All Bets Are Off: A Samantha True Novel

by Rose, Kristi

  Only, nothing happened.

  With trepidation, I eased the lid up like a large yawn.

  Precious and I leaned forward and peered into the box.

  “What the duck is that?” she asked. “Totally not what I was expecting.”

  I pursed my lips. Me either.

  Inside the box were three severed thumbs and two credit cards with sticky notes that read copy.

  30

  Saturday

  We decided to drive Precious’s SUV to Seattle. My gut told me I would find answers there. Starting with Lockett. Toby wasn’t happy to be missing high time, but I was compensating him well so he couldn’t complain. We stopped long enough to grab two take-out pizzas, one Meat Lover’s, the other a Hawaiian.

  Turns out the severed thumbs in the box were thumb drives and on the bottom of two, someone, I’m assuming Carson, had written copy. They were disturbing to see rolling around in the box. The two credit cards were actually storage for mini SD chips that slid out from the corner. Kinda cool in a covert way.

  Afraid Mad Dog and whoever he worked for might be outside watching, I had stuffed one finger down Precious’s bra and another in my boot. I didn’t have the chest to disguise the finger. I had added a gel cushion sole in each of my boots and placed the key under one in my attempt to hide them. I left the rest behind in the safety deposit box for safekeeping.

  “Paranoid much?” Precious said as she adjusted the finger down her shirt.

  “Scared,” I said.

  Now, Toby, disgruntled because I wouldn’t let him work remote from Carson’s high-tech secret space off the office, was working his tech magic on the drives in the back seat of Precious’s SUV and grumbling.

  “Okay, I’m in,” he said.

  I climbed in the back seat next to him. “Keep driving,” I told Precious, “I’ll fill you in.”

  Toby scrolled over images of blue file folders. “These are filled with news articles about Indian Services and Indian Affairs. Some of these files are encrypted, which I’ll have to break to figure out what’s inside.”

  I gave him an expectant look.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know what any of this means.”

  Deflated, I pointed to the icon of a film reel. “Start that.”

  Toby clicked on it, and a grainy video popped up and began to play. We leaned in closer to the screen, and Toby turned up the volume. We watched it seven times before I started putting the pieces together.

  Two men on the screen, a slender, fit man and a round, older man. One did not appear to work for the other. They also did not appear to be friends. They were outside, the backdrop a nighttime forest with a full moon and a dark swath running through the trees. A river perhaps? Humpty was talking, and the thin man was leaning toward him and nodding. This is where being a dyslexic came in handy. I’d spent my life learning to read body cues.

  “This one,” I said pointing to the slender one, “is going to do a job for Humpty.” Humpty’s casual stance with one hand in his pocket told me he was a man who got stuff done.

  “When?” Humpty asked in a booming, demanding voice. Most of the sound was too quiet, but the odd loud word was picked up crystal clear.

  “Next week.” Garbled words and then, “…make the news.” Slender man said more but it was muffled. Same thing with what Humpty followed up with. When they shook hands, I felt dirty just watching. Something awful had just been decided.

  “I wish I could make out the rest of what they’re saying,” I mumbled.

  “Let me see if I can enhance the audio,” Toby said.

  I rolled my eyes. “While you’re at it, could you zoom in on this guy?” I tapped the image of slender man. “Something about him is familiar. I’d like to know who he is.”

  Toby huffed. “What? Do you think I have facial recognition or something? Like I’m the FBI. Had we done this in Carson’s computer room, I bet I could do amazing things with this video.”

  I punched him in the bony knee, but not too hard. Only hard enough to make him flinch. “I need you here, not there.” I pointed to the screen. “This works better face to face. And are you seriously gonna sit here and tell me a computer junkie like yourself doesn’t have at least a simple recognition program on your computer?”

  He lifted his vape pen, refusing to make eye contact. He clicked a few buttons then pushed his computer onto my lap. He’d drawn a box around a slender man, and the computer was working on enhancing it.

