by Tina Gower
“That’s great. I’m glad you like your job.” I sweep my hair from my face, letting out a shaky breath, waiting for the inevitable questions.
“Kate…”
Here they come.
“The kids want to see you. They see your picture. They get your gifts. Why don’t you come for the holidays? Felix and Jake live nearby with their families. We can all get together. I can buy your ticket—”
“It’s not the money.”
“Then what? Nobody blames you for their death—”
I cut him off. “I’m not ready yet.” I don’t want to talk about the crash that killed our parents. I was a teenager. Last in the house. They thought they’d be empty nesters and were excited to become grandparents when my oldest brother Jake announced he and his wife were expecting. I know I didn’t take that from them, but if they’d known I was fateless, they’d never have taken the risk behind the wheel. Their probability was in the low middle range. They had more than a chance.
“I should go.” A chill breezes into the room. I rub my arm. “It’s late here.”
My brother murmurs his good-byes and I end the call.
Remembering the slightly open window in the living room, I check them all, close, and lock. In my room the window is wide open. I stumble back.
I know for sure I closed and locked that one. It was locked since Becker left last night.
Ali is out. Completely sprawled over my mattress in the exact position I left her. I pat my pockets for the topaz, then realize I left it on the kitchen counter. My stomach lurches. No way. There is no way I’m going to tiptoe through my house when some weirdo who’s got an obsession for Becker is looking to capitalize on him leaving me alone. It all makes sense in a paranoid, convoluted way. I shake Ali awake.
She groans, covering her face with her arms and burrowing under a pillow. “Whaaaatttt?” her voice is muffled.
“The window was open. I didn’t open it.”
“Maybe it’s Becker coming back for his booty call.”
“That’s not funny, Ali,” I hiss. “There is no booty call. Becker and I don’t have any attraction for each other.”
My tone is indignant laced with “I’m desperately trying to convince you, but really it’s to convince myself.” I clamp my mouth shut.
She flips the pillow out of the way. “Neither of you is fooling anyone. Not even that half gorilla, half rock cop who was at the door all day.”
I cross my arms. “I need you to come with me to the kitchen to get my topaz.” I try for avoidance.
She points a finger at me. Avoidance doesn’t work. “I figured out you don’t snore.”
“Now you’re not making sense.”
“It was Becker, wasn’t it? He was growling? I realized it was way too loud and deep even for you. He’s been sleeping in this bed and he’s been using you as a pack sub.”
“You make me sound so unappealing. Don’t you think Becker has better women to purr at?”
“Ha! He was purring.” She jumps to a kneel on the bed, gone from groggy to awake in two point five.
“You said growling. I meant growling, because I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“And you smelled like a werewolf marked you.”
“I didn’t take a shower all day.”
“There’s a difference. A huge difference between day funk and a werewolf mark.”
I wrinkle my nose. “When would he have done it?” But the memory of our night floods my senses. I refuse to believe that Becker was able to “mark” me during that small, unfulfilling encounter. It almost seems unfair, like I should have at least gotten something out of the deal. Something instead of a pissed off werewolf. “He’s only been here protecting me.”
A muffled tumble and slap comes from the living room. I jump onto the bed. “Shit. He’s here. He’s in here.” I hug Ali for protection.
She pushes me aside. “Who? Becker?”
“No. The shade,” I whisper. “He must have crawled in through the window.” Of course he did. He waited until we were unprotected. Becker and his stupid hissy fit put us in danger.
“Impossible.” Ali scrambles off the bed. “I warded that window. He couldn’t have come in without waking me.” She inspects the window.
“Could he have opened it?” I follow her and peek over her shoulder. “Without setting off the ward?”
“Like he’s fucking with us? Yeah. Probably. He could have sensed the edge of my wards and deliberately tampered with them. I left space for Becker; he would have known from the scent where to go. Your shade could have used that opening. But he wouldn’t have been able to pass through without me knowing.” She looks me up and down. “Where’s your topaz?”
“On the kitchen counter, currently a paperweight for some files.”
She rolls her eyes. “A lot of good it’s doing you there.” She tugs on my arm. “Come on. I can see him if he’s in here.”
Ali proceeds to sneak around my apartment proclaiming, “HA!” as she goes around every corner. The first few times are a shock to my nerves, as I think she’s actually captured him. After the third time it becomes annoying. The shade is either not here or left out of boredom. Obviously we’re not damsels in distress here.
There are a few books that toppled over. I’d stacked them precariously on the edge of a shelf. That must have been the sound that spooked me. I pocket my topaz, grab my computer, and motion for Ali to come back to bed.
“Fine,” she says “I’m too tired for this. He’s not here. You’re right; he probably just opened the window to play with Becker.”
I sigh. Not because I’m fed up, but because I should call Becker and tell him what happened, but now given how last night went, I think it makes me look like a desperate girlfriend attempting to get his attention. Maybe I did leave the window open, and if he came over and didn’t smell the shade, he’d assume I was being childish, making him come over and talk before he was ready.
