Property Of

by CP Smith

  “I couldn’t sleep,” I whispered back against his lips before opening my mouth for him and taking my fill. When he was through kissing me good morning, instead of taking a seat in the chair beside me, he plucked me up then sat down forcing me on his lap. I leaned my head against his shoulder while he ran his hand through my hair in a lazy absent-minded way. Kissing my forehead, he reached out for his coffee that he’d placed on the table next to his phone, while I settled deeper against his body and held on.

  “What are you working on?” he mumbled in my ear.

  “I took notes on Dark Prince and I was hoping there was something in them that might help find him, but there wasn’t’. Just impressions, things I remembered him writing.”

  “We can give them to Parker, he might see something you don’t,” Dallas replied, still running his fingers through my hair.

  “I thought I’d lost my notes when my computer crashed the other day. But I forgot I had my files set to upload automatically to my online account.”

  “Your computer crashed?”

  “Yeah, it was the strangest thing. I was shutting down my POF and SSD accounts, and all of a sudden, my computer went crazy and shut down. When I turned it back on, everything was gone as if it had been factory reset.”

  Dallas tensed when I said that so I pulled my head from his shoulder and looked up.

  “Did you download anything right before this happened?”

  “No, I had just opened a message on SSD and then seconds later it crashed.”

  “Fuck,” Dallas bit out as he leaned forward and grabbed his phone from the table. “Do you remember who the message was from or what it said?”

  “Um, Master something and the subject line was . . . Oh, my God. Dallas, the message was titled, “Gotcha” and it said, “Now you see me, now you don’t.”

  Nineteen

  Dallas stood quietly listening as Parker updated Reed on the investigation. The amount of information the FBI had gathered in twenty-four hours was staggering and made his blood boil. After Nicola had explained about her computer the day before, he’d called Parker who had sent one of his agents to retrieve it from Mega Watts, a local computer repair company. He’d then turned it over to his tech support who recovered the computer files, logged into her SSD account, and determined that the man behind MasterX, in layman terms, had embedded a code into the message he’d sent Nicola and when she clicked on it, it triggered a Trojan horse, and a factory reset. The why of it, Parker figured once they’d traced MasterX back to the TPD server, was to get rid of any information she may have had on Dark Prince. Tracing MasterX back to the TPD severs proved that the man stalking Nicola and her friends was also The Shallow Grave Killer and for once in his career, he wished like hell that they’d been wrong. They knew who the killer was, but they weren’t any closer to his identity than they had been in close to two years.

  “How the fuck is this guy getting around our firewall?” Bill ground out, red-faced with anger that the sick sonofabitch was using the TPD as a shield against them.

  “It’s not uncommon; just about every government agency has been hacked. Trust me, if we could find some of these guys we’d give them jobs with the FBI or CIA, that’s how good they are, most without high school diplomas. It doesn’t take an MIT graduate to get around a system; it just takes time and knowledge.”

  “How does this help the investigation?” Dallas jumped in. “If you’re saying that most of these guys aren’t found since their fuckin’ brilliant, how the hell do we find this bastard if the FBI can’t find him?” Dallas fumed.

  “He’ll eventually make a mistake and then we’ll have him,” Parker placated, which pissed Dallas off.

  “Nicola doesn’t have time for him to make a mistake,” Dallas seethed trying to reign in his temper, “neither do Angela, Kasey, or Kristina.”

  “Vaughn,” Reed interrupted in a warning tone to get him to back off. Parker had allowed him to sit in on their meetings, but Reed knew if he pushed, the agent wouldn’t hesitate to leave him out.

  Frustrated and out of time, Dallas moved to the door and pulled it open sharply, exiting the room before he lost control. He needed to find this guy. It took a criminal to know a criminal so he figured it took a computer hacker to know another one. Grabbing his weapon and shoving it into his holster Dallas headed for his bike. The only man he knew that might be able to help him was his go-to guy when he needed information under the table Greg Powers with Aztec Custom Computers.

