by Gina Cresse
“I didn’t tell him or Joe about the money. I don’t see why anyone would kill Joe just because he knew I had the gun.”
We got to the end of the dock and stepped onto the deck of my boat. Jason opened the hatch and we went below to the galley.
“Sit down. I want to get that electronic box and the computer before we head back to San Diego,” I said as I made my way back to my cabin. I opened the closet doors. Everything seemed to be in order. I grabbed the two items and closed the doors.
“I want to see if I can get a power cord for this laptop. The battery is dead and I can’t power it up. I guess I’ll take this mystery box to the FBI. Maybe they can identify it.”
“That’s a good idea. What about the money? Do you still have it with you?”
“Are you kidding? I put it in a safe-deposit box. It’s going to stay there until this thing blows over. If anything happens to me—”
“Don’t say it,” Jason said. “You’ll be fine.”
We walked back up the dock to the house. I handed Jason the computer and the electronic box. “Can you take this stuff to the Jeep? I just want to let Arlene and Doug know I’m taking you back home. I’ll be right there.”
Arlene looked disappointed. “You mean you’re friend isn’t staying for lunch?”
“No, Aunt Arlene. I need to get him home, and I have some business to take care of in San Diego. I shouldn’t be too late, but don’t hold dinner for me, in case I get tied up.”
“Okay, honey. How’s your head? Are you sure you should be driving? Maybe we should just have Craig come over and take a quick look before you go.”
“I feel fine. I’m sure I’m completely recovered. Besides, I saw Craig leave a little while ago. He must have gone to work. I’ll see you later, Aunt Arlene.”
We stopped at Jason’s warehouse first, and picked up the newspaper clippings from the file cabinet. Jason insisted on going with me to the FBI office.
I briefly explained to the man at the front desk about the gun and the newspaper clippings and Joe’s death, and I mentioned the two strangers on my boat. He directed us to have a seat, then he called someone on the phone. Several minutes later, a man came into the reception area to greet us.
“Miss Lace?” he asked.
“Yes. This is my friend, Jason Walters,” I said as we both stood up.
“I’m Agent Dan Cooper. Please come with me to my office,” he said. We followed him down a long corridor to a door marked PRIVATE and entered the large office. There was another man already seated next to the desk.
“This is my partner, Agent Willis,” he said. “Tom, this is Devonie Lace, and, I’m sorry, what was your name again?”
“Jason Walters,” he replied, shaking the man’s hand.
“Good to meet you. Why don’t you tell us what this is all about,” Agent Willis said.
I explained my story from the beginning—giving all the details, except for the money. I opened each of the file folders and handed the clippings to Agent Cooper. Then I laid the mystery box on his desk. “I found this in the safe, but I don’t know what it is.”
Agent Cooper picked it up, inspected it briefly, then he handed it to his partner. “What do you think, Tom? Scrambling device, maybe?”
“Yeah. Probably. We’d have to send it down to the experts, but I’d bet my last paycheck that’s what it is.”
“What would it be used for?” I asked.
Agent Willis shifted in his chair. He gave his partner an uneasy look. “We’ve seen a couple of these devices used in the Middle East. Terrorists use them to bring down planes and, sometimes helicopters. They have the ability to cause some of the electronic mechanisms to be inoperative—or worse—to produce erroneous information without the crew realizing it. They’re most effective on the global positioning systems. If a plane can’t navigate—especially in bad weather conditions, or at night when there’s no visibility—it’s pretty vulnerable. They’re complicated. Not too many people have the skill to build one.”
“Do you suppose that’s how he caused the plane crash in Mexico last year?” I asked, gesturing to the last newspaper clipping Agent Cooper was holding.
“We don’t want to jump to any conclusions, Miss Lace. As far as the government is concerned, that incident was nothing more than pilot error. It’s possible we may decide to reopen the investigation, if the evidence points us in that direction. For now, we should probably concentrate on your safety. You say that two men visited your boat?” Agent Cooper asked.
