Just Forget, page 7
"So, I need facial recognition or voice recognition," Cami said to herself.
Both those were going to be risky to obtain. Both would mean confronting Liam, and as yet, she had no idea whether he knew who she was or not. If he did, she might be walking into a death trap.
Could she call him?
Cami shook her head. Just getting a “hello” wouldn't be enough. She needed a reasonable snippet of clear, recorded speech to work with. That, again, meant being face to face. No other option.
Glancing around her room, hoping for a solution to come to mind, Cami looked at the narrow bed with its faded blue and white coverlet, the study notes taped to her walls, and one personal item that meant the world to her—the selfie she'd taken with the young FBI agent, Ethan, when they'd attended a local metal band's concert a week ago.
Ethan was part of Connor's team, sometimes providing backup to Connor from the FBI Boston office, but other times, he was working on separate cases. His passion for his job and his commitment to trying to set things right by catching the bad guys had given Cami a very different picture of the FBI.
Ethan was young, cute, intelligent—and he'd chosen to work there? That helped redeem the organization in her eyes.
Her gaze softened as she looked at their smiling faces, close together, Ethan's mischievous grin, and his classically good-looking face, accentuated by a strong jaw and crisply cut brown hair. She felt her stomach twist in a way that made her feel short of breath as she remembered how they'd kissed before they had said goodbye.
Ethan had been out of Boston for the past week on a case that had taken him elsewhere in Massachusetts, but they'd been texting, and he'd told her yesterday that they were wrapping things up. So, he might even be back tonight.
An idea occurred to Cami. Perhaps he would be willing to help her. At least, he might agree to come with her, if she could find a place and a time when she could get that all important recording from Liam.
With her heart beating faster at the prospect of seeing Ethan again, she texted the man who was becoming much more than just a friend.
"Hey there," she wrote. “You done with work?”
"Hey Cami! I hear you're on a case!"
"Yes. Got called in this afternoon."
"Wish I was there. We're wrapping up here in Pittsfield. Driving back first thing tomorrow."
That would take two or three hours, she guessed. She felt excited.
"Can't wait," she said.
"Likewise," he admitted.
"I was wondering—would you do me a favor and come with me somewhere, sometime this week?"
"Sure!"
"It might be risky."
"Then I'm even more sure." He added a smile emoji. "Adventure calls! Where?"
"I don't know yet. There's someone I want to check out. I'll explain tomorrow."
"I'm in!"
Cami felt a rush of relief and excitement. With Ethan helping her, this idea was going to be possible. It would be an adventure. She'd need to tell Ethan some of what was going on. Briefly, Cami thought about how much she should tell him. Then she put that particular dilemma aside. Tomorrow, she could think about it in more depth. But for now, she had a wingman, a partner, someone who would have her back, and that meant everything to her.
"I can't wait to see you. Sleep well."
"You too, Cami. Sweet dreams."
She smiled at that. Soppy and romantic as it was, it was amazing—and a head rush, to be at the start of what she knew was going to be a proper relationship. It felt like an important life step to be taking, and she was amped that Ethan shared the same chemistry she felt for him.
Tomorrow, Ethan would be back in town, willing and eager to come with her on this top secret project. She'd see him again.
And tomorrow morning, she and Connor were going to confront the security system provider.
With that thought in mind, Cami decided to do some homework on the case herself. While she ate her Chinese, she could double check whether this alarm provider, Edge Security, had anything to do with the first victim, Caroline Elder.
They hadn't yet ascertained that, but perhaps she could find it out, ready for tomorrow.
Cami thought, to herself, that she was also doing it as a form of atonement to make up for what else she was doing, illicitly and on the side.
Digging her chopsticks gratefully into the noodles at long last, she opened her laptop, called up Caroline's address from the case report, and went looking for what she could find.
Her eyebrows raised as she read the information.
Without a doubt, Edge Security was the preferred provider for that street. She saw several references to them on local chat groups. And here was something!
Shoveling food in her mouth, she read that just a few months ago, Caroline Elder had asked on her local group, "Need to upgrade alarm. Any recommendations, folks?"
A few people had replied with different names, but Edge was definitely the one that had been most frequently suggested.
"Thanks, guys," Caroline had said. "I'll give Edge a call."
Cami felt as if things were starting to pull together. Without a doubt, there was a common thread here, and the same provider had worked in both homes. She felt pleased and proud to have found this out ahead of time as it would provide a stronger starting point for their questioning.
In the morning, she was sure that they would find their alarm-deactivating killer, and he would be linked to Edge Security.
CHAPTER TWELVE
His Mama Bear was home. The killer felt short of breath as he waited for her. What a surprise it would be for her.
"Who's been living in my house?"
He laughed, a breathy laugh, as he imagined her saying that exact question when she walked in. She wouldn't of course. Probably, she wouldn't say anything at all, since she assumed that she would be alone. Right up until the moment when he proved to her that no, she was not alone. What a surprise that moment would be. Its shock value was worthy of any story or fairytale.
