Willing

by Lucy Monroe

  “I brought two laptops with me,” Hotwire said from his position by the window, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to travel with two computers when Daniel could never remember traveling with even one. “I’ll give her one of them. They’re both fully loaded with killer speed CPUs. They’ve even got GPS devices on them, not that yours did you any good.”

  “You mean the one in my car?” Josie asked. “It worked just fine before my car was destroyed by an arsonist’s fire.” The grim set to her mouth left Daniel with no doubt what she felt about losing her little car in the blast.

  But Hotwire shook his head. “The one in your laptop.”

  “What are you talking about? I didn’t use my laptop for GPS. Even if I hadn’t had a unit in my car, that would have been too inconvenient while driving.”

  Hotwire came away from the window, his expression alert. “I meant the GPS unit inside your laptop. The one used to track its location if the computer gets stolen.”

  “Her laptop had a GPS?” Daniel asked. Then, “And why do you know about it, but she doesn’t?”

  “Hotwire helped me pick out my computer when I started taking classes at PSU.”

  “And the one we picked out had a GPS unit.”

  Josie twisted her body so she could look squarely at Hotwire. “I can’t believe I didn’t remember that. I’m not even sure I ever knew it, and I should have. It was my computer, for crying out loud.”

  “Like you’re going to read the computer manual after you buy.” Even he didn’t do that, and Daniel was a lot less proficient with computers than Hotwire and Josie.

  “Yes, but—”

  “Are you saying we can track Josie’s computer?” Daniel asked his friend, cutting in on her self-recriminations.

  “If the GPS unit hasn’t been destroyed, yes.” Hotwire smiled then, his eyes cold with purpose. “If Josie didn’t realize it was there, I doubt the thieves have either. It’s a relatively new safety feature in mobile computer technology.”

  “So, how do we track it?”

  “We call the manufacturer and report it as stolen. They do a satellite search which will result in a three-point coordinate location.”

  A three-point coordinate was pretty damn precise. “How long will it take?” Daniel asked.

  “A few minutes.”

  “How accurate?”

  “Within ten feet.”

  “It sounds too easy.”

  “It is.” This from Josie. “The position can be as accurate as we want it to be, but there’s no guarantee the laptop won’t be moved before we can get to it.”

  “And if the location isn’t at a known address, like out in the middle of the desert or something,” Hotwire added, “we still have to track it.”

  Which was exactly what ended up being the case, although it couldn’t be as easy as being in the middle of the desert and easily accessible by helicopter or plane. According to its GPS, the laptop was currently in an uninhabited area of the Rocky Mountains with no known public or private roads within fifteen miles of its location.

  Before they could discuss what to do with that piece of information, Claire came out of her room, dressed and ready for class. Josie brought her up to speed, and then the phone rang. Looking over her shoulder, Daniel read Oregon State Police on the caller identification.

  His gut clenched for no discernable reason, and he said, “I think you’d better take that call, sweetheart.”

  Josie held the ringing cordless unit in her hand, wishing she could just ignore its impatient summons.

  How much should she share of what she knew? She didn’t know why her father and his school had been targeted for destruction, and bringing in the authorities might harm him more than help him. On the other hand, maybe the authorities had information that would help her and the others find her dad’s enemies before they found him.

  The phone shrilled again, and she pushed the talk button before lifting it to her ear. “Josie McCall speaking.”

  “Ms. McCall, this is Detective Johnson with the State Police Arson and Explosives Division. I’m investigating a fire that occurred two nights ago on property owned by Tyler McCall in the Coastal Range. I would like to ask you a few questions, if I may.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Can you verify your father, Tyler McCall’s, whereabouts on the night of July twelfth?”

  Having already gone through this with Officer Devon, she was more prepared to answer that question at least. “My dad was at his paramilitary training compound.”

  “Are you absolutely certain of that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did he call you from there, or in some other way confirm his presence on the mountain to you? Perhaps you were there with him at some point?”

  “Why are you asking me this?”

  “His entire compound burned to the ground, Ms. McCall.”

  “I’m aware of that.”

  “I see. Do you mind telling me how you learned of the fire, Ms. McCall?”

  “It’s hardly a state secret. It’s all over the news,” she said, hedging around the truth, and then added, “and one of your officers came by to tell me of my father’s death yesterday.”

  “A state policeman came by your house to inform you of your father’s death?”

  “Yes.” Surely that wasn’t such a surprise, unless the departments didn’t speak to each other—which, when she thought about it, wasn’t all that far-fetched of an idea.

  “Do you have the officer’s name?”

  “Barry Devon.”

  “Thank you.” He paused as if taking the time to write the name down. “Apparently the fire started with an explosion.”

  “Yes.”

  “Did the officer tell you that as well?”

  “He did.” She wondered why the detective was asking her about what his colleague had said. Why not simply ask the other officer? “He also said the Forest Service believed it was an accidental explosion. Is that still the case?”

