“Rocky?”
Avril tried her best not to look at the bugs, but she couldn’t stop the sounds of their buzzing that beat on her mind.
Finally, the tears started to fall and she blinked her eyes to try to stop them. She remembered hearing that when something was bothering her, she should take a deep breath, so she did that, closed her eyes, and tried to remember Rocky the way he used to be. She pressed down on his fur and thought of his cute purrs and the way he’d walk around her legs and meow at her.
She tried to remember a time before Rocky was her pet, but she couldn’t.
“Good-bye, kitty.”
She opened her eyes to have one last look, and when she did, she saw her hand was covered with tiny black and white bugs. They crawled all over her, probably wanting to feed on her as they had on Rocky.
Avril screamed and shook her hand. Bugs went flying, some of them landing on her chest and hair. A couple touched her cheek before bouncing off. She screamed again and jumped back, falling down the steps that led to the front sidewalk. The bugs became the least of her problems as she tried to put her hands down to protect herself, but she didn’t have time. One hand was caught partly twisted back, and she heard a snap just before her head cracked on the cement.
Her cries became louder and louder, and she didn’t know how long she screamed before her mom came running out to get her.
* * *
Cin finished her radio show at the normal time, 7:00 p.m. Somehow she’d managed to keep her composure on the show, laughing much of the time, knowing that laugh kept her listeners tuned to her on their drive home every day.
Normally the laugh was genuine. She loved doing the show and loved the connection she had with everyone listening. It was a weird kind of relationship because most of the time it was one-way, with her talking and laughing into a silent microphone and hearing no reaction back. It was only during breaks that she’d pick up a phone call or two and chat with listeners. Her feedback came indirectly when the quarterly ratings were released and she saw that she normally shared the afternoon drive with 50,000 of her closest friends.
Some days were harder than others. When Avril broke her wrist this morning after seeing her cat lying dead on the front porch—well, it doesn’t come much worse than that. But, like every professional, she didn’t let the hospital trip or the cat funeral affect her job. Nobody except producer Ryan knew she was off her game.
“That’s a wrap,” called Ryan when the last commercial was running. Cin hopped out of her chair in Studio One just as Miles Nothrop was entering Studio Two to start the evening show. Cin rarely spoke to Miles, and today was no exception. She just went to the bathroom and sat down on the toilet, letting out a huge sigh while she rubbed her face. She didn’t need to go to the bathroom but needed a minute to get herself together.
Who the hell kills a pet cat?
She was still angry about it. The only guess she had was that some drunk teenagers were enjoying the summer and decided to have some fun at the expense of a ten-year-old girl.
The drive home was uneventful, their dinner (pork chops and rice) flavorless, and the evening drifted by without any memories being formed.
Tony was out somewhere. She’d called him earlier at the music store to tell him about Avril. Of course he blamed her because she’d been still sleeping.
Part of her wondered if he was right, and tendrils of guilt had been crawling around inside her all day as a result.
“Bedtime, sweet-pea.”
She hadn’t realized it was ten o’clock. Avril had been watching something on the Disney channel, and Cindy wasn’t paying attention to the show, the time, or anything else. All she cared about was that Avril was comfortable with her cast.
Cindy helped Avril get changed and into bed. She gave her a long hug.
“I hope you sleep well, baby.”
She could see Avril smiling in the darkness. “I will. Don’t worry, Mom. I’m fine.”
Her words hurt Cindy’s heart. “I know.”
She left Avril and walked to her office. She had business to take care of tonight, even though she wasn’t in the best mood to do it.
The computer was still powered up from earlier in the day when Cindy had frantically been searching for the address of the nearest hospital. She hated that she hadn’t known it, but there was nothing to be done about that now.
She clicked over to slip into DarkNet, and in a couple of minutes she was pinging her contact at Assassins Inc.
“It’s your fucking fault,” Tony had said. “You should have been watching her!”
She kept replaying his words in her mind as she waited.
“It was not my fault,” she muttered. “I’m a good mother.”
Aren’t I?
There was no response on the computer for a few minutes, but she knew that was normal. Even though he was expecting her, he had other clients.
“Hi. I’m glad you came back.”
“You knew I would,” she typed.
“Yes.”
“So, I checked and I found a bitcoin dealer, just like you asked me to. I can get your $20,000 converted and sent to you.”
“Well, that’s the thing. There’s been a change in plans.”
What?
Her mind froze.
“What do you mean?”
“You were going to pay me $20,000 to kill your husband, Cindy. Right?”
She stared at the screen.
“How do you know my name?”
“You’re really very naïve, aren’t you?”
She didn’t answer, didn’t know what to say. The reason people routed around in the dark side of the Internet was because of the anonymity. There was no way for anybody to know who was talking to whom.
She knew that. She’d researched it to death. There was no way he could know who she was.
“You used your webcam for me. That was your mistake. I have this wonderful program that captured hundreds of slightly different pictures of you from your camera and then ran a facial recognition algorithm against all the photos stored in Facebook.”
