Simon Says... Jump (Kate Morgan Thrillers Book 2)

by Dale Mayer

“Can you though?” Kate asked.

  “No, probably not tonight,” Reese said. “I can request to join them at least.”

  “What happens if they let you in?”

  “Then I’ll probably get a list of rules, and then they’ll wait and see what I do.”

  “Interesting,” Kate murmured. “So administrators are on these?”

  “There usually is one,” Reese said, “if not a couple. Depending on how many people are on the chats. In the loops themselves, there could be anywhere up to five or six administrators. If you’ve got hundreds or even thousands of people on one particular loop, you could have a lot more, and it could be segregated into subloops.”

  “Right,” Kate agreed. “I’ve seen that many times.”

  Reese nodded. “Exactly. This is just the dark web.”

  “Well, let me know what you find.”

  “I’m still applying,” she said, with a laugh. “Go sit down and do something useful.”

  “Wouldn’t that be nice?” Kate said, staring at her computer. She brought up the email with Louisa’s photo and stared at her. “Where did he get that picture from, I wonder?”

  “Good point. Does David have photos on his phone?” Lilliana asked.

  “Did his phone come in with him?” Kate asked, turning to Lilliana, who hopped up and walked over and printed off the report of what items came in with David.

  “His cell phone, yes, but it’s dead.”

  “Of course it is. I wonder if I can get a copy of this and ask his wife where he might have gotten it from.”

  “Minus the bullet hole?” Lilliana asked drily.

  “Yeah, I was thinking I could maybe cut it off.” She put it into a free editing program, cut it off just below the bullet hole, and then attached it to an email to the wife, Louisa, with a quick question. Kate got a response a few minutes later, saying, No idea. I’ve never seen that photo before.

  Kate frowned and said, “So does that mean somebody’s been tracking her?”

  “Well, if you think about it,” Lilliana said, “part of the actual fear in all of this would be for somebody to know who your wife is.”

  Kate looked at her team member and said, “Bingo. Nobody on the chats would know that, would they? So somebody had to have tracked down David’s real name, found his wife, took a picture of her, and attached it to an email address that may or may not have been public knowledge either.”

  “In other words, a hacker,” Lilliana said.

  Rodney turned, looked at her, and said, “Unfortunately way too many of those guys are out there.”

  She nodded. “Particularly, if they’ll do this, they have decent skills.”

  Rodney started a list for the profile, printing off one for Kate. “You’ll have to talk to the shrink again.”

  “I only got five minutes with him last time. Once he connected the dots, I honestly think I was more of a specimen to put under a microscope than anything else.”

  Lilliana laughed and laughed. “Well, you did get the last one fired.”

  “Actually she got put in jail,” Rodney said, with a big grin.

  “It’s not my fault Yolynda was keeping pedophiles’ secrets,” Kate stated. “Just think. She could have saved all those kids.”

  “Not sure if she could have saved them because I think a lot of the conversations between her and her brothers came after the fact, but she could have certainly stopped their vile long ago.”

  “And it’s true that it was the same family who abused Simon, huh?” Lilliana asked.

  Kate nodded her head. “And I can assure you, that’s not a subject we talk about.”

  “Nope. But I would like to know more about his psychic gifts.”

  “Not me,” she said. “I just hope that conversation never comes up again.”

  “But he helped you with that pedophile case.”

  “He might have,” she said, “and I might have gotten there on my own too.”

  “But maybe not in time to save Leonard,” Rodney added.

  “I would like to think so,” she snapped. Then she groaned. “Sorry, sore subject and I’m tired.” She looked at the photo of Louisa again. “I wonder if she would have any idea when the picture was taken, like if she could remember when she wore that shirt.”

  She quickly called Louisa and said, “I get that you have never seen that photo before, but you’re wearing a particular shirt. Do you have any idea how often you would have worn that or when you might have worn it last?”

  “It’s relatively new,” she said. “I just bought it a couple weeks ago, and I wore it on a hike with David,” she said quietly, and then the tears started. “We went shopping. We went out for lunch, and, when we came back here, we were talking with the neighbors for a bit, and I was wearing it.”

  She wondered if David’s house wasn’t probably the easiest location to grab that photo. If somebody was watching the house, then, hmm … “Okay, that’s a help. Thank you.”

  “Why would somebody take that photo?” Louisa asked, puzzled.

  “I’m not sure,” Kate said. “That’s what we’re trying to figure out. It was in David’s email inbox.”

  “Weird,” Louisa said. “Well, I mean, unless somebody knew of me …” And then she stopped, gasped, and said, “Somebody wasn’t trying to put an idea in his head that I was having an affair, were they?”

  “No, I don’t think that was it at all,” Kate quickly reassured her.

  “Oh, good,” Louisa gasped. “I would absolutely hate for anything like that to have happened. He’s always been my life.”

  “I’m sure he knew that.”

  “Well, if he did,” Louisa said quietly, “why didn’t it matter then?”

  That was a hell of a note to end the call on because Kate had absolutely no idea how to respond.

  *

  Simon’s Wee Hours of Saturday Morning

  Simon woke in the night—really the wee hours of early morning—with the same voice going on and on in his head.

