Kynan blinks in surprise. “As if he’d done it before?”
“That’s the way I took it.”
His eyebrows, much darker than the blond hair on his head, rise. “I’m assuming you told the police that.”
“Of course,” I reply, a little incensed he’d think I wouldn’t. “I told them everything. Hell… I’ve been telling them everything. I’ve reported every creepy letter, flower arrangement, and dead squirrel he’s ever left for me.”
Heat flashes in Kynan’s eyes, and there’s not an ounce of sensuality to it. It’s pure, blazing fury I’d been tormented that way. A wave of security sweeps over and wraps around me as I realize I finally have someone invested in my problem. I know, without a doubt, that hiring Kynan was the right decision no matter how much pain it dredged up.
“I’ve got a call into the lead detective on this,” he says with a hard edge to his tone. “I’m going to find out everything they have and haven’t done and then I’m going to fix your problem for you. Okay?”
“Thank you,” is the best reply I have, but I’m so immensely grateful I can almost see a light at the end of what’s been a very dark tunnel.
I take another sip before capping the water bottle. I start to unfold my legs, intent on going back to bed, but Kynan stops me cold me with his next words. “Why isn’t your mom managing you anymore?”
Kynan wasn’t overly fond of my mother’s domineering ways when we were together, but I know without a doubt he understood her zeal to make me famous and didn’t begrudge her love for me. Conversely, my mom was not Kynan’s fan at all. Apparently, she was right.
Still, I eventually realized through the continued course of our complicated mom/daughter/celebrity/manager relationship that my mom’s goals and mine weren’t at all in alignment. While I can never repay her for the opportunities she secured for me, I will never deny I became a much happier woman once I cut her loose as my manager and insisted we have only a mother/daughter relationship.
“It just became too contentious,” I answer after a bit of thought. How did I sum up all that complication, even if he was aware of some of it?
“She always wanted what was best for you,” he says neutrally.
“Not always,” I reply, unable to hide the slight tone of bitterness in my voice. But I’m also not about to lay every dirty detail before this man. He lost the right to know the personal details of my life when he cheated on me. “But it was the right decision to end that part of our relationship.”
“I can’t imagine she took that well.”
I should get up and go to my bedroom. End the conversation. End this need inside of me to have a personal connection with this man.
Instead, my mouth opens and I blab a bit. “She didn’t understand, and she was really hurt by what I did. She moved back to Cunningham Falls, and wouldn’t speak to me for a few years.”
Kynan makes a growling noise low in his throat, a clear indication he doesn’t like my mother’s actions. I didn’t like them either. It hurt me she couldn’t be happy just being my mom.
“But…” I continue, unable to hide the tremulous quaver in my words. “She started coming around. We’ve been able to repair most of the relationship over the years. It’s helped she got remarried and has someone else to focus her attention on.”
He stares for a long moment before he lifts his chin, giving a short motion toward my bedroom door. “You should try to get back to sleep. We’ve got to get up in just a few hours to head to the airport.”
“Where are we going?” I ask. He’d said we had a stop to make on the way to California.
“Fort Worth,” he replies.
“Texas?”
“The one and only.” He gestures again toward my bedroom. “Go get some sleep. We have a long day tomorrow.”
I’m not in the least bit tired—even still a little afraid to go back to sleep, worried my nightmare will resume again. But I push off the couch and walk away from the first genuine conversation I’ve been able to have with Kynan since we’ve reunited. I hate to admit it… but it felt good talking to him.
Too damn good.
CHAPTER 7
Kynan
There’s only one federal super max prison in the United States, and it’s housed in Florence, Colorado. It holds the most violent offenders as well as those who pose a risk to national security. Timothy McVeigh, Theodore Kaczynski, and Robert Hanssen are just a few of the celebrity inmates who have been housed there.
It’s the perfect place to keep a prisoner such as Bebe Grimshaw, except for the fact Bebe is a woman. As such, she was placed at the Federal Medical Center in Fort Worth, Texas. It’s a federal prison for females of all security levels, including those with mental and physical health needs, and it sits in the northeast corner of the Naval Air Station Joint Reserve Base in Fort Worth.