  “No smoking in my car,” Precious said from the front. “I don’t want that nicotine smell in my car.”

  “Nicotine!” Toby said. “Get out! I don’t do that crap. Have you seen people going through nicotine withdrawal? My Uncle Thomas stopped smoking and gained over forty pounds that year,” he said as he reached forward to the front then lifted the lid off the pizza box I’d left on my seat. “I allow for one vice, and I choose an herbal one.” He took one slice of pizza and stacked it cheese side down on another before taking a bite.

  He flicked the air freshener hanging from Precious’s rearview mirror and said with a full mouth, “Just think of me as a walking, talking version of this. Only my stuff smells way better than that manufactured crap. I’m my own aromatherapy.”

  I laughed. I glanced back at the screen and gasped. “It’s that guy Cooper that I met in the park.”

  “You said he knew Carson,” Precious said.

  “He was just one of many looking for something Carson left behind. We need to figure out the other man. Maybe that will help me connect the dots. Cooper said Carson helped him with a client. Maybe this guy was the client. ”

  Toby wiped his greasy hands on his pants and made some more clicks. The man’s face enlarged, but the angle was never right and he was too pixelated. Or maybe that ugly.

  I tapped Cooper’s face. “See if the program can pick up this one’s real name. When we get to Seattle and track down Lockett, we can ask him what Humpty’s name is. I have a feeling he’ll know.”

  I watched the screen as it worked on searching for Cooper’s identity. Trouble was, he would have to be in a federal database for anything to pop. Criminal, prior military, school teacher, or federal employee were areas it would search. My bet was on him being some sort of criminal. He’d said Carson was working with him, but now I wonder if Carson discovered Cooper working something illegal. Had Carson’s untimely death been Cooper’s good fortune? I paused as a sick thought burst through the others. What if Carson’s death had been planned? What if he’d died because of whatever was going down in this video?

  “You guys,” I said quietly, “What if Carson died because he was working with Cooper? I can’t ask you to put yourself in danger for something that doesn’t involve you. You should go back home.” Distance between me and them was the only way to keep them safe. Even though going at this alone was terrifying.

  “Like h-e-double hockey sticks. We aren’t leaving you. At least, I’m not,” Precious said. She gunned the SUV.

  “Precious,” I said. “I’m serious.”

  “I am, too,” she said with such determination that changing her mind would be impossible.

  I was both appreciative of and scared for her.

  She tapped her temple. “I’m visualizing a successful resolution as I drive.”

  Toby was on another helping of pizza sandwich.

  To him I said, “We can take you to the train station, and I’ll get you a ticket home.”

  He paused, pizza halfway lifted to his mouth. “Dudette, whatever Carson was into might not be good, but he was good to me. He took me seriously from day one. Gave me a job I love and understood my schedule. If someone killed him because of this stuff”—he gestured to the screen—“then I owe it to him to finish what he started.” He chomped on the pizza.

  I wish I could be as clear cut about Carson’s motives toward me as Toby was toward him.

  “What if Carson was a bad guy, too, and was using you for some reason?” I asked this question to Toby but myself, to
o.

  “What reason?” He continued to eat.

  I stared at the computer, shifting my focus from the men to the scenery behind them while I searched my brain for some sort of link that connected me, Toby, and Carson. If Carson put in security systems, if he charged large amounts of money for top-notch cybersecurity, then what did he need Toby for? Wasn’t he capable of doing all this himself? In photography, we learned how to use the negative to check elements of the image. I applied this to the video. I let the men on the screen fade to the background and brought the scenery forward. The forest popped and the dark ribbon between the trees reminded me of the Windy River. The answer figuratively slapped me upside the head. Then I literally slapped myself on the forehead.

  “Land,” I said.

  “Huh?” Toby said, pre-pizza bite.

