Read Online Dark of Night by Suzanne Brockmann - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Suzanne Brockmann
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you still have faith we're going to live happily ever after,” he said, with a sound that was half laughter, half despair. “I don't know why.”
“You're in Kettleston,” she prompted him, tempted to shake him because she was sick and tired of his
lack
of faith—in her, in them. “What do they want you to do?”
Jimmy sighed. “Almost nothing. A simple B&E for a hard-drive download from a computer that isn't connected to the Internet.”
Hence the hard access via breaking and entering. Even a secure wireless setup could be hacked by someone with fairly rudimentary skills, but if a computer didn't have an Internet connection…
“The target's not in Kettleston,” Jimmy continued, “it's in Albuquerque—a three-hour trip. I've got a rental car, so I make the drive.”
Troubleshooters Incorporated had a client based out of Kettleston, New Mexico. Harrison
&
Sons. It was one of their many paranoia accounts—businesses run by CEOs who feared terrorist attacks despite being HQ'd in the land of cattle or corn.
Sometime over the past year—Tess couldn't remember exactly when—Harrison
&
Sons had hired Troubleshooters to redesign their security system, and Jimmy had been in charge of the project. It was an easy job at a high rate of pay—the drawback being the travel and the days spent away from home, housed in a crappy hotel.
“The intel in the file I've been given,” Jimmy continued quietly, recounting his “dream,” if that's what it really was, “is limited. Brief. I'm entering the home of Ronald Fenster. He's a bank manager, thirty-nine years old, divorced, no kids, heavily in debt, suspected drug use, currently in Phoenix, Arizona, at a real estate investment workshop.”
“In other words, he's not home,” Tess said, and felt Jimmy nod.
“No one's home,” he confirmed. “It's a simple job in an empty house. A cakewalk. I'll be in and out inside of thirty minutes, depending on how long it takes to copy his files to my flashdrive. According to the intel, the computer I'm targeting is in the southeast bedroom on the second floor.
“The McMansion is dark,” he continued. “I drive the neighborhood,but it's after midnight and the whole development is rolled up tight. So I leave the car about a mile away and walk in. Disable the security system and enter through the back door.
“I'm halfway up the stairs when I know something's wrong. Really wrong. I don't know how I know—maybe I smell blood, maybe I hear something. I draw my weapon as I keep going—if I stop they'll know that I know they're there. So instead of going into the southeast bedroom, I head for the master, where I goddamn nearly trip over Ronald Fenster, who's tied to a chair. He's been …”
Jimmy stopped, and Tess just waited, holding her breath, praying that he'd do it—that he'd trust her enough to tell her.
“He's been beaten,” Jimmy whispered. “Tortured. The ends of his fingers are … Christ, he's a mess. His throat's been cut and I slip in the blood, which slows me down. I can hear them now, they're coming for me, and I discharge my weapon at the bedroom door, and I think maybe I hit one of them as as I kick out the window screen. I jump and by some miracle I don't break my ankles, and I'm running as they shoot at me. And I'm hit, but the bullet's spent, and I know I'm not badly hurt. I can get away as long as I don't leave a trail of blood. Except then the dream shifts, and I'm back in the bedroom, only this time it's not Fenster in the chair.”
He took a deep breath, and it sounded raspy and loud in the darkness, but then he whispered, “This time, it's you.”
Oh, God. “I'm here,” Tess said again, unable to keep her voice from shaking. “I'm right here.” She
didn't
tell him that maybe—just maybe— her showing up dead in his dreams was his subconscious fear that his deceit could still kill their relationship. After all, he'd lied to her for
years.
It seemed he might be out of the woods in terms of
“You're in Kettleston,” she prompted him, tempted to shake him because she was sick and tired of his
lack
of faith—in her, in them. “What do they want you to do?”
Jimmy sighed. “Almost nothing. A simple B&E for a hard-drive download from a computer that isn't connected to the Internet.”
Hence the hard access via breaking and entering. Even a secure wireless setup could be hacked by someone with fairly rudimentary skills, but if a computer didn't have an Internet connection…
“The target's not in Kettleston,” Jimmy continued, “it's in Albuquerque—a three-hour trip. I've got a rental car, so I make the drive.”
Troubleshooters Incorporated had a client based out of Kettleston, New Mexico. Harrison
&
Sons. It was one of their many paranoia accounts—businesses run by CEOs who feared terrorist attacks despite being HQ'd in the land of cattle or corn.
Sometime over the past year—Tess couldn't remember exactly when—Harrison
&
Sons had hired Troubleshooters to redesign their security system, and Jimmy had been in charge of the project. It was an easy job at a high rate of pay—the drawback being the travel and the days spent away from home, housed in a crappy hotel.
“The intel in the file I've been given,” Jimmy continued quietly, recounting his “dream,” if that's what it really was, “is limited. Brief. I'm entering the home of Ronald Fenster. He's a bank manager, thirty-nine years old, divorced, no kids, heavily in debt, suspected drug use, currently in Phoenix, Arizona, at a real estate investment workshop.”
“In other words, he's not home,” Tess said, and felt Jimmy nod.
“No one's home,” he confirmed. “It's a simple job in an empty house. A cakewalk. I'll be in and out inside of thirty minutes, depending on how long it takes to copy his files to my flashdrive. According to the intel, the computer I'm targeting is in the southeast bedroom on the second floor.
“The McMansion is dark,” he continued. “I drive the neighborhood,but it's after midnight and the whole development is rolled up tight. So I leave the car about a mile away and walk in. Disable the security system and enter through the back door.
“I'm halfway up the stairs when I know something's wrong. Really wrong. I don't know how I know—maybe I smell blood, maybe I hear something. I draw my weapon as I keep going—if I stop they'll know that I know they're there. So instead of going into the southeast bedroom, I head for the master, where I goddamn nearly trip over Ronald Fenster, who's tied to a chair. He's been …”
Jimmy stopped, and Tess just waited, holding her breath, praying that he'd do it—that he'd trust her enough to tell her.
“He's been beaten,” Jimmy whispered. “Tortured. The ends of his fingers are … Christ, he's a mess. His throat's been cut and I slip in the blood, which slows me down. I can hear them now, they're coming for me, and I discharge my weapon at the bedroom door, and I think maybe I hit one of them as as I kick out the window screen. I jump and by some miracle I don't break my ankles, and I'm running as they shoot at me. And I'm hit, but the bullet's spent, and I know I'm not badly hurt. I can get away as long as I don't leave a trail of blood. Except then the dream shifts, and I'm back in the bedroom, only this time it's not Fenster in the chair.”
He took a deep breath, and it sounded raspy and loud in the darkness, but then he whispered, “This time, it's you.”
Oh, God. “I'm here,” Tess said again, unable to keep her voice from shaking. “I'm right here.” She
didn't
tell him that maybe—just maybe— her showing up dead in his dreams was his subconscious fear that his deceit could still kill their relationship. After all, he'd lied to her for
years.
It seemed he might be out of the woods in terms of
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