  Twenty minutes later, he’d pulled up in front of the stone building that housed Aztec Custom Computer Company. Dallas had been referred to Powers by a detective in narcotics a few years back. Dallas helped Powers brother-in-law out of an ugly divorce by keeping tabs on the wife. In exchange for his help, Powers provided Dallas with information only a skilled hacker could obtain. Normally Dallas called Powers when he needed information, but today he wanted an up close and personal conversation with the man.

  Dallas entered the front of the business and saw Powers sitting at a desk covered in computer components. In his early fifties with a lean build and sharp eyes, Powers looked up when he heard the door open but did a double take when he saw Dallas. There were two other employees working up front, so Powers stood and motioned Dallas into the back with his head, neither one of them saying a word. Dallas followed, closing the door behind him after he entered the back room and then locked it for privacy. The only other way in to the room was from an outside door, which meant their privacy was assured, so Dallas got down to business.

  “I need to find someone who has the ability to hack into the TPD servers.”

  Powers grinned at that and replied, “I can hack into their servers.”

  “All right, where were you last Thursday night around nine p.m.?”

  “Out to dinner with my wife after parent teacher conferences, why?”

  “Then I need to find someone other than you who can hack the TPD server.”

  “Are you looking for a specific person? ‘Cause there’s probably thousands in the Tulsa area with the expertise to hack their system.”

  “Jesus,” Dallas mumbled when Powers imparted that bombshell on him. “I can’t go into details, you know that. But I need to find a man, who is between 25 and 45 with enough expertise to get around the online firewalls that protect TPD’s servers.”

  As he was talking, Dallas heard the side door to the warehouse open and turned quickly out of instinct to see a man carrying a large box, his face hidden from view. Dallas turned back to Powers, to protect his identity, when Powers hollered out, “Just leave it by the door for now, Micah. Detective Vaughn here needs our help.”

  Powers face suddenly pulled into a scowl and he called out, “Where are you going?” just as the name Micah registered to Dallas. He turned back around just as the door slammed shut and the lock was thrown into place. He turned on Powers when a jolt of awareness sent his heart pounding and bit out, “What was that man’s full name?”

  “Micah Shockley, why?’

  “Sonofabitch,” Dallas roared as he pulled his gun from his holster running for the door. The side door to the warehouse was a double key entry lock, which halted Dallas’ pursuit. Before he could raise his gun to shoot out the lock, he heard the squealing of tires in the back alley. Turning back quickly, Dallas pulled out his cell and dialed Reed as he ran back toward Powers.

  “Does Shockley have the experience to hack the TDP server?” Dallas shouted as he waited for Reed to answer.

  “Micah? Yeah, he’s my top guy,” Powers explained, confused at what was happening.

  “Has he done work related for me?”

  “Do I look stupid? Jesus, Vaughn, what the hell is going on?”

  Before Dallas could respond to his question, Reed answered his phone and immediately started in on Dallas for walking out of the meeting. Dallas unlocked to door to the outer office and rushed through heading for his bike. When he got outside, he cut Reed off.

  “The Shallow Graver Ki
ller is Micah Shockley. Pull his arrest record from last week, find out what the fuck he drives, and get it out over the wires. Then send a unit to his house until Parker can get his team there,” Dallas growled.

  “Jesus, are we talking about that ass-wipe you arrested last week?”

  “Yeah, the same ass-wipe who put his hands on my woman, the same ass-wipe who works for a computer company and is “brilliant” enough to hack into the TPD computers. I don’t know what the hell he was doin’ in Nicola’s brother’s employ last week, but I’ll track one of them down and haul them in for questioning. Shockley showed up at Aztec and did a runner as soon as he saw me. Powers confirmed he’s one of his top guys.”

  “Jesus, Joseph, and Mary! Are you tellin’ me that sonofabitch is the Shallow Grave Killer and he works for your hacker?”

  “Yeah, that’s what I’m saying. We had him Reed and we fuckin’ turned him loose because he had no priors.”

  “Jesus, Joseph, and Mary,” Reed repeated.

  “Find Parker and tell him I gift-wrapped him the killer. You also tell him if he doesn’t find him first, I’ll send Shockley to him in a body bag.”