  “Up by Graycloud’s place. There are several parcels that overlook the river. Your parents own a parcel. So do my parents. The Kleppners. My landlord, Chuck, the Stillmans.” I fumbled for my phone and accessed the secret cloud, pulling up client files, but didn’t find what I was looking for. Toby’s computer was still in my lap, and I clicked on the external drive. A file labeled WR/LD was listed. Wind River/ Land maybe? I clicked on it and was shown a list of the landowners.

  When I clicked on my parents’ name, files about them, me, and Rachel popped up, including several pictures of me and notes I couldn’t bear to read. A cold sweat broke over me. I swallowed hard and clicked on Toby’s parents’ name. Pictures, information, even tidbits that went back to high school. The same was for the Kleppners. Carson knew about Sean’s womanizing proclivities before he even met Shannon or Sean. Marni Edgar was listed because her firm had handled the sale all those years ago. Carson’s notes on her were about her being lonely. Leo’s file was the only one that lacked personal information. No weakness that could be exploited.

  Carson had played us. From moment one, we were targets. Carson had played me.

  “Toby,” I said. “Carson wasn’t your friend. Or mine. We were tools he was using for a greater gain.” I spun the computer so he could see the screen. “We need to figure out what the objective was and get Carson and this mess behind us. See if you can find any connection between the land and Carson.” I filled Precious in on what I found in the file.

  Toby scanned the screen, the two slices of pizza drooping in his hand. After a few minutes, he closed the laptop then tossed the slices back in the box. “I’ve lost my appetite.”

  I squeezed his knee. “Me, too. I got your back.”

  He tapped his chest. “It hurts, man.”

  Because I’d been wondering how deep Carson’s deception went, I was more prepared than Toby. Still, this discovery cut to the bone. The sooner this entire mess was behind us the better. I deleted the files. There was no purpose for this information to be in my possession.

  I said, “When we get to Lockett’s law firm, I’ll go in solo. Toby, you keep working on those files and, Precious, you keep the car running in case we need to get away fast.”

  “Roger,” she said and eyed me from the rearview mirror.

  “Works for me,” Toby said. “I’m a big scaredy-cat.”

  “Maybe not a big one,” I said and elbowed him. He was staying after all. “Maybe just a little tiny scaredy-cat.”

  Seattle was an amazing city. My parents used to bring my sister and me here to watch the games, Dad being a big sports guy. For me, the city had nothing but wonderful memories and good food. I was prepared to throat punch any bad guy who might try and change that for me. My stun gun was in the back pocket of my jeans, fully charged.

  We passed the Space Needle and the glass museum, Mom’s favorite, as Precious’s GPS led us to Lockett’s law offices. Precious pulled to the curb of a seven-story brick building much to the frustration of several cars behind her. Many blew their horns and gestured with fingers. Precious blew them kisses.

  From the top floor, some lucky devils had views of the sound, the needle, and the wheel. I was in and out in under seven minutes, three of those waiting for the elevator.

  I climbed into the back seat with Toby. “That was a bust,” I said, slamming the door in frustration. “He’s taken a month-long vacation. They said he’s in Australia.”

  “We know that’s not true because he was at Ralph’s,” Precious said.

  “Maybe I should have hung out there. Probably had a better chance of finding him that way.” I crossed my arms in a huff. “Sorry about wasting your time, guys.”

  “Actually,” Toby said turning the computer to face me. “I’m working on breaking another one of Carson’s encrypted files, and look what I found.”

  On the screen was a picture. Clearly, it had been taken through a window looking into what appeared to be a coffee shop. In the picture were Carson and another man’s profile. They were sitting across the table from each other but leaning in close.

  “I can pull up the time stamp and geocache for a location. Someone took this with their cell phone,” Toby said and pointed to some data he made pop up on the screen. “This was two days before Carson died. And it was sent to him in an email.” He pointed to a line of odd characters and nonsensical words. “I ran a search on these files for this geocache stamp and found it several times in another file.” Toby did more clicking, and screens popped up. “See all this?”

