Data Capture

by Jesse J. Thoma

  “Hey, finally someone remembers me and all my hard work over here,” Lola said. “Is this the connection to Quinn’s lab that you had me run down?”

  “Uh-huh. I helped myself to some of Garvey’s emails and it seems that this group meets up at Dr. Golden’s lab to actually run the algorithm and enter their teams. I gather the computers there are very powerful.”

  “Does Quinn know anything about it?” Lola asked.

  Holt noticed Lola’s intensity had increased. There was something about this new woman that had gotten under Lola’s skin. Either she was worried that she was caught in this mess, or she was hoping she wasn’t.

  “I don’t think so,” Max said. “They talk a lot about not getting caught. There are a few emails talking about how she works all night and what a pain in the ass that is. Doesn’t sound like a coconspirator.”

  “Still, it’s her lab. She might know about it,” Lola said. “Why did you ask me about the username and password for her computers?”

  “Because one of Garvey’s friends gives him a username and password to log in to the lab computers and I wanted to know if it was specific to him. Now, thanks to you, we know that the only username and password those computers will accept is the one Garvey received. The bad news, the one he uses is registered to Dr. Golden.”

  “So, Quinn could be involved in all of this. You have no way of exonerating her?”

  “Look, Lola, I really don’t think she is. But I guess technically, no, I don’t. I’ll keep digging though. I could see if she was logged in to her computer at the same time, but I’m not sure I want to breach her privacy just to make you feel better,” Max said. “What’s your hang-up with her? She’s seems tangentially related to all of this at best.”

  “It’s her lab. If she’s involved, I want to know. All you’ve given me is that we might be tracking some kids who play fake football and a ghost who maybe stole money from someone, somewhere, and now might be mad about it.”

  “And it wouldn’t have anything to do with wanting to know if she’s a criminal before taking her for another spin on the dance floor?”

  Lola looked ready to explode.

  “Enough, both of you,” Holt said. “Max, do you have the names of any of the guys Kevin was collaborating with?” It felt good to have tangible leads to follow.

  “Sure do.”

  “Good, send them to Lola. Lola, no more ghost surveillance for these guys. You need to talk to them. But stay in your cover. You’re the custodian, so it’s not weird to talk to them if you see them in the hall. Worst-case, pay them a visit. We need to find Garvey. The email says we have forty-eight hours.”

  “You got it, H.” Holt wished Lola didn’t look quite so enthused. She knew that look. Hopefully, Lola would be careful, because backup wasn’t that close if she got in over her head. Moose had checked in when he landed and was hunting one of their cold cases in Santa Barbara. He could get to her in a couple of hours if she needed him. Unlike me. I’m useless to her.

  “All right, everyone, back to work. Let’s find Garvey and catch whoever is threatening us. You know how I feel about threats to my family. That includes all of you. Oh, and, Max, figure out Quinn’s role in this so Lola can un-bunch her shorts. Dismissed.”

  Isabelle was the last to leave the room after lingering for a long hug and an even longer kiss. Time with Isabelle always settled her, deep in her soul. Isabelle had calmed places she hadn’t known existed, let alone were in turmoil, and her life was forever better because of her. She would do anything to protect the life they’d built together.

  “Will you send Max back to talk to me?” Holt asked before Isabelle left. She snuck one more kiss before she let Isabelle go.

  “Be nice to her,” Isabelle said.

  “Why does everyone keep saying that?” Holt asked. “I’m a very nice person.”

  “Of course you are,” Isabelle said. “You just need to work on your people skills. She’s not fragile. She won’t break if she fails.”

  “Wait, what? I thought you said to be nice to her? What are you talking about?”

  Isabelle turned around and closed the door behind her. She put her hands on Holt’s chest and snuggled into her. Holt wondered if Isabelle knew she found it impossible to think, hear, process, when Isabelle was this close to her.

