Hacking Justice (Fractured Minds Series Book 5) Page 6

Sam had been the first to welcome me into this crazy group. “You’re my people. No way am I leaving you to fend for yourself against the wolves.”

  “I feel guilty that you’re here,” Sam said.

  I dropped a wrinkled T-shirt on top of the pile and crossed the room to sit beside him on the bed. “You know me better than that. If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be.”

  He gave a slow nod and dropped his gaze to the floor. “I’m sorry about Sloan and you getting hurt.”

  “It wasn’t your fault, Sam. None of us could have guessed there was a bomb under my car. Not when the slashed tires were so evident. We didn’t even notice the bomb when we changed the tires to leave.”

  “If that were true, then why are you blaming yourself?” Sam asked.

  Leave it to the smart kid to ask all the hard questions and expect answers I couldn’t give. “I should have anticipated it.”

  “I hate to see you hurting, and I know he meant a lot to you.”

  “All of you guys mean a lot to me. Sloan and I…we were happy in the time we shared. I mean we had our ups and downs.” I shrugged against Sam’s shoulder. “You remember when Sloan was recruiting me and a killer was targeting the people he cared about; Sloan faked his own death to protect his ex-wife and let me believe he was dead. He wasn’t the best boyfriend in the world, and I wasn’t the best girlfriend, either. I’m not throwing shade on his memory. I’d change places with him in a heartbeat.”

  “I know you would,” Sam replied. “If I hadn’t sent you to Ford to begin with, then neither of you would have been there.”

  “This is not your fault. None of what happened is your fault.” Sam had been the one to suggest Ford could help me with my deceased husband’s will. Ford and I never did discuss what I’d needed him to help me with, not with so much already going on, and judging by recent events, that’s going to still have to take a back seat.

  “Have you told Ford what you need?” Sam asked.

  I rose from my seat and picked up the shirt again to fold, buying myself a little time. “No, I’m not sure I ever will.”

  “How can you say that?” Sam came to stand beside me. “You two look like you’ve gotten closer. Ford would help you, I’m sure of it.”

  I searched my closet for a bag and came up empty. “I’m not going to ask. I don’t care where the safety deposit box is or what it’s hiding.”

  “But Ford would help you,” Sam said. “Let me go grab my backpack and another bag. You can use those for your things.”

  We both turned toward the door to find Ford was leaning against the doorframe with a bag at his feet and his arms crossed. “What am I supposed to help with?”

  “This is my cue. Let me grab the bags,” Sam said, turning to face me and walking backward. He mouthed the words; you should tell him.

  Ford stepped into the room and shut the door behind Sam’s exit. “What was he talking about?”

  “Nothing.” I swallowed around the lump in my throat.

  “Lucy, we aren’t doing that. We don’t keep secrets from one another, no matter how it makes the other one feel. That’s not us. So, tell me.” Ford took the folded shirt from my hands and laid it on the pile I’d started.

  “Fine.” I crossed my arms over my chest and turned to him. “You remember when I found you in your hometown?”

  “How can I forget?” he asked.

  “I’d tracked you down because I needed your help, but I’ve changed my mind.”

  “That’s right. You needed help with something your deceased husband left you in his will.”

  “Yeah.” My brows dipped, and my chest tightened. “But I changed my mind. It doesn’t matter.”

  “What changed?” he asked observantly.

  “My priorities,” I answered just as a knock sounded on the door again. Eventually Ford and I would deal with the issue left by my ex but it was a discussion that in the grand scheme of things, didn’t really matter. I needed to stay focused and, in the moment, not take a trip down memory lane.

  I turned my gaze from his scrutiny and answered the door. Sam was standing on the other side, holding a bag and his backpack. “Here you go.”

  “Thanks,” I answered, leaving the door open. “So is there anything else you need to tell me about the first hacker I’m going to see?” I asked Sam.

  “I don’t know much. We’d occasionally play online video games together, and we’d talk hacks, but that’s about it. Even when we were back in MIT, he kept to himself.”

