Love Inspired Suspense May 2015 #2

by Susan Sleeman

  It had been ten years since Andrea had died. Murdered by a stray bullet that deep down Grayson knew had been meant for him. Her death, a month before their wedding, had been a wake-up call for Grayson. He’d doubted his purpose, second-guessed his career choice. He’d finally come to terms with the reality that his future, his calling, this life he had chosen, did not come without sacrifice. A wife and family of his own were not in his future. He’d been selfish to try to have that with Andrea—a selfishness that had led to her death. He didn’t have the time to devote to a family. His job required that he miss birthdays, anniversaries, holidays. That wasn’t fair. Not to anyone.

  He wouldn’t ask another woman to understand the demands of his work, his drive to be successful, not even someone like Laney.

  She might understand his single-minded dedication to his work, but she had her own guilt, her own memories, her own reasons for doing the work she did. She didn’t need anything else laid on her.

  He led her to the sliding glass door, opened it and ushered her inside.

  “Gray, is that you?” Arden called from the family room.

  “Yes.”

  “Well, what took so long? I’ve been done for like…an hour!”

  “Have you found anything?” he asked as he and Laney joined her.

  Rose was on the recliner, a colorful quilt covering her equally colorful pajamas, nose buried in her devotional. Willow sat on the couch beside Arden, a glazed look on her face. She’d probably spent the past two hours listening to every excruciating detail of Arden’s next project.

  “Malware,” Arden said, her gaze on Gray’s laptop. “None of the data you’ve sent or received via email can be trusted. The malware is very sophisticated.”

  “Can you disable it?”

  “Is there anything I can’t do on computers?”

  “Way to be vain, sis.”

  “Vanity is about beauty. I’m confident. But I’ll admit, this is going to take some time. Simply put, someone set up a duplicate email account to intercept all your messages before you received them.”

  “Can you tell if anything was modified or removed?”

  “Unfortunately, no. Because the full files were never saved to your hard drive, not even to your temp files, there is just no way to run a recovery program.”

  This was bad news. This was Grayson’s official FBI email account; he trusted it and the data he received from it.

  “Is there any way to tell how long this has been going on?

  “I knew you’d ask that.” Arden smiled. “It appears the duplicate account was set up about in January.”

  “So my email has been compromised for nearly a year?” Just about the time he was assigned to the case. Grayson didn’t like the coincidence.

  “Is there any way to trace who’s been accessing the account?” he asked.

  “I think so, given time. But until I do, any data you send over this account is in jeopardy. Anything you receive is suspect. You’ll have to decide what’s more important—to have a secure email account, or to track the hacker on the other end. We can close this account down now, but that means whoever is on the other end will know you’re onto him.”

  “I need to know who’s accessing my account.” Pacing the length of the family room, Grayson outlined his plan. “I’ll call the IT team tomorrow and request a new email account, but will keep this one open. Until I get the new account, I’ll do everything the old-fashioned way.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s too late tonight, but tomorrow I’ll call the local PD in California and Boston to request faxes of their case files. I can compare them with versions that were emailed to me.”

  “You think those files were tampered with?” Willow asked.

  “I think there’s got to be a reason someone hacked into this account.”

  He looked up at Laney. “Do you have a fax-machine number I can use, or should I have everything sent to Chief Andrews?

  “I have a fax at the reception desk in the kennels. The fire didn’t reach there, so it should be fine. Aunt Rose gave you one of my business cards. The number’s on it.”

  “Be careful, Grayson,” Arden added. “Make sure you contact someone you trust—otherwise the hard copies may be modified, as well.”

  “Got it covered.”

  “There is also the slim possibility that the duplicate account was set up by an FBI system administrator. If that’s the case, I won’t have much time to complete my forensic investigation—I’d expect him to disable the mirror account, leaving no trace. I’ll do what I can tonight, but there is no guarantee I’ll be able to track this back.”

