The Detective (8 page)

I rubbed my palms together. “It’s going to be a good day. I can feel it!”

“Good luck with that,” she said, chuckling to herself.

“Marge, have you seen Detective Reese yet this morning?” I asked.

She shook her head. “Not yet. Want me to try and get ahold of him for you?”

I knocked my knuckles against the table top before stepping toward the office door. “Nah, I’ll take care of it. Have a great day.”

She went back to pecking away on her computer keyboard. “You too, Nathan.”
 

The office was quieter than usual, but it was Friday, so that wasn’t a surprise. Lieutenant Carr’s office door was closed, and his light was off. I silently thanked God for small blessings. As I walked to my office, I pulled out my cell phone and called Reese.
 

“Yo,” he answered.

“Where are you?”

“Pulling in the lot,” he said.

I stuck my key into my door. “Awesome. Meet me in my office.”
 

“10-4.” The line went dead.

Turning on the light as I entered, I dropped my stuff on my desk and flipped on my desktop computer. As it booted, I picked up the office phone and punched in the extension for the jail on the back of the property.
 

“Master control,” a man answered.

“This is Detective McNamara. I need inmate trustee Dennis Morgan sent to my office as soon as someone can escort him over,” I said.

“Roger that, Detective,” he said.

I cradled the receiver just as Reese walked through my door, shaking his head as he crossed the room. “You’re way too productive too early this morning.” He flopped down in one of my arm chairs. “What’s going on.”

“I think I know how they’re doing it,” I said.

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Enlighten me.”

I handed him the flyer I’d received in the mail. “Don’t you find it curious that the thieves magically know who keeps cash in their safes?”

He nodded. “Of course.”

I leaned back in my chair. “I mean, you wouldn’t think too many people would keep loads of cash at home, right?”

“Right.”

I pointed at him. “I’m willing to bet that each one of these houses has a security camera trained on the safe. I know I’ve seen at least a couple of them,” I said. “ArmorTech offers remote video access. I guarantee you someone is hacking that system and watching that video.”

Reese’s eyes widened. “And shutting down the system before they go in.”

I smiled. “Bingo.”

“Well, shit.” He handed the flyer back to me. “How are you going to prove it?”

“I’m going to consult with a criminal.”

He laughed. “Oh, really?”

“Yep.”
 

“What do you need me to do?”

I jerked my thumb toward the computer monitor. “Can you find those surveillance clips for me? And do some digging to find out if ArmorTech has ever been hacked before?”

He nodded and stood up. “Yeah.”

“Hey, Reese?”

He turned back around.

“But be chill about it. It could be someone on the inside over there for all we know.”

He smirked. “When am I ever anything but chill?”

I laughed. “Thanks, man.”

As he walked out, Dennis Morgan—dressed in orange and white stripes—walked in. “You asked to see me, Detective?”

“Yes.” I nodded toward the chairs. “Have a seat, please.”

Obediently, Dennis dropped into a chair. “What’cha need?”

Leaning forward, I rested my elbows on my desk. “I need some information. Techie stuff.”

One of his flaming red eyebrows arched in question. I was about to be in his debt, and he knew it. “Information, huh?”

I nodded. “You know I can’t get any time knocked off your sentence. You’ve only got a few weeks left,” I explained. “But how about a meal from the outside or something?”

“How about The Walking Dead?”

I turned my ear toward him. “Excuse me?”

He smiled. “Man, I haven’t seen anything since the mid-season finale last year. You know, Rick shot that little Sophia girl on the farm. She was a zombie and shit.” He shook his head sadly. “I don’t know. I think the group might turn on him or something.”

That was a good episode.

“You want to watch The Walking Dead?” I asked to clarify.

“Yeah.”

Shaking my head, I laughed. Hard. “That’s the most interesting request I’ve ever received.”

“So, is it a deal?” he asked.

“It’s a deal. If you can help me.”

He sat up straight. “All right. Hit me with it. What do you need?”

“You’re in for hacking, right?” I asked.

 
“Yeah.”

“How possible is it to hack into a home security system? One that’s web-based, online.”

He laughed. “For you?”