  “So, he’s another version of you,” I asked, shoving my clothes into the bag.

  “Yeah, only I’m much better looking and smarter,” Sam teased as if realizing how that sounded since his friend was dead. His smile fell into a frown. “You sure you want to do this, Lucy?”

  “We’ll get in and tap into the blood and get out before they even realize why we were there,” Ford answered for me.

  Sam’s frown deepened.

  I crossed the room and rested my hands on his arms. “I’ve got this, Sam. You need to trust me and try not to worry.”

  He finally lifted his gaze and studied the bruise on my throat. “You swear you’ll come back unharmed.”

  “I swear if I come back harmed, the other guy will look much worse.”

  Sam’s lips lifted at the corners. “Now that I know you can do.”

  “Okay, children. Clock’s ticking,” Noah called out as he passed the door.

  I finished packing my bag and picked up the backpack. It was heavy. I unzipped it to find a laptop inside.

  “You forget to unpack?” I asked Sam.

  “No, you might need that,” Sam answered. “If you find any electronics that you need me to look at, you should be able to use the cord inside to connect the laptop and the device. In most cases, I’ll be able to take control remotely to give you a hand.”

  “Thanks,” I said, shoving a few items into other compartments. Sam’s laptop would have him tapping into what was going on, kind of like when I touched blood and tuned in.

  Chapter 13

  Florida was exactly how I remembered it. The heat made it difficult to breathe. Sweat beaded on my brow, and the air conditioning in the SUV hadn’t cooled. It was like aiming a hot hairdryer at my face hoping that it would cool me off.

  It didn’t.

  More than once, we had to slow behind a golf cart going toward our hotel. Every person we’d passed was either young, wearing a Merriment Hotel uniform, or old, dressed in mismatched plaids and acting like they owned the road while chasing golf balls.

  This town was the opposite of the spring break capital we’d once visited to catch a killer.

  “This looks interesting,” I said as we passed a country club perched on a hill on the way to the hotel.

  “In and out. Noah reserved a place closest to the crime scene,” Carson said.

  “Did the hacker moonlight for the hotel?” Ford asked, flipping open the file we’d gotten from Noah in our meeting. He dropped his gaze and scanned the contents. “Are you freakin’ kidding me?”

  “What?” I asked, leaning forward to read over his shoulder. “He didn’t just live near there.” Ford glanced over his shoulder. “His grandfather owns the hotel.”

  “I guess we’re getting up close and personal,” I said as Carson pulled beneath the awning. We were greeted by young guys ready to help with our luggage.

  I stepped out of the SUV, glad we were somewhat in the shade while Carson and Ford waved off the bellhops. We walked inside together and approached the reservation desk.

  The girl behind the desk was Sam’s age, young, perky, and pleasant. The name on her tag read “Tammy”.

  “Welcome to the Merriment,” she said with a smile. Her gaze never strayed to the man candy beside me. She focused on me, warm, friendly, and unassuming.

  “Hi, we have a reservation,” I said.

  “Name please or reservation number?”

  Carson handed her the printed reservations, and for a split se
cond, the girl’s smile slipped. It was only for a second, and had I blinked, I would have missed it.

  “Perfect.” Tammy bent over her keyboard, and within minutes, she produced all the paperwork and keys we’d need.

  “When the FBI called to make the reservation, they mentioned you were investigating Raul’s death,” she said with a hesitant breath. “I was instructed to put you in the penthouse right next door and give you a key to Raul’s suite.”

  “Thanks, that will be helpful,” Carson said.

  The woman’s cheeks tinted a light pink even as she pointed out the direction of the elevators and snapped her fingers for a bellhop to appear.

  She was one I was going to be watching. I’d seen the longing look in her bloodshot eyes. They mirrored my own, and something told me she wasn’t just mourning the boss’s son. She was mourning someone much closer.