  Do it. Do it. Go ahead and do it.

  Simon remained quiet, trying to let the voice wander through his consciousness. He wanted to slam the door to his mind and to lock it on the other side and to find a way to shut out intruders like this. Something was almost mocking, reminiscent of a teenage bully in high school, pushing you to do something you didn’t want to do on a dare, knowing that everybody was watching. And, if you didn’t do it, you would get picked on for the rest of the school year. Yet, if you did do it and failed, it would be just as freaking bad.

  Do it, the voice said, with that hated insinuation that suggested the person on the other end of these words was totally capable of doing whatever it was.

  On a hunch, Simon asked, “Do what?”

  The voice stopped for a second and said, Do it, and then it was gone.

  Simon was in bed, quiet, his heart slamming against his chest. He looked at the room around him. “Grandmother, what the hell did you get me into?”

  It had been her abilities that had sent him as far away from this world as he had been. There’d been nothing fun about it for her either. She’d been mocked and teased. People laughed; others would cross the street to get away from her, all because of her witchy abilities. And yet his grandmother had been a wonderful woman with a heart of solid gold. Nobody had appreciated the things she had done for the community or for the individuals she had helped. And even those she had helped the most had a hard time seeing her publicly. Because the others would ostracize them as well. And it was all about community back then; it would have been all about keeping his grandmother away from the community.

  “Assholes,” he muttered under his breath, as he tried to go back to sleep.

  Only sleep was the furthest thing from his mind. As he lay here, he wondered who the hell the voice belonged to. It sounded different every time, different, yet somehow the same. Similar and yet something was off, almost—and then he stopped, not knowing how to describe it. Finally giving up, he rose and ha
d a shower, then sat down with a fresh pot of coffee to do some paperwork.

  As he sat in his favorite chair overlooking the view, he saw the sunrise. He smiled; it always helped to restore his faith in humanity, although humanity had nothing to do with that sun. It was all about Mother Nature, and, sure enough, humanity was doing as much to drive her into the ground as it could. He settled back, wondering just how bad things would get before people would take note of the environment and do something about it. When it was almost seven o’clock, his phone rang, and he looked at it in surprise. “Louisa? Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” she said, her voice hesitant. “I’m making arrangements for David’s funeral.”

  “Ah, I’m sorry,” he said. “If there’s anything I can do to help—”

  “That’s why I’m calling. I spoke with the detective yesterday, and she said something about a photo of me in an email.”

  “And?” he asked, cautiously putting his pen down and picking up his coffee to take a sip. He wondered what she was calling about and how much Kate had told her.

  “Well, you remember my friend who was here when you came by?” she said. “She didn’t seem to think that the police had any right to take the laptop.”

  “Didn’t have any right?” he said. “Well, for one, I told you that they needed it, and you were in agreement with that.”

  “But they didn’t have a warrant, did they?”

  He frowned, confused. “Well, they didn’t need a warrant,” he said, “because we gave it to them.”

  “But maybe we shouldn’t have,” she said in a rush.

  “What are you afraid of?” he asked. “Do you really think David did something wrong?”

  “No,” she cried out. “Why would you even say that?”

  “Because I don’t understand why you’re acting the way you are,” he asked in confusion.

  “I just feel like I want the laptop,” she said.

  “You know you’re getting it back, right?” There was silence at the other end. Unsure if she understood fully, he continued. “They needed it in order to get whatever forensic information they can for their case, but they’re giving it back to you.”

  “With everything on it?” she asked.

  “Yes, of course,” he said.

  “Well, when can I get it back?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “You’d have to ask Kate that.”

  “Oh,” she said, her voice changing. “I didn’t think she would let me have it.”

  “Well, she will as soon as she can,” he said.

  “Can? What do you mean by can?”

  “Louisa, I don’t understand. All they’re trying to do is get information to help clarify David’s death.”

  “Yes, I get that, but I don’t want this to become public knowledge.”

  “You mean, that he committed suicide?”

  “Yes, of course,” she said.

  “And how will the police having the laptop impact that?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, “but I just started to get really worried about it, and I don’t think David would like them to have it.”

  “Well, in this case, it’s not his decision. They already have it, and I don’t know how much longer they’ll need to keep it.”

  “I don’t understand why they need to keep it at all.”

  “And I don’t understand why there’s a problem. It’s not like you don’t have your own computer.”

  “You shouldn’t have taken it from me,” she said, getting bolder in her wording.

  “Taken it from you?” he said, shaking his head. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but you were in full agreement with the police checking out everything to do with his death.”

  “I know,” she said, “and then I got to thinking.”

  He frowned. “Is this your friend interfering again?”

  “Maybe, but she had a couple good points.”

  “And what was that?”

  “What if they find something that’ll mar his reputation?”

  “I think you need to watch out for possibly well-meaning friends who are feeding you unfounded fears. Don’t let them add to your worries with nonexistent problems. David’s dead. I don’t think the police will find anything that’ll make much difference or mar his reputation in any way.”

  “Well, it will to me,” she cried out passionately.