“You can’t get into Facebook. I’ve got my privacy setting on so only my friends can see anything.”
“You really don’t get it, do you? Do you really think that if I can thrive here in the darkness and set up a murder for hire business on the Internet, a little bit of hacking into Facebook would be beyond me?”
Cindy was totally confused. Now what? What changes?
“So now we have a different deal, Cindy McKay. Btw, I know you’re also that dumb radio show host, Cin. I know your husband is Tony McKay, and your beautiful blonde-haired daughter is Avril Grace McKay. I know where you live, and I’ve met your cat.”
“My cat . . . that was you?”
“Just wanted to convince you about what I’m saying.”
“I’m going.”
“STOP!”
She hesitated before closing out of the browser.
“Listen to me or your life is over.”
Cindy bit her lip, wanting nothing more than to just disconnect. But, he knew Avril, calling her a “beautiful blonde-haired daughter.” Was there a threat hidden in there?
“What do you want?”
“Good. I’m glad you’re being reasonable.”
“Fuck you. What do you want?”
“I want money. Lots of money. $250,000.”
Cindy wanted to laugh, but it was too serious.
“I don’t have anything close to that.”
“You’d better go knocking on doors then, because, I’ve got every conversation we’ve ever had recorded here, along with your little video. It’s all nicely wrapped up, and if you don’t pay me, three copies will be e-mailed out. The first goes to your husband. How will he react, Cindy? Will he think it’s hilarious that you hired somebody to kill him? The second goes to the press. They’d love to hear that the amazing Cin is really just a cheap two-bit criminal. And of course the third e-mail goes to the police.”
Oh my God . . .
Cindy re-read the threat over and over, wondering how in God’s name she’d managed to get herself into such a mess.
Tony would kill her if he knew. Or if he didn’t quite kill her, she’d probably end up wishing he had.
Her career would be ruined.
And maybe she’d be in jail. Leaving Avril to him.
“Please, don’t. I don’t have the money. I’ll give you the $20,000 I promised you, and then you can just go away. Please.”
“I wish you could hear me laughing now, Cindy. I’ll give you a couple of weeks to get the money together, but there’s no negotiating. Just do it.”
Part 2
En Passant
Chapter 11
July 20
It’d been five days since the man who called himself the Manipulator had demanded the money from Cindy. For the first few days, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it. She had lain awake at night, unable to sleep, worried that the killer was going to sneak in one night and . . . well, she didn’t ever get so far as to complete that thought because none of the ways the sentence could be finished were acceptable.
She knew she had bags under her eyes she’d had to hide (at least somewhat) with makeup, and when she was on air at work, she worried the stress would show in her voice. Ryan Hustings didn’t mention anything being out of the ordinary, though, and she figured she was bluffing her way through the day reasonably well.
$250,000.
It was impossible, and she knew it. There was only a shade over $7,000 in their bank account and the little she’d set aside in her emergency fund. Normally she wouldn’t even really have a clue about their bank balance, but the day before, she’d gone to an ATM to withdraw some money and paid careful attention to the remaining balance printed on the receipt.
Part of her always wondered why they didn’t have more money, but the other part of her knew it went wherever Tony wanted it to go, and there was never any chance she’d question him about his spending habits. She might be blonde but she wasn’t stupid.
She’d avoided going to DarkNet since the money demand. Five days, and it seemed like today brought a whole different light on things. The Manipulator might threaten her, but he hadn’t actually done anything.
Except for Rocky.
“He won’t,” she decided. “He’s a coward.”
It was Wednesday morning, and Avril had left the house a couple of hours earlier to play in a chess tournament being organized by the City government. After having a coffee, Cindy showered and got herself ready for the day. The warm water felt so good streaming down her face. She let it cascade over her and enjoyed the feeling of newfound freedom that had come with waking this morning.
When she was done, she dried herself and tied a towel on her hair. As was her habit, she went to check her e-mail. Nothing important. The usual note from Ryan giving a summary of the six people she’d be interviewing on the show later today.
She was just about to flip over to Facebook when another e-mail popped into her in-box.
* * *
From:
Subject: Avril
* * *
“Avril?”
She froze at the sight of her daughter’s name, part of her wondering who could send her an e-mail without having a From name listed. Of course, she knew exactly who could do it.
Cindy clicked on the message to open it.
* * *
Cindy, Cindy, Cindy . . . why are you avoiding me? It’s useless, you know. I know where you live. I know your phone number. Obviously I know your e-mail address.
* * *
I know where Avril is right this minute. She’s just about to head home. Are you worried about her? Perhaps you should be.
* * *
$250,000 isn’t that much money in the scheme of things, Cin. Really, it’s not a life-changing amount of money. You can do it. I have great faith in you.
* * *
So does Avril. Don’t disappoint her.