  “Can you hold on for a moment, Ms. McCall?”

  Chapter 12

  “Certainly.”

  She pressed the mute button on the phone and asked the others, “I’m on hold. How much do you think I should tell him?”

  “If you don’t tell them you were on the mountain with your dad, you could be charged with obstruction of justice,” Claire said.

  “Did you read that on the Internet, too?” Josie asked tongue-in-cheek. Her roommate had a brilliant mind filled with bits of knowledge about pretty much everything.

  “Nope.” She grinned. “I grew up watching Perry Mason.”

  “Her source might be suspect, but Claire’s right,” Hotwire said.

  “But then I have to tell them Dad isn’t dead.”

  “They’re going to figure that out soon regardless, and once they do, it won’t take them long to contact the closest emergency rooms and find record of you and your dad’s visit, even if you gave an alias.”

  Hotwire was right. Not many women came into ER with a wounded man and smelling like smoke if they hadn’t been in a fire. “Do I tell him about the break-in and the laptop locator?”

  “If you do, they can tell you faster than anyone else what or who might be located in that supposedly uninhabited area.”

  “If they’re as open about sharing information as you’re suggesting Josie be,” Daniel added, sounding skeptical.

  The detective came back on the line. “Ms. McCall?”

  “I’m here,” she said after turning off the mute function.

  Claire waved, getting Josie’s attention. “I have to go,” she mouthed silently.

  Josie nodded, indicating with her hand that Claire and Hotwire should take off.

  “Are you positive it was a state policeman who came to speak to you?” the detective asked, bringing her attention back to the phone.

  She had to think a second to refocus her train of thought, and even when she did, she couldn’t figure out why he was asking her that. “He was
wearing a uniform and driving a police cruiser, what else would he be?”

  “I can’t answer that, Ms. McCall, but he wasn’t a state policeman. There is no officer by that name in the force, and no orders were given to inform you of a death we have yet to verify. Someone will be contacting you later for a description of the suspect.”

  “Suspect?”

  “Impersonating an officer of the law is illegal.”

  “Yes, of course.” But why had the man done it? She was fairly certain it was linked with everything else going on, but she couldn’t see what the purpose would have been. Then the other half of the detective’s comments clicked in her brain. “You don’t think my father is dead?”

  “There are no bone fragments in the debris.”

  “And if he had died in the fire, there would be?”

  “Yes. It’s a myth that everything is destroyed in a fire. There should be some indication of your father’s remains in the debris if he were a victim of the explosion.” He paused as if waiting for her to say something. When she didn’t, he went on. “Either your father woke in time to get himself out or he set the explosion himself.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “According to our investigation, he does not have a completely stable temperament.”

  “My father is not crazy.”

  “Past students say that he subscribes to conspiracy theories.”

  “That’s hardly unique in this country.”

  The detective actually chuckled. “True, but your father chose to act on his theories, living a lifestyle well outside the norm.”

  “Different does not equate to crazy, and my father would have no reason to blow up his own school. Training elite soldiers is his life.”

  “It’s an avenue we have to explore, particularly since there is no evidence of his demise in the blast.”

  “I understand.” And she did, but it wasn’t a scenario she had anticipated. “Was there anything else, Detective?”

  “There were three vehicles found at the sight that were damaged by the blast.”

  “Yes?”

  “One of them was registered to you, Ms. McCall.”

  “Yes, my car was on the mountain that night.”

  “I asked you a question earlier that you neatly sidestepped, so I’ll ask it again. Were you at your father’s compound when the explosion occurred, Ms. McCall?”

  “Are you accusing me of setting the blast now?”

  “It is my understanding your specialty is explosives, is that right?”

  “Yes, but I can assure you that I did not blow up my father’s training compound.”

  Daniel went rigid beside her at her words. She met his eyes, hers asking him what she should say.

  “Tell the truth,” he mouthed.

  She nodded. At this point, it was the only thing that would do.

  “Ms. McCall.” The detective was talking again. “We have to investigate every possibility when a crime like this is committed.”

  “So you are positive it was a crime?”

  “It’s highly likely, yes.”

  “Besides myself and my father, do you have any other suspects?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “What about the media’s belief it was an ecoterrorist?”

  “We do not know where they got that information, Ms. McCall. While every fire that threatens national forest must be investigated with that possibility in mind, there is no evidence to support that theory at this time.”

  “So, you’ve ruled it out?” Someone should have told the reporters milling around on her lawn.

  “Not entirely, no.”

  Well, that was as clear as mud.

  “We had hoped you might be able to shed some light on the subject.”

  “I’ll try.” And she told him everything that had happened from waking up and taking a walk in the dark, to identifying the whereabouts of her laptop.

  She also gave him a detailed description of the phony officer, able to add the number on the patrol car because Daniel remembered it.

