by Lisa Harris
“Because I’m not the police. I’m a friend of Stephen’s.”
“I still don’t like it.”
“I don’t like it either,” Paige said, “but it’s the only way in, Nate. We have nothing to arrest him for, no search warrant. If it’s the only way we can get him to talk to us—”
“There has to be another way.”
“I’m open to suggestions, but at the moment, we’re running out of time and ideas.”
Gracie stood up. “Can we talk for a moment? In private?”
He led her toward the empty break room, his anger still simmering.
“Listen,” she said, once the two of them were inside. “You’ve made it perfectly clear you don’t want me involved in any of this, and I understand. But I’m a big girl, Nate. I can handle this. And we both know, at this point you need me.”
“We can find another way in. The FBI’s getting involved, which means at some point, Macbain is going to be forced to cooperate. But the bottom line is that we don’t know anything about this guy, and on top of that, you’ve been through a lot today. I can’t ask you to get involved in this.”
“You can’t, or won’t? Because in case you didn’t notice, I’m not your former partner.”
A sudden deafening silence filled the room at the trump card she’d just pulled out.
“Ashley has nothing to do with this—”
“I’m sorry.” She took a step back and pressed her lips together. “I shouldn’t have brought that up. But Nate, I’ll be okay. Let me do this. I need to do this.”
He struggled to press down his anger. “How did you know about Ashley?”
“I asked Paige to tell me what happened. I’m already involved in this, and I want to help. Macbain was Stephen’s friend. He’s offered to talk with me. We can’t afford to pass this up.”
“And if something goes wrong? If it turns out to be some kind of trap?”
“He’s smart enough to realize I won’t really be alone. Right?”
He stared past her out the window. Clouds had begun to form in the sky. While the last couple days had been warm, cooler temps would be coming soon. How was he supposed to deal with her?
“Maybe, but I still don’t like this. I’d have no way to ensure your safety.”
“That’s just it.” She brushed her hand across his arm before pulling away. “I’ve learned there are no guarantees in life. There’s nothing you or anyone else can do to ensure nothing goes wrong. That’s why sometimes we have to take risks and do hard stuff. And I’m telling you, I’m okay with that.”
“Nate . . .” Paige stood in the doorway of the room. “We could send her in with a wire and have a team ready to move in if anything goes wrong.”
He let his mind run through the scenario. How had they gotten to the point where they were considering bringing in someone with zero field experience?
“Do you have a better idea?” Paige asked.
He glanced at his partner. “We could send someone in undercover. Someone who’s had training—”
“He’d know,” Gracie said.
Nate turned to her. “What do you mean he’d know?”
“This guy was military. You don’t think he’d know if a cop walked onto his property?”
“So I’m supposed to send you in against this guy we literally know nothing about.”
“Stephen wouldn’t have told me to talk with him if it was going to risk my life. Macbain can help, and we’ve got to gain his trust.”
“She’s got a point,” Paige said. “Again.”
“I’ll wear a wire—or whatever it is you use these days—so you can hear everything,” Gracie said. “But this isn’t going to end in a shootout. I’m not going in to interrogate him. Just to see what he might know about Stephen. That’s it. Nothing more.”
“We can hook her up with a wire, if that will make you feel better, Nate, but she’ll be fine.”
He was overreacting and he knew it, but he couldn’t stop the panic reeling in his gut. “Your role is simply to gain his trust, so he will agree to talk with me.”
Gracie nodded.
“I’ll need your phone.”
“My phone?”
Twenty minutes later, Nate stood in front of Gracie, still certain he was going to regret what they were planning to do. He stuffed down the remaining irritation from knowing Paige had told her about Ashley. Because both women had been right about one thing. Gracie wasn’t Ashley. She was simply going to get them in to talk to Carl Macbain. As soon as she did, they’d both go back to their own lives.
“This is what you’ll go in with tomorrow. We don’t actually use old-fashioned wires very much anymore.” Nate handed her iPhone back.
“So . . . this is my wire? My phone?”
“It’s also the perfect cover. And pretty cool, actually. Everyone has a phone, so he won’t think anything about it if he happens to see it. We use an app running in the background that’s undetectable. It sends us your audio through your iPhone to whoever we need it broadcast to.”
“Okay . . . it sounds complicated.”
“Not at all,” Paige said. “And we’ll organize to have backup ready in case you need it. Not only will the audio let them know if they need to get involved, but the conversation will be recorded as well.”
“Don’t I need a code word in case I get in trouble?” she asked.
“You want a distress word?”
She smiled up at him and shrugged.
“How about ‘monkey’?” he offered.
The word slipped out before he had a chance to think. He’d forgotten the nickname until just now. Another memory surfaced. She had loved coming along when he and Kevin went indoor rock climbing. She’d always been faster than both of them, and somehow the nickname Monkey had stuck.
But that was a lifetime ago.
“How am I supposed to work that into a conversation?” she asked.
He laughed for the first time all day. “I have no idea, but knowing you, you’ll find a way.”