  “Well, Arden,” Willow interjected. “it’s been great seeing you again, but it sounds like you’re planning to work most of the night on this thing and I’ve got a flight out tomorrow at ten. I think I need to find a hotel room and crash. I caught the redeye last night so I could get here as early as possible, and I’m beat.”

  Rose looked up from her reading then, glasses perched on her nose, “What’s this I hear about hotel rooms when I have a perfectly good cottage just down the drive?”

  “I wouldn’t want to impose, Rose.” Willow said.

  “No imposition. I’m staying up here with Laney. My place is a bit smaller, one bedroom. But there’s a pullout couch and clean sheets in the linen closet.” She stood, folding the quilt neatly over the recliner. “I’ll walk you down now. Arden can join you later.”

  “I’m sure I can find it on my own…”

  “I’m sure you can, too,” Rose cut her off. “But I need the stretch. I’ve been cooped up all day and some fresh air will do me good.”

  Laney frowned. “Aunt Rose, it’s too dangerous for you to be walking outside alone right now. Maybe Grayson should—”

  Rose sighed. “You young people ought not argue with your elders. Haven’t you learned it’s futile?”

  Arden snickered at Rose’s statement.

  “Besides, who says I’m gonna be alone?” She started toward the kitchen. “I have two fresh chicken sandwiches and some raspberry tea prepared for the officers out front. I’m sure one of them will escort me down the drive and back in payment for a nice dinner.” She emerged from the kitchen, lightweight blue jacket zipped over flowered pajamas, white Keds on her feet and a small picnic basket in her arms. “I threw in some cookies for good measure.”

  Grayson grimaced. Maybe he should warn the guys before they bit into one of them.

  “Of course,” Rose continued, “if I had my mace, I wouldn’t have to go through the trouble of bribing a police officer with food. Come on, Willow. Let’s get out of here.”

  She was out the door before Willow could make a move to follow.

  “Well,” Arden said.

  “Well, what?” Grayson responded, his gaze on the open front door and on the officers who were being handed chicken sandwiches.

  “I like that old lady. She’s pretty cool.”

  “Get back to work, sis.” He sighed as Willow walked outside and closed the door.

  THIRTEEN

  Laney toyed with the idea of sleeping in her very comfortable, yet extremely ugly, fuzzy frog pj’s—a Christmas gift from Aunt Rose that, surprisingly, Laney actually used. But she did not want to be seen in public wearing them. Given the last twenty-four hours, she could not even begin to wonder what might interrupt her sleep.

  Instead of the fuzzy pj’s, she threw on a clean pair of yoga pants and a soft Under Armour T-shirt. Glancing in the mirror, she sighed at her reflection. With her hair pulled back into a loose braid, the staples at her hairline were not quite hidden and still inflamed. Her fair skin, made all the more pale from lack of sleep and worry, only served to accentuate further the unattractive yellowish-green bruise that shadowed her jaw.

  It could be worse, she thought wryly, dropping onto the bed. She could be dead.

  In the corner of her room, Murphy made himself comfortable between Jax and Brody. No doubt happy that he was not relegated to his usual kennel for
the night, the younger dog lay upside down, belly showing, legs in the air, snoring. Head resting on Brody’s back and a foot splayed over Jax’s, he wiggled in his sleep. Brody let out a huff, but both dogs, friendly to a fault, accepted Murphy—at least for the night.

  Good. Laney wanted a peaceful night’s sleep. She needed one, because she was starting to think things she shouldn’t. Things about Grayson, about her future, about maybe reconnecting with her old purpose, her old mission.

  She frowned, touching the old family Bible again.

  She wanted what her grandfather and aunt had, what Grayson had.

  “Please, just show me what you want me to do,” she whispered.

  Brody opened one eye, gave a quiet little yip.

  She smiled, turning off the light and lying down. She didn’t think she’d be able to fall asleep with the events of the past twenty-four hours swirling in her head, but she must have. The next thing she knew, someone was pounding on the door. Loudly.

  “Laney? You awake?”

