“The Braves played pretty well,” she half lied, hoping he wouldn’t ask the score. She hadn’t witnessed but a handful of plays and had no idea who won. “So, did you figure out my puzzle for me?”
“Oh, yeah!” He perked up. “Once I figured out the sequence it was a breeze.”
“Great! What does it mean?”
“Well, the numbers are an IP code that differentiates one computer from another. It’s like a social security number for computers. I found a program online that could take an IP address and tell you where the computer was, right down to the street address. You’ll never guess where this IP address leads you … right here in Knoxville! Somewhere downtown, I think.” Uncle Dean cleared his throat. “Remind me again, why did you need this information?”
“It’s in a book I’m reading,” she lied.
“Mm-hmm.” He was not convinced. “So, you want me to go with you downtown and find it?”
Kirin stammered, then laughed it off. “Don’t be silly. It’s only a story.” Subject change. God, she hated lying to him. And she was terrible at it. “Thanks for figuring that out for me. I should be back home around three. I’ll run by and get the boys whenever you guys get back.”
“No problem, honey. By the way, I emailed you the address for your curiosity.” He drew out the last word as if he knew something was up.
“Thanks, Uncle Dean. I’ll see you guys in a few.”
“Be careful driving back, honey.”
“I will.”
She drove for a while, then pulled off at an exit to get something to drink. Sitting in her car, she pulled up the address and saved it: 1101 Market Square Blvd. She could walk downtown easily on her lunch break and scope out the business. How hard would it be to sneak into their computer system? The thought both nauseated and excited her.
She copied the address into the search engine and found it was a new age astrology store called Galaxy 10. The website had pictures of a tiny little store with incense, crystals, books, and other knickknacks. Not her cup of tea, but who knew. Maybe they’d do a back-room palm reading for her and she could scope the place out. Her real quandary: how would she waltz into a shop and hack into a computer when she had absolutely no skill in doing this? She was determined to figure it out. Back on the interstate, she made a knee-jerk direction change. She’d run downtown to look around the store and get the layout.
Next item: call Stacy. Her brother was some big dog for the TBI. Or was it the FBI? She vaguely remembered a recent conversation with a jealous Stacy. Big brother might have been promoted. She wasn’t sure what he did or even if she could trust him, but she had to figure out what type of conviction she must get to put Saul away for life. She might use the old, “I’m writing a novel” excuse to get technical advice. That might fly. She could pull that one off.
Kirin called Stacy’s cell, but she didn’t answer. She left her an intriguing message designed to entice her friend to call back faster.
“Hey Stace, it’s Kirin. I need to know how to convict someone of murder. Call me when you can, love ya.”
Five minutes later Kirin’s phone rang.
“What the hell, chick?”
“Hey, girl,” Kirin answered, smiling to herself.
“So, who’re we gonna kill? Wait. First, how’d the date go with Sam?”
“Better than I ever imagined,” Kirin whispered.
Stacy got quiet and then said, “On a first date? Kirin Lane, I’m shocked! And at the same time, I’m so proud of you!”
Stacy could always read her. “I think I’m in love, Stace,” Kirin admitted.
Stacy laughed, then added, “Only you could be single for two years, without one date, and come out of it a few weeks later, in love. Shoot, girl, I already had four or five prospective men lined up and now you’re off the market! What am I gonna do with you?”
“You’re gonna love him,” Kirin beamed.
“So, spill. Who’re we gonna kill off and why?”
“Well hypothetically, I need to know what type of evidence I’d need in order to get a conviction if I knew someone was guilty of murder, but couldn’t prove it?”
“Kirin, what do I look like to you? How the hell should I know that?”
“Don’t you have a super important brother in the TBI, or did I dream that?”
“Actually,” she said, “Mr. Perfect is in the FBI now, thank you.”
Even better. “So, you could call the golden boy and ask him the question for me, right?”
“This seems awfully deep for a girl in love. Why do you need this, K?”