I decide to text Lipski instead. Hey, I fell asleep and when I woke up my bedroom window was open. Can’t remember if I left it open or Ali did. We checked the house and it doesn’t appear anyone entered. It could be nothing.
He texts me back a few seconds later. On it. Get some sleep.
Zero chance of that. And I would know, I’m a math wiz. Instead I bounce around some websites at my desk, filtering through PepperFindingHerSalt’s posts. She’s extremely positive about Ever After. I’m almost not convinced it’s the same person, but then I come across this:
Hey, all, I just wanted to say thank you for the all the well wishes and PM e-cards. I’m so thankful to have good friends on here. My salt is doing well. All we have to do is keep praying to the gods that the doctors can work their magic. We were put in touch with a foundation that helps with this sort of issue, so already your good wishes are guiding the universe to a positive outcome!
That’s it. No reference as to what Salt’s issue is, but it’s obviously medical. According to Mia, the sister had a match with Ever After that eventually had a medical issue of some kind. Was it a heart issue? If so, then I think I’ve found a huge lead as to who caused the Ever After breach. And motive.
I look at the date. She posted this right before she would have created the data mix that led to Ever After’s issue.
Yin and the rest of Ever After may not have wanted me digging into their business, but after this there is no denying I’m the best actuary in the world.
Tomorrow I’ll meet with Yin and deliver the database specs and a possible explanation. If I have time and Ever After okays it, I’ll track down Pepper at her work and get some answers.
Done for the night, I set my computer aside, close and lock the window. Effectively shutting out any chance of a Becker reunion and apology tonight.
Chapter 14
Groggy, hungry, and bad hair day. Not a good combination to start the morning. Ali excuses herself to get cleaned up in her own apartment, effectively taking herself off my potential shitlist. L
ipski is stationed out front again, claiming to be my ride to work.
I grunt. “So much for the apology.”
“He’s still following that scent from last night. Look, I know for a fact he’s beaten up about whatever you two lovers spat over. Beck looks even shittier than you.”
I sip my coffee and buckle. “Great. Is that a compliment? I’ll take it as a compliment.” I brush loose tendrils from falling into my face. The bun isn’t holding well. Even my go-to bad hair day style has managed to disappoint me.
Lipski doesn’t add more and is uncharacteristically quiet for the entire ride. I almost ask him what’s on his mind, but I enjoy the peace.
He drops me off out front. I don’t pitch a fit like I did with Becker. It’s not worth it. Plus Lipski’s married.
I pause, my hand on the door. Crap. Great. The last guy I had an inappropriate relationship with was married too. I just hope that HR doesn’t get wind of this. I’m early enough to avoid long security lines and stalled elevators.
Gretchen waits for me at my office door. “Yin called me on her way over. She’s not happy. Apparently they’ve gotten some word that you were in Turmoil checking in on that case? I thought we had discussed—”
Do they have a camera on me? Seriously. I set my files on my desk and rub my temples. “Gretchen, I know I’m new. I know you can’t gauge my work ethic just yet—”
“I’m sure you’ve got a terrific work ethic. This is the second time you’ve carried a case over the weekend without notifying your superior. I’m saying this going cowboy habit needs to stop. We were not cleared for the funds—”
“I’m not planning on billing those hours. Consider this pro-bono.”
“I can’t have one of my investigative actuaries doing her own thing, making her own rules. Even Kitman followed the guidebook.”
Deep breath. I focus on a speck on the windows that face the rest of the office. Yang, Miles, Kasandra, Oakley, James—they all watch like I’m on pay per view. I gently shut the door to change their channel, but they’re all happy to watch this lashing on mute.
I keep my voice low. “I found something. Something that will dismiss the class action case if it’s what I think it is. If I’m right, they won’t care that I dug a little deeper. They’ll forever be indebted to our office.”
“If it involves the other love prediction businesses that happen to be stationed in Turmoil, then we’ve made one friend and two enemies. We’re a government run department. We can’t afford to not be seen as neutral.”
“It’s not connected to them. And I don’t even know for sure, so I don’t want to jinx it. Please, just trust me. Give me the legs to run with this.” I squeeze my hands together in the universal begging position.
Gretchen shakes her head, taking a step back, hand on the doorknob. “I don’t have the clearance to do that. You’ll have to talk to Yin. If she says no, you must step away from this. No questions asked, no begging, no more digging. We stick to the task we were asked to do, no more. Anything more will be a liability.”
“Fine.” Although I have no intention of letting Yin go until she agrees. “You win.”
Gretchen frowns and opens the door. “Of course I win. I’m your boss and that means I get final say.”
Gretchen walks smoothly back to her office. Head high, heels clicking on Berber-covered cement the government likes to call a sensible flooring option. My gaze moves from watching her to the reception area where Yin is taking an offered cup of tea from Yang.
She sees I’m free and picks up her briefcase, her smile fading. I suck in a sharp breath of air, my lungs tight against my ribs. She’s unhappy now, but once I give her the news, she’ll be thanking me.
I close the door behind her. She sets her briefcase on my desk, but doesn’t sit. She tugs on her chocolate blazer, smoothing it out. The dark pink shirt collar peeks out at the breast, matching a pink strip of satin along the bottom hem.
