“You’re right. It doesn’t make a lot of sense. But somehow this guy is getting information. He may be a genius when it comes to technology, but some of these things go beyond technology, you know? Like how did he know this Perry guy went into your office? Somehow, he knew that, and he decided to use the man’s name. And how did he know that your brother knew Tyler? Did he target Kurt Casey first and then decide to pull him into your abduction?”
“Those are a lot of good questions.” I suddenly sat up, an idea hitting me. “Can I see your laptop?”
Chase handed it to me.
I typed in a few things until a YouTube video popped up. It was one Sarah had made for an assignment at school. I pressed play and showed Chase the screen.
“Holly loves things from times past,” Sarah narrated. On the screen was a picture of me in one of my A-line dresses, holding some homemade cookies and offering a little curtsey to the camera. “She likes to cook and clean and make people feel at home. Some people would call her old-fashioned because she loves life in the 50s. I just think she’s cool.”
“What is this?” Chase asked.
“Sarah had to do a project for school—a video of someone she admired. She picked me.”
“Well, I know you’re honored. And you could be right. If someone came across this, it could have given them the ammunition they needed to set up this whole scenario.”
“Maybe it was then a matter of putting things in place. Maybe this guy saw the article on Kurt Casey and knew his retro home would work perfectly for the scheme he was developing. He did his homework first, found some dirt on Kurt, and decided to pull him into this plan.”
“And Perry?”
“What if the real bad guy somehow found out Perry visited Ralph’s office and talked to me?” I continued. “He could have planted Perry’s picture on the old Axon website just to throw us off.”
“And Tyler?”
I nibbled on my bottom lip for a minute. “Tyler was in the accident four days ago, right?”
“That’s correct.”
“So . . . maybe this guy needed another scapegoat. Could he have been monitoring your calls? Ralph’s?”
“My line is secure. To listen in on my phone calls . . . it would be impressive.”
“So it’s unlikely but not out of the question?”
“I suppose.”
At that moment, Chase’s cell phone rang. He excused himself and went to answer in the other room. When he came back, a deep frown was on his face.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Out of curiosity, earlier I called the motel where Kari had been staying,” Chase said. “We had a bust there a few months ago.”
“A bust?”
“This guy was filming things in hotel rooms—unbeknownst to the person inside.”
“That’s horrible.”
“I know. I sent a guy out to check the room where Kari was staying, just to make sure that this guy wasn’t up to his old tricks again. We arrested the ringleader, but he had other little minions at his disposal.”
“And?”
“And my guy found a camera just like the one this perp was using.”
I sat up straight. “Really? Where is it?”
“He’s bringing it over.”
“You’re not giving it to Wilson?”
Chase frowned. “I would . . . but the truth is that whoever this inside guy is . . . I’m afraid he might have a connection to the police department.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Really?” I nearly squealed, my voice rising just above a fever pitch. “You think this guy could be a cop?”
Chase leaned forward, resting his elbows on his legs as he stared in the distance with a steely focus. “Maybe not a cop. But someone who works with cops. I don’t know. It makes the most sense that this person would have seen you at the station. Would know what we’re planning before we even execute the ideas.”
I shook my head. “I think you made the right call by asking this guy to bring the video here. You don’t want the wrong person to get their hands on it. Is this someone you can definitely trust?”
“Yes, he’s someone I’ve worked with for the past four years.”
Fifteen minutes later, the officer brought the camera to Chase. It was small, and I wasn’t sure how he planned on watching whatever was on it.
But, with more skill than I knew Chase had, he pulled out a little disk and managed to insert it into his computer. Images filled the screen. We skipped over most of them until we reached the moment Kari arrived.
I watched her in the hotel room, feeling a little guilty at the invasion of her privacy. But she almost looked normal as she lay on the bed watching TV and staring at her fingernails.
Finally, we reached the moment where she perked up in bed. She looked at the door as if someone had knocked. I held my breath.
Was this it? The moment we’d find out the truth?
I leaned closer to the computer screen, waiting to see who came inside.
A man wearing a black hoodie appeared at the corner of the screen.
I squinted, hoping that he would turn toward the camera so we could see his face.
The man may have been a tech genius, but he obviously hadn’t had a clue another criminal had already left a camera in this room. For the first time, crime was paying off.
I watched, still holding my breath.
Finally, the man glanced back.
I sucked in a deep breath, uncertain if I’d seen correctly.
Because that had looked like . . .
“Felix,” Chase muttered. “That was Felix.”
* * *
Everything that happened next seemed like a blur.
Chase called a friend with the state police who told him Felix no longer worked for them. Our Felix also didn’t match the description of the true Felix, who’d moved to California and taken a security job out there. The pretend Felix’s picture was now being run through databases in hopes of getting a match.
So far, this guy had pretended to be numerous people. He’d taken their names. Their photos. Their identities. But what was his real name?
