Seeking Worthy Pursuits: A Dark Romantic Suspense Novel (Alace Sweets Book 2)

by MariaLisa deMora

  “Roger.” His response was quiet and clipped, but enunciated in his own voice so she knew he wasn’t subvocalizing yet. The glasses setup she’d procured provided bone-conducted audio via the temples, and when he applied the adhesive microphone to the underside of his jaw, allowed him to communicate without speaking aloud. The engineer she’d tapped for the device was anxious to hear how it worked in what would amount to a combat environment, because he had a defense grant for development. That meant he sent prototypes to his contact, which were tested in controlled situations, and only limited feedback was provided. The DOD was notorious for keeping the true specifics of any test confidential, no matter the security clearance of the individual actually doing the development. The engineer was also a professor at a highly respected university, so he had tenure riding on the successful culmination of his development. She had a feeling that she and Owen would deliver exactly what the developer needed.

  “Entry achieved.”

  Alace blew out a soft stream of air at that transmission. The video from the clipped-on camera changed from the blank surface of the door at the house beside their target to an interior view. She clicked on a window displaying on a just-added-today third monitor and activated the thermal imaging from a hovering drone. It took a couple of seconds for the display to change, showing a bright orange blob for Owen’s position. She keyed in a change and sent the instructions, watching the details grow smaller as the device gained altitude and shifted slightly north, positioning between the two houses. The second house, the target location, showed the two minimized heat signatures from the basement—Todd and the one that was so small and motionless she still assumed was probably a furnace—and one more distinct signature in a room on the far side of the structure from where Owen stood in the other house.

  “Subject one at location K1. Repeat kilo one.”

  “Roger.” There was a pause while the view on the camera changed, but she couldn’t hear anything. No background noises at all. Hmmm. Maybe the subvocal was a mistake. Without a more standard microphone pickup, all she would receive in terms of sounds were things spoken or subvocalized by Owen, no ambient or environmental noises. “Do you have the assets in place to watch for subject number two’s return?”

  “Roger.” She flicked a glance at the screen of video feeds, twelve in total, the first positioned nearly three miles away from the house, at the first location where many paths became one. “I’ll have a minimum five-minute warning for you.”

  “No time like the present, right?”

  The view changed as Owen retraced his steps partway through the house, diverting from the side entrance to the rear for his exit. Once Owen got outside, the drone’s heat signature for him changed, becoming a bright yellow against the darker orange of the surrounding grass and ground. She could see more detail too, and noted the darker outlines against his body, knowing they were his weapons.

  “Still at K1.” The figure in the other house hadn’t moved. Alace leaned forwards and brought up another window, taking a moment to scan the pending command already typed in before she hit the Enter key. Numbers flashed over the screen, the twelve-digit number rapidly decrementing as integers locked into place. When the display had stabilized, all twelve figures were filled in, and she copied the result, pasting it into yet another window and submitting with another keystroke. “Alarm is neutralized.”

  “Roger.” Owen would still have to use his lockpick skills to gain entry, but she’d done everything she could to ensure things went smoothly.

  The view from his bodycam was disorienting, depending on his body position for a picture of anything that made sense. While he was bent over to take care of the lock, the picture was of his crotch, and she groaned when Eric’s hand coasted up her arm, warning her before he bent across and set a bottle of water down, whisking the empty away.

  “Nice view.”

  She clicked to the image from Owen’s glasses, showing the face of the deadbolt just as he withdrew the lockpicks. Eric moved away without being asked, seating himself on the bed behind her so he could see the monitors. They’d talked about the need for focus, and he’d made it clear he wouldn’t interfere.

  “What?” That was from Owen, and showed her microphone was plenty sensitive if he’d heard Eric’s muttered comment.

  “Nothing. Keep going. Kilo one for subject one.” She verified no alarms were showing on the street-level footage. She’d tied a rudimentary identification program to the feeds, knowing the make and model of vehicle they were watching for. “No sign of subject two.”

