by Lisa Harris
“Is he some kind of . . . prepper?” Nate asked.
“You could call him that. Thirty acres of woods is the perfect place for it.”
“What about other friends?”
“I suppose he has a few. Some of his old buddies from the military. A few from college like Stephen.”
A little girl with pigtails and a backpack ran up to the table.
“Danielle . . . Hey, sweetie. This is my daughter, Danielle.”
“Who are you?” she asked.
Nate held out his badge for Danielle. “We’re detectives. What do you think about that?”
“Cool.”
“I think it’s pretty cool,” Nate said. “I get the chance to help people.”
Danielle frowned. “And arrest people. My mom’s not in trouble, is she?”
“Of course not.” Nate shot her a smile. “We visit a lot of people for our job, mainly to ask questions. It doesn’t mean the person is in trouble.”
Danielle didn’t look convinced. “Then my daddy’s in trouble?”
“He’s not in any kind of trouble either. We just need to talk to him about a friend of his.”
“Daddy doesn’t like a lot of people, but if you go see him . . .” She glanced at her mom. “Maybe I could go with you?”
Maddie tousled her daughter’s hair. “You’re going to see him next month, remember, sweetie? And then Daddy’s coming to Dallas for Christmas Eve.”
Danielle leaned in closer to Nate. “You know my daddy?”
“I haven’t met him yet, but I am hoping to see him soon.”
Danielle dumped her pink backpack on the table, then pulled something out and handed it to him. “I don’t see him much anymore, but maybe . . . Will you give him this if you see him? I drew this at school today for him.”
Nate took the folded paper. “Can I take a look at it?”
When she nodded, he unfolded the paper to unveil a ballerina all in pink.
“Wow . . . you’re quite an artist.”
“That’s what my mom always says, but she has to. She’s my mom.”
Nate chuckled. The girl reminded him of his niece. Cute, but with plenty of sass. “Let me ask you this. Are you a dancer too?”
“Ballet. I’m going to be in a recital.” Danielle pursed her lips. “You’ll give it to him, won’t you?”
“As long as it’s okay with your mom.”
Maddie nodded. “Of course. What do you say to the detective?”
“Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome. It’s not a problem at all.”
Danielle leaned forward. “He won’t ever tell my mama this, but he gets lonely out there on his land. I need you to tell him I miss him. I know he’s busy working and I can’t see him right now, but I still miss him.”
“I’m sure you do. I’m . . . well, let’s just say a lot older than you, and I don’t get to see my dad that much. He lives in California and I miss him too.”
Maddie squeezed Danielle in a hug, then kissed her on the forehead. “Grandma’s running late, but she’ll be here pretty soon. Can you go sit in the front with Paula while I finish talking with the detectives? I’ll be by to pick you up before dinner.”
Danielle grabbed her backpack and swung it over her shoulder. “You won’t forget to give him my picture, will you?”
“I definitely won’t,” Nate said.
“And no cookies from Paula,” Maddie said.
Danielle rolled her eyes. “Yes, ma’am.”
Danielle shot Nate a broad smile, then scooted off toward the front of the restaurant.
Paige nudged him with her shoulder. “Looks like you made a friend.”
“She’s adorable.”
“Yes, she is,” Maddie said. “She has juvenile diabetes and a serious sweet tooth. But sometimes that’s an easier battle to fight than the one with her father. I . . . I know he loves her. He just . . . he doesn’t know how to show it.”
“Looks like she’s got you to keep her grounded,” Paige said.
“I hope so.”
“Is there anything else you can think of that might help?” Nate asked.
“No. Not now. I’m sorry.” Maddie ripped off a page from her order pad and scribbled a number on it. “You can try to call him, but I can’t make any promises.”
“Thank you.” Nate handed her a business card. “And if you do think of something—or if you hear from him—please give us a call.”
A minute later, Nate stepped outside the busy diner, glanced at the slip of paper, then punched in the number. He let it ring a dozen times before hanging up. No answer. No voice mail. More than likely it was a burn phone.
“I’ll keep trying, but it looks like Maddie was right,” he said, heading for the car.
“You’re pretty good with kids,” Paige said, slipping into the passenger seat.
“My sister and her husband have three. Two boys and a girl a year younger than Danielle. I spend as much time with them as I can.” He started the car, then pulled into traffic. “What about you? Do you and Doug plan to have kids?”
“I don’t know. If we do, only one . . . two at the most. And I’m not even sure I’m going to do that. Juggling a full-time job and motherhood . . . well, let’s just say I’m not sure how it would work.”
“I think you’d make a great mom.”
“No. I make a great aunt. I spoil my brother’s kids when I see them twice a year, but then I get to send them home. It’s the perfect combination. And so much easier. I don’t have to worry about bullies or social media or them getting sick. I’ve seen too much in this job. The world is just too scary for this generation.”
“That’s why the world needs more mothers like you.”
His mind shifted to Gracie as he called the number a second time through the car’s hands-free system. Her daughter had been about Danielle’s age when she’d died. How did a parent even begin to cope with something like that? He couldn’t imagine the loss she had to have felt. And then losing Kevin on top of that?