“Yes. That’s right.”
“Can you describe them?”
“One was tall and skinny and wore a ponytail. He’s probably got a broken nose now, and a fairly good sized lump on the side of his head. The other was shorter and stocky, with no hair at all.”
“And you say that Tony Marino was the only other person besides your friend who knew you had the gun?” Agent Willis asked.
“That’s right. Even Jason here didn’t know until this morning, when he brought me my Jeep.”
“Where are you staying now?” Agent Cooper asked.
“I have my boat tied up over at my aunt and uncle’s place in Del Mar. They have a private dock. I’m pretty secure there.”
“That’s good. We suggest that you remain there until we get to the bottom of this. We’ll probably assign an agent to keep an eye on you,” Agent Cooper explained.
“Do you have any idea how long this will take to clear up? I mean, how long will I have to stay in hiding? I have to work and earn a living in the mean time.”
“We suggest you don’t go to your job for now. Call in sick, or take a vacation. You shouldn’t go near any place you regularly hang out. That’ll be the first place someone would look for you,” Agent Cooper said. “As far as how long this will take? That’s hard to say. It depends on who’s behind it all, and how much they want to avoid being caught.”
“Great,” I said. “I guess I can look for some kind of work in Del Mar in the mean time.”
Agent Willis made some notes in a small notepad. “Can you give us a number where we can reach you?”
I gave him my cell phone number.
“Thank you. We’ll keep you informed of our investigation. In the meantime, be very careful, and follow our suggestions. Okay?”
I nodded. “Thank you both,” I said.
I dropped Jason off at his shop. “Are you going straight back to Del Mar now?” he asked me.
“No. First, I’m going to stop and buy a power cord for the computer. Then I need to pick up groceries and stuff. After that, I’ll go back to my… my hideout. Doesn’t it sound so James Bondish?” I laughed to keep from crying.
“It’s not funny, Dev. You need to be careful.”
“I know. I will.”
I called the Grille from the parking lot of the computer supply store to let them know I would not be able to work that weekend. My boss whined that I had just recently taken time off—but I explained that I had a personal emergency and it couldn’t be helped.
By the time I pulled into my aunt and uncle’s driveway, it was nearly six o’clock. As I carried the computer and a bag of groceries down the dock, Craig came trotting up behind me. “Wait up, Devonie. Let me help you carry some of that.”
“Thanks,” I said as I handed him the bag of groceries.
“What’s that? A laptop computer?” he asked.
“Yeah. I had to buy a power cord for it today. I picked it up at an auction earlier this week, but the battery’s dead.”
“Your aunt told me you’re into buying and selling stuff like that. Do you make a decent living at it?” he asked.
“Oh. I get by. Once in a while I make a really good deal. When that happens, I can put a little something into savings. Like last month, I bought this storage unit in San Diego. It was full of all kinds of stuff that looked like junk to most people. Most of it actually was junk, but the guy who had rented it left a bunch of old movie posters behind. They turned out to be collector’s it
ems. I found a dealer up in Hollywood who paid me top dollar for them. But that doesn’t happen very often.”
“How long have you been in this business?” he asked.
“I started about a year ago. I used to be a database administrator, but I discovered that I’m not cut out for the rat race. I had to change my lifestyle before I became roadkill on the corporate highway. So, here I am.”
“I think it’s great that you’re able to do this. I admire a person who can take control of their life and make changes like that.”
“I don’t know how much control I have. I just know life’s a lot less stressful now. I feel so much better—it’s unbelievable.” I replayed what I’d just said in my head. I sensed stress would be creeping back into my life—big-time—very soon. I only hoped I’d have the strength to handle it better than my history indicated.
“That’s great. Hey, I guess I’m having dinner with you guys tonight. Your aunt just called and invited me over.”
I laughed. “She must have waited until she saw me pull into the driveway. I’m sure she’s attempting a little matchmaking. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Mind? Are you kidding? I never pass up a chance at a home-cooked meal. At my house, if it doesn’t go straight from the freezer to the microwave, it can’t be food.”