  Given the two women were identical twins, they had no way of knowing which had left and which remained in the house. Owen would depend on the indicators they’d noted as differentiating the two to identify which one he was confronting. At this point, with Maddy kidnapping Todd, and Mackie looking like the serial killer—coming face-to-face with either was potentially deadly.

  “I am in.” The words appeared on the screen as she heard them, marking the change to subvocal communication. The voice had changed, too, losing so much of the intonation unique to Owen. “Crazy is in the house tonight. Oh, fuck. Did you hear that?”

  “Roger.” Alace kept her tone even.

  “Shit, boss lady. This will take getting used to.” The video shook side to side slightly, and she read that as Owen shaking his head, literally trying to put behind him the disconcerting knowledge that distinct thoughts would be translated as intentional speech. “Okay. I am ready. What the hell. Jesus. Stop it.” Another shake, and this time she wasn’t able to keep her snort of laughter quiet. “Stop laughing at me. Stop giving her something to laugh at, fool. Jesus.”

  “Settle, Owen.” The view from the bodycam shifted, and she recognized it as his chest expanding and contracting with a deep breath in response to her command. What if I had biometric details? She leaned over and wrote a note to look into a full military system for the next gig. “You got this. Just focus, and don’t distract yourself.”

  “Easier said than done. What the hell?” Another deep breath, then the glasses camera shifted down and back up. He’d nodded. Okay, she was getting the hang of this. Wish we could have built in time for a test run. She shook her head, knowing there hadn’t been a chance to do more than the limited testing they’d performed. Battle ready meant exactly that, and she knew Owen would get past this rocky start and dial in on what was needed. He proved it with his next transmission. “Roger that, boss lady. Status update?”

  “Kilo one and no activity.”

  “Roger.” He moved up the hallway, the video stream showing blurred images of framed pictures on either wall, a carpeted runner to muffle his footfalls, and when he glanced back, an umbrella stand next to the door. All the comforts of home, but the twins also had individual residential addresses where they ostensibly lived. “If I buy it in the combat zone. Shut up, head.”

  “You’re not going to die.” His advance up the hallway paused and the video angle subtly changed. He was standing straight. “I won’t allow it.”

  “But now I have to finish it, boss lady.” Oh hell. Well, she certainly understood how that worked. Compulsions didn’t go away because they were inconvenient. “Might as well get it over with now.”

  “She’s still in the kitchen. Kilo one.” Which was only two corners away from his present position, but he knew that as well as she did.

  The replication of his voice adopted a singsong cadence, and in her mind, she imagined a younger Owen jogging in lockstep with his brothers as they chanted, “If I buy it in the combat zone, box me up and ship me home. Pin my medals on my left breast, tell my people I’ve done my best.” He sighed heavily, at least based on her interpretation of the body camera’s movement. “There. Now I am ready.”

  “Roger.” Even if he could see the words on the screen, she was glad Eric couldn’t hear the tension in Owen’s voice. “No status change.”

  “Red leader, I am going in.” Silence for a moment. “Boss lady?”

  �
��Yes?”

  “You can ignore most of this, you know?”

  “I know.”

  “Good.” The video feeds showed him advancing, the heat signature moving at the same pace. He paused before rounding the first corner, and the glasses angled towards a picture on the wall. She realized he was using the reflection to check the room ahead and noted it. Same thing she would have done, had she been entering blind. He wasn’t, but they didn’t truly trust each other. Not yet. We’ll get there. That was something she had an ever-increasing confidence in, and hoped to have a chance to express to him soon. “Lima one clear confirmed.”

  “Roger. Kilo one still in play.” One figure on the screen stayed stationary, while Owen’s figure moved, making his way through the house.

  “Any chance of listening on her phone?”

