Deep Dark (4 page)

A young woman in workout clothes strode down the sidewalk. She had a yoga mat tucked under her arm, and Reed recognized her from yesterday's canvass.

“Excuse me, ma'am?”

She halted.

“My partner talked to you yesterday.” Reed took out his ID, and she cast a wary glance over his shoulder at April's apartment. “Mind if I ask a few follow-up questions?”

Panicked eyes. “I don't really—”

“It won't take long.” He ushered her into the shade of an oak tree. “I noticed you pull in a few minutes ago. You always get home around five thirty?”

She gazed up at him. “I . . . yeah, I guess. Most days.”

She'd already been through all this with Jay and reported that she hadn't seen April Abrams or even her car all week.

“I'm wondering if you noticed any unusual vehicles here Tuesday evening,” Reed said. “Maybe a moving van?”

“A moving van?”

“Or maybe a UPS truck? Something blocking the front-row spaces in front of your building.”

“No moving van.” She looked at the building. “But there was a truck here Tuesday. Furniture, I think? I saw some guys unloading a sofa.”

Reed pulled out his notepad. “What time was this, exactly?”

“I don't know. Six? Maybe six ten?” She brushed her bangs from her eyes with the back of her hand. “I
got stuck in traffic, so I was a little late getting home. I don't think I saw the name on the truck, but they took the sofa to that unit two doors down. The one on the corner there.”

“Thanks.” Reed would follow up, see if the delivery crew had witnessed anything. Or maybe they'd noticed April. The neighbor was watching him now with an anxious look, and Reed tucked his notebook away.

“So can you tell me . . .” She cast a glance at the crime-scene tape. “Did he break
in
or . . . ?”

“That's not something I can discuss,” Reed said, feeling like an ass. “But you should take common-sense precautions. Lock your doors, etcetera, even during the day.”

She nodded.

He pulled out a business card. “And don't hesitate to call us if you see anything unusual.”

Another nod, and he knew he wasn't helping. She'd probably already started looking for a new place to live.

“Thanks, officer.” She smiled awkwardly and started to leave.

“One more thing. You happened to see April's cat around?”

“Cat?”

“She had an outdoor cat.”

She shaded her face with her hand and squinted at the building. “I don't know if it was hers, really. But there's a stray calico that hangs around here sometimes. Maybe she was feeding it?”

The woman tucked the business card into her purse and walked to her car as Reed's phone
dinged
with a text message.

A strange feeling settled in his stomach, and he
glanced around as he pulled out his cell. It was the Mix link again. This time the sender's number was all zeros.

WHO IS THIS?
he queried.

FORGET IAN UR WASTING TIME
.

Reed stared down at the words. A few seconds later a text bubble appeared showing the link again.

Reed gritted his teeth. How did the sender know about Ian Phelps? Someone was definitely screwing with him. He poised his thumb to respond.

The message vanished.

•   •   •

Laney drove down the row of condos, noting the familiar cars and the welcoming glow of porch lights. She'd picked this street specifically for its quiet feel, but her usual sense of relief at coming home was lacking tonight. Instead she felt stressed and irritable. Not to mention bone-tired. And she needed to snap out of it because she still had some code sprints ahead of her.

She reached her condo but on impulse kept on going. Throughout her drive home a vague feeling of unease had prompted her to check her mirrors over and over. Now she hooked a right at the stoplight. She circled the block twice before finding a parking space. She grabbed her messenger bag and got out, looping the strap over her head as she glanced around.

Urban Grounds was busy tonight but not nearly as bad as Saturdays, when they featured half-price microbrews and live music. She mounted the steps to the front porch where people lounged on mismatched armchairs under slow-churning ceiling fans. Inside, the place smelled like incense and coffee beans. Laney
made her way to the counter and ordered her usual from a barista with blond dreadlocks and a lip ring.

“You seen Scream around?” she asked him, tucking a bill into the tip jar.

“Not tonight.”

“Tell him I'm looking for him, would you?”

“You got it.”

She joined the cluster of people waiting for drinks at the counter and eyed the cookies behind the glass. Her stomach growled. She thought of her refrigerator, which was suffering from severe neglect because of the hours she'd been working. One of these days she'd probably settle into a nine-to-five routine, but for now she preferred to push herself. Predators didn't keep business hours, so why should she?

“Night Owl, double jolt.”

She grabbed her coffee and turned around, smacking right into a broad chest.

A man gazed down at her with flinty blue eyes, and her heart lurched.

“Delaney Knox.”

CHAPTER 3

Laney stood frozen, her fingers burning against the cardboard cup.

Reed Novak's gaze didn't waver. “You got a minute?”

How had he found her? No way he'd spotted her tailing him yesterday. But he knew her name. Did he know where she lived, too? The thought unnerved her.

Then it pissed her off.

The detective eased closer, towering over her, attempting to intimidate her with his size. “We can do this here or at the station. Your call.”

