Читать книгу Her Dark Web Defender - Dana Nussio - Страница 13

Special Agent Anthony Lazzaro shoved open the door to the plain brick building and tromped to an office with the vague name, Arch Computer Consultants, Inc. He stabbed in the four numbers of the lock code that changed so frequently he sometimes forgot it and had to call one of the other team members to get inside.

Soon he wouldn’t have to remember it at all. The thought should have brightened the drab office walls, just as his formal request should have dulled the stark realities that the two rows of cubicles and the boards of photographs represented. He was finished with agonizing over his decision to transfer from the Innocent Images Task Force of the FBI Cyber Division. No more staring every day at this slimy underbelly of society. No more pretending it hadn’t changed him over the past six years and made him feel older than thirty-eight. No more lying.

Too bad he was stuck in purgatory a little longer.

“Hey, Tony. Ready for another day in the salt mine?”

Tony snarled at Eric Westerfield, but the younger man only grinned as he hurried toward him. The local deputy, who’d joined the task force a year earlier, had so much spring in his step that his coffee swilled over the brim of his paper cup. Wasn’t the guy ever in a bad mood? But the rush of cool air hitting Tony’s face told him Eric had already cranked the air-conditioning, which, by afternoon, would barely challenge the mid-July heat. At least he was good for something.

“Got my pickax and headlamp ready, so sure.” He patted his briefcase, where he’d concealed his .40 caliber Glock 22 in its padded holster with a thumb break for the trip from his rental car to the office. Out of habit, he immediately withdrew the weapon from the bag and locked it and the separate hip holster in his bottom desk drawer.

“Special Agent Dawson told me we’re getting a new task force member today.”

“I heard.”

He’d been livid, too. It was bad enough that Will Dawson, the administrative special agent on the task force, had refused to sign off on his transfer until they’d closed the current case. It centered on the murder of two eighteen-year-old girls and possibly involved cybercrimes. Now the team would be saddled with breaking in a new member during the most high-profile investigation they’d conducted in three years. And his last case on the task force.

“It’s a trooper from the Michigan State Police Brighton Post, since both victims were from Brighton. They referred the case to us in the first place.”

“Heard that, too.”

Tony strode toward the galley kitchen, where the office coffeepot served up hot sludge in daily doses. Though he hoped Eric wouldn’t follow, he did.

“I won’t be low man on the totem pole anymore.”

“Don’t worry.” He didn’t bother looking back as he poured. “You’ll still have your spot near the bottom.”

He didn’t miss the deputy’s emphasis on the word “man,” since they both were aware the new officer was female. Men and women were different on the job. Not better or worse, just different. He wasn’t looking forward to a changing team dynamic during his last few weeks in that office.

“Are we really going to use her voice for this case?”

“Guess so.” Another argument Tony had lost. The regular chats would have sufficed, but the others wouldn’t listen to his reasoning.

With a wave to Eric, he carried his stained Detroit Lions coffee mug past four cubicles, each equipped with laptops and external monitors and hard drives. Near the far window with blinds always kept closed, he sat at his own cramped square, where he could slip on his headset, enter the parallel universe of the Internet referred to as the Dark Web and pretend to be alone. He could do this. Just one more case, and he would be free.

But would he really be? The answer was as clear as all those faces painted on his memory. Some even smiled back at him from photos pinned to the bulletin board on his cubicle wall. A few of his failures, despite all his fancy computer equipment, education and supposed know-how. It was cruel punishment that he would work his final weeks alongside a task-force rookie probably still starry-eyed with convictions that justice could prevail and good could overcome evil. Things he used to believe.

“Do you think she’ll be ready for this?” Eric called from his own desk.

Tony had just fired up his computer and launched the Dark Web browser called Tor, but at his colleague’s question, he pushed in his chair.

“Are any of us?”

The click of the door saved either of them from having to answer that question. He stood and stepped outside his cubicle to get a better look. And there she was, entering the office with Deidre Elliot, the administrative assistant. She couldn’t have stuck out more in that navy-blue uniform shirt, lighter blue pants with a dark stripe, gray tie and the badge.

She probably tied her light-brown hair back so tight to look older, but nothing could mask that youthful blush that contrasted her ivory complexion. She didn’t appear much older than the girls whose deaths they were investigating. Legally, they were women, he guessed. Old enough to know better but too young to realize that their search for adventure could get them killed.

Deidre led the other woman toward them. “Hey, guys. I’d like to you meet our newest team member.”

“You must be Officer Kelly Roberts.”

Wide dark brown eyes stared back at him. She cleared her throat, her tongue slipping out to moisten her deep pink, full lips. Was she surprised that he knew the identity of the new team member? Well, she wasn’t the only one who’d received a shock just then as her simple, nervous reaction had jabbed him below the belt. What was that? He’d never had inappropriate physical reactions to female agents or officers before. He didn’t notice women at all.

Not anymore.

“Trooper.”

He cleared his throat and forced whatever that had been from his thoughts. “Excuse me?”

“It’s Trooper Roberts.”

“Right. I knew that.” Damn. He sounded as nervous as she appeared. This wasn’t a blind date. It was a case, and he owed it to the young women who’d lost their lives to focus on it and track down the suspect. “I’m Special Agent Anthony Lazzaro.”

She reached out her hand, but he nodded at her instead, so she lowered it.

“What’s with the uniform? How are we supposed to fly under the radar here with you showing up dressed in blue?”

He was being a jerk, but that was easier than telling her she filled out that boxy uniform in all the right places. He was looking for a transfer, not forced early retirement.

“Sorry. I didn’t know. I was just told where to report.”

“We’re plain clothes here.” He indicated the slacks, dress shirts and ties he and Eric wore.