  “I don’t pretend to know what all these superhero training games you are putting Max through are designed to do, but I can see you aren’t letting her fail. You have to stop protecting her.”

  “Less than an hour ago Dubs told me I was being too hard on her. You two need to get your stories straight.” Isabelle had her hands in the back of Holt’s hair, at the nape of her neck, and it was all Holt could do to form a complete sentence.

  “I’m sure it feels that way to Max, and looks that way to Dubs. But she’s not failing, she’s just getting angry at you. And she’ll never stay mad at you for long. She loves you too much. So she can’t ever fail. Her superpower is interfacing with computers, right?”

  “Yes, Cyborg.”

  “So you have to put her up against computer problems. Not make her run across the office in under a certain amount of time. Play to her strengths, then get out of the way and let her succeed or fail. Don’t make her do things she won’t have to do.”

  “And just when did you learn to do all of this so much better than I did?” Holt didn’t know if she should be amazed or embarrassed at Isabelle’s obvious explanation.

  “When I was one step back from whatever is scaring you so much it’s blinding you,” Isabelle said. “I hope you’ll talk to me about whatever that is too. After you sort things out with Max.”

  “Of course I’m scared. Someone is threatening you,” Holt said.

  “That usually scares you for a few minutes and then makes you really angry. This feels like something else. Like I said, I’m here to talk when you want to.”

  “I love you,” Holt said.

  “Lucky me,” Isabelle said.

  She left Holt speechless, as she always did coming or going. She thought about what Isabelle said. What was she scared of? For the first time in a long time, a vivid memory of Lola’s brother George dying in her arms flashed through her thoughts. It felt like a physical gut punch. She was barely recovered when Max poked her head in.

  “You wanted to see me, H?”

  “It’s come to my attention that you think I’m being a shithead.”

  “Dubs tell you that? I told her not to say anything.” Her shoulders were slumped and she had something very interesting to examine on her shoes.

  “Isabelle too. Moose would join in I’m sure, but he’s in California. He probably knows though and is just waiting to tell me in person when he gets back. He’s polite like that.” Holt actually thought that was possible. “Look, the point is, I’ve been trying to take your training to the next level, but I’ve got to take the kid gloves off. For both our sakes.”

  “This has been the kid gloves?” Max looked alarmed.

  “Yes. No. Sort of. Isabelle can explain it better. The point is I haven’t been doing a very good job choosing tasks to push you and test you. All I’ve been doing is making you mad at me. I think I’ve been quite successful at that.”

  Max nodded. “I’ve also felt like you’re mad at me. I don’t work very well when I feel like that.”

  “I’m not mad at you.” Holt felt awful. She didn’t want Max to feel that way. She needed Max working at peak performance, not stressed about how she was going to react to Max’s work. “I’ve never taught anyone like you before. I’m learning too. I know how to teach someone to be good in the field. Your computer stuff is half mystery to me. Isabelle said I was scared to let you fail so I was setting up challenges where you could be mad at me instead. I was protecting you. That’s on me. I’m sorry.”

  “I know I’m not as good as everyone else here out in the field,” Max said. “I don’t have the life experience you all have. I haven’t caught anyone from the FBI’s ten most wante
d list. I haven’t been to prison or been a heroin addict, or been doing this for my whole life, but I take care of my business with the computer stuff.”

  “That’s true,” Holt said. “You haven’t done any of those things. And I’m grateful for that. But you’ve been kicked out of your home. You’ve lived on the streets and survived. Do you know why I spend so much time wandering around the office restless and driving you and everyone else around here crazy?”

  “You like that we send Isabelle to calm you down.”

  “No, although that’s a definite perk. I’m really good at tracking people down on the streets. Hunting people, kicking in doors, facing scary situations and not backing down. I can sit in a car for fourteen hours just to talk to someone’s cousin’s mother’s sister’s hairdresser to get information we need. But there isn’t nearly as much need for an ass kicker because you do so much around here with your fancy computer skills. Well, you and Isabelle with her financial wizardry. You find some of these folks for us before we warm up the coffee in the morning, and then we just have to knock on one door, politely, and scoop them up.”