Bebe has no special needs, but she is a high national security risk. For the last seven years she’s called FMC Carswell her home, she’s been in solitary confinement. That means for twenty-three hours a day, she’s in a single inmate cell. She’s allowed outside in the yard for one hour a day, and she’s not allowed access to the prison library due to the nature of her crimes. By all accounts, seven years of solitary would be enough to drive anyone mad, but the warden gave me her file and it seems to indicate she’s been a pretty stable and model prisoner.
Still, I don’t have the skills necessary to make that determination, which is why I arranged for Dr. Corinne Ellery to meet me at the prison today. She’s doing the psych evaluations I require for the people I’m bringing aboard Jameson Force Security. Currently, she’s flipping through Bebe’s file while we wait for the guards to bring her in to meet us.
I had thought about leaving Joslyn on the plane while I drove to the prison to see Bebe Grimshaw, but it didn’t feel right leaving her behind. Not that I had much worry her stalker could have tracked her to Fort Worth from Pittsburgh and arranged to arrive there himself, not with having to bypass the private terminal security and breeching the plane that was protected by an armed guard.
I just didn’t want her to be alone.
So here she sits in a small room with a metal table bolted to the floor and four flimsy plastic chairs. Surprisingly, she hasn’t asked why we’re here. Quietly, and without any curiosity, she accepted my statement we had to stop in Texas to visit a prison as we boarded the plane this morning.
Frankly, she hasn’t said much of anything since we left the Jameson offices yesterday. I checked us into a two-bedroom suite at the Omni William Penn, but ended up sleeping on the couch in the main living area that separated the two rooms. I did this with my gun resting on my stomach because while I doubted her stalker had those types of resources, I wasn’t going to take things lightly. It was a miserable night of sleep, mainly because Joslyn tiptoed out of her room around one and raided the fridge for a snack. I don’t know if she saw me on the couch, but damn if I didn’t see all of her illuminated from the moon rays filtering in through the window. Her hair was bunched on top of her head, and she was in nothing but a thin tank and shorts that barely covered her ass. My body reacted, and I hated myself for it. At thirty-eight, I would have hoped to have a little more control of myself, but Joslyn Meyers is an irresistible siren. While my heart and brain have disconnected from her, it appears my cock has not.
“I’m not sure this is a good idea,” Dr. Ellery says as she closes the thick folder that holds everything known about Bebe Grimshaw. “The effects of seven years in solitary are incredibly unpredictable. Plus, Kynan… she’s an admitted felon who did some very bad things.”
“Which is why I have you here now,” I reply smoothly as I pull the file across the table. “To figure out if she’s redeemable.”
My eyes cut to Joslyn sitting to my right, and I don’t see a single question in her gaze. I mean, she must have figured out we’re here to meet a prisoner, but she doesn’t seem to give two fucks as to why. I know this is because I’ve done nothing to foster an ope
n environment for communication, but it’s not every day someone gets unfettered access inside a federal prison to an incredibly notorious criminal mastermind.
I flip the folder open and survey the picture of Bebe Grimshaw. It was her mug shot when she was arrested by the FBI. She was young… twenty-two. Bleached-blonde hair cut short and spiky. Fake diamond stud in her nose, a ring through her lip, and a barbell through her eyebrow. Her booking sheet describes multiple tattoos over her arms, ribs, back, and legs. If I flip through the folder more, I’ll find photos of everyone for documentation. I’ve read the contents of this folder three times, provided to me by a friendly US Congressman. I totally understand Dr. Ellery’s reservations, but I’ve got a hunch.
There’s a loud buzzing sound outside the door, then the heavy slide of metal as it’s unlocked. Joslyn, her back to the door, twists in her seat as we all watch it swing open. Bebe Grimshaw shuffles in with shackles on her thin wrists and ankles, locked together by an intermediary chain. Gone is the short, blond hair. Her natural color is a lustrous bluish-black that even prison hasn’t dulled over the years. It’s long and braided in the back. Her frame is slight beneath her prison uniform of a khaki button-up shirt and loose pants with white slip-on tennis shoes. She resembles a delicate fairy who got stuck in burlap.