I pointed at him. “No. For someone like you.”

“Pshhh…” He sat back in his seat again. “Piece of cake.” Then, as if remembering his stripes and current incarceration, he began cautiously searching the corners of the ceiling for bugs. “I mean… I’ve never done that or anything.”

Chuckling to myself, I held up a hand to silence him. “No one’s listening.”
 

He seemed to relax a bit.

The truth was, Dennis wasn’t a bad guy. He’d hacked the computer at the hospital and erased the debts of cancer patients. I’m not saying I would’ve let him go—a crime is a crime and it’s my job to enforce the law—but there’s a big difference between Dennis and whoever shot Carissa Withers.

He leaned toward me and lowered his voice. “Give me enough time and I can get into the Pentagon.” He looked around cautiously. “What do you need?”

Man, he must really want to watch some zombies.

I held up my hand again. “That’s not necessary.” I handed him the flyer for Daycon. “I’m curious about something like this.”

He laughed and didn’t even accept the flier. “Shit, man. Daycon has holes in it like swiss cheese. My niece could get through their shit and she’s seven.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You can get through their net with a decent SDR and a—”

I cut him off. “A what?”

“SDR,” he said again. “Software-defined radio. It lets you intercept and monitor transmissions from shit like Daycon’s systems.”

“How easy is it to get ahold of?” I asked.

He shrugged. “You got an eBay account?”

God, I love it when I’m right.

“So, if they had video surveillance inside the home?” I asked, leading him with my tone.

He laughed and winked a light brown eye at me. “If they’ve got inside surveillance, then pray they’ve got hot chicks and those cameras turned toward the showers, dude.”

By the end of the day, I was more certain than ever that a hacker was responsible for, or at least involved in, the robberies. All of the video footage that Reese was able to pull had clear footage of the safes. So, whoever it was knew the contents of each safe that was hit. I was also willing to bet that whoever Justin Sider was had watched the mayor use his handy-dandy password notebook to access his accounts.
 

Before I could leave for the day, there was one more order of business I had to tend to. I picked up the phone in my office and dialed our IT department.

“Ramon?” I asked through the intercom.

“Yeah?”

“Can you do me a favor?”

There was a beat of silence. “Sure, Nate. What’s up?”

“Can you find a way to buy, download, stream, or whatever all the episodes for last few months of The Walking Dead?” I asked.

“Um…” There was more silence on his end of the phone. “Sure, I guess.”

“Great.” I stood up at my desk. “Make sure it gets sent over to the jail. They are expecting it. Tell them it’s for inmate Dennis Morgan, from me.”

“Uh, OK.”

“Thanks, Ramon,” I said. “Have a good weekend.”

“You too, Detective.”

I pressed a few buttons to forward my calls to voicemail, then shut down my computer. It was time to head home for the weekend… Home to my girlfriend.

TEN

PERHAPS I SHOULD’VE felt the disruption in the atmosphere when I pulled into the parking lot of my apartment complex, but I didn’t sense how off the universe was until I opened my front door and was hit in the face by the scent of pine cleaner and lemon dusting crap. I almost backed quietly out and ran for the hills without a word, but Shannon appeared from the kitchen as soon as I walked in.

She clapped her hands together with glee. “You’re home!”

Things were sparkling. I didn’t like it. This wasn’t home. This was a trap. A domestic trap. I shoved my keys into my pocket and looked around suspiciously like toxic gases might start flooding from the vents. “What did you do?”

“I just straightened up a bit,” she said as she sashayed toward me.

I unzipped my coat. “I… um… it looks—”

She cut me off by grabbing the lapel of my jacket. “Leave the coat on,” she said. “We’ve got to get going.”

“Get going where?” I asked.

“Your parents’.”
 

“Excuse me?”

She giggled and leaned into me. “We’re having dinner at your parents’ house tonight instead of tomorrow.”

Surely, I misheard her. Or misunderstood. Or suffered a stroke between my truck and the front door. “What?”

“Remember? Your mother and I set it up a few days ago. She’s cooking and I promised to bring dessert.”

Shit.
I had completely forgotten all about it. Warning bells were chiming in my brain. Red flags were waving before my eyes. “Shannon, don’t you think it’s a little soon to be meeting my parents?”