  Grayson. She knew the voice, could hear the urgency in it as she tumbled out of bed and across the room, nearly killing herself as she tried to rush to the door. She flung it open. “What’s going on? Is it Rose?

  “No. Nothing like that.”

  “Then what?”

  “I just got a call from Kent. We finally got the search warrant and entered David Rallings’s house.”

  “Did they find anything?”

  “They’re still processing the scene, but a car registered to David Rallings Jr. was found on the premises. Inside, the television was blaring, and there was a half-eaten dinner on the table. The front door was open, screen door unlocked. No sign of Rallings or of foul play. Andrews figures that he was tipped off and knew they were coming for him.”

  “Okay.” She wasn’t sure why Grayson had thought it necessary to wake her to tell her that.

  “There’s more, Laney,” he said, his expression grim. “Prince George’s County Police are reporting a John Doe floating in the Patuxent River. Possible robbery victim. No wallet or ID on him.”

  Laney knew where this was going, and it wasn’t good. “Rallings?”

  “He fits the description, but the police haven’t been able to find any family to identify him. They’ll take prints at the morgue, but it will likely be tomorrow before they can search the databank and get a positive ID. I don’t want to wait until tomorrow, Laney. If Rallings is dead, someone is afraid we’re getting too close. If that’s the case, there’s every possibility the kids will be moved sooner rather than later.”

  “You want me to identify him, don’t you?”

  “I want you to do what feels comfortable and right. Identifying a body that’s been in the water isn’t pleasant, and I—”

  “I’ve found drowning victims, Grayson. I’ve pulled them from rivers and ponds. Older people. Toddlers.” They’d been the worst. They were the ones she hadn’t been able to forget. “I think I can handle this.”

  He nodded, glancing at his watch. “I’ll meet you in the family room. I need to call Andrews and tell him we’ll be at the morgue before midnight.”

  Laney grabbed her oversize Colorado Search and Rescue sweatshirt from the closet, pulled it over her T-shirt, slipped into her shoes and followed him into the family room. He stood near the window, speaking quietly into his phone.

  Arden was still on the couch, Grayson’s laptop balanced on her thighs, several devices spread out on the coffee table. She had earbuds in and was bobbing her head to some song only she could hear. She didn’t look up as Laney approached.

  “Arden?” Laney touched Arden’s shoulder, and Arden nearly jumped out of her skin.

  “Wow! Man!” She tore the earbud from her left ear. “You scared me.”

  “Sorry, I just wanted to let you know I’m leaving with Grayson.”

  “Yeah. He told me,” Arden responded, her gaze sliding back to the computer screen.

  “I don’t want to wake Rose to tell her. If she comes looking for me, can you let her know where I’ve gone?”

  “Sure.” Arden replaced the earbud and went back to work.

  “Ready?” Grayson asked, shoving his phone into his pocket and taking Laney’s elbow. “Andrews said he’ll meet us at the morgue in twenty.”

  “What else did he say?”

  “That the security guard who was at the hospital the night of the power outage may have skipped town. His girlfriend called the police to report that he never made it home from work last night. She’s suspected him of cheating, so she went straight to the bank to clean their account out. Unfortunately, he’d already been there. Took every bit of the six hundred dollars they had and deposited it into a personal account.” He paused as he opened the door and ushered her out onto the porch. “He also transferred ten thousand dollars that she had no idea was there. She was very willing and very able to give us a bank statement. The money was deposited by wire transfer. Half of it twenty minutes before the power outage. The rest after.”

  “Can Kent trace the transfer?”

  “He did. It came from an overseas account. No way to find out who the account holder is. Andrews put out an APB on the security guard. Hopefully we can stop him before he goes too far underground.”

  “Or before he ends up in the Patuxent?”

  “That, too.”