16
Grace studied the car’s GPS at just past eleven the next morning, then told Nate to take the next left on the gravel road that was lined with pine and oak trees. “Looks like Macbain’s place is about two miles ahead on the right.”
“If you want something isolated,” Nate said, “this is definitely the place to buy property. You wouldn’t have a neighbor for miles. Not sure I could handle the isolation.”
“Maybe not, but you have to admit it is beautiful out here.”
She snuck a glance at his profile, still surprised he’d actually agreed to go along with the plan for her to talk to Macbain. Because clearly, he hadn’t been happy about it from the very beginning. She knew he would have much preferred for her to stay at home with police protection outside her front door. She’d also noticed how he’d become really good at keeping her at arm’s length. Their conversation since leaving the precinct this morning had been friendly, yet noncommittal. Nothing too serious, and definitely nothing personal. But how could she blame him for guarding his heart? Hadn’t she done the same thing over the past few years?
The entire trip here they’d talked about everything from their favorite foods to movies to books, and in the process, she remembered just how much they used to have in common. The past decade had mellowed him, but in a good way. He’d grown spiritually, and their conversation had revealed things about him that made her wish for a chance to get to know him again.
She pushed away the desire. Her heart might have healed with a few scars in place, but the thought of dating again left her with an uneasy feeling in her stomach. Becca had set her up twice on blind dates, and both times she’d walked away promising herself to never agree to another setup. At least not until she met the right person on her own. And Nate definitely wasn’t that person. All he probably saw in her was a divorcée with baggage, including a truckload of grief and loss.
“Would you want to live out in the middle of nowhere, like this place?�
� Nate’s question pulled her back to the present.
“I told you about my father’s property up in Montana and how he pretty much tries to live off the land. So I’ve seen what it’s like firsthand. And I’ll have to say I’m with you on this one. I can stay a week or so with my folks, but beyond that, I miss civilization.”
Nate laughed. “What does your mother think?”
“She threatens to move to Florida every winter, but I can’t imagine them living anywhere else.” She glanced at the GPS again. “Stop here.”
Nate slowed down in front of the six-foot woven-wire gate. “Are you sure? We should still have another half a mile till his gate.”
“I need to drive the rest of the way alone.” Grace unbuckled her seat belt, waiting for his reaction. “Carl Macbain is both tech savvy and paranoid about the government, which means he’s probably going to have security cameras on his property. If I show up with a police escort, he’ll know. Paige is right behind us. You can wait with her, and if I need you, you won’t be far.”
“Gracie, this wasn’t a part of our agreement—”
“Maybe not, but you know I’m right, even though you’re worrying and still hoping to come up with a way to talk me out of it.”
“I never said that.”
“You didn’t have to. But Carl Macbain is a recluse, not a serial killer.”
“Actually, we don’t know that.”
“Funny. And now you sound as paranoid as the man behind the fence.”
“You can say what you want,” he said, putting the car in park, “but I still don’t like this. Look what happened when we went to the bank.”
“I’m fine, and I’ll be back soon. I promise.”
“You still need to try to get him to agree for me to come in.”
She shot him a grin. “Worried you’re going to miss out on all the excitement?”
“Hardly. I just want . . . I want you to be safe.”
“I will be, Nate.”
“Do you have your phone?”
She patted her jacket pocket. “Yes.”
“What’s the distress word?”
“Monkey. Now stop worrying. I’ll be fine.”
“There is one more thing,” Nate said.
“What’s that?”
“I almost forgot.” He pulled something out of the center console. “This is a picture his daughter Danielle drew. She misses her father and asked me to give it to him if I saw him.”
“I can do that.”
He squeezed her hand before getting out of the car, leaving her shaken by the jolt of emotion his touch left. “Just be careful, Monkey.”
Grace slipped into the driver’s seat, put the car in gear, and headed down the gravel road lined with woods on both sides. A minute later she came to a gate that stretched across a driveway lined with shrubs and tall pines that blocked her view of the house. She slipped her canvas bag over her shoulder, exited the car, then headed through the open gate and up the long drive. She’d tried to hide her fear from Nate. Fear that something would go wrong. That she hadn’t completely weighed the consequences of her actions. She drew in a breath of fall air. The temperature had dropped to the low seventies as predicted. The property was edged with heavy woods on either side, with no-trespassing signs every twenty feet or so and, she was sure, hidden cameras. She couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if someone decided to ignore the warnings.
She counted her steps until she got to sixty, then stopped. Ahead, she could finally see the house. The structure itself was simple, with solar panels on the roof and a complex gutter system. Apparently totally off the grid.
Macbain met her at the end of the drive with a Rottweiler leashed on one side and a rifle on the other. She swallowed hard. The dog she could handle—maybe—but the rifle? She hadn’t expected that, though she should have. Of course he’d come armed.
“Grace Callahan?”
“Thanks for agreeing to see me.”