“Well, love brings on creativity,” she stammered, feeling stupid. “I’m considering writing a novel and the plot includes a man who’s ordered others to kill. And maybe he’s killed people himself, but nobody can prove it. I’d hoped your brother could help me figure out how to tie in the plot, so he goes to prison for life.”
“Sure, I can ask him but only if you’ll do a huge favor for me.”
“Sure, but wait, Stace, you have to promise to call him today because I need the information like yesterday, okay?”
Kirin knew how Stacy’s brain worked. If she didn’t make sure Stacy understood it was urgent, she’d forget to ask him.
“All right, Nancy Drew, I’ll call him after I get off the phone with you, I promise.”
“Good. Now shoot, what’s the favor?”
“So, Todd wants me to meet his parents. Well, his father and stepmother. They’re coming into town this weekend. He wants me to throw a dinner party.” Stacy’s voice quivered at the words. “Would you and your new love, Sam, be free next Saturday night to come to the party and help me?”
“Sure, I’d love to! Not sure if Sam can make it, but I’ll ask. I’ll have to line up a babysitter—”
She interrupted, “Oh, Savannah would love to hang out with the boys downstairs. They can even spend the night! I need you there for support, whether you have a date or not, k?”
“Okay. But why are you so frazzled? You’ve thrown parties before …”
“When?” Kirin could envision her friend with her hand on her hip.
“Okay well, Jell-O shooter parties,” Kirin conceded, “but we did have snacks there.”
“Exactly. Todd wants good china, catered food, and maybe a server or two. He wanted everyone wearing long gowns. I nixed the long gowns.”
“Smart.”
“It’s the way he speaks about his father, Kirin. Like he’s a god. He says his father is super picky and super wealthy. I don’t want him thinking I’m not good enough for his son. I know Todd has his issues, but I love him. The fact he invited him here to meet me is big for him. I want everything to be perfect. Please, please, please help me?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t let you hang alone with scary people. I’ll be there, and we’ll decide on a fabulous menu this week, okay?”
After they hung up, Kirin immediately dialed Sam. He probably hadn’t landed yet, but she wanted to leave him a message about Saturday, so she didn’t forget.
~*~
Driving into downtown Knoxville, she still hadn’t called Galaxy 10 to find their Saturday hours, so she winged it. It was a few minutes before five. They’d probably already be closed but she parked in the free downtown parking garage, grabbed her purse, and trotted toward Market Square. The square was usually filled with all kinds of sounds: kids, music, urbanites walking their dogs through the park. Bikes were parked everywhere along the one-way streets that surrounded the square. Inside the square were quaint little stores selling handmade jewelry, trinkets, and candles. Hip new restaurants boasted handcrafted beers and organic burgers. There were a few small pubs, homemade ice cream and coffee shops. The square held outdoor festivals each year. A Shakespeare in the Park, Dogwood Art’s festival, and an ice-skating rink in the winter run by a friend of hers.
Nestled in the middle was Galaxy 10, an astrology store selling self-help books, homeopathic remedies, incense, crystals, and instrumental meditation CDs. Ac
cording to the window, for a fee you could set up an appointment to have your astrological chart done by giving your exact date and time of birth. The astrologist could then predict your personality, your strengths, and your weaknesses and even predict life events that would happen, all based upon your birth time.
She would have thought that being in the Bible Belt, most older people would shy away from such a store, believing it to be voodoo or something. And in all fairness, the store did look like a ghost town. Kirin checked her watch. One minute until five and the open sign was still out. She took a deep breath and pushed open the glass door. A chime rang out. It smelled like a health store and a church combined.
She walked toward the left where some crystals gleamed against the late afternoon sun shining in the window. Curious, she touched one making it move. Rays of purple and red danced on the walls around her. She smiled.
A heavy-set woman leaned over the counter reading a newspaper. The woman stilled when she spotted her, then tracked her every move from above the rim of her red reading glasses as if Kirin was about to steal something.