  “That’s modern times,” Max said with a nonchalant shrug.

  “It is. And you’re also really good at what you do. But up until now, you’ve always had plenty of time to do what you do. We give you assignments and you can research, poke around, work your magic. There will come a time when you have as little time to solve a problem on the computer as you did in the park with me the day we met Dubs.”

  “You mean the day you took on two really big dudes and one of them pulled a knife?”

  “Exactly. What did you do when you saw them?” Holt asked.

  “I think I panicked and then kicked one of them in the shin.”

  “And that’s what I need to do to help you grow. I need to lessen the panic and increase the shin kicking when it comes to your computer work. I don’t know how you’ll react if you’re the only one who can save my life by working some computer something or other, but you have to do it in less than a minute. Or we need vital information but it has to be extracted in under thirty seconds. Do you?”

  “No,” Max said.

  “We both have to figure out how to change that answer. Can you work with me to do that?” Holt asked. It might not be conventional, but this would probably only work with Max’s buy-in.

  “Yes. I’m in.” Max looked like herself again—eager, enthusiastic, happy.

  “Good, then get back to work on our Kevin Garvey problem, and I’ll figure out how to scare your socks off with a computer problem.”

  After she left to rejoin Isabelle, who was following the money through cyberspace, Holt found herself, once again, with nothing to do but wait. She thought about George the First again. This time the memory didn’t catch her off guard, but it still hurt. It was too late to be scared for Lola’s brother. Holt leaned back in her chair and ran her hands through her hair. Isabelle was right. She was scared. For Lola.

  She hasn’t seemed this lost since right after George died when I let her make decisions I think she still regrets. And I sent her three thousand miles away, alone. But no one’s coming after her this time. She’s safe. I hope.

  Chapter Eleven

  “H, I love you, but what the hell are we doing here?” Jose asked.

  “Just call Lola. Get her on Facetime. Then I’ll explain.” Holt saw Jose about to launch into an endless series of questions. “Don’t make me regret bringing you. Get her on the phone.” She was nervous enough without having to get Jose in line.

  “If this is a job, you know I’m not qualified. The last time I was involved in one, I almost got you killed.” Jose looked terrified at the memory.

  Holt took a deep breath. Her temper was more controlled than it used to be, but Jose still had the access code to the self-control override button. “How many times do I have to tell you? That wasn’t your fault. And this isn’t a job. Not the way you’re thinking. Now, are you going to yap all day or call Lola so you can figure out what this is all about? I promise you’re going to like it.”

  That seemed to motivate him. Lola appeared on his phone, looking as confused as he did when she realized they were crammed in Holt’s truck and not in the office.

  “What’s the emergency? I’m supposed to be at work in a couple hours. Can we take care of this in that time?”

  “Lord help me if we can’t,” Holt said. “You are two of my best friends, along with Moose and Amy, but they would be terrible helping me here. You two are the only ones I trust to help me with this. I tried to do it on my own, and…it didn’t go well.”

  “Just spit it out, H.” Lola looked worried.

  Jose felt her forehead. Holt swatted his hand away.

  “I want to buy an engagement ring for Isabelle.” Holt said it in a rush. She felt small beads of sweat form on her forehead. She’d tried to pick a ring out on her own. It seemed like the kind of thing she should be able to do, but the number of options had overwhelmed her.

  “Seriously?” Jose said. He was beaming. There was no other word for it.

  “About fucking time,” Lola said.

  “Let me guess, you don’t know your ass from a princess cut?” Jose asked.

