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“Wow,” I breathed. “That’s kinda smart.”
My nervous finger spasmed and opened the H_BRO_WN folder. Another breath sucked in as I saw the grisly thumbnails of photos and videos along with all the logs of collected evidence.
Something in my chest sagged. What was I doing? Mickey Weiss had spent years collecting information to stop murderers and thieves and now I was going to ruin it all with a few clicks. I shook my head and gritted my teeth.
Thank goodness my mother was dead.
Except, as the daughter of a cop, I couldn’t quite bring myself to delete those folders. It was as though my mother’s ghost hovered over my shoulder or something. And even though I knew it was foolish, even though I wasn’t following orders to the letter, I made the reckless executive decision to dump all of Mickey’s evidence onto the flash drive.
Whether it was because Sara had given me a high-end flash drive or Mickey Weiss had a good computer, it only took five and a half minutes.
Now it wasn’t just my hands that were shaking but my entire body. Gripping the mouse, I had to concentrate in order to drag over the file that Sara had promised would torch Weiss’s computer. A black box immediately opened, with the line C:\Users\M_Weiss, followed by some text I couldn’t decipher, except for the end question which said, “Kill? (Y/N).”
“Fuck,” I whispered, and my ears pulsed. Finally, I made myself remove the flash drive and hit the “Y” key.
The window immediately began to run lines of code, scrolling endlessly for almost a minute before it got to the end. I gaped in astonishment as the screen flashed a cheeky “Goodbye” and a winking emoticon.
The screen went black and then the computer flicked on and off before going to a blue page that welcomed a user to their computer and asked if they’d like to proceed with setup.
“It worked,” I breathed.
Fisting my hand over the flash drive, I couldn’t believe I’d done it. Hastily, I reattached the small flash drive to the Sara’s necklace. Then I stood up and closed the laptop before glancing around and making a quick checklist of what I had to do before I could get out of here. I had to get back out the window, over into the bedroom where I needed to replace the screen and then book it the hell out of here.
Glancing at my watch, I saw that I had at least an hour or so before Mickey was due to return. Still, I didn’t want to push my luck.
The moment the word “luck”crossed my mind, I heard a door bang open somewhere, and I froze. Heart pumping blood too fast through my skull, I didn’t move — not until I heard footsteps on the stairs.Too manyfootsteps. It sounded like at least half a dozen big men were coming and I reared back in panic then ran to the window. Halfway out of it, I heard the doorknob behind me jiggle.
“Open it,” someone ordered and my lungs spasmed when there was a cry of pain.
Oh shit.
Instincts taking over, I dropped onto the ground silently, closed the window and darted across the room into the closet. There, thankfully, I managed to squeeze myself into a corner behind a tower of blankets and boxes, my palms gripping my knees.
Then, with a start, I realized I’d left my sweatshirt on the chair by the desk.
Before I could react, the door opened, and something heavy hit the floor. No, not something ?someone.
Someone groaned in a way that told me they were badly hurt. I’d never heard that kind of pain from another human being outside of a really gory TV show. Fear prickled along my scalp as several sets of footsteps followed the body in.
There had to be at least four or five men in this room, including the injured one.
It’s Mickey,I thought with a sudden, seizing panic.It has to be Mickey.
“Now,” said that same voice, deep and resonant but with a coldness that had me curling into a tighter ball. Later, I’d realize it was because that coldness didn’t make sense — that was a voice that should’ve been warm, maybe hot at times, but never cold.
At the time, though, all I thought was that I didn’t want that man to find me.
He continued, “You’d think a cop would know better.” Another cry of pain. “So, what’s it gonna be? Help me out or keep pissing me off? And before you answer, remember — I’ve got all night.”
—
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