  The temperature had dropped, and dark rain clouds shadowed the moon. Laney could feel the moisture in the air. There’d be a storm soon. She hoped that wherever Olivia and the other kids were, they were warm and dry. More than that, she hoped that they’d be home soon. She prayed that they would, because she had nothing left but that. No power to change anything, no hope that identifying the body would bring them any closer to stopping the kidnappers. All she had was the feeling that maybe she’d spent her life putting her hope in the wrong things, that maybe she’d spent too much time believing in her own strength and power and not enough time relying on God’s.

  “Better get in,” Grayson said as he opened the passenger door and helped her into his car. “The storm is almost on us.”

  He closed the door as the first raindrop fell.

  *

  The pelting rain made it difficult to drive as fast as Grayson would have liked. Even with the wipers swishing back and forth at full speed, visibility was still impaired. Laney was quiet in the seat next to him, her hands fisted in her lap.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked, breaking the silence.

  “That Olivia and the other two kids might be out in this mess.”

  “I doubt the kidnappers would risk the health of their sales product.”

  “Is that really all those kids are to them?”

  “If it weren’t, they’d never have taken them in the first place.”

  “That’s sad.”

  “Lots of things in life are, but there’s good stuff too. Like your dogs.”

  “And your sister.”

  “And food that Rose doesn’t cook,” he said, hoping to lighten her mood.

  She laughed. “Poor Rose. She has an overinflated opinion of her cooking.”

  “She’s a good lady, though.”

  “She is. I didn’t see much of her while I was growing up. She and her husband were missionaries. She came home on furlough, but it wasn’t enough for her to make a difference.”

  “Make a difference in what?” he asked, turning onto the main highway. They should be only ten minutes from the morgue, but it would take a little longer with the rain. Grayson hoped the medical examiner would stick around.

  “My life,” Laney said so softly that Grayson almost couldn’t hear her. “She’s always felt guilty about that. I think it’s why she lives in the cottage instead of a retirement home with all her friends. She says she’d be bored there, but I know she’d be happy. Dozens of people around her all the time, plenty of things to do.”

  “You don’t feel guilty about that, too, do you?”

  She didn’t respond, and he took her silence fo
r assent. “Rose would tell you to get a grip. You know that, right?”

  “Rose tells me lots of things. If I listened to all of them, I’d have blond hair and sixteen pairs of bright pink jeggings.”

  “And twenty of those fuzzy sweaters?”

  “Exactly.” She shifted in her seat, and he knew she was studying his profile. “Do you think they’ll find anything at Rallings’s house? Assuming he’s dead, there’s no hope of questioning him.”

  “Everyone leaves something behind.” How valuable it would be remained to be seen, but Grayson was certain they would find something.

  “They killed him because I identified him.”

  “Guilt again, Laney? Because it’s totally misplaced. They killed him because he put their operation at risk.”

  In the center console, Grayson’s phone vibrated, the name Ethan Conrad flashing on the dashboard media system. Grayson accepted the call. “Grayson here.”

  “Gray, it’s Ethan. I got your message but was poring over the files you sent.”

  “I called to tell you to hold off, Ethan. The integrity of the files has come into question. My system’s been hacked.”

  “Are you sure? Only a skilled hacker could get into the FBI system.”

  “Arden confirmed it.”

  “I guess you’re sure, then. These guys may be more powerful than either of us imagined.”

  “I agree.”

  “It sounds like you’re getting close. Be careful.” Grayson could hear the concern in Ethan’s voice.

  “Don’t worry, Ethan. I learned from the best. I can take care of myself.”

  “I know you can, but I think I’ll take a trip out that way tomorrow and take a look at the police files on all the cases if you can set it up with the chief. Maybe I could talk to a few people, shake up a few leads.”

  “I think you’d be wasting your time, Ethan.”

  “Its possible, but I’d feel better doing something.”

  “Okay, I’ll talk to the chief about it and call you in the morning.”

  “Sounds good.” Ethan paused. “You’re like a son to me, and I can’t lose another one. Be safe.” The connection ended before Grayson could respond.

  “He sounds like he cares a lot about you,” Laney commented.