devices. She sat behind the wheel with her laptop open, keeping her eye on the Mix building as she exhausted her array of assessment tools.

She hadn't found anything, but there had to be a back door. And if she couldn't locate a digital one, she'd have to find a real one.

She surveyed the building through her windshield. From her parking space near Java Stop, she had a clear view of not only Mix's front entrance but a side door where employees had been popping in and out all evening. It was eight forty on Friday, nearing peak traffic time for Mix, and it looked like employees were dashing out for a last-minute coffee break before settling in for the night shift.

The phone chimed in the cup holder, and her pulse jumped at the sight of Reed's number. She hesitated a moment before picking up.

“Hey, it's me,” he said in that easygoing voice. He sounded totally relaxed, as though their last conversa
tion hadn't ended with her walking out on him. “Can you talk? I've got a couple of random questions for you.”

“Yes, I can talk, and no, Ian Phelps was never on Mix.”

For a few seconds, nothing. “How the hell did you know I was going to ask that?”

“Lucky guess,” she said, although she doubted he'd believe her. He probably thought she was still spying on his phone.

“Okay, next question. This one's about you.” He paused, and she could sense she wasn't going to like what he had to say. “Three years ago, around the time when you were attacked at home, were you a member of a gym?”

“No,” she said. “I am now, but back then I wasn't.”

“Is your gym, by any chance, Power Fitness over on Fifth Street?”

“It's Manny's Martial Arts over on Lamar. I take kickboxing. Why?”

“Just wondering.”

Laney's mind was racing with possibilities. “April was a member at Power Fitness. Did you get a new lead?”

He didn't respond, and she felt a twinge of annoyance. Of course he didn't respond. He couldn't tell her about the case anymore, not now that she was officially banned from working on it.

“Anything else you want to ask me?”

“Yeah,” he said. “How's your day going?”

She felt a warm tingle at the sound of the words and settled deeper in her seat. Until a minute ago, she'd been hot and frustrated, but now his voice was a wel
come distraction. She actually loved his voice. It was low and masculine and sexy. Maybe she should tell him.
Hey, Reed, you have a knack for pissing me off, but when I hear your voice, I get all melty inside.

Right. She couldn't imagine words like that ever leaving her mouth.

“It's fine,” she said. “I'm still working, though.”

“Yeah, same here. I wanted to see if you'd like to have dinner later.”

The invitation surprised her. She stared through the windshield at everyone trickling in and out of Mix's side door. It was almost nine, and she wasn't nearly finished yet.

“You there?” Reed asked.

“Our last dinner didn't exactly go well.”

“Okay, let's get drinks, then. Or frozen yogurt. Hell, I don't know. I just want to see you.”

Laney bit her lip. When he'd told her to stay the fuck away, he'd meant the case, not him. But just thinking about their last conversation brought a lump of resentment to her throat.

“You're doing it again,” he said.

“What?”

“That silence thing you do. You know, it's hell on my ego.”

“Ha. Your ego is fine.”

“So can I see you?”

He wanted to see her tonight. Badly. And she wanted to see him, too.

“I'm finishing something for a client,” she said. “I should be home by ten thirty or so. You could come over.”

In other words, she wanted to see him, but she didn't
want to go out. She hoped that being a clever detective and all, he'd get her meaning.

“I'll bring dinner,” he said, definitely getting it. “Call me when you're on your way home.”

They hung up, and Laney stared down at her phone, wondering if she'd made a mistake. Her heart was thudding. Her cheeks felt warm. And just the thought of seeing him soon made her insides tighten.

Her walking out in a huff the other night hadn't scared him away. Not even close. He was still pushing to see her, to spend time with her.

What the hell was she doing with this man? She had no idea. She'd been content with her routine. Not just content, she'd liked it. She spent her time immersed in work. And when she wasn't working, she went home and slid into her own private computer world, walling herself off from people and relationships and all the complications that went with them.

But now she felt restless. She wanted to talk to someone. Specifically, Reed. And not just talk to him, she wanted to be with him. She wanted to see his blue eyes go smoky with desire for her.
Her.
That was the most amazing part, the part that made her all warm and fizzy inside. He wanted
her
, and she felt giddy just thinking about it.

She glanced through her windshield again as a steady stream of Mix employees returned to work with their last-minute caffeine fix. Laney checked her watch. Now or never.

She shut down her laptop and hid it under a hoodie in the backseat. Then she settled a baseball cap on her head and grabbed her cup from Java Stop. She'd finished the coffee, but that didn't matter, since it was only a prop.

She slipped out of her car, locked it, and pretended to be focused on her phone as she joined the trickle of people returning to Mix.

A pair of women about Laney's age reached the building and veered into the side street. They were followed by a lone guy, also midtwenties, who had his phone out and was furiously texting. The woman in the lead pulled out her badge and swiped her way into the building. Her friend followed her, then held the door open for the guy behind her, who in turn held it for Laney.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, not looking up as she followed him into the building, acutely aware of the security camera mounted above the door.

Laney's pulse was racing as the door whisked shut behind her. She was in an interior stairwell now, and all the traffic was going up. Laney went with the flow and ended up on the second floor in a carpeted hallway, where she spotted a ladies' room and peeled off from the group.