  I didn’t push the conversation yet, but I would before we left. Carson and Ford held the elevator door as I approached. The bellhop stood outside the elevator, bagless and looking like a lost puppy. The guys hadn’t even thrown the guy a single bag to help.

  “Everyone notice the girl?” I asked.

  “Yep,” Carson answered.

  “Tammy. Front desk clerk,” Ford added. “She looked sad.”

  “Worse than the bellhop you boys just dismissed.” I chuckled as the elevator opened, and we stepped out on the thirteenth floor. Apparently, the owners of this hotel didn’t believe in superstitions at all.

  We stopped outside the double doors while Carson shoved the key into the slot and opened it.

  I strolled to the next door. The one where we’d be going next. The one where Raul had lived. I’d need to read the file to figure out who’d found him and how long he’d been dead.

  I glanced back at the elevators. We’d needed to use our room key to get up to this floor. I shifted my gaze to the emergency exit and walked down the hall.

  “Lucy we’re in here,” Ford called out.

  I held up my finger and kept walking. Pushing open the emergency exit door, I peeked outside, and sure enough, there was a box for the card key to permit entrance. I glanced at the red flashing light on the surveillance camera before I stepped back into the hallway and let the door swing closed. My gaze shifted to the ceiling. noting security cameras on both ends.

  Either a ghost had committed the crime or this case had just gotten a ton more interesting.

  Ford followed my gaze and smiled as I approached. “There are two in the hallway and one in the elevator beneath the mirrored dome. Whoever got access up here was either a pro or it was an inside job.”

  Ford held the door open for me to pass into the suite. It was big and beautiful and something I’d expect to find anywhere but this little retirement town.

  Sloan was perched on the couch. Martin had his head shoved in what looked to be a liquor cabinet.

  “This isn’t bad,” Sloan said.

  “Not bad at all,” I answered out loud before I could stop myself.

  A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling above a dining table that could seat eight or more. Beyond that was a swinging door that, if I had to guess, led to a kitchen. Everything was state of the art, from the fireplace to the television, and there was a remote for everything.

  “I’ll take the room down here in the event anyone cares to break in,” Carson said, pushing open double doors that led into a master suite.

  I climbed the stairs to the second floor. A loft area overlooked the living room. I turned toward one of the doorways. Shoving open those doors to reveal a sumptuous bedroom with a sprawling king-sized bed and beautiful furniture. A ceramic bust that looked like it belonged on a podium in a museum sat just outside the door. Taste, expensive-looking art covered the walls.

  The bathroom door was standing open, and it was bigger than my room at the psych ward, complete with six showerheads in the marble-lined shower.

  Ford dropped our bags on the bed and came to stand behind me. “That looks promising.”

  “He reminds me of myself. The thief isn’t wasting any time,” Martin remarked. “He knows a good thing when he’s got it.”

  “Yeah, he probably wouldn’t have hesitated to move an entire company just to be near her,” Sloan said.

  I rolled my eyes at the pair of them and glanced around the room once again, leaning into Ford’s embrace.

  Why would a hacker risk getting caught and risk having to give up this type of luxury in exchange for a jail cell?

  In the ten minutes we’d been on site, I found I had more questions than answers.

  Chapter 14

  We didn’t linger to admire the attributes that came with a penthouse. We never even unpacked; instead, we headed back downstairs to find Carson standing at the floor-to-ceiling window staring out at the golf course beyond.

  “Enjoying the view?” I asked as we approached.

  “This isn’t my idea of retirement.”

  “No, what is?” I asked.

  “A cold beer and a boat on a lake,” he answered as he turned to face us. “You guys ready to check out Raul’s place?”

  “Oh yeah,” I answered. The sooner, the better.

  Carson hefted a bag over his shoulder before heading to the door.

  “What’s in the bag?” Ford asked.

  “Luminol,” Carson said with a smile. “If the police or perpetrator left any trace of blood behind, then we might not even need to get the local police involved.”