This flower child must have enjoyed the seventies. She wore long unkempt gray hair, a flowered skirt, and rings on every toe peeking out of her Birkenstocks. When they locked eyes, Kirin smiled, “Hello.”
The woman grinned wide. “I wondered when you’d come in.”
Kirin froze. “I’m sorry?”
“Darlin’ you can’t fool this old lady with your hair tucked inside that Braves hat.”
Kirin pulled the hat off and shook her hair.
The woman grinned even wider but said nothing.
“I’m sorry, do we know each other?”
“I know you,” the woman answered, smiling. Creepy. Maybe this was some astrological mind reading ploy to drum up business? The woman interrupted Kirin’s thoughts and said, “You look way too much like your mama to be anyone else.”
Kirin’s hackles rose. The woman knew her, but how? Kirin crept toward her and demanded, harsher than she meant to, “What do you know of my mother?”
The woman strolled toward Kirin then stopped a foot away. She placed warm hands on either side of Kirin’s face and whispered, “You have her eyes and her kind face, Kirin.”
The woman turned, walking away from Kirin toward the back of the store. She motioned for Kirin to follow. Kirin looked around. Nobody else in the store. She hesitated at first, but something about the woman seemed familiar. She followed through the store and pushed her head through a beaded door frame, slipping into a chaotic backroom office.
She immediately spied a computer, but it was buried in dust and paperwork. It didn’t look as if it’d been fired up in the last five years. This was where sticky notes came to die. Stacks of paper and notes lay like kudzu on every flat surface in the room.
The woman rummaged through the papers and talked to herself. She bent over the desk, her voice muffled.
“It was here the other day. Ugh. It arrived a few weeks ago just like he’d said it would… Not supposed to give it to anyone but you… hmmm. Bear with me dear, I’m a crazy old bat most days, but I know it’s here somewhere. Aha, here it is!”
She whirled around and handed Kirin a small manila envelope with her name on it. Kirin stared from the envelope to the woman.
“I know dear, it’s his handwriting. I miss him too. Now, go on with you. I’m sure you have lots to do. Come back when I have time to talk, okay?”
The woman whisked Kirin to the front, hugged and kissed her on the cheek, then turned her around, and shoved her out the door. She smiled through the window as she locked the door, turned her sign to closed, and switched off the lights.
Kirin stood there like an abandoned dog.
What the hell just happened? She looked around. The square was eerily quiet for a Saturday. Thunder boomed above her head and she knew she was about to be drenched. Kirin shoved the manila envelope in her purse and ran back to the parking garage, not making it to her car in time to not be soaked.
Sitting inside her locked car in the empty parking garage, Kirin shivered. Drops of chilly rain slid down her hair, landing on her back. Her hands shook. She told herself it was from the cold, but something inside knew better. She had to get home.
All she knew for sure was the envelope was addressed to her and it was in her dead father’s handwriting.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Kirin pulled into her driveway. She still had a good two hours until the boys came home, so she ran upstairs to take a quick shower. When she got out, she pulled on her favorite Notre Dame sweatshirt and black pants then ran back downstairs checking the doors and the alarm. She snuck around her house, as if she’d get caught stealing her sister’s new sweater.
Sitting at her computer, she tugged the envelope out of her purse. She took her time, opening it with careful fingers without ripping the handwriting. Inside she gingerly poured out a circus of items.
There was a card she’d made for her dad years ago, after he left. The front had a colorful hand-drawn picture of herself, her Mama and her father. The paper had yellowed and looked as if it’d been handled, a lot. She was nine when she’d made it and sent it to him in the hopes he wouldn’t forget about her. She turned the paper over in her hands, examining it carefully for clues or writing. She found nothing unusual, so she set it aside.
Next was a flash drive, plain orange and small. Last, a picture of a bunch of random people holding a little baby in an all-white gown outside of a church. That was it. No note, no nothing. What the crap? What does this mean?