Bebe scans her three visitors, her eyes hard and suspicious. She has no clue why she’s been summoned here, but I can also see she’s slightly curious. I was told she only gets two visitors twice a year. Past that, she has no connections to the outside world.
A guard comes in behind Bebe and unlocks her shackles. He gathers them up and exits, pulling the door closed behind him.
I stand from the table, then offer my hand to her. “Hi, Bebe. My name is Kynan McGrath.”
She shakes my hand, still regarding me with general distrust. I nod at Corinne. “That’s Dr. Ellery. She’s a psychiatrist.”
At this, Bebe blinks in surprise, but then she gestures at Joslyn. “And why is Joslyn Meyers sitting in a prison room with me?”
Not surprised she knows who Joslyn is. Most anyone who has access to TV does. She’s not only an award-winning pop star, but she’s also an accomplished actress. While Bebe is denied access to the library and internet, she has been allowed a small TV in her 4x9 cell that only gets four channels, but those include major networks, so it makes sense she’s seen something with Joslyn in it over the years.
“She’s a client of mine,” I reply, sweeping a hand toward the empty chair. “Why don’t you take a seat?”
Bebe shuffles around the table, walking as if still shackled. I’m guessing it’s a product of habit and having little space within which to maneuver. She sits slowly and puts her clasped hands on the table, her eyes locking on mine. “What can I do for you, Mr. McGrath?”
“I’d like to offer you a job.” It’s said bluntly, and Joslyn jerks in her seat. Dr. Ellery shakes her head over my rash proclamation, but Bebe merely cocks an eyebrow.
“You’ll have to wait thirteen more years before I’m supposedly eligible for parole,” Bebe drawls with an amused smile, and it’s clear she isn’t taking me seriously.
“I can get you paroled today,” I say firmly, and her smile freezes before it slides away.
“No one has that type of power,” she replies tightly.
“I do.” I give her a charming grin. “But before I work my magic, I need you to tell me something. Why did you get caught?”
Bebe’s eyes widen in surprise, not over my assertion I can spring her from prison, but that I’d even care to know why she landed here in the first place.
Not “how” but “why,” and that’s a particularly important distinction in my mind. Bebe’s eyes cut to Dr. Ellery, who gives her an encouraging smile. They then drift to Joslyn, who now seems to be invested in this conversation. She leans forward slightly in her chair as she watches Bebe carefully.
When Bebe focuses on me again, I can see something warring deep in her eyes. I don’t need Dr. Ellery’s formal professional opinion to know Bebe isn’t a trusting individual, so I decide to help her along the way.
I begin by explaining all about Bebe Grimshaw. “Bebe is incredibly intelligent. She turned down scholarships from prestigious colleges and universities all over the world, choosing to go to MIT, where she studied computer science. In her sophomore year, she got pregnant. While I can’t tell from her file if it was a love match, the father didn’t stick around. By Bebe’s junior year, she was a single mother struggling to raise a son on her own while continuing her schooling.”
I dare not look at Bebe, but I can actually see from my peripheral vision she’s sitting bolt upright now with her body locked tight. Continuing, I relate this story just for Joslyn’s benefit. “Times were really tough on her. She came from impoverished beginnings. While her mother helped with the baby, she’s a diabetic and was on disability so she was struggling herself. To help make ends meet for everyone, Bebe took odd jobs when she could. Because she was really good at computers, those jobs ended up being in the field of cybercrime.”
Joslyn peeks at Bebe, and I spare her a glance. She’s glaring with her jaw locked tight, but I ignore it. “It was petty stuff at first, but she soon caught the attention of a black-hat hacker group that saw her potential. The money they paid her was good, and when it became too damn good, she dropped out of school, I’m guessing because she saw it as a way to give her son and mother a good life, despite the fact what she was doing was felonious.”
Bebe shoots up from the table, her face flushed red with anger.