“Nate . . .”
“Sorry. I was thinking.” He shifted his thoughts back to the phone call. “He’s still not answering.”
“He’s got no reason to answer a strange number.”
“Wait a minute.” Nate turned on his blinker, then made a U-turn.
“What are you doing?”
“Maddie said he wouldn’t answer if it wasn’t a call from his daughter’s phone. Let’s make it a call from Danielle.”
Nate found an open parking spot in front of the diner and pulled in before jumping out of the car and heading back inside. Danielle was still waiting next to Paula near the front of the restaurant.
Nate grinned at her. “Hi again, Danielle.”
“Did you forget something?” she asked, jumping down from her chair.
“We need to talk to your mom again.”
Danielle pointed to the other side of the diner.
Nate and Paige and Danielle walked back to where Maddie was bussing a table. “We’d like permission to call Carl from Danielle’s phone. He’s not answering.”
“Okay . . . Danielle, can you give them your phone? The only numbers in the contacts are mine, my mom’s, and Carl’s. His speed-dial number is three.”
“Thanks.”
Nate punched the number.
“Danielle?”
“Mr. Macbain . . . my name is Detective—”
“Where did you get this number?”
“I’m here with your ex-wife, and it’s very important I speak with you.”
“Is my daughter alright?”
“She’s fine.”
The line went dead.
Nate frowned. “I think it’s time we brought in the local sheriff.”
15
Nate stood in front of the whiteboard they’d set up in the noisy bull pen, with a photo of their victim, mug shots of their suspects, and the timeline they’d pieced together. So far it seemed all they had was a collection of misaligned clues,
leading to a possible security breach they’d yet to identify. All tied to the murder of one man.
“We might be looking at two murders,” Paige said, stepping up beside him with a bottle of water.
“What do you mean?”
“Kelli just gave me what she found on Eddie Sumter, the third guy in the yearbook picture. He died seven months ago. The ME ruled it as a suspicious death, but his findings were inconclusive and no arrests were ever made.”
Nate set his hands on his hips and turned back to the board. “Okay, let’s assume for a minute there’s a connection between Eddie and Stephen’s murder. What if before Stephen they worked with Eddie?”
“Kelli’s working to get Sumter’s bank account information to see if we can find a connection there.” Paige took a sip of her water.
“What about the sheriff?” Nate asked. “Has he had any luck with Macbain?”
“He just called. So far Macbain isn’t responding, and they’re not even sure he’s on the property. And as for Macbain himself, it’s strange what we’re finding . . . or rather what I’m not finding. There’s very little about him out there. In fact, it’s almost as if he didn’t exist beyond the typical motor vehicle records, voter files, and property tax assessments, which are pretty hard to get rid of. On a personal level, for example, there’s nothing out there on him. No social media, period. No search engines, including Google, chat rooms, or images. Not even an email address . . . It’s as if the man doesn’t exist. And this time we’re not talking because of a fake name and license.”
Nate turned back to the board, wanting to make sure they hadn’t missed anything. “Then we need to go over what we do know about him again. Why did our victim feel it was so important we speak with him? Let’s see if we can come up with another way in.”
“Okay . . .” Paige pulled the rolling chair from her desk and pushed it in front of the board. “We already know he’s divorced with a daughter, and from what we both saw at the diner, I don’t believe there’s much contact between Macbain and her. Looks like it was a nasty divorce and the wife gained full custody. He lives alone in some kind of eco-friendly house with solar panels and a well. He was honorably discharged after eight years with the army where he worked as a cyberterrorism specialist. After that, he pretty much disappeared and his trail goes cold.”
“That seems odd. That’s got to be a pretty huge switch. Going from a tech expert to living off the grid?”
“I thought the same thing.”
“Nate?”
He turned around at the sound of his name and felt his heart tremble. “Gracie . . .”
He took a moment to study her big eyes staring back at him. He shifted his gaze and took in her black jeans, blouse, and jacket. He was still convinced she hadn’t aged a day since college. There was something calming about her presence, despite everything that had gone between them. She was someone he wanted to spend the afternoon catching up with. Someone he wanted to get to know again. He pushed away the thoughts.
“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just finished giving my statement, and came to tell you both goodbye before I headed out. It was good to meet you, Paige, and Nate . . . maybe we’ll reconnect again someday.”
“I’d like that,” he said, at a sudden loss for words.
“Do you mind staying a few more minutes?” Paige asked. “I’d like to know what you think about this Carl Macbain . . . the Colonel. Psychologically speaking. The guy used to be a techie and now lives off the grid.”
“Of course. Anything I can do to help.”
Nate frowned as Paige motioned for Gracie to grab an empty chair.
“What you’re saying actually makes perfect sense.” Gracie avoided Nate’s gaze. “There are actually thousands of people doing what Macbain is, and they leave their ‘normal’ lives for just as many reasons. There are people who worry about the economy and political arena. People who want to live simply, without anyone telling them what to do. And it’s becoming more and more common.”