  “Are you saying you’d want to keep whatever happened to your husband a secret?”

  “Maybe,” she said, her voice getting hesitant again, as if she didn’t know how to answer.

  Simon knew that from the tone of her voice it was more because it wasn’t a question that she had thought to ask her friend, so now she didn’t have a planned answer to give. “Do you want me to talk to Helena?”

  “No,” she said in a rush. “She didn’t want anything to do with any of this.”

  “And yet she’s pressuring you to get the laptop back before the police are done with it. Helena obviously thinks badly of the police and is trying to get you to do the same thing. And you do realize that wanting the laptop back before the police check out all information about David’s death just raises suspicions and may make the investigation take longer?”

  Silence. “Suspicion of what?” she said, her voice rising, “I didn’t do anything.”

  “No, but now you’re acting weird,” he said bluntly. “I understand concern. I understand the fact that, from your perspective, as a civilian who knows nothing of how an official investigation works, that there’s no reason for them to have it. But having given it to them voluntarily and not having any viable reason why they can’t have it to investigate the death of your husband,” he said, “I think demanding it back will just cause them to look at you sideways.”

  “Oh,” she said.

  “After what happened to David, you need to be careful about who and what you believe.”

  She swallowed loudly. “How long do you think they need his computer?”

  “Hopefully not very long,” he said. “Why don’t you simply call and ask Kate about that, if it will make you feel better? And watch out for those negative thoughts taking over in your mind. That’s what David did too. Don’t listen to Helena’s negativity either. Ask the source. Call Kate and say that there’s material on there that you want for his eulogy or something. And ask how soon you can get it back. It’s just that simple. Don’t let Helena make it into some big conspiracy.”

  “Oh, that’s a great idea,” she said in a rush. “Thanks.” And, with that, she hung up.

  He stared down at his phone, wondering what the hell had just gone on. He didn’t know Louisa anywhere near as well as he did David, and apparently—after not knowing that the guy was suicidal—Simon didn’t know his friend all that well either. But this just ranked up on a level of bizarre. He shook his head, sent a text to Kate, mentioning that Louisa was looking for the laptop back. And then he put it out of his mind and carried on for the day.

  Chapter 9

  Kate’s Saturday Morning

  Kate saw the text, wondered at it, shrugged, and carried on, as she walked toward the station. It was a beautiful sunny day and promised to be an absolutely gorgeous afternoon, but, as far as she was concerned, she wouldn’t get much chance to enjoy it. She and her team were still interviewing families of other suicide victims, and they had begun this process over the past week. She had copious notes, and what she was trying to figure out was some methodology for finding similarities between them. She’d done a couple cases in note form, bringing out the salient points, and now needed to do the same for the rest of the cases.

  When she got in, she found a full pot of coffee. With a grin, she snagged a cup, sat down at her desk, grabbed her notepads, brought up her Excel document, and transferred her summary information into the spreadsheet.

  When Rodney sauntered in, a little bit later with a cup of coffee in hand, he looked over at the spreadsheet on her computer screen and winced. “I can’t stand those things.”


  “No,” she said, “but at least we can use them for data sorting.” He looked at her with a grimace, and she shrugged. “We have so many cases year-to-date, I just couldn’t figure out the best way to compare for similarities.”

  “You know there is a search feature online.”

  “There is,” she said, with a nod, “but, when you consider how much information there is, what if somebody didn’t put in some of these points? So then, when you do run a search, it doesn’t come up with any of the stuff that you’re looking for.”

  He shook his head. “Looks like a ton of man-hours wasted to me.”

  “Did you have something else you wanted to do?” she asked, looking at him. “Some other case that we need to work on?”

  “We don’t need any more cases,” he said, with a groan. “We’ve got too many already.”

  “Nothing new on the drive-bys though, huh?”

  “No,” he said, “nothing new anywhere.” He tossed down his pencil, looked at her, and asked, “You want me to do some?”

  “No, I got this.”

  Just then, both of their phones rang.

  “Uh-oh.” She groaned and said, “Here we go.”

  Both checked their phones, each notified of another drive-by shooting. Racing for their jackets, they headed out.

  “I’ll drive,” he said. Running to his vehicle, they drove straight to the scene. Traffic was on their side, making the trip fast.

  Kate stood off to the side, taking it all in. They were on scene earlier than the other shooting cases, in time to see people mingling around, witnesses still crying, the victim on the ground with a sheet atop him. Atop them. She stepped up toward Rodney. “This would be a first, if it’s the same guy.”

  He looked at her in surprise.

  She pointed. “Look. More than one victim.”

  Rodney frowned and nodded. “Could have been accidentally caught by the gunfire.”

  She nodded. “But still, it doubles his kill count, and, in that case, he may want to keep that up.” Rodney’s gaze narrowed. She shrugged. “Just something to keep in mind.”

  As they turned and took in the scene of the crime, she studied everything that she could get her mind wrapped around. But it seemed fairly simple: a vehicle drove by, took potshots at a couple guys walking along the road, and took them down. She bent to study the two young men; they were once again healthy, under twenty-five most likely, tall and slim, and looked to be athletic.