A sharp, sudden surprise, but for him, that moment of recognition when he was seen was the one that gave him the deepest possible thrill.
He'd set the scenario for her carefully. From the time she opened the door, she would receive her welcome, but he'd decided that to lead her in, she should at first be almost unaware of the tiny changes and improvements he'd so sneakily made.
There was her car outside, he was waiting for its sound and grinned as he heard it. And there, a sound that although he was familiar with many of the noises in this house, he hadn't heard before. It was the garage door rattling up as she parked.
"Come to me, Mama Bear," he whispered, feeling his breathing quicken.
The garage door rattled down again. She was in.
Now, for the thrilling journey of discovery she would make through the house.
This was to be a pleasant welcome. He wanted to give her a lovely surprise, so that she wouldn't be too frightened. He wanted her to look around and enjoy it, to notice the little things he'd done, even if only subliminally.
As she trod through the entrance hall—he could hear her feet on the tiles even now—she might not notice that he'd added just a few fresh roses to the arrangement on the table. He thought it was wonderful that she was one of those women who enjoyed fresh flowers in their home.
He'd added a few new, pink and white blooms to the bouquet. He, personally, thought he could smell a different fragrance in the hallway, fresher, more intense. Listening carefully, he thought he heard her footsteps pause. Was she smelling it too? He felt like giggling in his glee. Waiting, cross legged on the bed, he hugged himself, rocking back and forth to try and contain his excitement.
He was sure that she'd smelled it. She must have thought to herself, "My, but those flowers are lasting well!"
He squeezed his hands tightly around his own body in delighted glee that he'd been able to give her such a subliminal surprise.
Next, she might look at the antique clock. Feeling a little thrill, he hoped that she might notice that the hands had been repositioned to display the hour of nine, instead of the hour of eight, which it was now. She might think that the clock was faulty, and perhaps she'd try to adjust the hands.
Or, maybe, she might not notice that anything had changed at all.
He strained his ears and guessed that she was going into the kitchen. Here, too, he'd tried to keep the changes minimalistic. Most likely, she'd think that she'd just forgotten to switch off the lights, which were now on, making the place look warm and homely. He'd considered boiling the kettle earlier but had decided against that as it might spook her, and he didn't want her spooked.
He'd rearranged the refrigerator, though, which was now neat and tidy. He'd taken the liberty of throwing out a few items of old food. She didn't keep a very up to date fridge, and he'd tut-tutted at that. You could easily get sick that way. Salmonella poisoning was a real thing.
In fact, he heard the soft thunk of the refrigerator and then the clink of ice. She'd poured herself a glass of juice. That was what she'd done.
He waited, listening to her move around the kitchen, the soft clicking of her heels. She was down there, preparing food perhaps. Or making a choice on what to have for dinner. He heard her speaking briefly, but guessed it must have been her just talking to herself.
And then, his eyes widened in pleasure as the soft beat of music began filtering up from downstairs.
She'd turned on music. That was nice of her. She was settling in for a relaxing evening, and he hoped that she'd noticed how he had left the remote controls, organized and aligned, in a neat row on the table. It was the little touches, for sure.
He heard her stir and settle to the task at hand, whatever it might be. She was enjoying her evening. He wondered what she'd think when she realized that all this while, he'd been upstairs, waiting to make sure that this night was the most surprising one of her life, one that concluded in a dramatic ending that might keep a reader hooked, if a reader was following Mama Bear’s tale.
The music continued, but she adjusted the volume downward.
He heard her moving around the house. He heard the clink of ice in the glass again. He heard a cupboard open, then close again. He heard her walking back through the dining room.
He wondered if she'd noticed that he'd straightened all the dining room chairs, and polished the table too. It had been dusty and scuffed. He was quite proud of that. He'd even rearranged the bowl of fruit, removing one of the bruised pears, and making sure that the others were more pleasingly displayed.
This was going to be a night of surprises, he could tell. He grinned, thinking about her surprise when she discovered him.
He had a sudden urge to giggle and squirm with pleasure as he heard the slight creak of the floorboards as she crossed the room toward the door.
She was doing what he'd been waiting for, although he'd been ready to be as patient as he needed to. Finally, she was going to climb the stairs and come into the master bedroom to get out of those restrictive work clothes and slip into something more comfortable.
He had the ideal outfit arranged on the bed. He'd chosen one of her gray tracksuit bottoms, and a comfortable black knit sweater. For footwear, he'd decided, those well-used trainers were probably going to be her choice for padding around the house.
He had also prepared a small snack, just something light, sandwiches on a plate, with the crusts neatly removed.
It was all waiting up here for her, and he was counting the moments until she arrived and took in the small touches that awaited her. Of course, there wouldn't be much time for her to absorb these little efforts he'd made in her bedroom, but that didn't matter to him, because it was the effort behind it that counted. It was his way of saying thank you for allowing him to live like her for a while, to become her, to step into her skin.