  Alace cursed the lack of environmental noise again. If Temple was focused on a phone conversation, that could explain why she’d been standing in one place so long. The fact Owen could hear at least one end of the conversation but Alace couldn’t was frustrating.

  She leaned forwards and changed windows on her main monitor, leaving the thermal and Owen’s videos visible. She brought up a program she’d used before and logged into the carrier’s business website, then stripped down the URL to the base before adding in a colon and what would seem to anyone else to be a random string of letters and numbers. The screen went black when she entered the code; then a message displayed on the monitor and she smiled. “Hello, Alace, indeed.”

  “What?” A glance at the video showed Owen hadn’t moved.

  “Gimme a second and if she’s on a registered phone, I’ll have it.” Her investigation had uncovered only two mobile numbers on the account, one for each sister, and if the house had a landline, Alace hadn’t been able to locate it. She’d bet money it was one of the mobile numbers. Audio flooded out the computer’s speakers, and she grinned. “Bingo. Can you copy like this?” It would be easier if he could listen in with her, rather than taking the time to route to their communication channel. He’d already proved he could hear background sounds from her mic, so this should be a cakewalk.

  “Roger.”

  They were silent as they listened.

  “—sure there’s no progress in the case? I’m so afraid for my sister.” That had to be Maddy, then. But if Mackie had left the house not an hour ago, why would she be so worried? “Have you questioned her boyfriend again? I left a message last week about something he’d posted on social media.”

  “Ma’am.” The deep drawl held a massive amount of strained patience, in just a single word. “There has been no progress in locating your sister. If she’s even missing. She’s a grown woman, and there are no laws against taking off in the middle of the night and leaving everything behind. As long as she didn’t default on any debts, there are no civil issues, either. You already confirmed her accounts are set up on automatic payments with ample funds, which means she may have been planning this for a while.”

  “She’s missing.” Maddy’s voice was shrill and gave the impression her emotions were out of control, but the lack of movement on the thermal imagery highlighted the lie. She should have been moving and throwing her hands around, especially given the parking lot image Alace had seen of the argument between the sisters. “Why can’t you understand that? She’s in danger. I feel it in my gut.”

  And my gut says you’re a lying piece of shit.

  “Ma’am. If there’s nothing else, I have critical matters requiring my immediate attention.” The speaker was not saying her sister’s supposed disappearance wasn’t important, just that other things were more pressing. It should have elicited an angry response and didn’t, which was the biggest crack in Maddy’s façade Alace had noted so far.

  When that call terminated, Alace watched closely to see if the woman would move, but instead another call initiated. The number showed it was Worthson’s work. What the hell?

  “Judge Worthson’s chambers.”

  “Christine, is Todd available?” Maddy was on a first name basis with Todd’s assistant. Interesting. But, given he’d had to recuse himself from her recent case, maybe it wasn’t unexpected.

  “Hi, Maddy. No, he’s been out for a couple of days. Probably holed up at home with the flu. He texted me that he was sick.” Shit. Alace should have checked Todd’s phone records for activity. The device must have been on him when he was taken, because she hadn’t seen him set it down that day. Not on camera, anyway. “Want me to give him a message when he calls in?”

  “No, no need for a message. Thank you.”

  The call disconnected and there was no further activity, so Alace minimized the phone company’s website to expose the street cameras. Still no alerts there, which was good.

  “Owen, what are you thinking?”

  “I am thinking I need to go in soft, see what she knows. I can pretend to be a PI looking for Worthson, maybe tracked his phone to here.” He was improvising, adjusting on the fly, just like Alace would have had she been there. “Take her temperature.”

  “Sounds like the right call.” Even as she spoke, he was retreating, going back down the hallway towards the back door. From this angle, she saw something she’d missed before.

