The Hacker

by Leslie Georgeson

  I lifted my chin. I did want to confront this Hacker guy and ask him what he knew about my father’s death. I had been in dangerous situations before. Sometimes my investigative reporting landed me in unsafe places. My father had made sure I knew how to protect myself. I knew basic self-defense and also how to shoot a gun. I wasn’t a helpless female.

  Was I brave enough to venture into the forest on my own in search of this Hacker guy? I wasn’t sure. I’m embarrassed to admit that a horror movie I’d seen when I was twelve had traumatized me to the point that I now had an unnatural fear of the woods and all creatures living in it. I was a city girl through and through. I had no desire to ever explore “nature and the great outdoors”. The very idea of entering the forest scared the living crap out of me and caused me to envision all sorts of dangerous and frightening beasts. Logically, I knew my fear was irrational, but it was still a fear I couldn’t deny.

  I would have to read the file first to determine my next step. I prayed my research wouldn’t involve the forest. Or any non-human beasts.

  Michael motioned to the file again. “All my notes are in there. I kept a digital copy for my records, but you have the originals of everything. The information I have will be kept confidential. Go ahead and take it home and look it over. What you choose to do with the information is up to you.”

  I flipped through a few pages of Michael’s notes that detailed his activities over the past week, who he interviewed, the information he found out…

  I closed the file. I would look over it first before I decided what to do with the information. The daughter in me continued to wage a battle with the reporter. If my father had been involved in some kind of illegal activities, the daughter wasn’t sure she wanted that information getting out. On the other hand, the reporter would gladly share the truth with the world, even if it would be embarrassing to my mother and me. We didn’t need another scandal on top of everything that had happened so far, but the reporter in me demanded that the truth be told. I had never been so conflicted over a potential story before.

  There was definitely a story here. But this might be one story I didn’t want to tell.

  Rising, I shook Michael’s hand. “Thank you. It seems you were very thorough.”

  He walked me to the outer door. “It was my pleasure. If you ever need my assistance in the future, don’t hesitate to contact me. And Ms. Collins, please be careful. Don’t do anything foolish. If I were you, I would take that information—and whatever else you uncover—to the authorities and let them handle it. You would be smart to stay far away from The Hacker.”

  I didn’t respond to that. I wasn’t a coward. I didn’t flee from danger. My curiosity for the truth was more apt to lead me into danger than away from it.

  Even into the woods?

  Michael held the door open for me as I stepped outside. I headed down the sidewalk, bracing myself against the cold December wind.

  I was now going in search of a man called The Hacker.

  I would find him, I vowed.

  And when I did, he would answer my questions.

  He would give me the truth.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Noah

  I finished downloading the last of MK Investigations’ client files, then scrolled through them, searching for a name that might mean something to me. The files were arranged alphabetically, so searching them was easy. Michael Kent was an organized man. My type of guy.

  Nothing really stood out to me until I reached the “C” folder. Then I paused, my heart giving an unexpected thump in my chest.

  Collins, Shannon.

  And there it was, what I’d expected all along.

  “Shit.” I clicked on the folder. Did Shannon know who I was? What had she found out about me? Was this why her blog had been silent for a week? Because she was researching me?

  Be careful what you wish for…

  Yeah. This was bad.

  I spent several minutes reading some of the documents in her folder, then leaned back in my chair in shock. She was definitely investigating her father’s murder, and Michael Kent had come to the conclusion that I was not only involved, but that I was the most likely suspect. How had he determined that?

  Kent was very thorough. He’d researched the murder for almost a week, interviewed numerous people, taken photos, even illegally obtaining a copy of the police report of her father’s death. He’d even ventured into Augusta to question people about the gangs and why the senator might have been there that night.

  He’d also scanned a copy of my wanted poster and saved it in Shannon’s file. Had the wanted poster given me away? If Kent hadn’t seen it, would he even know who I was? Doubtful. His words: “A man matching the description of The Hacker was admitted to the hospital in Eatonton on the same night that Senator Collins was murdered. The Hacker had multiple contusions, a bullet in his chest, and several stab wounds. Whoever beat him was obviously trying to kill him. The nurse I spoke to at the hospital said it was a miracle that he even survived. The only thing connecting The Hacker to Senator Collins was the bullet that was removed from his chest. It was an exact match to the gun found in Senator Collins’ hand the next morning. I would imagine that the FBI knows this, since I was able to find this out in my own investigation. But so far, no arrests have been made. In fact, the FBI has been very hush, hush about the entire investigation. If The Hacker is still around Eatonton, then he’s a ghost. Assuming he’s still alive, of course. The nurse on duty said he simply disappeared one night, and no one has seen him since.”

  Shit, shit, shit.

  The bullet from Collins’ gun. That was why Michael Kent suspected me. This was bad.

  Had Shannon Collins already seen this?

  I’d been putting off my departure from this place for long enough. It was past time to leave here. I couldn’t wait around to meet a woman who was out to bring me down.