I merely say in a quiet voice, “Sit, Bebe. I promise this will be worth your time.”
She doesn’t do as I say. Instead, she lifts her chin defiantly. She doesn’t move to the door and call for the guard, so I return to my conversation with Joslyn.
“About seven years ago, she got pinched by the FBI in a huge cyber-espionage sting. Luckily for our nation’s security, Bebe was caught just before she could complete the download of our nuclear arms codes, which the group she was working for was poised to sell to the Chinese. There was no trial. Bebe refused to name others in the organization and pled guilty to the charges, earning her thirty-five years in prison.”
Gasping, Joslyn snaps around to take in Bebe, a mixture of disdain and empathy on her face. Bebe sighs, collapsing into her chair and giving me an irritated look. “So what’s your point?” she asks.
“I find it fascinating you could have given up everyone else in the organization for immunity, yet you took the fall instead. And you were nothing but their paid monkey—one who happened to be good with computers. You weren’t the person the government wanted. You could have testified for your government, put away a bunch of criminal masterminds who are a threat to our nation, and lived a fulfilling life with your son. But you didn’t.”
Bebe’s teeth gnash and grind, a muscle ticking in the corner of her eye.
“Your son… he’d be what… nine years old now?” I ask.
She remains silent.
“Your mom is raising him in Ohio where you’re from. They come out to visit you twice a year, which I know is a huge hardship on them financially.”
To my surprise, Bebe’s eyes water and her gaze drops to her lap.
“Leave her alone,” Joslyn whispers fiercely. When I swing around in surprise, she glares.
But Bebe is right where I want her, and I’m not about to let up. I turn to the prisoner and ask, “Why, Bebe? Why did you let yourself get caught? Because you’re good… probably the best at what you did, and you should have never gotten caught.”
“You were protecting someone,” Dr. Ellery says in a voice filled with awe and understanding. Now she gets why I came here, and her soothing voice is full of empathy. “Your son, right?”
It’s what I suspected all along because someone of Bebe’s caliber doesn’t get caught. Someone who’s good enough to hack the NSA doesn’t simply let themselves get caught, but Bebe did. And then she rolled over, pled guilty,
and went to prison for a good chunk of her life without even a fight.
Bebe searches Dr. Ellery’s face. For a moment, I can see something in Bebe’s expression that might spell the need to release a pent-up secret. But then it’s gone, and her eyes turn cold and silent.
I know deep in my gut Dr. Ellery has guessed what I’ve suspected, but I need Bebe to say it. To confirm my hunch about her before I go out on a limb to gain her freedom.
But she’s not budging. After a long, hard look at me, she starts to stand from the chair and I’m immensely disappointed. She would have been such an asset to Jameson. More importantly, I need her on Joslyn’s case.
Bebe is stopped, however, when Joslyn reaches a hand out and places it on Bebe’s forearm. It’s the lightest of touches, yet Bebe stops, twisting her neck to focus on her.
“You can trust Kynan,” Joslyn says softly. “He’s the real deal. I’ve put my life in his hands because I trust him, and I promise you… he can help you if you just tell him what he wants to know.”
It’s a sweet effort and I’m touched by the sincerity, but it doesn’t appear to sway Bebe. She just stares at Joslyn, her lips pressed in a thin line of distrust. My mind moves to my backup plan, a man I heard about who works in the CIA in their cyber-espionage division. I can lure him away easily, but he’s not as good as Bebe.
“His name is Aaron,” Bebe says quietly as she sinks into her chair. She smiles at Joslyn, then addresses me. “My son’s name is Aaron, and they threatened to kill him if I didn’t get the codes for them.”
“You were a mother first and a hacker second,” Dr. Ellery says softly, an understanding smile on her face.
Bebe gives a nod but clarifies. “I was a mother first and a patriot second. I wasn’t about to give away nuclear codes to anyone. So I left an obvious trail of crumbs as I hacked my way into the database, and I made sure I got caught.”
Joslyn now is fully invested and asks her own questions. “But why not give up the people you worked for?”
Code Name: Genesis Page 5