Chase had been on the phone ever since his discovery. He’d put in a call to Wilson, who’d said Felix had gone back to his hotel for the evening.
A squad car had been sent to the hotel, but there was no Felix.
Now it was a waiting game.
As weariness pressed in on me, I stayed awake, determined to hear any news as soon as it became available. Chase seemed just as anxious for an update. We sat on the couch, making phone calls, searching for things on the laptop, and waiting.
I’d made some popcorn, and we drank some sweet tea, more to pass time than from hunger. As I popped a buttery kernel into my mouth, my thoughts circled.
“Tell me about Hugo,” I finally said. I knew the question didn’t seem connected to what was currently taking place, but I still had some uncertainties.
Chase flinched before setting his tea down and leaning back. “I don’t know what there is to tell. I never found him. I only know that his name was thrown when I was following a lead. I’ve been looking for him since then.”
“No other evidence has popped up?”
“No.” Chase sagged against the couch, looking exhausted. “When my brother was shot, I figured his death was a result of his involvement in the drug culture. I assumed Hugo was associated with that.”
“Was he?”
“Hayden was deeper involved in the drug culture than I wanted to admit. He liked nice things, but he needed money to afford them. Drugs—and dealing them—seemed to offer him some of those opportunities. That also meant he got involved with some dangerous people.”
“That’s not good.”
“I was able to question some people in the park where he was shot. Everyone assumed he was killed in a mugging. But I knew there was more to it than that.”
“Do you have any theories about this Hugo guy, now that you’ve had time to think
about it?”
“I’ve often wondered if he was a hired gun,” Chase said. “Only a professional could disappear that easily.”
I turned toward Chase, desperate to understand him. “I just can’t comprehend why you blame yourself.”
The same heaviness came over Chase again. He only talked about his brother in snippets. I could tell it was hard for him. Part of me didn’t want to bring it up, but the other part of me had to know.
There were too many connections for me to not have all the facts.
Chase let out a sigh. “I saw my brother going places he shouldn’t have gone and getting involved with things that he shouldn’t. I tried to warn him to stay away from that lifestyle. I knew it was nothing but trouble.”
“But he didn’t stay away?”
Chase ran a hand over his face and his voice sobered even more. “He didn’t. I actually gave him an ultimatum. I told him if he didn’t walk away that I would.” His voice caught.
I waited for him to gather his thoughts and finish.
“Long story short, I walked away. I thought that would jog some sense into him, but it didn’t. He continued doing what he was doing. I was watching, waiting for an opportunity to arrest him. I thought maybe jailtime would open his eyes. But I never caught him.”
“I see.”
Chase turned toward me, his eyes locking with mine. “The thing is, Holly, if I hadn’t been so stubborn, if I hadn’t given him that ultimatum, if I’d been there for him . . . maybe none of this would have happened.”
I reached for his arm and squeezed it. More than anything, I wanted to take away his pain. Easier said than done, however. “You can’t know that.”
He shrugged. “I can’t. But that’s what haunts me every night. That’s what’s been so hard to get past. I was his brother. I should have been there for him. I should have protected him. But I didn’t.”
“Chase—”
He turned toward me, taking my hand into his. “And that’s what worries me about you. I want to be there for you. I don’t want to give you ultimatums. But I still fear I won’t be able to protect you like I should.”
I traced Chase’s face with my fingers, wishing I could soothe the lines of worry there. “If anything happens to me, it won’t be your fault. You have to know that.”
“But I’m afraid I won’t.”
My heart pounded so hard in my chest that it almost hurt. He meant those words. He would always blame himself if anything happened to the people he loved, and no one would change his mind.
His phone rang, pulling us from the tension in the room. He spoke into it a few minutes before turning toward me.
“They got a match on Felix’s picture,” he said. “I think we might finally know his real name.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chase and I headed down the road. Not only did we have a name, but we also had an address. Though it was late and night had fallen hours ago, Chase wanted to be there and see for himself as this man was arrested.
“Who is he?” I asked, unable to wait any longer. Would his real name sound familiar? Would this be the missing piece that pulled everything together and gave us the answers we needed?
“His real name is Lars Dahlman.” Chase stared straight ahead, his gaze set and determined.
“Dahlman?” I repeated, uncertain if I’d heard correctly.
“This guy definitely delights in the absurd. He probably made a play on his name when he chose his costume, almost so he could silently mock us.”
I had no doubt that Chase was correct. And the name didn’t ring any bells. “So who is Lars Dahlman?”
“From what Wilson told me, he’s actually Scandinavian, from Norway. He came to the States about ten years ago. He’s a renowned hacker with a large bank account.”
“So is this Lars guy the one who started Axon? Or is this all another smokescreen?”
“That’s a great question. I feel like this is the real guy, not another red herring. We’re sending some pictures of this guy—with all of his various identities—over to Mitch to see if he recognizes him. We’ve had the wool pulled over our eyes so many times, we need to verify things.”