  “Who’s the contact as Aztec?” Reed asked, he was all business now.

  “Powers, Greg Powers. I can’t investigate this, Reed. You need to get your ass over here right now.”

  “I’ll be there in thirty, tell Powers to lock up until I get there.”

  “I’m gonna head to Nicola’s. One of her brothers is there keeping an eye on her while I’m at work. I’ll bring him and Nicola in as soon as you’re done with Powers.”

  “Roger that. I’m heading to find Parker now. Keep your line open ‘cause I’m sure he’s gonna want to talk to you.”

  “Don’t forget to notify Cross,” Dallas reminded him and then hung up and headed back inside Aztec to inform Powers he’d possibly been employing a serial killer.

  ***

  I sat in shock after Dallas told us he was positive that the man who killed Janeane was the same man who’d molested me. He kept talking, but I barely heard him when he asked Bo how Micah Shockley had come to be his employee. I was too busy trying to pull up his face. So much had happened since that day and his face was a blurry intoxicated memory. I remembered he was tall, broad, good-looking, and he had a goatee that framed his white teeth. He had black hair, and black eyes that had focused too long on Janeane’s breasts. Then I remembered how he came up behind me in the bathroom, pinning me to the counter, his hands trapping my breasts, clamping down hard until it hurt as he hissed in my ear.

  Closing my eyes to block out the memory, I opened them when I heard Bo shout in his phone at Finn.

  “Where the fuck did you meet Shockley?” I could hear Finn answering, but I had feeling I already knew. “Finn said he approached him at Gypsy’s because he overheard him say he owned a construction company. It was right after you and the girls left. Says it was the same day Melissa died. Finn told him to come by the office and fill out an application. On Sunday, Shockley walked into our office as we were loading tools. We figured the best way to see if he was qualified to work for us was hands-on training, so we brought him along.”

  “Tell Finn to bring Kasey here and we’ll head downtown together so you can give your statements to Parker,” Dallas ordered.

  “He’s known all this time where I lived and he hasn’t come after me, why?” I asked Dallas as Bo finished his call with Finn. Dallas clenched his jaw clearly pissed at the thought that Shockley could have been watching me and pulled me into his arms, resting the side of his head on top of mine. “How did he get out of jail so quickly?”

  Dallas raised his head as I pulled mine back and looked up.

  “He had no priors so his bail was set low and he was bonded out by noon the next day,” he explained.

  “If he wanted to kill me, why would he risk going to jail just to assault me?”

  “He’s a psychopath, Nicola, they act impulsively. He saw an opportunity to harass you and he took it.”

  “Ok, then how does he keep his job if he’s watching out for us at Gypsy’s?”

  “His boss said he’s contract labor and works from his home.”

  “Answer me this then, how did he find us in the first place? How did he know we hung out at Gypsy’s?”

  “I’m not a tech guy, baby, but I’d say if the only place you messaged to him was at Gypsy’s then he traced you back there somehow.”

  Thinking about books I’d read and movies I’d watched where the government or hackers hunt you down via a computer, it hit me then what he’d done.

  “He tracked us through the IP address,” I blurted out. “We only communicated with him when we were at Gypsy’s so the internet provider would have linked back to the coffee shop.”

  Moving out of Dallas’ arms, I started pacing searching my memory to see if I remembered him there.

  “If he was watching us from inside, I would have seen him,” I stated.

  “Nic baby, he knew what you looked like. He could have sat in his car and waited until one of you came out.”

  The image of a man in a baseball hat hiding behind sunglasses lighting a cigarette popped into my head and I froze. “You’re right, he was watching from outside,” I mumbled, “I remember seeing him now. He was outside watching us say goodbye at your bike the night Janeane died.”

  “I’ll inform Parker and see if there is any tape outside Gyspy’s,” Dallas replied, his voice strained with anger, no doubt pissed that he’d been that close.

  I wanted to cry that I’d looked right at him without really seeing him. If I had, maybe I would have recognized him and Janeane would still be alive. But I didn’t, she was gone, and all I felt was rage.

