Bell to Pay

by Jeremy Waldron

  Susan inched closer with a bloom of heat spreading across her chest.

  She glanced to the door, listened to see if she could locate Damien. When she was certain she still had a minute alone, she stepped to the desk ledge and moved a printout to the side with her painted nail.

  Her eyes rounded a fraction wider.

  Underneath was Ronald Hyland’s business card, a sticky note attached to that. Susan picked it up and flipped it around, and read:

  Ronald Hyland meeting 4PM.

  The Colorado Times.

  Det. Alex King.

  Feeling her pulse spike, Susan quickly opened her clutch and retrieved her phone. Unlocking the screen, she hurried to snap a quick photo to send to Samantha.

  Damien snuck up on her without warning. “Find everything you need?”

  Susan’s fingers fumbled her phone and her pulse ticked fast in her neck. She stood frozen and bright eyed, hoping Damien didn’t notice her spying. But she was quick on her toes and deflected the attention away from what he was really asking—what are you doing at my desk?—to the device she’d just picked up.

  “Is this a pacemaker?” she asked.

  Damien took his gaze off hers and swung it to the small oval device. “It is.”

  “Interesting piece of art to have on your desk.” Susan arched a brow and gave him her best smile. “Don’t you think?”

  Damien laughed and moved to stand opposite Susan. “It’s part of Marion’s training.”

  “A pacemaker?”

  Damien opened his palm and Susan dropped it into his hand by the wire attached. “It’s important we prepare her to be able to hack anything the judges present her with.” Damien stared at the pacemaker, stroking the pad of his thumb over the device. “Phone lines, home security software, smart speakers.” He lifted his eyes to Susan. “Even pacemakers.”

  “The more I learn of this event, the more concerned I am.”

  Damien laughed softly. “It’s to expose the vulnerabilities so engineers can patch the code.” Susan remembered that from yesterday. “Truth is, each new medical device brought to market is extremely vulnerable. Pacemakers like this can easily be commandeered by someone who knows what they are doing.”

  “And why would anyone want to hijack a pacemaker?”

  “Control.”

  Susan watched Damien’s pupils shrink to tiny pin-pricks. She felt a stone form in her throat. “To control someone with a pacemaker?”

  “Exactly. They do it by placing malware into the device and then… anything is possible.”

  “Even death?”

  “Most certainly death.” Damien hid the device away in his pants pocket. “But, not to worry. Only the best can override the security measures currently in place on the all the latest medical devices.” Damien stopped when noticing Susan’s face go pale. “Everything all right?”

  Susan bit the edge of her lip when deciding how best to ask him. “Why didn’t you mention your criminal conviction to me?”

  An awkward silence came between them.

  “It was only a matter of time before I found out.”

  “You’re right.” Damien nodded. “I should have told you sooner. But I wanted to create a good first impression. I was thinking only of Backstage’s future.”

  Susan looked around the office. “Are you even allowed to be teaching this stuff?”

  “It’s part of my parole agreement.” Damien mentioned the strict supervision he received, and the reporting he was required to do.

  “To teach young people how to hack?”

  “Look, I know how it seems.”

  “You might be closely watched, but are your students?”

  Damien stayed calm when he said, “Is this about what’s been being said in the news?”

  “Yeah, a little bit I guess.”

  “I’m not him.” Damien assured her with a smile.

  Susan wanted to believe him. But since learning about Richard Thompson, her confidence hadn’t been what it was. “But you can see why others might think you are.”

  “What I did was wrong; I’ll be the first to admit that.” Damien held her gaze inside his eyes. “I’m not the man I used to be. I’ve turned my life around. A lot has changed since those days, even opportunities for hackers to make a great living doing what they we do best.”

  Marion popped her head into the office, a stiff perfumed wind following her. “I cracked it, boss. Come take a look. I’ll even show you how to do it if you’re nice.”