I shifted in my seat, trying to keep my excitement at bay. We still had a lot more work to do. Or, I should say, the police still had a lot more work to do. “You never saw this man when your brother worked at the company or when you investigated afterward?”
Chase shook his head. “Dahlman, known to me then as Gerald Moven, was working out of the country—supposedly—when everything went down. I didn’t even view him as a suspect.”
“Convenient that he had such a strong alibi.”
“I know. I tried to research him, but there was surprisingly very little online about him, especially considering his work relied on having a social media presence.”
“Of course, we don’t know what’s reality. He was probably online using aliases and fake photos.”
“You’re probably right.”
I leaned back. “So, since you know his real name, what’s his real story? Do you know?”
“Read for yourself what Wilson just sent.” He handed me his phone, and I stared at the screen.
“According to what I’m reading, his background seems fairly normal,” I said. “His parents have been married for more than thirty years. He has a younger sister. He hacked into a government website and released some sensitive emails that made several Norwegian leaders look like fools. He fled the country before being caught. Some of his friends called him a practical joker.”
“That all seems to fit.”
“How did he pretend to be a cop like he did?” I asked. “He tricked everyone in the office. That’s no small task.”
“He had the right name, the right badge, the right know-how. He integrated so easily that no one really questioned him.”
Though a profile was beginning to come together in my mind, there was still one thing that bothered me. “Chase, I still don’t understand why he targeted us . . .”
“Maybe we’ll find out some answers soon.” Chase pulled to a stop in front of a decent-sized house in an upper-middle-class neighborhood. Police cars bordered the residences, and neighbors had come out to stare as the SWAT team surrounded the place.
Chase and I climbed out and took our place near the police line.
Chase shook his head as he stared at the scene in front of us. “This guy was sitting right in front of us, and no one recognized him. I can only imagine the pleasure he got from that fact.”
“Do you think he’s inside?” I nodded toward the house.
“We can only hope.”
“But he’s always been two steps ahead . . .” My thoughts churned inside me as I pieced together what I knew about this man. One thought kept trying to take center stage.
“What are you thinking, Holly?”
A bad feeling snaked up my spine. Was I reading too much into this? Was I paranoid?
Maybe.
But what if I wasn’t?
“Chase . . . how do we know this guy hasn’t been somehow listening to all the communication between police right now?”
“I suppose we don’t know that.”
“So he could know that your guys were coming?”
Chase’s face went pale, and he took a step forward. “Get behind the car. Now!”
I hurried across the sidewalk toward Chase’s car. Once I was safely behind it, I watched as Chase rushed beyond the police line.
He began a heated conversation with Wilson, just as the SWAT team entered the house.
My stomach twisted as I waited.
I hoped I was wrong. I really hoped I was.
But just as the thought entered my mind, an explosion rocked the neighborhood. Debris rained through the air in daggers of fire.
I ducked behind the car, but my gaze stayed on Chase.
He was okay. Wilson was okay.
But this whole thing had been a trap.
* * *
Three me
n had been injured when they’d entered Dahlman’s house. They were at the hospital, still hanging on. I prayed for good news. I could only imagine what their loved ones were experiencing.
As I’d feared, Dahlman had known they were coming, and he’d planned this. The question was, where was he now? Where was Kari? They hadn’t found her body inside. Not yet, at least.
No one knew that answer. No one knew how Dahlman had been able to get past police security checkpoints and fool law enforcement. But he had.
Chase and I had eventually gone back to his place.
I’d gone to bed, unable to stay awake any longer.
But Chase had remained awake, on the phone and on his laptop, trying to track down leads. By morning, I hoped he’d find something.
“We’ve set up false leads,” was the first thing Chase said to me when I emerged from my bedroom at six a.m. “We’ve set up a whole chain of correspondence to make it sound like we’re going to do a raid of one of the locations Dahlman frequents. Meanwhile, we have a new tech guy who’s come in, and he’s going to trace this guy. It’s a complicated process, but he thinks he’ll be able to ping his location.”
“That sounds like the perfect plan.” I sat beside him at the kitchen table, anxious to hear more. “But what do we do until then?”
“We wait.”
I hated waiting. I hated not being in on the action.
For the next two hours, I made cookies. I cleaned. I felt more like myself. But I still refused to wear my dresses. I wasn’t ready for that yet. I needed to separate my way of dressing from the crime committed against me.
But I wanted to do whatever I could to keep my mind occupied.
Finally, the call from Wilson came just after lunchtime. Chase put the phone on speaker.
“We got him,” Wilson told Chase. “The plan worked. Dahlman was listening to us from a building where he’d been renting an office—under an alternative identity, of course. Lars Dahlman is now in official police custody.”
“Is he talking?” Chase asked.
“No, not yet. He said he’ll only talk to you and Holly.”
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