She draped her arms around my neck. Her perfume was intoxicating.

Keep your head, Nate. This is how she sucks you in every damn time.

“Do you think it’s too soon?” She moved so close that her breasts brushed against my chest.

My eyes closed involuntarily. I felt my head shaking ‘no’ despite the screams of the dying bachelor inside me.
 

I’ve never been afraid of commitment; I’ve just never had time for it. And something about this chick made me feel like I wasn’t behind the wheel of this love boat, and I didn’t like that one bit. In fact, I was pretty sure I was playing scalawag to Shannon at the helm and my mother as first mate.
 

Her lips trailed soft kisses down the side of my neck.

I had to remind myself to breathe.
 

“How long does it take to get to their house?”

“Huh?”

She pulled back. “Nathan.”

I opened my eyes and realized my head had dropped back toward the ceiling and my mouth was hanging open. I blinked. “Sorry, what?”

“How long does it take to get to their house?”

I sighed. “About forty-five minutes.”

She dug her fingers into my hips. “Well, we’d better get going so we’re not late.” She leaned close to my ear. “And because the sooner we get there, the sooner we can get back home.”

I whimpered. I actually whimpered.
 

And before I could object any further, we were on our way to see my parents.
 

* * *

As my luck would have it, my mother had turned dinner into a family affair. Lara’s van was in the driveway, and my brother Chuck’s truck was parked near the barn. Chuck lived ten hours away. I prayed that his presence was a coincidence.

I saw the curtains in the formal living room flutter as we walked up the steps. There was no doubt in my mind that my mother had been perched at that window like a kid waiting on Santa. The front door flew open and she sailed out onto the porch with her arms stretched wide.

“You made it!” she cheered.

My father was standing behind Mom with his hands stuffed into his pockets and a look in his eyes that said he had nothing to do with it. I kissed Mom’s cheek. “Hello, Mother.” I stepped to her side. “Mom, this is Shannon.”

“Oh!” Mom stepped forward to greet her with a hug. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, dear!”

Finally? It’s been like three weeks!

I leaned toward my dad. “She’s killing me,” I whispered.

He winked. “Which one?”

We both laughed.
 

“I brought pie,” Shannon said, holding out the dish we’d picked up at the supermarket on the way. “I would have baked something myself, but Nathan’s kitchen isn’t exactly equipped.”

Rolling my eyes, I looked at Dad. “I have a can opener and a frying pan. What more do I need?”

Shannon giggled and looped her arm through mine.

“I’m sure this will be wonderful,” Mom said, taking it from her. “Come on in out of the cold, you two.”

Once we were inside, loud squeals erupted down the hallway. The family door nearly flew off its hinges and smacked back against the wall as Carter tore down the hallway wearing Spiderman pajamas, a Batman mask, and ginormous green Hulk fists on his hands.
 

“Unca Nate!”

I laughed and caught him around the middle as he charged me. As I draped him over my shoulder, I looked at Shannon. “Shannon, this is my nephew, Iron Man.”

He kicked his legs. “I not I-won Man!”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” I smacked myself in the forehead. “I mean Superman.”

“I Spida-man, Unca Nate!”
 

“I think you’re confused,” I said, carrying him down the hallway.

He was still flailing over my shoulder. “No, I not!”

Shannon practically had cartoon hearts bulging from her eyeballs. I put Carter down and he took off running again. She slipped her fingers between mine.

“Go on into the living room,” Mom said behind us. “Your brother’s here.”

I pushed the swinging door to the family room open and let Shannon go in first. My brother, Chuck, stood when we entered. Lara was beside him. Chuck looked like a lumberjack compared to the rest of us. He had a thick brown beard and was, like usual, wearing camo. By comparison, I was short, scrawny, and blonde but so was everyone else in the McNamara clan. So if anyone was adopted, we all knew who it was.

“Hey, little brother,” Chuck said, closing his arms around me. “How the hell are ya?” He thumped me so hard on the back, it triggered a cough.

“I’m good, old man. What are you doing here?” I stepped back and looked up at him.