  Damien smiled and congratulated Marion on her efforts. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

  Marion stared at Susan before spinning back toward the workroom, leaving with the same enthusiasm and energy as she came in with.

  Damien swung his attention back to Susan. As soon as their eyes met, Susan said, “But can your students differentiate between good and bad?”

  “I believe with the proper mentorship, yeah, they can.”

  “What you are teaching them is tremendously powerful.”

  “And I understand the responsibility that comes with it.”

  “But how well do you know your students?”

  Damien rested his tailbone on the edge of his desk and crossed his arms. “None of them are behind what the news is suggesting is happening, Susan.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  Suddenly, Damien’s cellphone vibrated in his pocket. He read the message. “Come with me to lunch. Let me introduce you to someone who might convince you that I’m worth taking a chance on.”

  “Who?”

  “It will be a surprise.” Damien stood and offered Susan his hand. “You just have to trust me.”

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  King spun the steering wheel to the right and eased his foot off the brake as he completed the turn. His eyes were glued to the rearview mirror, his stomach flexed as he anxiously waited to see if the same black SUV that he believed was following them would do the same.

  Alvarez was leaning forward and staring in the side mirror. “There it is. Definitely following us.”

  King didn’t react. He remained calm and continued driving at the pace of traffic. “Can you get the plates?”

  Alvarez twisted in his seat. Squinting through the back window, he shook his head. “Too far. But it’s a black Ford Explorer.”

  “We shouldn’t slow down.”

  “No. Keep him back.” Alvarez kept shifting his eyes between the side mirror and swiveling his head around to look behind them. “Who do you think it is?”

  King had a suspect in mind the moment he was sure they were being followed. He summed up what Cecelia Garcia told Samantha last night. Alvarez questioned why King hadn’t told him until now. King expected a phone call, not for Garcia to track them down.

  “I don’t know.” Alvarez scrubbed his hand over his chin. “The vehicle looks too expensive for a journalist.”

  That, King could agree on. But if not Joey Garcia, then who was following them?

  “Call it in.” King unclipped the radio from the dash and handed it to Alvarez. “See if we can get a patrol car to pick it up.”

  King’s thoughts churned as he listened to Alvarez communicate with dispatch. When he turned left, so did the SUV. Squinting into the mirror, he knew they couldn’t make their next stop without first losing the tail. But when did they pick it up? Was it before or after their last home visit? King swore it was after they met with Rose Wild, but it could have been when leaving Mrs. Thompson’s. Mostly he was asking himself what, if anything, it had to do with what they just learned.

  Alvarez palmed the radio and relayed what King had already heard come through the radio. “A patrol unit is in the area. Should pick him up any minute.”

  The detectives’ morning had been busy. First, they spoke with Mrs. Thompson, who was still not happy with Samantha’s article in the Times. Their next visit, with Rose, didn’t prove any better. She was still angry for basically being under house arrest without ever being charged with a crime.r />
  “Thailand was Donny’s idea,” Rose explained. “I would never go there without him.”

  But Rose had to stay, and King didn’t blame either of the women for not being particularly thrilled to see him come to visit again. Their grief was only escalated by the perpetual news cycle. They doubted that the police were any closer to catching the SOB who was responsible.

  “My husband may have been murdered, and I have to find out about it through the evening news,” Mrs. Thompson snapped at one point during their conversation.

  Her words were still ringing in King’s ears. He’d put up with the abuse, hoping they would reveal the secrets to what it was he was after. His patience eventually paid off as both women told him Damien Black had recently been in contact with their partners prior to their deaths.

  Alvarez turned to King and asked, “Any chance it might be Damien Black?”

  It had crossed King’s mind. “Both Wild and Thompson said Black was seeking funding from their partners, yet no one gave him any money. Why?”

  Alvarez was staring in the mirror when he responded, “Because they were keeping their money for themselves.”