She ducked into a stall and stood there, breathing hard. Her heart was pounding. Her back felt sweaty. But she was in. It had been easier than she'd expected. Stupidly easy. She looked the part of a software geek, and the UNSUB probably had, too.

Laney took a deep, steadying breath. She was inside—now what?

From the hallway, she'd glimpsed a large room filled with cubicles. It was a bullpen, but for which department? Since the late-shifters had all gone in that direction, she guessed it was tech support. The maze of cubes was a social environment, which meant she had to stay away or risk getting caught. In any case, the of
fice she wanted would be in a different area. Her people were introverts.

Someone entered the bathroom. Laney waited to hear the neighboring stall open and close and then made a quick production of washing her hands before slipping out. Back in the hallway, she turned away from the room with the cubicles and headed in the opposite direction, where she spotted a door conveniently labeled
AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY
. She opened it and found herself in a carpeted hallway lined with doors.

The hallway was dim and quiet. This was more like it. She walked briskly, reading the placards as she went. Most of the rooms were simply numbered, but a few were named:
BUILDING MAINTENANCE, STORAGE, ELECTRICAL
. It was the sort of space that code grinders liked to inhabit, and she sensed she was nearing her objective. She reached a closed door marked
SYSTEM ADMINISTRATOR
. Even without the label, she would have guessed it by the
Dilbert
and
xkcd
cartoons taped to the door.

Laney glanced up and down the hallway. She listened for footsteps or voices but heard nothing aside from the faint hum of a vacuum in a distant hallway. She tried the door. Open.

She slipped inside, heart galloping now. The door being unlocked was both good and bad. Good because her luck seemed to be holding but bad because no system admin worth his salt would leave his office unlocked overnight. The Styrofoam cup and half-eaten sandwich on the desk confirmed her theory that whoever worked here had stepped away only momentarily.

She glanced around the office, quickly taking inventory of numerous piles of paperwork, the shelves
crammed with software manuals, the jewel-encrusted picture frames lined up on top, collecting dust. It was a woman's office, and she had about the same penchant for neatness as Laney.

In the center of the desk was a large PC with a kaleidoscope screen saver. Laney stepped behind the desk and tapped the wireless mouse, bringing up a login screen.

Damn.

She had no leads on the admin's password. She tried a few keyboard walks, to no avail. The thumb drive in her pocket contained a password cracker, but that would take time. Laney reached over and touched the Styrofoam cup. Still cold. She glanced at the door.

This was it. She could feel it. This was the soft, vulnerable underbelly of Mix's security system, a vulnerability she felt sure their UNSUB had exploited. He'd been here, right where she stood. Laney knew it in her bones, just as she knew that even the most sophisticated firewalls and passwords in the world were powerless to combat human stupidity.

Laney's gaze fell on the wireless keyboard. She stared at it a moment and got a ticklish feeling on the back of her neck.

“Son of a bitch,” she muttered.

She glanced under the desk for anything unusual plugged into the wall or the power bar. Nothing. She stood up and looked around. On the far wall was a file cabinet with a stack of binders sitting on top. She crept over, then paused to glance at the door. No footsteps in the hallway, no voices. She pressed her shoulder against the cabinet and moved it away from the wall. Binders thudded to the floor. Laney froze. She shot a
look at the door but didn't hear anyone.

She glanced behind the cabinet and spotted another outlet, and this one should have been empty, but there was a small black device plugged into it.

Laney's breath caught. She crouched down, pulse racing.
He's been here. Right in this very spot.

The keylogger could sniff keystrokes out of thin air and either record them internally or transmit them. And here it was hidden away in the office of Mix's chief system administrator, whose passwords, even if they were changed frequently, would provide universal access to the entire system.

The sudden howl of a vacuum made her jump. She looked at the door and then glanced at the keylogger again. She itched to pluck it from the wall and examine it more closely, but something made her hesitate.

The vacuum noise grew louder. Damn it, she couldn't spend any more time here. She took her phone from her pocket and snapped a picture.

She stood up and moved the file cabinet back. She hurriedly replaced the fallen binders, then paused beside the door and took a deep breath to compose herself. The janitor was between her and the door she'd originally come through, so she'd have to either walk right past him or go in the other direction.

As calmly as she could, she stepped from the office and walked away from the janitor, only catching a brief glimpse of a black-haired man pushing a vacuum. Laney busied herself with her phone as she waited for him to call out to her, but he didn't. She pushed through another door marked
AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY
and found herself in yet another carpeted hallway leading to a room filled with cubicles. The
space was dark, and the desks were empty. The advertising department, maybe? She skimmed the room and tried to decide on an exit route.

A loud squawk had her turning around just as a man rounded the corner. A security guard holding a walkie-talkie.

Laney froze, phone in hand. Then she turned on her heel and walked in the opposite direction, struggling to keep her gait casual as she exited the door she'd just entered.

Be calm. Be calm.

“Hey!” he called.

The door whisked closed behind her. Laney kept going, making a brisk path straight past the janitor.

Stay calm. No sudden movements.

The vacuum stopped, and she heard the door being opened behind her.

“Hey! You there, this is a restricted area.”

Laney plowed through the door, ignoring the rent-a-cop.

“Hey!”

She raced past the bathroom she'd used and ducked into the stairwell. She flew down the steps and ran straight for the door.