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Devan taps his foot on the floor, all business now. “We work off of an encrypted server, but that doesn't mean a skilled hacker can’t access the information. Who knows what kind of filth is being employed by our crime lords these days. The underground has all kinds of skills at their disposal.”
“Intelligent filth,” I correct.
“It’s time for us to pay a visit to IT.”
I groan, even though the guys down in the tech department work for the same people we do. They’re just creeps. Not in a weird way, like a typical nerd or geek, but because they never leave the dim fluorescent lighting of their little cave and seem to almost talk in code. One of the guys even went so far as to pinch my ass on my way past him during a case.
I gesture for Devan to go ahead of me. “Lead the way, then.”
The trip to their underground bunker will give me enough time to finish the coffee, at least.
There are several IT personnel in the office at all times. Today we’ve got Bill and Adam, with their faces lit by the dull glow of the blue screens of their computers. Both of them turn to look at us in tandem and the effect is definitely at the top of the scale in terms of creepiness.
“To what do we owe the pleasure, Detective Sinclair?”
Bill elbows Adam in the side to get him to shut the hell up. “Her name is Pocahontas. How many times do I have to tell you?’
“Right, because the nicknames are completely endearing and make me more inclined to be pleasant.” I shoot them a smile that’s anything but.
“Not to mention political correctness,” Devan adds sarcastically.
I nudge him with my shoulder in thanks.
“Look, boys, we’ve got some questions. Would an outsider have access to our system?” I ask.
Adam pushes his glasses up higher on the sharp bridge of his nose. “Elucidate.”
“She’s wondering if it’s possible for someone who doesn’t work in the department to have access to our files on the server,” Devan clarifies.
Bill looks startled. “It’s not supposed to be possible, no. What gives you the impression we’ve been hacked?”
I cross my arms over my chest, but the way Adam’s eyes flick immediately to my cleavage has me adjusting my posture yet again. “A hunch?”
“Good enough for me.” Bill spins around in his chair. “I’ll check the firewalls.”
“How long is it going to take?” Devan wants to know.
“As long as it takes.” Bill snaps out the last bit. He’s in his element. The two of them dive right into checking whatever it is they need to check.
With that portion of the agenda handled, I turn to Devan. “Come on. I want to do a little digging in the daylight.”
There are several reasons for me to head back to Docks on Markee. One, because I'll be able to see more without any goons popping out of the woodwork and surprising me. Those kinds of creatures are nocturnal. And two, because going back with Devan will help clear away some of his residual frustration with me.
Three? A fresh set of eyes that do not belong to the reaper.
This time I drive down to the wharf. I’ve spent too much time in the passenger seat lately. Even if it’s just handling a vehicle, a little bit of control grabbed back is necessary if I’m going to keep pushing forward.
“I can't believe you came here by yourself,” Devan muttered the closer we get to the abandoned docks. “This place is a mess.”
“It’s no worse than anything we’ve seen before,” I reply, keeping my gaze on the potholes in the road ahead.
“Good thing Kimmy doesn't know about this.”
“Why?” I chuckle. “You're afraid your girlfriend won’t let you come down here to play? Not the right kind of kids on the playground?”
“She’d worry unnecessarily.” The weight of his tone tells me he’s done the same for me lately.
“I know, I know,” I say without having to be prompted. “I’m a bad partner and a worse friend.”