“Sorry for the frosty welcome. I’ve had a few threats by trespassers who aren’t exactly stopping by to be neighborly.”
The guy is definitely paranoid. “What kind of threats?” she asked, praying he didn’t let go of the dog’s leash.
“Does it matter? I’ll just say there are people who think I’m a bit crazy living out here like this and like to remind me of that.”
“I’m not sure why. I think it’s beautiful out here. And as long as you aren’t bothering anyone, who cares.” She paused, needing to find a way to connect with him. “My father moved up to Montana and built himself a place off the grid. He’s never looked back. I got used to a garage full of water, toilet paper, and peanut butter.”
“Really?” The confession seemed to surprise the man. “My ex-wife thinks I’ve lost it.”
“My father sees it as a way to save money and was able to retire early. Besides that—” she let out a soft laugh—“whether something happens or not, he’ll never run out of anything.”
“I’ve got a year’s supply of food, everything from sugar and salt to rice and beans, a solar oven, heirloom seeds, water, medical supplies. A house that’s self-sufficient, between the woodstove, solar panels, and rainwater collection system. I even have a composting toilet and shower. Because the day will come when everyone is going to wish they’d been prepared.”
“My father used to say you were a survivalist if you know the shelf life of a can of Spam but have no idea how long you’ve had an open jar of mayonnaise in the fridge. And let me tell you, he fit the bill.” She studied his demeanor. He seemed calm and relaxed.
“My wife used to laugh at me when I had to make a run to the store when we were down to a dozen packages of toilet paper. But I’m telling you, one day that stuff’s going to be worth its weight in gold.”
She started to ask him about his weapons, then stopped. Her father had a .22LR rifle, a .223 for hunting, and plenty of ammo, but he never talked to people about that collection. She’d found their connection. Which meant she’d pushed enough for the moment.
She studied his face. Except for his long beard, he appeared pretty clean-cut, and neatly dressed. Something she hadn’t expected. After talking to him on the phone, she’d imagined him to be rougher around the edges.
“Did you build the house yourself?” she asked.
“Every square inch. But you’re not here to talk about my prepping habits.”
“No, I’m not.”
“How did Stephen die?”
“He was murdered.”
“How?”
“He was shot, but the police aren’t sure at this point who did it. When’s the last time you saw Stephen?”
“We go all the way back to college, though it’s been, I don’t know . . . probably five . . . maybe six months since he called me.”
“So, you didn’t really stay in touch?”
“I lost touch with a lot of people after I moved out here. I’m not a big fan of the internet and social media, and that includes emails and phone calls.”
The edge was back in his voice. She had a feeling he was ready for her to get to the point, then get off his property.
“Listen, I know you drove all the way out here to talk to me,” he said, “but I really don’t have anything else to say. I agreed to speak with you because you told me you were a friend of Stephen’s, but I haven’t seen him in years, so I’m not sure how I can help.”
“I am—was—his psychologist, but I’d been worried about him. He was in over his head on some kind of project he got involved with.”
“Something connected with his murder?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Look. I am sorry he’s dead, but I don’t know what I have to do with this.”
“He told me to come see you.”
His gaze narrowed. “Why would he say that?”
“That’s what I need to find out.”
His dog pulled on the leash and started whining. Macbain took off the leash and gave a command. Immediately the dog
headed for the house.
Grace paused, then pulled her phone from her pocket. “This is the last message I received from Stephen. I need you to listen to it.”
“I don’t know if—”
“Please.”
He nodded and she let the recording play.
“If things turn out the way I think they might, I’m going to need you to get ahold of the Colonel. He’s the only person I know who could actually stop this. Because if they use what I have, the fallout’s going to be huge. I know . . . I know you think I’m acting crazy and maybe I am, but I’ve seen now what they can do and I don’t know how to stop them.”
“What’s he talking about?”
“He worked with computer security, so I’m guessing some kind of computer malware he was working on. But that’s why I’m here. Two nights ago, someone broke into my house. They were looking for something Stephen gave me.”
“What did he give you?”
“The key to a safe-deposit box where he’d put evidence of what he was involved in.”
“And were you able to get what was inside it?”
She shook her head. “I only saw some of it. There were some maps and flash drives, but long story short, the bad guys got everything but one drive I managed to snatch.”
Macbain ran his fingers through his hair. “What exactly are you asking me to do?”
“Here’s what I know. Stephen was into computer security, but also had experience as a hacker. We know that the two of you worked together back in college. He clearly believed you could help with what he was involved in.”
“But you don’t know what it was.”
“I don’t. But if you’ll agree to talk to the investigating detective, it might help. His name is Nate Quinn and I promise you can trust him.”
Macbain folded his arms across his chest and stared at the ground. “You need to understand that normally I don’t let people on my property, and I definitely don’t let cops on my property.”
Grace frowned. She needed something. Some kind of leverage to get through to him. She glanced at Macbain’s gun that he’d propped up against a tree.
Nate was going to kill her, but it was worth a try.