We both laughed. When we got to the boat, I thanked him for his help. “You go on ahead. I’ll be right up. I just want to put this stuff away. Can you let Aunt Arlene know that I’ll be right there?”
“Sure thing,” he said. He headed back up the dock toward the house.
I smiled and watched him walk away. He seemed like a really nice guy—sort of a Jimmy Stewart-type character. For some reason, I was reminded of the last serious relationship I’d been in. It had ended nearly ten years ago, when my significant other of seven years informed me that he had finally met Miss Right, and she wasn’t me. In one cruel instant, I learned a very harsh lesson—not to trust anyone with my heart, unless I was willing to have it broken. I correlated the experience to running headlong into an electric fence, which I had done as a young girl growing up on a small horse ranch. It’ll knock you flat on your rear, because you don’t expect it. Then, every time you come up to any fence, even if you know for a fact that the fence charger is not on, you can’t make yourself touch it. I decided a long time ago that no man existed who was worth going through that pain again—although there was a small part of me that hoped I was wrong.
I dismissed those thoughts, trying to concentrate on putting the groceries away. Finally, I sat down at the table with the computer in front of me and powered it up. It prompted me for a password. I shouldn’t have been surprised he would have secured the thing. I was sure there was all kinds of incriminating information stored on it. I tried a few things off the top of my head: spy, killer, assassin, but of course nothing happened. It was just a shot in the dark, anyway. I shut the machine down and put it back in the closet. I would call Spencer, my hacker friend up in Sacramento, in the morning and ask for his help. He could break into any computer system you sat him down in front of. He’d been working for the state after getting caught adjusting credit card account balances for some of his friends. He was given the choice to either work for the state in their information technology department, or spend time in the state’s own penal “hotel” for several years. Spencer wasn’t stupid. He chose the cushy state position, with all its benefits. (That would be the job, not jail.)
Aunt Arlene made a great dinner. My mouth watered as I smelled the sweet aroma of chopped apples and walnuts being sautéed with tender pieces of chicken breasts and seasoned with thyme. I helped her halve the avocados she intended to stuff with the chicken mixture. Served over a bed of fresh greens, the meal looked almost too pretty to eat. The deep purple of the cabbage contrasted perfectly against the dark green romaine lettuce and the ripe, red tomatoes. You could have photographed the dinner table to create a perfect still life. Uncle Doug opened a bottle of Merlot they picked up in the Napa Valley while on vacation. I couldn’t remember the last time I had such a delicious meal. For dessert, we had raspberry cheesecake. A thin layer of dark chocolate hidden between the buttery crust and filling gave my taste buds an enjoyable surprise. Uncle Doug told us it was Aunt Arlene’s own creation—called “Passion in a Pan.”
We retired to the living room with our coffee and talked while we admired the sunset on the Pacific. Craig talked about growing up back in Kentucky, and how much he loved the West Coast. He originally planned to return to Kentucky after medical school to open a practice in the small town he grew up in. Two months before graduation, he took a weekend trip to San Diego and changed his mind.
“So, Craig…” Aunt Arlene started as she cleared the throw-pillows from the love seat to make room for Craig to sit next to me. “How is it that a nice young man like you isn’t married yet?”
Doug came to Craig’s rescue by changing the subject before he had a chance to respond. “Hey, I picked up a great movie at the video place today. You guys want to watch it?” Uncle Doug asked, eyeing Arlene to be sure she got his drift. “I think we even have some popcorn.”
“Sure. Sounds great,” I said.
“I’ll second that,” Craig said.
A few silent moments passed, and it seemed Doug had been successful in diverting the direction of the conversation. Then, poor Craig put it right back in Aunt Arlene’s court. “How is it that I’m still single? Well, I guess I just haven’t met the right girl yet. My mother says I’m too picky, but I don’t think so. I just have this feeling when I find the right girl, I’ll know she’s the one, and there won’t be any question about it.”
