Winter Hawk

by Rachel Grant

  “I have a brother, but we aren’t close. He lives in Portland—Oregon—with his daughter, Ava. I feel bad I can’t be there for Ava. She’s having a rough time, and my brother isn’t Father of the Year material. It’s tough, being so far away.”

  “I’m sorry. Will Ava be going to a Peacemaker event tomorrow?” The Hanukkah gift market was tiny compared to the Christmas market, but Leah knew there were kids who would receive a Peacemaker tonight for Hanukkah so they could participate tomorrow. For that reason, she’d insisted there be no religious symbols in the D25DD protocol. The dance was a message of peace and friendship for all.

  “I don’t know. I figured I’d wait to see if you get the fix done before I ask. If you don’t, I’ll warn her to stay home.”

  “You doubting me?” she asked with a grin.

  He held up his hands. “No way.”

  She smiled. “Well, I should get back to it if I’m going to live up to your expectations.”

  She settled back into the code, hardly noticing when both men left. The candles burned down, and later, Nate arrived with a plate of food she ignored. He settled in the corner and kept her company.

  Finally, at two in the morning on Christmas Day, she uploaded the last of the repairs and notified Michelle before she shut down all remote access to the servers.

  She’d run repeated tests with the drones. The flight was flawless. The damage fixed. It had gone quickly, all things considered, but then she’d had to do something similar—although less dire—last week.

  She stood and stretched.

  Nate closed the book he was reading. “That’s it?” he asked.

  “That’s it,” she confirmed. “I’ll test it again in the morning, but a repair at this point would mean a trip to Philly.”

  “Raptor has a helicopter, if it comes to that.”

  “Keith said as much. We can pray we don’t need it.”

  He pulled her onto his lap and kissed her neck.

  “What would I have done if you hadn’t picked me up on Sunday?”

  He ran a hand through her hair. “I don’t even want to think about that scenario.”

  She kissed him. “I just realized something.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s Christmas.” She cupped his beard in her palm. “Merry Christmas, Hawk.”

  “Thank you.” He smiled. “I heard a rumor that you just saved Christmas.”

  “As a matter of fact, I did just save Christmas. Really and truly.”

  “You deserve a hero’s present, so tomorrow, I want to take you back to the mountains and have a real vacation that includes walks in the woods and sex in the hot tub.”

  “It sounds lovely, but it might get awkward with Chase there.”

  He laughed and kissed her lips. “He offered it to us for the rest of the year.”

  “That’s so kind of him. Why did he decide not to go?”

  “Aside from us defiling the place?” He chuckled, then turned serious. “Chase has had a rough year, and he’s always liked to escape to a quiet cabin to get away. But he told me tonight that he’s not feeling the noise like he did in the past. He’d rented the cabin in case he needed it, but he’s liking being among friends this holiday and knows we’ll enjoy it more.”

  She closed her eyes and imagined escaping for a week with Nate. They could relax without questions or suspicions. No one but a few trusted people would know where they were. She’d be safe with Nate, and the detectives investigating Dex’s and Ainsley’s deaths could do their job. “Can we go tonight? After Christmas dinner with your family?”

  “Sure. We can go before dinner if you want. Freddy will understand.”

  “No. I want to celebrate your holiday with your family.”

  “Okay, we’ll head out after dinner.”

  They went to Nate’s quarters and crawled into bed. Leah was out almost the moment her head hit the pillow. They slept for five hours, then woke up Christmas morning and made love.

  She needed that connection with him, the physical and emotional release, the thrill and pleasure. She’d have been nervous no matter what on this day. It was the crowning achievement of her professional life, but given everything else, she would be a basket case without Nate to hold on to.

  Her Hawk. Her lifeline.

  They shared a quiet morning in his tiny quarters. She’d forgotten to fill his stocking before bed, so she rushed to set it up while he was in the shower. All she had were a few silly puzzles and games she’d managed to grab on Monday, but she put a box of condoms in there too, which made him laugh.

  They worked the puzzles and played with her dreidel and ate chocolate, but her nerves grew with each moment.

  Two hours before it was time to go to the park, she tested the drones again to see if more sabotage had occurred in the night. She reset the drones again, and they flew smoothly. She released them one at a time, like birds, and watched as the dance shifted with the introduction of a new friend.

  It was ready.

  She showered and dressed, donning the only nice clothes she had—the outfit she’d worn Sunday. Somewhere in the Raptor compound, there was a sewing machine and a person who knew how to use it, and she was thankful for the spot cleaning and professional-looking repair Nate had managed to procure for her while she worked yesterday.

  Nationals Park would open to families at noon, with the food vendors selling holiday treats, and bounce houses and other carnival-like attractions being completely free to the public. Drones weren’t required to enter, but families with drones would get a special wristband and would sit in the lowest section of the park.

  They’d agreed to arrive at one thirty with Freddy and his family and the two drones the kids didn’t get to open that morning, so they couldn’t be from Santa after all. Freddy got full credit for being a doting dad, and Nate and Leah took the blame for the delivery delay.

  If Nate was nervous about the twins being at the park for the display, he didn’t show it, and she appreciated his faith in her. For herself, she was nervous walking into the park, but they were normal jitters that came from the culmination of years of work in such a very public way.