I remain standing. “I know you’re unhappy.”
“You’ve misread me. I’m disappointed, Ms. Hale. We had an agreement and I believed you would stick with what we’d discussed.”
“I did.” She shoots me a look of disbelief. “What I mean is that I tried, but how can I help you prevent this from occurring again if we don’t know why it happened to begin with? We can’t minimize risk of recurrence if it was due to tampering—”
Yin doesn’t acknowledge my explanation, instead she continues with what must have been a memorized speech. “Ever After has over five hundred employees and that’s not counting the larger network of fatecasters all over the world whom we pay for access to their nets for an extensive list of soulmate names. Our pre-cogs depend on them as much as they depend on us. If we go under, it will leave a vulnerable hole in the net. Jobs will be lost.”
“I understand you’re important to the love forecasting industry—”
Yin’s face remains neutral as her hands clutch into fists. “The reason we can’t have anyone digging too deeply into the cases is that we cannot afford to be found at fault. If you find something, the court will subpoena the files. I should have mentioned the lawsuit early on in the case and not assumed you would already know, but we’ve wanted to keep it as low profile as possible. Unfortunately the media is making that impossible.”
I sit, hoping this will encourage her to do the same, but she remains above me. “But you won’t need to worry. Not if what I’ve found is true. If your matches were tampered with by an outside source then you’d have grounds to dismiss the case and possibly re-coup your costs from the real culprit.”
It works, Yin drops into the chair in front of my desk. She stares at her lap. “My bosses would never allow me to approve this risk. If that lead comes up empty and you keep looking…we’d rather move forward and prevent these problems from happening in the future.”
There is a long awkward pause. Yin carefully keeps her eyes from mine.
Why? It doesn’t make any sense that I’m basically about to hand her the name of the person who’s responsible and she’s resisting. There’s something else.
“You think it was you?” I lob the question out there to see if she hits it back. Instead she gathers the material from her skirt in a small fist in her lap. “You think you did something to cause this?”
She squeezes her eyes shut. “A few months before the incident, I’d entered a few codes wrong in the system and we’d had several errors. One of those errors resulted in the ending of a marriage for one of our competitors. My boss swept the incident aside. We sent apologies to those affected, but the damage was already done.” She chews on her lower lip and faces me. “I’d like to remind you that you’re still under several disclosure agreements. This information is confidential. And if it ends up on any reports outside of a subpoena, you will be fined, and we will seek the full disciplinary action against the breach.”
I nod. “Of course.”
She waits for a beat, then continues. “Once the idea is planted into people’s heads, they can’t give up hope that their true soulmate is on that list, or that if they’re not on there that it means something.”
Yin’s eyes shimmer with tears threatening to spill over. “Our job is to connect people, not separate happy marriages.”
“From what I hear, their marriage wasn’t working to begin with. They might have been soulmates at one time, but that doesn’t mean they didn’t change so much that it made them incompatible. If neither of them wanted to work on it…” I let the question hang.
“But I gave them the reason to separate. Don’t you see? They might have worked it out.”
“Eighty percent of forecasted relationships work. When the couples marry, their success rate is phenomenal, sometimes a probability in the nineties.”
“As high as Ninety-two percent in some cases,” Yin corrects and dabs the corner of her eyes.
“That’s eight percent that don’t make it.”
“But we’re always taught to under report. Always leave a ma
rgin of error.”
“Because there are always errors. How do you know that marriage wasn’t an error? If it had been stronger they’d have weathered that forecast.”
“It doesn’t change the fact that I’m the reason our company is facing a lawsuit.”
I pull out the sheets in my file detailing Pepper Amore’s employment history. “Hickman Software and Hardware Solutions. They did some contract work for Ever After about three years ago.”
“I’m not familiar with them. I’d have to check our records.”
“Pepper Amore was on the team that implemented the new servers, computer stations, software packages.”
Yin’s brows furrow, not seeing the connection. “But three years ago.”
“Do you know any programmers? I do. My brother once told me about an employee they had to fire and that he was stressing over changing all this guy’s passwords or he’d have access to all their clients and possibly retaliate against one of their clients who filed the complaint. I called him last night to see how Pepper could have accessed Ever After. Programmers get the keys to the kingdom. Access to every file, every computer, every report. Pepper Amore continues to work for HSHS as a programmer. She still has your keys.”
“What? I don’t understand. Who is Pepper Amore?”
“She’s the sister of Ginger Amore. Well, her married name would be more familiar to you, Ginger Anders. Your company also sent Pepper a forecast, except her future husband has a faulty heart valve.” I lay down the report I checked this morning, thanks to Lipski checking on it for me. “He’s not a candidate for a transplant. They found out just after he proposed and postponed the wedding.”
“That sounds terrible, but…”
“Did you look at the death matches from your company? About eighty percent were heart-related cases. The data could have been pulled in from the Health Predicted United Insurance; their reach is nation wide. Guess who also was a programmer on a server implementation at that same business?”