  Dallas’ eyes followed me around the room as I paced, they had a sharpness to them, the way his brow was furrowed like he contemplating something. Perhaps he was watching me closely because he expected me to fall apart at any moment. I was tired of feeling scared, so I fed off the anger instead and head for the door.

  “Are you ready to go?” I called over my shoulder, “We need to get downtown so I can get back on time. The girls and I are getting together tonight to put together a photo album for the funeral.”

  Bo and Dallas looked at each; brows raised high in surprise then back at me and smiled. They followed me out the door as I made my way to Bo’s truck each placing a kiss to my head as they passed me.

  Typical men, they thought women were fragile. We may falter sometimes in the mist of extreme circumstances, but we always bounce back tougher than we were before. Having a face and a name to put to the killer made him less frightening, less . . . ominous. He was just a man for God’s sake. He could be stopped by bullets, brought down easily by someone like Dallas or Bo. As long as I kept them close and the girls were protected, we had nothing to fear.

  ***

  The haunting melody of “Fields of Gold” sung by Eva Cassidy, a talented singer who lost her life to cancer before her career took off, stayed with me after the funeral. The girls and I had put together a slide show of Janeane for her parents to be played at her funeral. “Fields of Gold” was the final song. Janeane had discovered the singer years before and loved her eclectic mix of music. It seemed appropriate to include one of her songs since like Eva, Janeane was taken too soon.

  The day was gray like all of our moods, rain threatened, which seemed appropriate. The low rumble of thunder broke the silence as we stood and watched as they lowered Janeane to the ground. Clasping our hands, Kristina, Angela, Kasey, and I stood at the head of her grave and quietly sang “Old Irish Blessing.” The five of us had met in high school, specifically during concert choir our sophomore year. Our choir director always had us end our final recital of the season by singing the poignant song. It spoke of God’s blessing until you meet again in life, but today it spoke of farewell to our friend until we meet her again. It seemed fitting that we send a second-generation Irish-American off with the blessing, and in my heart, I knew she was h
armonizing with us.

  It had been two days since we found out that Micah Shockley was The Shallow Grave Killer and he was still on the run. Described as a loner who had moved to Tulsa from Minnesota, the FBI was now looking at cold cases there to see when his reign of terror began.

  The girls and I were never alone—escorted to work by their husbands, Kristina and Angela refused to leave town and cower. Kasey decided she wouldn’t let the bastard kill her dreams either, so she hired another yoga instructor and opened Om-Klahoma again. Loyalty brought back her regular customers and macabre fascination brought in new ones. Within two days of opening her doors again, she had close to fifty new costumers.

  They say tragedy brings people closer together. This nightmare was no different. Dallas and I were inseparable when he wasn’t at work, with Bo acting as bodyguard during the day so he wouldn’t have to worry. Our nights were spent wrapped around each other, the need to be close, to know the other was still living and breathing paramount to anything else.

  Janeane’s death also opened the eyes of Finn. Feelings that I think were dormant for Kasey surged to the surface and his devil-may-care attitude turned possessive. He wouldn’t let Kasey out of his sight. Where she went, he went. Her ex-husband had been deployed, so she couldn’t send the boys to him while we waited out the conclusion of this gothic tragedy. Therefore, he moved into her home, drove the boys to school, and drove Kasey to and from work while he managed his construction company by phone with Bo. I was the only one who didn’t need to leave the house to make my living, so during the day while Dallas was at work Bo worked from my home while I sat at my computer and wrote what was in my heart. “Property Of” was no longer a fictional book, but a non-fiction true-life crime novel; one I had no desire to write. All things considered, I was in no hurry to write again period.

  A hush fell over the crowd as we sang the last note of Old Irish Blessing. Releasing our hands, we turned into a group hug and held on as the sky began to weep along with us. Moments later, I felt warm hands turn me until I was wrapped in a cocoon of strength. I grabbed hold of Dallas’ suit jacket and held on as I buried my face in his chest, absorbing his heat, the calming effect he always had on me when I was in his arms.