  She hung up the phone and turned to Daniel. “He’ll be here in an hour or so. He wants the backup copy of Dad’s files.”

  “He accused you of setting the bomb?” Daniel asked, his expression unreadable, but his body language all about tightly controlled anger.

  “Not exactly. Apparently Dad and I are the number one suspects; at least we were until I told him about the nature of yesterday’s break-in and the GPS device on my laptop. He thought the current location was really interesting.”

  Daniel relaxed slightly. “I do, too.” He rubbed his chin with his thumb and forefinger. “So, Officer Devon isn’t an officer after all.”

  “Not according to the records division of the state police.”

  “He acted like a soldier, but a lot of police officers are former military, so that didn’t strike me as anything out of the ordinary. I’d like to know how he got a hold of a state police car.”

  “So would the state police.” She frowned, wishing they had more to go on. The longer her dad was MIA, the more chance something could happen to him. “The phony officer wasn’t familiar at all.”

  Daniel shrugged. “You’ve spent a lot of time away from your dad’s school in recent years. There are probably a lot of people he’s come into contact with that you’ve never seen.”

  “His records included photos of each student. I scanned them all into the computer. I don’t remember anyone looking like Officer Devon.”

  “You probably weren’t paying close attention to them.”

  “That’s true.” She hadn’t given any of the pictures more than a cursory glance.

  “And although we know the school was as much a target as your dad, we can’t assume we’re looking for a former student.”

  “Besides instructors, potential and current students are about the only people my dad sees.”

  “That you know of.”

  “True. He mentions a lot of Vietnam buddies in his diaries. I don’t remember meeting any of them, but apparently they kept in contact.”

  “That’s not unusual.”

  “No, but a lot of them have died. It must have been hard for him, and he never told me.”

  “You and your dad are pretty close.”

  “Not as close as I thought, but our relationship is better than anything most of his buddies had with their families. Several who died didn’t have anyone to mourn their passing but my dad. I wish he’d told me. I would have mourned with him.”

  “He was protecting you from the ugly side of life.”

  “I guess. Still, it’s sad.”

  Daniel’s eyes narrowed in thought. “What exactly did he write about these friends that died?”

  “Just their names and where they were from, the fact he went to their funerals. No one could accuse my dad of being a flowery writer.”

  “Do you remember their names, or would you have to go back through and search for them again?”

  She had a semiphotographic memory, which was how she reread books in her mind during a lot of long, dark, and of necessity, silent nights in the jungle or desert as a mercenary. “I remember them, why?”

  “It’s a lot easier to establish an alternate identity using that of a person who has died, but shares superficial life traits with you.”

  “You think Dad used the names of his former friends to establish aliases?”

  “It makes sense.”

  She thought about it. “You’re right. It does. For whatever reason, he believed he needed a bolt-hole and made sure he had it in the form of several established alternate identities.”

  “He hinted as much to me once.”

  “He trusted you a great deal to have done that.”

  Daniel shrugged. “He didn’t tell me names.”

  “He didn’t tell me either. He said it was safer for me that way.”

  “Was your dad intelligence during the war?”

  “No. He was LLRP, but it was enough. A lot of t
he soldiers that came out of the field had a hard time acclimating to normal life. I’ve never understood what sparked this particular paranoia, but for the most part, it doesn’t impact our relationship, and no way will he ever seek counseling to deal with it.”

  “It’s going to make it dam—uh…difficult if not impossible to find him.”

  “If you’re right about how he established his identities, we have a place to start at least.” She began walking toward the study. “We can investigate each name for activity since their deaths, things like buying property, establishing residency, that kind of thing.”

  Daniel didn’t say anything, but he followed her into the study.

  He indicated a pile of print-out pages beside Hotwire’s computer with his hand. “We’ve been going through the school’s files looking for some kind of anomaly, and so far we haven’t found one.”

  “When you don’t know what you’re looking for, it’s almost impossible to find it,” she said tongue-in-cheek.

  He smiled. “That makes a convoluted kind of sense.”

  She grinned back. “Yeah, it does.”

  He sat down in a chair to the right of the computer desk, and she put herself in front of the monitor. She sent several search queries to databases she thought might have the information they were looking for.

  When she was done, there was nothing to do but wait, so she said, “While my queries are being processed, why don’t we go through the student pictures?”

  “Good idea.”

  She moved her chair sideways a little. “Scoot over here, so you can see, too. We’ll have a better chance of recognizing the fake officer if we’re both looking.”

  He moved his chair beside hers, and as always, the closeness of his big body affected her breathing pattern. He laid his arm across the back of her chair, hemming her in, and she had to fight the urge to let her head rest back against him. They had a job to do, and snuggling wasn’t it.

  It took a few clicks of the mouse to bring up the image files related to her dad’s school. She set the entire folder up to run as a slide show. The images began playing on the screen, each lasting three seconds, enough time to study bone structure as well as take in surface features that could change.