* * *
Cindy could barely breathe. It felt like her throat had constricted so much she would never be able to catch another breath. Her hands grasped the arms of her chair tightly and later she would find gouges in her skin where her fingernails had bitten into her. She felt tears in her eyes, but she couldn’t force herself to do anything. She was paralyzed with fear and couldn’t unclench her fists or lift herself off the chair.
She tried to call out, “Avril,” but only a wheezy whisper emerged from her lips.
Breathe, she told herself. He won’t do anything because then he’d never get the money.
She only partly believed herself, but she did manage to get a big gulp of air into her lungs and she felt the initial panic start to fade.
Where was the chess tournament? Only a mile or so away. Avril had gone on her bike. It was farther than Cindy would have liked her to go on her own, but she had two friends riding with her, and Avril had given her that look when Cindy started to suggest that she drive the girls.
“I’m ten years old now, Mom. I’m not a baby.”
And she wasn’t. She’d gone lots of places on her own and there’d never been a problem.
Cindy read the e-mail one more time and then hit the delete button. “Don’t need him to see that,” she whispered. Somehow she had to fix everything on her own, without Tony, and although problem-solving was second nature to her, she felt an overwhelming sense of isolation surrounding her. This was new territory for her and her meticulous to-do lists wouldn’t help her.
She tossed the towel from her hair and didn’t give a damn that it looked like a rat’s nest. Cindy grabbed her keys, not caring if the front door pulled all the way shut. She just needed to get to her car.
The red 2010 Mazda fired up easily and she pulled out and headed to Mason Park. Even though the drive only took four minutes, it felt like forever.
“Don’t you touch her, you son of a bitch.”
She wanted to floor the gas but there were lots of kids in her neighborhood, and she kept enough of her senses to not want to kill any of them.
When she arrived, she parked illegally in a handicapped spot. Later, she’d realize she left her keys in the ignition when she slammed the door and ran to the centralized area in the middle of the park. As she ran, she could see a group of tarps covering the lawn in case it rained or got too hot. There were dozens of kids sitting at tables, each pair with a chess board and a timer clicking away.
She stopped running and looked at each of the dozen or so tables.
Avril wasn’t there.
She blinked her eyes to be sure she could see clearly and looked again at each of the tables. No, her daughter wasn’t there.
Her head started to pound and she wanted to scream. She ran the rest of the way and saw that one of the tables had a chess board with the pieces all moved but there were no kids playing.
“Oh, God . . .”
Then she noticed each side of the table had little strips of cardboard with names neatly typed on them. The one facing her read Miles Anders. She turned to the other side and saw Avril McKay.
“Avril . . .”
“Mom?”
At first, Cindy thought she was imagining the voice, but she spun around and saw her daughter standing there, eating a vanilla ice cream cone.
“Oh, God, sweetie. I was so worried!” She grabbed Avril and hugged her. She couldn’t stop the tears and she choked as she held her. Holding her was the best feeling in the world.
“I was just getting ice cream, Mom!”
“I just—I didn’t see you with the other kids. Why aren’t you playing?”
“Oh. Miles isn’t very good. I checkmated him in 12 moves.”
Cindy smiled. “I knew you’d win.”
“I hope next week’s game is harder. It was way too easy.”
Cindy just nodded. She knew that Avril could probably beat her in twelve moves, too. Maybe less.
“Let’s head home.”
“I’
ve got my bike.”
“We’ll put it in the trunk. It’s okay.”
“Okay.”
As they walked back to the car, a sudden thought hit Cindy.
“You didn’t have any money. How did you get the ice cream cone?”
“Oh, Johnny bought it for me.”
“Who?”
“Johnny. He’s a nice man. He was watching me play today and then clapped when I won and bought me the ice cream.”
Cindy stopped and kneeled down so she was at the same height as Avril. She wanted to keep her voice calm.
“But who is he? You know you should never talk to strangers.”
“Oh, he’s not a stranger. He likes chess and watched my game. He’s really nice.”
“Is he still here?”
“No. He had to go. I think you know him, Mommy. He said you’d be coming for me soon.”
Cindy looked back at the chess tournament.
“You’re sure you don’t see him? What does he look like?”
Avril shrugged. “Just a man. He wore a red Mariners hat and I don’t think he has much hair.”
“What else?”
She shrugged again. “Just a guy.”
Cindy helped Avril get her bike the rest of the way to the car, looking back every few seconds, but she never saw anybody watching them.
Chapter 12
July 21
The Starbucks was almost the same as every other one that Cindy had ever visited. It had the usual cast of baristas behind the counter, the mixture of baked goods, and the smell of strong coffee permeating everything. In other circumstances, she had always loved the aroma of the coffee shop, but today she barely noticed.
The man accompanying her was in his sixties. Dr. Rusty Moore wore a pair of old-fashioned brown horned-rim glasses and his sparse hair was slicked back with some type of cream. He reminded Cindy of her father in an uncomfortable way.
Darknet Page 8