Laney stared up at him, debating how to respond. She avoided cops whenever possible. They were all about authority, rigidity, law and order. She wanted to tell him to get lost, and yet . . . she was curious. And impressed that he'd somehow tracked her down.

She stepped away from the counter and claimed an empty table. “Five minutes,” she said.

The corner of his mouth lifted, and she felt a flutter of nerves. He took the metal chair across from her, turning sideways to make room for his long legs.

Up close she saw that his eyes were light blue, almost gray. He had thick salt-and-pepper hair and tanned skin and looked as though he spent time outdoors. Cop or not, he was definitely attractive. She'd have to be dead not to notice.

“What is it you want?” she asked.

He leaned back, watching her with an assessing gaze. “Some answers.”

Urban Grounds attracted an eclectic mix, and they were probably the only two customers not sporting body art. But Laney still fit in. If the detective was bothered by the glances he was getting, he didn't show it.

Laney's heart was still thumping from the shock of seeing him here. She didn't like being caught off guard.

She looked at her watch again. “Four minutes.”

He smiled. “You have somewhere to be tonight?”

“Yes.”

The smiled faded and he held her gaze. “You hacked into my phone,” he said evenly.

She didn't respond.

“You spoofed the unlisted number of the chief of police to pass information relevant to a homicide investigation.”

He watched her and waited. Did he think she was going to explain? She didn't discuss her methodology. Her skills were her meal ticket, and she wasn't about to put herself out of a job.

“Well?” His eyebrows tipped up.

“No one's really unlisted.”

He leaned farther back in the chair and looked her over, taking his time about it.

Laney's skin warmed under his gaze.

“How is it you know April Abrams?”

She sipped her coffee because her throat was suddenly dry. “Why would you assume I do?”

“I saw your Ford Focus parked near ChatWare Solutions yesterday.”

Laney didn't say anything. He must have collected the security tapes and run her plate.

“I noticed it again near April's apartment,” he said. “You seem interested in her murder.”

“I'm interested in a lot of things.”

He stared at her silently, but she refused to squirm. “Work? School?” he persisted. “A mutual friend?”

“That's not really relevant.”

He leaned forward on his elbows, all trace of amusement gone now. “I'm the lead detective in her murder case. Far as I'm concerned, everything's relevant.”

The words sent a chill down her spine.
Her murder case.
April had been reduced to a case number, a bar code.

The cold queasiness was back again. Laney had been trying to get rid of it, but she couldn't.

“I've got all night.” His eyes settled on her, cool and determined. She felt as if she were sitting in an interview room with one of those two-way mirrors and furniture that was bolted to the floor.

She darted a glance at the door. She wanted to leave. She shouldn't have gotten involved in the first place. But the police had been wasting time, and she hadn't been able to sit idly by. Evidence was ephemeral, especially the digital kind. She knew that better than anyone.

“Delaney? How do you know April?”

A lump clogged in her throat, but she swallowed it down. She looked into his eyes. “She was my friend.”

•   •   •

Her answer didn't surprise him. But the emotion in her voice did.

He watched her, trying to get a read. Her body language was guarded. She didn't like that he'd found her here in her own backyard, which was pretty ironic considering she'd hacked into his phone and didn't even bother denying it.

She sat there, staring at him defiantly with those brown-black eyes. Her dark hair was cut short in the back and angled sharply to her chin, with a hunk of bright pink on one side. She wore black Converse shoes, black jeans, and a thin black tank top that clung to her small, high breasts. Reed was making a valiant effort to keep his focus on her face, but God help him, he was only human.

“You and April were friends,” he stated. “That how you knew she was on this dating site?”

“More or less.”

“What's that mean?”

She looked impatient. “Yes, I knew she was on Mix.”

So did that imply that she was on Mix, too? Somehow he couldn't picture this woman posting a dating profile for men to gawk at.

“Did she ever mention anyone she met there?” Reed asked.

“No.”

“She ever mention anyone she was seeing at all?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“Where'd you two meet, anyway?”

She looked at him for a moment, maybe resigning herself to the fact that he wasn't going to leave her alone until he got some answers.

“At work,” she said.

“ChatWare Solutions?” Her name wasn't on the current list of employees. Reed had checked.

“It was a long time ago,” she said vaguely.

In her world, that meant what, six months? A year?

Delaney Knox was twenty-four, even younger than April Abrams, which made it all the more interesting that she had the balls to stonewall him.

Or it could be an act. After her little stunt yesterday, she might be worried that he intended to charge her with a crime.

She watched him, her hands clutched around a twenty-ounce double-shot coffee that would keep her up all night. He wondered what she planned to do later. And who she planned to do it with. His gaze dropped to her mouth. Her lips were full. Tempting. She had the kind of mouth that sparked fantasies. Reed dragged his attention back to her eyes, and the look in them told him she knew where his thoughts had strayed.

“So you knew April was on Mix,” he said. “And you think this had something to do with her murder?”