  That could be, King thought. They knew what Thompson and Counts were being accused of, but what King couldn’t shake was how it also gave Black motive to kill them. To make matters worse, they were about to sit down with Joan Collins, hoping the third interview of the day was the charm. But, first, they had to lose this tail.

  “Where did it go?” Alvarez spun in his seat.

  King checked his mirrors, his eyes searching. He’d taken his attention away from the SUV for one second and it disappeared. “Did you see a patrol car?”

  “I didn’t see shit,” Alvarez said.

  King slowed the car to a stop and parked alongside the curb. They waited, searching, wondering if the SUV would pass.

  After several minutes of nothing, Alvarez said, “We weren’t making that up, were we?”

  “No,” King said. “It was definitely tailing us.”

  Alvarez jumped back on the radio, relaying to dispatch an update to the situation. King palmed his cellphone and cursed. He’d missed another call from Sam. Hitting the call back button, he pressed the phone to his ear.

  Samantha answered in a panic. “Alex, baby, are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. What’s wrong?”

  Samantha summed up her phone call with Cecelia earlier in the morning.

  “What vehicle does Garcia drive?” King flicked his gaze to his partner. “It’s not a black Ford Explorer, is it?”

  “You had one following you, too?”

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s not Garcia, but we must be close to discovering who the hell Loxley is because it feels like I’m being watched.”

  King said Garcia hadn’t been located, then asked, “Did you meet with Ronald Hyland?”

  “Went about as well I expected.” When King asked when she was followed, Samantha said on her way to the meeting. “Security escorted me out of the building before I had a chance to tell Hyland his name was on the same list as the others.”

  “Guess who visited at least two of our victims before they died.” King paused, but only for a second. “Damien Black.”

  “Shit.”

  “What is it?”

  “Susan is with him now.”

  “Sam,” King sighed, “You have to tether yourself to her. It’s important we don’t tip off Damien that we’re on to him. If we do, he’ll do whatever it takes to survive. And I mean, whatever it takes.”

  Chapter Sixty-Nine

  Alvarez was speaking to King when he asked, “Should we pick him up?”

  King couldn’t decide. Damien seemed like the likely suspect but couldn’t be certain. There wasn’t enough conclusive evidence to nail him to the wall. At least not yet.

  Alvarez prompted, “What do you want to do?”

  “Nothing yet.” King put the car in gear and drove. “We take our chances.”

  King assured Sam that it was a good thing Susan was with Damien Black. It meant they had eyes on him while they worked to close the circle of guilt surrounding him. He understood Samantha’s fears, but a hostage situation seemed unlikely and King was willing to roll the dice and take his chances.

  By the time he and Alvarez arrived to the Collins’ house, the street was quiet but Joan was home. She opened the door, letting a sudden release of damp air escape the closed-up house. King could smell the tears of sadness he knew she had been crying, could see it in her bloodshot eyes.

  “Sorry, to bother you Mrs. Collins—”

  “I’ve already spoken to your colleagues, Detectives Robbins and Zimmerman,” Joan said with lips as flat as her eyes.

  “We’re aware, Mrs. Collins.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  King answered her with a look that said, you really want to do this here?

  Her eyes flicked between them, then she stepped to the side and opened the front door further as she motioned for them to enter with a single head nod.

  Her depression could be felt—a heavy air that made it difficult to breathe. Like summer in the Carolinas. Based on the papers scattered across the dining room table, and the notes King stole a peek at, Joan was already busy arranging her husband’s funeral.

  Joan stopped in the middle of the room and turned with clasped hands held down at her waist. “With the second set of homicide detectives coming to my house since my husband’s death, I can’t help but wonder if Parker was murdered.”

  Despite the theory King and Sam had discussed yesterday, they had no further evidence to suggest Parker’s car crash was anything other than an unfortunate accident.

  “I’ll take your lack of a response as a yes.” Joan moved to the dining room table and sat at the far end. Swinging one leg over the other, she continued, “I’ll also assume the reason you’re here is because of what the news is reporting.”