  “Oh and you do?” Holt said. She was embarrassed she couldn’t do this without help. How could she not figure out what ring to buy the love of her life? Wasn’t this supposed to reflect her commitment, love, and devotion to Isabelle? The physical embodiment of all those things didn’t seem like the kind of thing you were supposed to outsource. But walking into the jeweler the first time hadn’t been a success. Getting shot in the chest by Isabelle’s crazy stalker had gone better. There were literally thousands of combinations, and she lost track of the options after about four. She wasn’t too proud to admit she needed help, so she’d called in reinforcements. This was too important to screw up.

  Jose and Lola gave her a look she could only describe as “bitch, please.”

  “You came to the right place. Do you know what kind of stone you want? Cut, color, clarity?” Jose asked.

  Holt wasn’t sure what exactly was so funny about the look on her face, but Jose and Lola were laughing a little too hard.

  “Okay, let’s back up. Do you want there to be a stone? If so, what color? Blue, green, red, purple, diamond? More than one?” Lola asked. She seemed to understand they needed to talk to her like she was a preschooler.

  “Yes to a stone, diamond. I don’t know if there should be more than one. I also like blue.”

  “Good work, H. Blue are called sapphires, just so you know. You might need to know that when we go inside,” Lola said.

  “Okay, next. What shape do you like? Square, round, heart, oval, rectangle, teardrop or pear, football. Anything calling out to you?”

  “There’s a diamond cut called ‘football’? How are all engagement rings not in that shape?” Holt asked.

  “No, it’s called marquise cut. Would you know what shape that was if I had said that?” Jose asked.

  “Not a clue,” Holt said.

  “But you know what shape a football is. I was translating. Same with princess and emerald.”

  “It seems so simple. You buy a ring, drop to a knee, don’t drop the ring, and ask the question. But how is anyone supposed to buy the damn thing on their own?”

  “You aren’t. You call your friends who know more than you and they save your ass.”

  “Like always,” Holt said.

  “You said it,” Lola said.

  “Okay, I like round, or square. Or maybe rectangle. The other ones seem like they wouldn’t fit on her finger very well.”

  “Almost ready to go in. One last question. Do you like the idea of the band being smooth, or do you like it decorated with either etching or diamonds?” Lola asked.

  “Oh, good point. I had forgotten about that,” Jose said. “Can we just decide for her? She’s gonna screw this up.”

  “Let her tell us what she thinks and then we’ll overrule her in there
,” Lola said.

  “Guys, I’m right here,” Holt said. “And I’m the one buying the ring.”

  “And you want it to be perfect, right?”

  “Of course. That’s why I called you two. The only thing I took away from my first attempt at this is that I liked bands that had fancy stuff on them. They looked so beautiful and old-fashioned.”

  “Whoa. Maybe we underestimated her,” Jose said.

  “All right, let’s go get our lady a ring.”

  “Jose, can you do a first pass? I know you won’t let me look at anything until you two narrow down my choices anyway. I have to ask Lola a work question,” Holt said.

  Jose practically skipped to the store, eager to start shopping.

  “You didn’t give him your credit card did you?” Lola asked.

  “Hell no,” Holt said. “He’d bankrupt me.”

  “Thanks for including me in this. I’m sorry I’m not there in person, but I’m glad I’m still involved. You know I’ve always got your back.”

  Holt hadn’t known how to broach the subject she wanted to raise with Lola, but that was as good an opening as she was likely to get.

  “I know you do,” Holt said. “I’m starting to wonder if I’ve always had yours.”

  Lola started to argue vehemently, but Holt cut her off.

  “Hear me out, then you can yell at me if you want. I’ve been worried about you lately. Isabelle too. I haven’t seen you like this since George the First. Back then I let you drop out of school and come work for me. I should have made you go to college. I don’t want you to make another decision you’ll regret now, and I’m too far away to protect you. It’s driving me a little crazy.”

  “How long have you been twisting yourself in knots about this?” Lola asked. “First, you didn’t let me drop out of school. I did that on my own and then you gave me a place to land and probably saved my life. What the hell did we know? We were kids. You made me get my GED. Maybe college will happen for me someday.”