“How do you know so much about living off the grid?” Kelli asked.
“My father was one of those men born in the wrong century. As soon as I graduated from college, he and my mother did what he’d been dreaming of for as long as I can remember. They sold everything they had and bought over three hundred acres of land in Montana. They live in a house they built themselves and are cut off from the rest of the world for a chunk of the year when the snows come. He—admittedly more than my mother—loves it.”
“I’ll bet it’s beautiful up there, but wow. I can’t imagine living there year-round, in that cold and snow.” Paige shivered. “I think I’d rather live on a deserted tropical island. Of course, I’d have to have Wi-Fi and—”
Nate chuckled. “You wouldn’t make it a week, Paige.”
“Thanks.” Paige scowled at him. “Back to the topic at hand. The sheriff also confirmed that Macbain comes into town every once in a while for supplies. But he isn’t fond of visitors. He’s had a few run-ins with trespassers and an ongoing feud with one of his neighbors. We have no reason to get a search warrant, and we can’t force him to talk with us. And like I said, at this point, they can’t even be sure he’s there.”
“I’m not surprised they weren’t welcomed on his property,” Gracie said. “It fits his profile. Men like Macbain move off the grid to avoid encounters with the law, and everyone else, for that matter.”
“What’s our next move?” Nate asked. He didn’t like the idea that Gracie was involved in the conversation, but at the moment he didn’t have a choice. “We’ve got a man murdered, some kind of major security breach about to take place, if our guess is right, and Carl Macbain, our only lead, is unreachable.”
Gracie grabbed the arms of her chair and caught Nate’s gaze. “Let me call him.”
Nate frowned. Hadn’t they already discussed her not getting involved? “Excuse me?”
“It might be a long shot, but let me try. I knew Stephen, and Macbain might talk to me because of that connection. It might be the one open door we have.”
Nate’s jaw tensed. “You’re supposed to be on your way home.”
“Maybe, but I can’t just sit at home after everything that’s happened.”
“Yes, you can—”
“Nate . . . Let me try to talk with him. Nothing can happen to me sitting here in the precinct while talking on the phone. I’ve spoken with the victim counselor, and she can verify that I’m fine, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I’m not worried about that, I just . . .” Why was he always searching for excuses to protect her? “We have no idea who all is involved in this. You were kidnapped this morning and barely escaped with your life. I can’t let that happen again. We don’t know anything about this guy other than the fact that he lives off the grid. He won’t respond to our calls or the sheriff’s, which doesn’t sound very stable to me. And after talking with his ex-wife, I’m pretty sure she’d agree as well.”
“While all that’s true,” Paige said, “she has a point, Nate.”
Great. Two against one again.
“All I know is that Stephen trusted him,” Gracie said. “And you need him in order to figure out what’s going on.”
Paige handed her a cell phone and the number. “Call him. Maybe you’ll get further than either of us.”
Gracie nodded, avoiding Nate’s gaze as she punched in the numbers, then put the call on speaker. The phone rang a dozen times, then went dead.
“Let me try one more time,” she said.
The second time it rang five times before someone picked up.
“Mr. Macbain?” she said.
“I don’t know who you are or how you got this number, but I don’t want you—”
“I’m a friend of Stephen Shaw.” She jumped in before he could say anything else.
Nate was expecting Macbain to hang up. Instead, there was a long pause on the line before he said anything. At least she’d gotten his attentio
n. “Who is this?”
“I’m a friend of Stephen’s. Grace Callahan.”
“Are you with the police department?”
“No. I knew Stephen. He told me to call you.”
“If Stephen needs to talk with me, he can call me himself.”
She looked up at Nate, who nodded. “I’m sorry to have to tell you, but Stephen . . . Stephen was murdered early this morning.”
Macbain gasped. “What happened?”
“Stephen was in trouble. I don’t know what’s going on, or who killed him, but I think there’s going to be some kind of dangerous security breach somewhere. He said that you were the only person he knew who could stop what was going to happen.”
“What did he mean by dangerous security breach?”
“I’m not sure. Possibly some kind of cyberattack. That’s why I’d like to meet with you in person.”
Nate shook his head vigorously, but she ignored him.
“He’s really dead?” Macbain asked.
“Yes.”
“What did he tell you about me?”
Gracie handled the question like a pro. Her information might not have come from Stephen, but she didn’t miss a beat. “I know you live in east Texas. That you were married and have a daughter named Danielle. I know the two of you went to MIT and have been friends since then. That you were in the army . . .”
Let it be enough, God. Please . . .
There was a long pause. “Come in the morning. I’ll talk with you, but no cops. And no games.”
“I’ll need your address.”
Paige handed her a pad of paper and pen and she scribbled down the address.
“Thank you, Mr. Macbain. I’ll be there.”
The line went dead.
Nate felt his anger simmer as he grabbed the phone off the desk. “You will not be there in the morning. What were you thinking?”
“Nate . . . Grace just nabbed us our only lead. We need her.”
“Why should we agree to his terms? Why would he agree to talk with you in the first place?”