  King gave no indication of his thoughts on the vigilante or how irresponsible it was of Nancy Jordan to be instigating such hysteria. Instead, he swung the pendulum toward the questions he needed answers to with hopes of finding his way to Damien Black next. “When you were at Metro State yesterday, did you see anything out of the ordinary?”

  “What constitutes ordinary?”

  “Did your husband meet with anybody? Did you see him speak with anyone that might have upset him?”

  “I saw Parker speaking with the reporter, Joey Garcia, after the event.”

  Alvarez jotted notes down on a pocket-sized pad while King asked the questions.

  King asked, “Did that surprise you?”

  “Not initially.”

  King tilted his head and arched a single eyebrow. “But later?”

  Joan bobbed her head in tiny nods. “Joey covered my husband and our business before in the Times. But yesterday was different.”

  “How so?”

  “I saw Joey arrive late, and he was without a pen, notepad, or even a recorder. All he had was an envelope tucked under his arm.”

  “Any idea what was inside the envelope?” King asked, already assuming it was what Samantha pulled from the wreckage.

  Joan shook her head no.

  “Did he speak to you?”

  “That was what was also strange. No, he didn’t. But I saw him confront my husband.”

  “And you don’t know what they talked about?”

  Joan cast her gaze to her diamond wedding ring and shook her head. “Parker was… gone before I had the chance to ask. That was the last I saw him and nothing was recovered from impound. I can only assume that whatever was inside that envelope, Joey kept for himself.”

  She dabbed at the corners of her eyes and the detectives gave her a moment’s pause before asking, “Do you recognize this man?”

  Joan took the picture of Damien Black from King’s hand and studied it. “I know Mr. Black. Why do you ask?”

  “In what capacity do you know him?”

  Joan handed th
e glossy image back to King. “Mr. Black has been seeking funding for his non-profit computer science project, Backstage. He’s come to us several times in the last few months, hoping to convince us to write a check to help keep his doors open.”

  “Did he convince you?”

  “Despite what you may have heard about me, I’m a tough sell.” Joan mentioned Damien Black’s prior conviction as her reason for not trusting him. “We have a reputation to uphold. I can’t let our shareholders question our personal decisions.”

  King found her statement to be completely ironic, considering the dirt he knew Sam had found in her husband’s car yesterday afternoon. Joan’s next statement nearly made his heart stop.

  “Perhaps you might be better off speaking with Ronald Hyland.”

  King’s eyes narrowed. “Ronald Hyland?”

  Joan nodded.

  “Why him?”

  Joan perked up. “You know who he is, right?”

  “I do,” King said.

  “Good. Because I saw him with Mr. Black at the country club this morning. They’ve been together there quite a bit lately, actually. Surprising, considering Ronald Hyland’s health.” Joan frowned. “The man had a pacemaker implanted a year ago and, honestly, I thought he’d never pick up a club again. Perhaps he’ll be the lucky one to give Damien the money he’s after.” Joan glanced to her watch as she stood. “Anything else before I go?”

  King glanced to Alvarez. “That will be all for now,” Alvarez said.

  Joan walked the men to the door. “You’d tell me if my husband was murdered, wouldn’t you?”

  King looked her directly in the eyes, thinking how Ronald Hyland was the last name on the list found in Joey Garcia’s home office. “Of course.”

  Chapter Seventy

  Susan’s body ached as she sat stiff in her seat, waiting for Damien Black to tell her where they were going. From the moment the wheels started spinning, Damien went quiet. It only heightened Susan’s awareness of the dangers she might be getting herself involved in, but by the look on Damien’s face, something was clearly on his mind.

  Glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, Susan could see Damien’s thoughts swirling behind dark eyes. With one hand on the wheel, Damien drove without hurry. He was so deep inside his head, Susan didn’t think he’d hear anything she said.