“They've got security holes,” she said. “Ones that can easily be exploited by any moron with a keyboard.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I do.”

“You ever work there?”

“No,” she said, and something in her tone made him think it was a lie. But hell, why would she lie about something he could easily check out?

He was intrigued now, and not just by her nonanswers and screw-you attitude.

She glanced at her watch and stood. “Time's up.”

This woman was a piece of work, no doubt about it.
Reed knew he'd be seeing her again, and he felt a buzz of excitement as he got to his feet.

“Don't follow me,” she said, picking up her coffee.

“Wouldn't dream of it.”

•   •   •

The security system beeped as Laney stepped through her front door and dropped her bag onto a chair. She silenced the noise with a few quick taps while her cat looked on in silent reproach.

Laney made a beeline for the fridge, where she found an expired yogurt and a carton of curry shrimp. She gave the carton a sniff and put it back.

“There's nothing to eat, Baggins.”

She opened the pantry, but the options there were equally uninspiring. Baggins did figure eights around her ankles as Laney stared at the shelves that hadn't managed to replenish themselves while she'd been gone. She was famished, but even hunger wasn't enough to prompt her to pick up the phone. Sometimes she got like this.
I can tell you're in one of your hermit moods,
her mom would say on her voice mail.
Call me when you get this.

Laney was definitely in one of those moods. She didn't want to face a single living person right now, not even the pizza guy. She poured cat food into a bowl and then returned to her messenger bag and dug out a half-eaten pack of Twizzlers.

She kicked off her shoes and sank onto her futon. She stared at her laptop for a few long minutes, gnawing on candy. Finally, she turned on her computer and
watched her inbox fill. She had several messages about April, all from former coworkers at ChatWare.

That job seemed ages ago. It had been her first job out of college, and so much had changed since then. Over the past two years, she'd lost touch with the “normal” people she used to know, people who didn't live and breathe code.

But she'd gained some things, too, such as an unbelievably high security clearance. And what had once been a thrilling and subversive hobby had become a full-time job. Laney hacked for a living now, and she loved every minute of it.

What she didn't love was the fallout, because that was where people came in. And people could be incredibly shitty, in her experience. Not all people but plenty.

She thought of Reed Novak. She thought of his cool blue eyes and his relentless questions. Was he a good guy or bad? Hard to tell, and she'd been wrong in the past.

She'd expected him to take the lead that she'd generously sent him and run with it, without getting all hung up on where it came from. But the detective was thorough, apparently. She remembered the flare of attraction in his gaze, and the warm tingle was back again. There was something about him.

The men in Laney's world fell into two main groups. There were the smooth, overly manicured guys, who tended to be in software sales. And then there were the programmers, who tended to be smart and witty but awkward in social situations that didn't involve games.

Reed Novak was different. Maybe it was his broad
shoulders and the confident way he carried himself. Or maybe it was his ruggedly handsome face or the lines around his eyes that told her he'd seen a few things and had some life experience under his belt.

Maybe it was that he didn't mind making her uncomfortable. He probably made a lot of people uncomfortable in his line of work, and she liked that about him.

She thought of his low, easygoing voice, which had been at odds with his steely gaze. He hadn't been intimidated, and Laney was glad. April needed someone like that on her case, someone hard and persistent who would leave no stone unturned.

Baggins hopped onto the sofa and burrowed against her side. As he settled in for a nap, Laney surfed around for a few minutes before landing on Mix. She'd duplicated the answers to April's questionnaire and created a fake profile for herself to see what sort of response she'd get. So far it had been less than impressive. Most guys were idiots. They'd say something friendly or maybe ask to meet up, and when she declined they'd quickly devolve into insults. She read a few messages telling her she was a stuck-up bitch and then logged in under a different name and navigated over to April's profile.

Laney stared at the picture. Three full days, and no one had taken it down, not the system admin, not the family. Laney's cold and queasy feeling was back again.

She knew how it felt to be violated in the very place you called home. She knew the shock, the panic. Three years later, it was still seared into Laney's mind. She couldn't get away from it. Her life was forever divided into Before and After.

Before her attack, Laney had been aware of personal security but not vigilant. The danger had felt abstract, something she knew she should worry about—like cancer or air pollution—but in actuality, she didn't.

Now her fear was very real. She was fully attuned to noises in the night and hang-up calls and strangers watching her on the street. She habitually locked her car and set her burglar alarm. She no longer jogged at night or early in the morning. Her life was different now. Yes, she was safer, absolutely. But she also felt confined. Limited. As though her wings had been clipped when she'd only just learned to fly.

She stared at April's photo and wondered again what she'd felt in those final moments. Had she been paralyzed with terror, or had she managed to fight? Had she been aware of every agonizing second? Or had the stunning shock somehow blocked out the pain?

Looking at April's picture now, Laney felt a surge of anger. It shouldn't still be here, and yet it was. Three full days, and men were still shopping her. They were still leering, still critiquing, still imagining.

Even in death she wasn't out of their reach.