He was holding the knife tightly, gripping the handle, resolve building along with his excitement. In the back, that was where he would need to take her, because once she'd looked at this beautiful arrangement, she would turn and run.
They all did.
Now, her footsteps were coming up the stairs, and the time was shortening. Only a few more seconds, and he would be ready for the big reveal, the pinnacle of the evening's efforts.
And he let out a breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
"Mama Bear," he said softly, to himself. "I'm here."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
At seven-twenty a.m. exactly, Cami was waiting expectantly outside MIT in the exact spot where Connor had dropped her. She felt sure that the alarm company was a strong lead and that it would lead them to the suspect they needed.
Just a minute after she'd gotten to the pickup point, Connor pulled up, making Cami feel glad that she'd been early. As soon as she climbed inside, she told Connor what she'd discovered the day before.
"About a year ago, Caroline Elder was recommended to use Edge Security for her alarm system," she said. "I found it last night. The conversation was on one of the street’s chat groups."
"That's a strong link."
Connor's voice sounded approving, and Cami felt a flash of satisfaction that she'd been able to come through with the information.
Connor headed onto the main road, which was already clogged with traffic. The day was gray and dull, and rain was threatening. Taillights of cars flashed red in front of them as everyone braked, and then edged sideways to avoid a minor bumper bashing.
Fighting their way through the traffic, they turned off the main road and headed to the industrial area bordering downtown, where Edge Security had their offices.
It was a professional-looking setup, Cami saw, as they arrived at the premises. The building was neat-looking and freshly painted with vivid black and white signage with the company logo above the door. Planters on each side of the entrance gave a welcoming touch. Shiny cars lined the parking area to the building's right.
They parked there and headed inside.
"Can I help you?" A serious-looking receptionist—with short, dark hair and wearing a black jacket—greeted them from behind the desk.
"We're investigating a crime and looking for the company owner or manager. Whoever's the most senior person here right now," Connor said, showing her his FBI badge.
Now, the receptionist gave a worried frown. "The owner is Malcolm Deere, and he is in. He's upstairs. I'll call him for you straight away, if you'd like to wait there."
She indicated a small office to the right of the reception desk, which had two desks and four chairs placed inside. Cami followed Connor in, and they perched on the chairs, watching the door.
It was only a minute before footsteps approached and a tall, fit-looking man with close cropped, gray hair walked in. He had a face that was lined from sun exposure, and his hands were tanned and weathered, too, Cami noticed. He was wearing a black bomber jacket with the company logo and black jeans. She guessed immediately that he was a hands-on owner who'd worked hard to get where he was. He wasn’t in an ivory tower, but on the front lines with his team.
It didn’t mean that he wasn’t a killer in his spare time, though, she warned herself.
He looked at them, his eyes immediately going to the badge clutched in Connor's hand. "How can I help you?" Malcolm asked, his voice deep and brisk.
"We're FBI, investigating two murders that have taken place in suburban Boston, nearby here. We're looking for links between the victims, and it seems that one of the links might be that Edge Security installed both of the alarm systems."
"That's very disturbing," Malcolm Deere said, shaking his head. "I heard about these murders, of course, and we've already had a meeting here to discuss it. There was no alarm activation signal, no panic button pressed, and no alarm failure that we could identify."
Connor folded his arms and looked at Malcolm thoughtfully.
"How about someone disabling the alarms? Someone knowledgeable, who knew how to do it, or was aware of the code?"
Now, Malcolm's eyes widened as he considered that possibility.
"That would mean the killer was directly involved with Edge?"
"It would, yes," Connor agreed.
Malcolm shook his head. "Not possible. I'm sorry, but I don't accept that one of our techs would have done such a thing."
"You're sure?"
"I know my people. And they're good people. They are all vetted, they all have references, they all have training, and they're all paid well."
"What about a disgruntled employee?"
Malcolm shook his head again. "I've been in this business for a long time. Techs come and go all the time, that's true. And there are people who don't stick around for very long, but I don't have any disgruntled people. Everyone likes it here because I run a tight ship, and I treat everyone fairly."
"What about ex-employees? Would any of your former workers have had a grudge against you?" Connor probed.
Malcolm frowned. Now, Cami thought, Connor's words had triggered something—some memory, some association.
He moved straight over to one of the desks. Walking behind it, he sat on the leather director's chair, and tapped a few keys on the computer keyboard.
Cami's ears pricked up. She couldn't help it. A hacker at heart, she was always on the alert for what she could pick up about passwords. This one looked to be a complex password that contained not only letters, but characters, numbers, and caps too. He was hunting over the keyboard, pressing the shift key, focusing on getting it correct. The password contained ten digits, she saw.
It wouldn't be easy to crack it. This company seemed to have good basic security in place.
"I'm looking up the client reports," Malcolm told them. "I'm going to see who worked on these two clients at the time of the installation."
Cami felt a flare of excitement now, because from the way he spoke, his voice was no longer flat with denial. Instead, it seemed as if he did have a possible idea or theory in mind.
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