  The belly flutters settled when she saw the crowds of children laughing and squealing and enjoying the carnival atmosphere. She’d done this. The Peacemaker protocol hadn’t been her idea, but she’d brought it to life, making this event possible.

  She got a little thrill seeing all the parents holding drones as the kids bounced in bounce houses and played tag on the baseball field. There had to be five thousand people in the concourse alone.

  The crowds, the excitement, that was Ainsley’s work. This event was her crowning achievement as much as D25DD was Leah’s. “I wish Ainsley could see this.”

  Nate wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I wish I’d had a chance to meet her.”

  “I don’t understand why someone would destroy everything we’ve been working on. I mean, for starters, we’ll all make money if today goes off without a hitch. Every single employee has stock options, and the company already made money hand over fist this holiday season.”

  “Which makes Rick Carson the prime suspect.”

  “But he’s obvious and smart enough to know it. How would he think he’d get away with sabotaging Peacemaker? With killing Ainsley?”

  “Why did he think he’d get away with sending a flashing gif to Ainsley in the first place?” Nate asked.

  “He claimed he was framed.”

  “And maybe he was. So if not Rick, who? Some people are more into revenge than money, and this feels like revenge to me. Specifically in the way it focused around you.” He stopped in his tracks and tugged on her hand, then pulled her to the side, away from the crowds. “Is there anyone at work who’s hit on you and you turned them down?”

  “Aside from Dex? Not…really.”

  “Not really. What does that mean?”

  “A few times, Kevin would say something, like maybe it was a joke or maybe he was flirting.
But it was awkward. Around the third or so time it happened, I shut him down. I made it clear I neither date nor flirt with coworkers. I was his supervisor, there is no such thing as ‘harmless’ flirting in that circumstance. Plus, I’m too old for him.”

  “How did he handle it?”

  “He said I misunderstood. He wasn’t flirting. I overreacted. Threatened to go to HR and let them know I made him feel uncomfortable and was making up stories about him. I ended up going to HR and filed my own report.”

  “When was this?”

  “Six months ago? Last summer sometime, definitely.”

  “So you told him you don’t date coworkers. Do you think he found out about Dex and you? Could that have set him off? You rejected him, then he finds out that the reason you gave was just an excuse”—he held up a hand—“in his mind. I know it wasn’t just an excuse.”

  “You mean, is Kevin…an incel?” She’d read articles about incel—involuntary celibate—men, some of whom used the label to justify their misogyny, even violence, toward women who didn’t give them the sex they believed was their due.

  “Yes, that’s exactly what I mean.”

  “I honestly never looked at him as anything other than an egotistical coder. I’ve never thought about his sexuality, sexual experience, or lack thereof. He was just a person I had to remind on a weekly basis that even the best football players have to show up and take direction from their coach.”

  “I trained that kind of guy a thousand times in Alaska. Some were definitely incels, confused why women didn’t want to spend time with them, when they were difficult assholes no one wanted to be around.”

  She took his hand and led him through a tunnel to the bleachers. “Let’s find seats.” She lifted the satchel holding Michelle’s laptop. “We can take a look at his social media.”

  They took two seats at the end of a row, and Leah logged in and started browsing. She easily found his social media accounts, but he hadn’t updated those in the last several months. She then searched for accounts using variations of the screen name he used in the office message system, and hit pay dirt.

  KyloKev6022x was a very lonely and angry man.

  16

  The words on the screen were damning. Paragraph after paragraph of misogyny. Women who didn’t give KyloKev6022x the time of day were whores, bitches, and sluts, the words repeated ad nauseum. He didn’t get the respect or sex that was his due, and he vented his frustration to other incels, who goaded him on to take action against the cold sluts of the world.

  “This is the kind of guy,” Nate said, gesturing to the screen, “who thinks the world—but most especially you, who had firsthand experience with his superior brain—owes him attention. And yet…you said you didn’t notice him in that way at all.”

  She hadn’t. Even when he’d seemed to be flirting with her, she hadn’t taken it seriously. She was too old for him, and not just in years, but in maturity.

  “Incels are the scariest,” Nate said, “because you don’t notice them until they pop. And when they pop, they shoot up nightclubs, concerts, college campuses. Places women frequent.”

  “Or reprogram drones to attack children,” Leah said, her breathing tight. Kevin had worked for her. She’d hired him. And she’d never spotted the monster within.

  She forwarded the links to Kevin’s social media to Detective Brown. It was Christmas Day, the man was probably enjoying the holiday with family and friends, but she wasn’t surprised when he responded immediately: Heading to Nationals Park now.

  She checked the time. He wouldn’t make it before the show. “We should head up to the executive suite.”

  “I was thinking the same thing,” Nate said.

  He texted Keith, Josh, and Chase, and the three operatives met them inside the concourse by the ramp. They ascended to the luxury suites, while outside, children and their families were settling into stadium seats, preparing to release their drones. There were workers collecting drones and lining them up in rows on the field.

  “How’re you holding up?” Josh asked as they climbed the ramp.