  “Yeah, those numbers repeat in a column.” The geocache code was showing up two dozen times, easy.

  “Yep, that’s the location. The numbers next to it are dates and times. And they come from Carson’s cell phone.”

  “He tracked his own whereabouts? Why?” I hated not knowing what I didn’t know.

  Toby shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  “Who’s the guy?” I asked, tapping the picture.

  “No idea, but they’re at the Daily Grind Coffee shop,” Toby said. “Carson was a frequent patron of this coffee shop.” He ran his finger down the column of location code.

  “Which is right down the street,” Precious said and pointed to her GPS.

  “Let’s go,” I said. “Maybe we can find this guy and get some answers. They look to be having a serious conversation.”

  “I could use a coffee,” Toby said. “A double shot Americana sounds exactly like something I need to help steel my nerves.” He held out his hand to show it steady, but floppy. “Look at me, I’m a mess.”

  Precious, who was backward in her seat, arched a brow. I chuckled. She spun around and readied herself to pull out into traffic and said, “Hold on to your titties, kitties. We’re going to get some answers.” She whipped into traffic and gunned it, cutting off a Prius in the process.

  I clutched the computer to keep it steady. Toby grabbed his pecs and held on tight.

  31

  Saturday

  Toby waved my phone in my face. “I sent the picture to the cloud storage. And I loaded an RFID app. You see someone suspicious, open the app and press the button.”

  “That feels illegal,” I protested. “Don’t those apps scan the person and swipe their information?”

  Precious said from the front, “Next time you’re getting the shizzle stomped out of you, make sure to ask for the bad guy’s name.”

  She had a point. If I had Mad Dog’s name right now, we’d be further along.

  Toby said, “There’s no guarantee with it. RFID tags are everywhere so the app will pick up a lot of info we don’t need. It’s the whole needle and haystack thing.”

  I nodded. “I’ll use the app.”

  “We’re here,” Precious said, coming to an abrupt stop and sending both Toby and me into the back of the front seats.

  The Daily Grind took up the corner of a block-long brick building. Large glass garage doors came together at the corner. They were rolled up, letting the sunny weather in.

  Precious had pulled up to the curb, her front passenger wheel riding up on the sidewalk. “I’ll circle around. Text us if you need backup support, and I’ll try to find a spot
. The closest parking garage I found was two blocks that way.” She pointed behind us.

  “Okay,” I said and fidgeted with the cloud, pulling up the picture.

  “I’ll be going that way, north, around the block,” Precious said, pointing to the front of the SUV. “So if you get spooked, don’t run north, run south, and we’ll intersect sooner.”

  “Roger,” I said. Directions were difficult for me so I stared down the street in the direction she called south and tried to commit the image to memory. My face was still a discolored mess so I put on a Seahawks cap, pulling my hair into a ponytail through the size adjuster in the back. Maybe the shadow would disguise something. “Double shot Americano for you, Toby, and for you, P?”

  “Oh, get me something frilly and fun. Hemp milk if they have it.”

  I jumped out of the SUV and took a deep, calming breath as I strolled into the cafe. We had no other leads, and I hoped this one would play out.

  The line was short, and I surveyed the crowd as I waited. Typical hipsters. PNW men seemed of two types. The men with bushy mountain man beards and men without. That was it. One could never assume the guy with the clean-shaven face and Mariners jersey was a sports nut any more than the man with the full beard was outdoorsy. That was the beauty of living here. Nothing was predictable.

  Except maybe the coffee shops had customers with open laptops and expressions of grim concentration.

  At my turn, I stepped up to the counter and ordered. The barista, a woman my age, had a high and tight haircut, dark heavy eye makeup, a sleeve of tattoos on both arms, and a friendly smile. I wanted to be friends with her. She oozed confidence. After paying, the opportunity to go fishing opened.

  “Do you work here a lot?” I asked. With my luck, she could be a brand-new employee. Tabby was the name on her badge.