Kirin popped the flash drive into her computer and clicked to open the file. The pictures that emerged put a lump in her throat. The first was of her and her mom and dad. Pictures she’d never seen. He must’ve kept those when he left.
The next ones were downright disturbing. Body bags, car crashes, burned out buildings and more body bags. And then, pictures of young twenty-something girls wearing bathing suits. Kirin squinted at them. Each picture had a caption indicating what country they were from, a number and a price ranging from $20,000 to $100,000. “What the hell?” Kirin whispered aloud, horrified.
The next file she clicked on was an Excel spreadsheet of names, dates, and order numbers. The heading read, “Ordered terminated by Saul for the good of The Club.” Placing her finger on the screen she counted over twenty names and dates of people he’d ordered to die. Her father’s name wasn’t on the list and neither was her mother’s. She guessed cancer got her dad before Saul did.
The next two files she opened concerned money. One spreadsheet was money incoming along with each girl’s number, and the other file was money going out to purchase guns, houses, contracts for girls and cars. The last file she came across was a spreadsheet with codes and account numbers for several banks overseas. After that were documents photocopied and scanned.
There was one more file to click on, and it was a video file. It took a strong cup of coffee and closed eyes to click on that file. Dread filled her as she pushed the button. Please say this wasn’t a graphic video of Saul killing someone. Then again if it was, her job of bringing him down might be easier.
The video opened with Kirin’s dance recital when she was seven. As the camera panned from the tiny dancers on stage down a line of smiling adults, she recognized her mom and dad first. They sat holding hands and smiling. Next to them were Aunt Kathy and Uncle Dean. All with the same goofy grin on their faces.
A strong knock at her front door made her jump up and scramble. She pulled all the items together and shoved them back in the envelope, stashing them inside her purse, under the desk.
Kirin bounded down the steps and walked to the front door. Looking through the peephole the full face of her handsome Sam emerged. Kirin opened the door and without a word, he walked in and embraced her. A long, I-missed-you-and-I’m-never-going-to-let-you-go-type of hug. When he finally released her, she looked into his eyes and frowned. Fear. That’s what she saw.
Sam released her, clos
ed and locked the door, then walked around her, grasping her hand and pulling her with him into the front room. He let go of her hand and sat in an armchair with his head in his hands.
“Umm…want something to drink?” She proceeded with caution. Anger and fear rolled off him, together.
“No.” His voice was tight.
“I said I was sorry.” She whispered as she sat across from him.
“It’s not that.” Sam ran his fingers through his hair. His eyes locked on to hers.
“How tied are you to this city?” Before she could even answer, he continued, “If we needed to leave and live somewhere new, could you do that? We could find a new home together and enroll the boys in school there …”
She stared at him as if he’d grown three heads. “This is my home. They’re not runnin’ me out of it.”
He stared at the floor. “That’s what I figured you’d say.”
Kirin scooted farther out on her chair, so their knees touched.
“What’s goin’ on? Tell me the truth.”
He let out a long breath. “I took a red-eye to LA after you left last night. Thought I could speak with Saul. Moved my flight up a few hours, so I could catch him at breakfast.”
This she already knew but didn’t interrupt.
He continued,” I asked him if he’d let me out. Told him I’d get the book for him if he’d leave you and your boys alone out of respect for the years Sonny worked for him. They were tight at one time. Like family.
“He read right through me. He’s a smug bastard. He’s got me by the balls, and he knows it.” Sam walked to the window and peered out. “He respectfully declined. Said he ‘owed it to my old man’ to keep me around. My particular skillset was too valuable to him.”
Sam sat back down, leaned forward and grabbed Kirin’s hands.
“We have to leave. Even if he gets the book tomorrow, he’ll still order the hit on you and anyone else who gets in the way, to teach me a lesson. We could change our names and get married. I’ll adopt the boys as my own. I won’t stand by and watch them take you. We gotta leave now.” His voice broke at the end.
Entangling: Book One of the Kirin Lane Series Page 19