  “Nervous,” she admitted. “I’m scared the drones won’t fly at all, scared of walking into the suite and facing a killer and not knowing it.”

  Nate squeezed her hand. “We’ve got a suspect.”

  “Which one?” Keith asked.

  She described Kevin briefly so they’d know who to look for. There was no time to say more than that, because they’d reached the suite.

  Leah gave their names to the security guard. The man checked the list, then opened the door to a room that overlooked center field.

  A dozen people were in the room, the rest outside in the stadium seats, separated from the room by a large window and accessible through a door to the side. Inside and out, everyone had a cocktail in hand. It wasn’t the most boisterous gathering, but then, the company had lost three key employees in the last few days. The official story was one was fired, one accidental death, one suicide, but most of the people here had to know there was more to it than that.

  Kevin stood near the door and was one of the first people to meet her gaze. She could swear she saw a flash of glee in his eyes.

  A slow hush descended as her former coworkers spotted her. Michelle played her part to the hilt, shouting, “Leah! So glad you could make it!” She crossed the room to give her a kiss on each cheek as if nothing had happened since Leah left Philadelphia three weeks ago.

  “I wanted to return your laptop,” she said, hoisting it up for all to see.

  Jaws dropped. Some looked confused. Kevin’s look of glee transformed to hostility.

  That was the reaction she’d been looking for. Did Kevin want revenge because Leah had never expressed the slightest interest in him? If so, how would he react to Nate?

  “Michelle, I’d like you to meet my boyfriend, Nate Sifuentes.”

  “Boyfriend?” Michelle said, and Leah blessed her natural curiosity that made her surprise genuine and obvious, even as she shook Nate’s hand as if she hadn’t met him the day before.

  “Nice to meet you,” Nate said.

  “We just met on Sunday,” Leah added, watching Kevin with her peripheral vision.

  “That’s awfully fast to be calling him your boyfriend,” he said, brazenly joining the conversation. Kevin’s gaze raked Nate—older, larger, and an all-around perfect example of masculine beauty—with barely concealed disgust.

  She put an arm around Nate’s waist, and he draped an arm over her shoulders and kissed her full on the lips, staking an obvious claim. He then met Kevin’s angry gaze. “When it’s right, you know it.”

  “And the fact that she’s rich means nothing to you?”

  Leah gave him a sharp glare. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

  “I don’t work for you anymore. I can say what I think.”

  Michelle frowned at him. “But you still work for me.”

  Kevin glanced at the center table piled high with silver-ribbon-wrapped boxes of spider drones that ranged in size from four inches in diameter to tiny half-inch, eight-legged metal arachnids. Two dozen unboxed drones in different sizes filled out the display, crawling up and down the pile, each wearing a shiny gold bow. “Next year’s product is right there. Designed by me.”

  Kevin’s ego had always been huge, but this was next level. He thought he could be an absolute prick in front of the company co-owner and she wouldn’t fire him.

  A chant rose up from the field, and Leah looked at the clock. Five minutes before the show would begin. On the field below, hundreds of drones were laid out in neat lines.

  “He’s losing it,” Nate whispered in her ear, beneath the noise of the crowd.

  She nodded. Either Kevin thought he was impervious, or he simply didn’t care. It was the latter that terrified her. That was the point at which mass shooters started shooting.

  But then, he believed the drones were about to go berserk on the crowd. That her crowning glory would become his cr
owning revenge.

  “I’m going to tell the security guard at the door to keep an eye on him during the show.”

  “Thank you,” she said. There was no way in hell she would miss watching the display, and she wanted Nate to be able to enjoy it too.

  She had no doubt now that Kevin had killed Dex and altered the display. He had the skills and the access. He’d likely hoped to blame it on her, say her code failed or she’d sought revenge after being fired, but she had an alibi. A Raptor operator, no less. Pinning it on her would never work. So he’d made Dex’s death look like a suicide after he’d uploaded the berserker code.

  Kevin expected Dex to bear the blame for the attacking drones.

  Everyone at the party moved outside to the stadium seats. Leah and Nate slipped through the exterior door and settled in seats in front of the next box over. She’d gotten what she wanted from Kevin.

  Now, it was time to watch the D25DD protocol.

  Over the park sound system, the announcer said, “We have an official count of the number of drones on the field, and if they all take flight, we will have a new World Record with one thousand five hundred and seventeen drones!”

  “Are people from Guinness here?” Josh asked.

  “Yes,” Michelle answered.

  Leah imagined similar—but much smaller—scenes like this all over the country: kids setting their drones in the middle of the fields in a sea of other drones, then moving to the sidelines to watch the show.

  Nate threaded his fingers through hers, and a surprising calm descended. She knew in her soul the show would go off without a hitch.

  Tim approached her seat and handed her a champagne flute. He filled it with champagne and then filled his own. He held up the glass and said, “Thank you, Leah. For all your hard work. I know we have you to thank for the show we’re about to see.”

  Behind her, she heard Kevin laugh.

  She looked at Tim, a man who’d fired her and lied about it. His comeuppance would come. Right now, she just wanted to enjoy the show. She gave him a stiff smile and clinked her glass to his, and they both drank.