  We left our suite and within seconds let ourselves into Raul’s next door. Where our suite was state-of-the-art sterile, Raul’s was a bit more lived in.

  A computer desk sat with a view of the golf course. Only monitors remained, with no hard drive anywhere to be seen. Fingerprint dust covered the desk in various spots and throughout the room.

  Other than that, everything else looked as it had probably been left. The television was on and the TV emblem bounced around the black screen. A video controller sat on the arm of the coffee table. A glass stain remained on the table near the couch.

  “Any idea where he was killed?” I asked.

  Carson pulled a file out of his bag and opened it to the copied crime scene pictures. He held it up. “Not anywhere in this room.”

  The layout of this penthouse was similar to the one where we were staying. Stairs led up to a second story, and another master bedroom was behind double doors on the first floor.

  Carson shoved them open and lowered the picture. “It was in here.”

  The bed was missing sheets and comforters. Everything in the room was stripped bare.

  I stepped into the space. Carson handed us each some latex gloves, and I shoved my fingers inside before tilting back a frame on the dresser that showed a kid about Sam’s age standing next to an older gentleman. Probably the grandfather who owned the hotel.

  The teen in the picture wore a graduation cap and gown. The man beside him beamed in pride. They had the same dimples.

  I moved the frame back into place.

  “Where was the crime committed?” I asked, turning my gaze around the room. Carson stood in the doorway and held up the picture again.

  “Just here.” He pointed to the floor. “Looks like he must have opened the bedroom door and was caught by surprise.”

  Carson dropped his bag and pulled out a bottle and a UV light and went to town spraying the area.

  This room could have been Sam’s from the nerdy posters to the little Star Trek figurines that were sitting on a shelf above the dresser. This was almost exactly how I pictured Sam’s habitat.

  “Ready or not,” Carson said, flicking the lights off and shining the black light over the entrance area.

  I’d expected Christmas tree action and a large amount of blood in the area showing that spot had been where the kid was killed.

  Not a spec remained. I tilted my head and rested my gloved palms on my waist. “How is it possible that nothing was left behind and the rug looks like it belongs in here?”
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  “Maybe this isn’t where he was killed. Maybe it’s just where he died.” Carson handed me the picture again, and I held it up into the room. There was a subtle shift in the appearance. Unless you were looking for it, you’d never know.

  I moved closer to the figurines again and held up the picture. One was missing.

  “Looks like he was robbed too,” I said, handing the picture to Ford as I moved around the room again, looking for any telltale signs that might point us in the right direction.

  “What was Rodrigues wearing?” I asked Ford and squatted against the closet door.

  “Boxers,” Ford answered.

  “Was his hair wet?” I asked.

  “No,” Ford answered.

  I moved into the bathroom. Where I’d been expecting to see the bathroom of a teenager who liked video games and living off Grandpa’s dime, it wasn’t anything like that. Everything was clean, neat, and in its place. It was just damn odd.

  “Spray in here,” I directed Carson, who appeared by my side.

  “This room looks clean,” he said.

  “That’s my point,” I said, walking into the room. “What guy do you know who lives alone keeps the toilet seat down, not to mention the place this clean? This screams someone has been in here.”

  “Okay,” he answered.

  I watched as he sprayed the liquid all throughout the room, and then he hit the lights.

  A little blue trail led behind one of the closed doors.

  I took the spray bottle and followed the trail. It led to the walk-in closet, which I’d been leaning against in the bedroom.

  I sprayed the floor in the walk-in closet, not caring if I got it on Raul’s shoes. I hit the lights and grinned.

  “Bingo,” Ford said, appearing by my side. “Looks like you found the kid’s hiding spot.”

  The blood was contained in a corner of the closet, as if puddled. “Was he hurt and then ran to hide?”

  “Yeah, the only problem with that is if he died in here and this is his blood, then how the hell did his body get out into the doorway?” I asked, actually perplexed as I squatted next to the bloodstains.