  “Stop. Back up two steps.” He complied, with a quick glance over his shoulder. “She hasn’t moved yet. What’s that on the right?” The view swung, and Alace saw a depression beside a picture frame. “What’s that—” Before she could finish the question, Owen touched the indent, smoothing his fingertip down the surface until he paused, then pressed firmly. A section of the wall shifted, now inset by a couple of inches. He placed both hands on the surface, turning to face it fully, and pushed to no effect. Then he slid his hands to one side, and the section moved with him, revealing darkness behind. “That is a basement access that is not the stairwell. Also not on any floorplans I’ve seen.”

  Her immediate internal dilemma was between asking him to explore and pushing him to head outside to approach from the front door using the PI ruse. Owen took it out of her hands by stepping into the darkness and turning in a half circle. The shift to infrared video was seamless, and she saw the outline of the tiny staircase clearly.

  “Holy shit.” Owen’s reaction told her the glasses had worked correctly, imposing an opaque overlay on the streaming video visible on the inside of the nonprescription lenses. In normal light, the streamed imagery was imperceptible, because it matched exactly what the wearer expected to see. In low or no light, however, they could be a crucial advantage over non-wearers. “Ah yeah, my boss lady has the best toys. Billion billion. Racking up the points, lady.” He scanned left to right, then turned and closed the sliding door behind him, leaning on it until it settled into place. “Going to check it out.”

  “Let me look for electronics at that level.” She’d scanned and ruled out any internal video surveillance system for the main floor but given the time constraints hadn’t moved forward with the basement. The plan had been for Owen to confront and subdue before exploring, but with him going off script, she wanted to be certain to provide the best chance of success. “Going forwards, we won’t enter until I’ve locked everything down. Hear me?”

  “Oh, I hear you, boss lady. I hear you.”

  The drone was set up for signal recognition, so she enabled that filter, using the basement layout as an overlay. Three signatures appeared, two near the furnace, and one— “Back up. There’s a camera over your head.” He did as ordered, the glasses video view changing as he looked up and she saw the camera housing. “It’s aimed towards the base of the stairs, not where you are. I don’t think you’d show on it yet. Let me find the monitoring station. Hold tight, Owen.”

  “Holding.” His confirmation wasn’t necessary, as she’d see any movement from the videos, but it was nice to hear regardless.

  Alace looked at the drone view, changing the layout overlay to the main floor. There was a significant source of interference in a small room behind the kitchen,
and she suspected that was the computer with the security system software. Now to get into it. Her first two attempt trajectories were met with a brick wall, but the ISP-supplied firewall was weaker, and she slipped in through an unblocked port. There was a central storage device filled with images she didn’t take time to review and an IP assignment that led her to a switch. From there she utilized a common bot-placed backdoor, shaking her head at the idea of thanking the Russian hackers for distributing their keylogger so widely. And then, she was in the computer. Careful to not disturb the hibernation mode currently in play, she opened a remote session to launch the surveillance software. Settings confirmed alerts would be sent to the two women’s cell phones, which wasn’t unheard of for normal alarm systems. This one was completely focused on the basement, however, and that level of scrutiny for an internally accessed area raised her hackles even more.

  “Okay, I’ve got things shut down for now.” She’d rerouted the alerts to a burner she used for things such as this. “You’re clear to move forward.” She minimized that window, opening the surface video again. One of the portals was outlined in red, and she watched as the next one in line pulsed red, the car passing in and out of view within a second. “But there’s a problem incoming.”

  “Just got to keep it interesting, huh?”

  “Ya know, keepin’ you on your toes. You still want to go down now, or back out and neutralize the known subject?”

  “Going to keep going. These are nice toys. You keep things locked down on the security front and we will be fine. Why does it keep doing that? I said we will, not we will. Huh.” The bodycam captured a wide angle of the stairs as he descended. “The throat mic cannot do contractions.”

  “So that’s not just you gettin’ über formal during stressful situations?” Alace laughed dryly. “Noted.”

  He rounded the landing on the way down and must have stutter-stepped, because the timing with his “Holy shit” matched Alace’s own “Jesus Christ” reaction.