“How sweet,” Arlene said.
I was silent. I thought to myself, poor, naïve Craig—he’ll be lucky if he even meets Miss Close, let alone Miss Perfect. And then, she’ll probably tear his heart out. What a cynic I’d become.
It was almost eleven when Craig walked me back to my boat. We laughed together about my aunt’s matchmaking attempts. I kept the conversation light, careful to remain within my comfort zone. I thanked him for walking me home and said good night. It would have felt natural to give him an innocent kiss on the cheek, but that would have been like playing with fire. I sent him on his way and retired to my galley.
I tried a couple more times at breaking the password, but was unsuccessful. I finally gave up then checked my little phone book to make sure I still had Spenser’s number.
After changing into the oversized T-shirt I slept in, I climbed into my bunk. I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.
I don’t remember if I was dreaming at all, but at two in the morning, I woke up, suddenly. “That’s it,” I said as I jumped out of bed. I tried to switch on the light, but nothing happened. I had no power. I grabbed a flashlight and walked outside to see if the power cord had come unplugged from the outlet on the dock. Everything looked okay. I glanced up at the house and saw the porch lights on. The breaker must have blown, but I didn’t know where it was. I could ask Uncle Doug to show me in the morning. For the time being, I needed to plug in the computer and try something. I slipped on some jeans and a sweatshirt and deck shoes, then I grabbed the laptop and carried it up to the house. I plugged it into an electrical outlet located near the picnic table where I sat down. I booted the little machine up and waited for the password prompt. I said a little prayer, then typed in the name Kerstin.
“Yes,” I whispered as the Windows desktop appeared before my eyes. I started moving the mouse pointer to the Windows Explorer button when it happened.
At first I thought the sound came from out on the open ocean, not the confines of the small harbor. You just wouldn’t expect something with an impact that immense to happen so close. The explosion was massive. The sound would have ousted the entire neighborhood from their beds. My attention was redirected away from the small screen of the computer to the inferno blazing in the harbor. For a brief moment, I thought it must be one of my crazy dreams—only it seemed muc
h more realistic. I blinked my eyes several times to confirm I was, in fact, awake and what I was seeing was reality. My beautiful boat had gone up in a mass of flames. Debris flew through the air like little missiles. The explosion destroyed half the dock, along with the Plan B. I sat in a daze as I watched my home burn like a torch.
Seconds later, Doug and Arlene came running out of the house to see what the blast was. “Devonie! Your boat!” Uncle Doug yelled, in shock.
I didn’t take my eyes off the flames. “I know, Uncle Doug. I know.”
Chapter Ten
I took a quick mental inventory of all my belongings. Most everything I owned was on the boat. Basically, all I had left were the clothes I was wearing, the computer I was sitting in front of, and my Jeep. The Jeep would be completely useless to me at the moment. The keys, along with all my credit cards, driver’s license, and any other forms of ID I had, were in my purse. The last place I’d seen my purse was on the table in the galley of the Plan B.
“Thank God you weren’t on the boat,” Aunt Arlene said. “Are you okay, Devonie? I’d better go call the fire department. Are you sure you’re all right? What in the world happened?”
“Calm down, honey,” Doug said, in the most composed voice he could muster under the circumstances. “You go call 911. I’ll try to find out what happened.”
The situation grew more intense by the moment. Neighbors bolted from their homes to see what all the commotion was about. Dogs barked furiously at small pieces of burning debris landing in their yards.
“I think I need some help,” I said as I frantically packed the computer back in its case.
“It looks like Pearl Harbor out there. What’s going on, Devonie? What happened to your boat?” he demanded.
“I can’t explain everything right now. I don’t have time. I need to get out of here fast. In a nutshell, I bought the contents of a storage unit that apparently belonged to some sort of assassin. I don’t know how in the world they found me, but it’s obvious they know where I am. It’s just a miracle the electricity went out on the boat and I came up here to find a plug at the very moment she went up. Someone up there must be watching over me.”