“I see that. What about a weapon? Aren’t you required to carry one? I am.”

“Weapons are required but must be concealed when entering and leaving the office and can be worn or locked up when inside it.”

She nodded and continued to scan the rented office space that looked like hundreds of others in Livingston and nearby counties. Her gaze paused on the bulletin boards covered with photographs from current cases and a poster of the “FBI Ten Most Wanted Fugitives” list. Then she turned back to him.

“This is it?”

“Yeah, not much to speak of, is it?” Eric said as he stepped closer. “I’m Deputy Eric Westerfield of the Livingston County Sheriff’s Department.”

This time the two law enforcement officers shook hands, and Tony was almost sorry he hadn’t done the same. Almost.

“The FBI field office in Detroit rents this office space for us,” Eric continued. “But no one is supposed to know this is a task force office, and no one without specific business with us is even allowed inside.”

“Business with Arch Computer Consultants?”

“One of many fake names the FBI gives for its task force offices,” Eric explained.

“Are there just going to be four of us? I thought the task force was supposed to be—”

Tony shook his head to interrupt her. “Ten in all.” He pointed to the same number of cubicles. “Two FBI special agents and representatives from area law enforcement, Homeland Security and then administrative staff like Deidre.”

He hated having to explain information she already would have known if she’d just read the file.

“Where are they?”

“Some are catching a few hours of sleep since we’re working around-the-clock on this case.”

“Oh.” Her gaze flicked to Eric and then back to Tony. “Well, good. We need to stop this guy before he strikes again.”

“Are you saying we’re tracking a serial killer? Because we have no evidence to confirm that yet. We don’t jump to conclusions here. Our work is meticulous. Precise. We follow the evidence, and we don’t make stupid mistakes.”

Her jaw tightened. “I’ll keep that in mind. Anyway, I’m not saying I know anything. But we can’t just sit on our hands and wait in case he strikes again, can we?”

Touché. Her heavily lashed eyelids lifted, and she glared up at him.

Deidre chuckled as she headed to her own desk, closest to the door. “It’s good that we’re all getting to know each other better.”

Eric gestured toward Tony with his thumb. “Don’t worry about him. He’s all grumble with no fangs. He’s always tough on the new guy, and lucky for me, you’re it.”

“Yeah, lucky me.”

“All of us bring something new to the task force,” Eric said. “The special agent here also happens to be a veritable computer genius.”

“It’s my job.”

Eric brushed away Tony’s comment with a wave. “And I might look mild, but I’m seasoned in pursuing human traffickers. So, what’s your superpower?”

Tony was careful not to look interested, but he wanted to know the answer, too. The details they’d been given about her were sparse.

“Besides being first on the scene when the victims’ bodies were discovered along the Brighton Mountain Bike Trail, I guess it’s my voice.”

Tony’s back teeth clenched before he could stop them, but at least the others weren’t looking his way.

“Oh, that’s right,” Eric said. “That was Special Agent Dawson’s idea. Something to sweeten the deal while we’re trolling for online predators. Special Agent Lazzaro wasn’t a fan of the plan.”

Her gaze shifted to Tony, and she seemed to dare him to look away first.

“Most suspects prefer the anonymity of text-only chats.”

“You do kind of sound like a kid, though,” Eric said.

“Thanks, I think. I’ve never been hired for my voice before.”

She laughed then, a sound like the smoothest whiskey pouring on ice, and the sensation that sluiced over Tony and headed south couldn’t have been more different from the jab he’d felt earlier. With a laugh like that she could have worked as a phone-sex operator. He was tempted to tell her so, but the door opening again cut them off. Good thing for that.

Special Agent Dawson entered the way he always did, coffee in one hand, a plate with a Danish in the other and a collapsible umbrella handle strap looped over his wrist.

“I see you’ve already met,” he said as he introduced himself.

“We’re old friends now,” Eric answered for all of them.

“Well, let’s get this done.” Dawson dropped his Danish off in his own cubicle and continued toward them. “The sooner we close this case, the sooner my wife and girls can sleep again. The trail’s already going cold.”

“You’re sure we’re headed in the right direction?” Tony asked.

“I’m not sure of anything. But we already know that one of the young women was computer savvy and was hanging out in chat rooms. I don’t think this was the adventure she was looking for.”

Two other team members had followed him into the office, and Dawson asked them to introduce themselves.

“Robert Golden, Homeland Security,” the graying one with the paunch told her.

The guy with a crew cut and a gym body lifted his hand in a wave. “Don Strickland, Detroit Police.”

“Trooper, tell the team a little bit about yourself,” Dawson said.

Kelly shifted her feet. “I’ve worked with the state police for three years, assigned to the Brighton Post. I’m usually alone in my own patrol car, so you’ll need to give me a few days to get used to working in an office.”

She might have said something else after that, but Tony couldn’t get past the thought that she’d been a police officer that long. She wasn’t a rookie, though nothing could prepare someone to work on this task force.

“One more thing. I’ll do whatever it takes to get this guy. It’s personal for me. I mean, I live in Brighton.”

Dawson’s gaze narrowed. “Are you sure you’re not too close to this?”

“No, I’m fine.”

Tony wasn’t certain of many things. He definitely wasn’t sure this officer’s voice would help them locate the suspect who’d murdered these victims or even if they’d met online before the attack. But he was convinced of two things at that moment. The first was that he wanted to get this guy—and in statistical likelihood the suspect was male—as much as the trooper did.

His second certainty concerned him more, though. With that gut sense law-enforcement officers hone over time, he knew that the state trooper who’d just marched in there to mess up the task force’s equilibrium had also just lied to the team. What he didn’t know was why.