  I leaned back and scrubbed a hand over my face. If Shannon Collins had this information, then it was very possible she might come to Eatonton searching for me. And if she searched hard enough, she might even find me.

  If Shannon had read the file, then she would know—or at least suspect—that I’d killed her father.

  But she didn’t know why. She didn’t know I’d been trying to save Logan’s life. She didn’t know her father had been trying to kill me.

  I should have anticipated this.

  I raked a hand through my hair, then leaned back in my chair with a groan.

  If she was investigating her father’s murder, then she likely didn’t know anything about The Company. Which meant she probably had no idea what kind of man her father had been. And if she was half the investigator I imagined her to be, then she wouldn’t stop until she uncovered the truth.

  I really didn’t want to be the one to tell her the truth.

  I closed my eyes and pictured Shannon in my mind.

  Long, silky blonde hair full of gorgeous, sexy waves. Intelligent, deep blue eyes. Her features delicate, pure feminine perfection. Shannon Collins was a knockout. Every man’s fantasy. Or at least, mine. Though I’d only seen pictures and videos of her online, it had been enough to capture my interest, and not many women caught my attention. Something about the senator’s daughter had gotten to me, made me notice her. It wasn’t just her looks. It was everything about her. Shannon was most known for her exclusive, one-on-one interviews with various people who were in the headlines. A serial killer. A CEO indicted for fraud. A school teacher involved in a sex scandal. Nine times out of ten, she was the reporter who was granted the “exclusive” interview. The woman was tenacious. I’d watched several of her interviews. I’d been fascinated, unable to look away as she asked question after question of her interviewee. She reminded me of Luke and his interrogations. She liked to push people’s buttons. Sometimes she made the interviewee angry. Yet she also exhibited a kindness, a compassion for others that I noted in several of her interviews. Shannon was a woman who not only investigated and reported
, she actually cared about each story she told.

  I had originally wondered if she was part of The Company. Now I suspected not. If she dug deep enough, she might uncover the truth about her father’s extracurricular activities. The other Company shareholders would likely do whatever necessary to keep her quiet. I imagined they were probably watching her right now, keeping her under surveillance. If she found out too much, they would snuff her out. By investigating her father’s death, Shannon was putting her own life in danger.

  I had to admire her for that. She was certainly determined.

  This made me even more curious about her.

  And it seemed she was curious about me, too. Though for a completely different reason.

  Had she figured out I was the one who’d ended her father’s life?

  A part of me wanted her to find me so I could meet her in person and gauge for myself the woman’s true character. The other part of me argued the foolishness of such an encounter. I could never let her anywhere near me.

  We needed to leave this place. ASAP.

  Would she really come here in search of me? I needed to warn Ryan and Luke about this so that they could be prepared. And I needed to call Tommy on the two-way and tell him to be on the lookout for a hot blonde in case she arrived before we got out of here.

  If Shannon Collins showed up here, I would have to scare her away somehow.

  Because the information in MK Investigations’ file might be enough to take me down.

  And I wasn’t about to let her destroy me.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Shannon

  I clutched the MK Investigations file against my chest and made my way toward the parking lot several blocks away where I’d left my Mercedes. There was no on-street parking in this area of the city, so I’d had to park farther away. As I rounded the corner of the building, a gust of wind whipped around me, making me shiver. Because it was a weeknight, very few people were out in the city right now, the streets and sidewalks mostly empty. Christmas was only a few weeks away, and my mother was still in Europe, trying to avoid the circus following my father’s murder, leaving me alone for the holiday. Not that I minded. Mom and I weren’t particularly close, and I preferred my own company to hers, anyway. She didn’t approve of my career choice, believing I brought too much attention to myself, and she especially didn’t like my blog, saying I was too opinionated. Mom preferred to hide her true self behind her riches and her charities and her fancy parties, pretending to be someone she was not. If she were here, she would require me to attend some lavish Christmas party or another, and I would be forced to socialize, offering fake smiles and engaging in polite conversations with society’s richest and mightiest. People I had never felt comfortable around.

  I finally reached my car several minutes later and pressed the fob to unlock the doors. Anxious to get home so I could look at the file, I reached for my door handle.

  A sudden sound behind me had the hair on my arms jerking to attention.

  I spun around in alarm.

  A man dressed all in black with a ski mask over his face loomed before me, a menacing presence in the cold, dark night. “Hand over the file, bitch,” he growled in a low voice.

  What? How did he know about my file? I lifted my chin, clutching the file against my chest. I’d paid good money for the information in this file. No one was taking it away from me.

  “Get lost, asshole.”

  I caught a blur of movement before he clobbered me on the side of the head with something hard.

  Pain exploded in my skull. I gasped and stumbled back against my car. The man snatched the file from my grasp and raced away, yelling over his shoulder, “Stop researching your father’s death. Or I’ll come back and kill you.”

  Then he was gone. Disappearing into the night as silently as he’d arrived. With my file.

  Asshole.

  I rubbed my sore head, glaring after him. Why did he want the file? Was there something in there that the man didn’t want me to find out about? Who was he? How had he even known about the file?

  I stood there for a moment, stunned. What now? I would have to go back to Michael’s office and ask him to print me another copy of the file. How long would that take? Was he even still here?

  Pressing the fob to lock my car once again, I headed back toward the building, my head throbbing from whatever the stranger had hit me with. I passed only a few people on the sidewalk as I went back. Several minutes later, I reached the building. The front lobby door was still unlocked, and when I reached MK Investigations’ office, the door was wide open. I peeked inside the office, knocking on the open door. “Mr. Kent?”

  I cautiously stepped inside, letting out a soft gasp at the sight that met my eyes.

  Someone had ransacked Michael’s office. Or Michael himself had undergone a fit of rage and torn his own office apart. Not likely. His desktop had been swiped clean, everything knocked onto the floor, even the computer. The filing cabinet drawers were wide open and papers strewn all about…

  Had Michael been robbed? What had the thieves been searching for?

  The file. My file.

  “Mr. Kent?” I cautiously stepped farther into the office.

  A muffled sound came from the opposite side of the desk. As I rounded the corner, I let out another gasp, this one of complete horror.

  Michael lay on the floor in a pool of blood. A bullet hole in his chest.

  Oh no. Oh God. Michael!

  He moaned softly, his eyelids flickering open. He was still alive!

  Call 911!

  I had left my cellphone in my car, but Michael’s desk phone had been knocked on the floor next to him, the cord stretched and the receiver tangled around his foot. I dropped beside him, snatching up the receiver, gently untangling it and bringing it to my ear. With my other hand, I gathered up the fallen phone stand and pressed a finger down on the switch hook, then releasing it, checking for a dial tone.

  Yes. It worked.

  I dialed 911 and reported a break-in and shooting, then hung up. I leaned over Michael, grabbing his hand and squeezing it gently in mine.

  “Ms. Collins.” He coughed up blood. “What are you doing back here?” Another cough. “Go. Quickly! It’s not safe.”

  My heart pinched. “Help is on the way,” I promised. “Tell me what happened. Who shot you? Did you see them?”

  “Men…in black,” he gasped out. “Three of them. Wanted your file.” He paused, coughing once more. “I told them I already gave it to you. They yanked all the files out of the cabinet, searching through everything, then shot me and left.”

  I hadn’t been gone that long. No more than ten minutes. Was the man who’d stolen the file from me one of the same men who’d ransacked Michael’s office and shot him? Very possibly.

  “A man attacked me by my car a few minutes ago,” I admitted. “He stole the file from me.”

  Michael let out another soft groan. “Someone found out you were investigating your father’s murder. And that someone is not happy.”

  I had to agree with that. But who? And why?

  “You think The Hacker got wind of your investigation?”

  Michael coughed again, more blood spurting from his lips. “I don’t know.”

  “You mentioned a digital copy,” I reminded gently. “You still have that, right?”

  He squeezed my hand. “No. They took my computer, too, and I haven’t run my backup yet this week. They have everything. You’re in danger, Ms. Collins. For your own safety, I would urge you to give up your investigation. You need to…leave here. Quickly. Before they come back.”

  Michael’s eyes drifted shut. “Leave,” he rasped out. “Please.” Then his chest stopped moving.

  “Michael?” I shook him gently. “Michael?”

  He was gone. Dead. Murdered.

  I leapt backward, my heart pounding.

  Should I wait for the cops? Flee? If I fled, I could be implicated in Michael’s murder. My fingerprints were on the phone.
But if I stayed and waited for the cops to get here, I could be here for hours answering their questions.

  I unplugged the phone and snatched it up. Waiting around for the cops wouldn’t benefit Michael now. He was already dead. I doubted the killers had left any evidence behind. Staying would only delay my investigation. And possibly endanger my life.

  With a last glance at Michael, I spun on my heel and raced back outside, sprinting for my car. Several minutes later, I slid behind the wheel. I tossed Michael’s desk phone into the passenger’s seat, my hands shaking.

  Someone had killed Michael Kent. To keep him quiet about what he’d uncovered?

  Oh Michael, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.

  My heart twisted, squeezed. Emotion clogged my throat. I’d barely known Michael, but he hadn’t deserved to die. He was dead because of me. He’d only been doing what I’d paid him to do.

  No one had ever been murdered while I was researching a story before. I had no doubt now that this investigation was dangerous. How many more people might die if I persisted?

  Someone obviously didn’t want Michael—or me—to know the truth behind my father’s death. But instead of deterring me, that made me even more determined to discover the truth.

  But without that file, I had nothing to go on now. No way to find out the truth about my father’s death. How would I ever uncover the truth now?

  Sirens sounded in the distance. But they were too late. Michael was gone.

  I swallowed hard, then started the car and screeched away, heading for home.

  Why didn’t they kill me? Why just steal the file and leave?

  Because the file was what they’d wanted. And the file was what they now had.