“I'd call Patti a friend, but not the kind of friend who would report me missing. She doesn't know where I live, and we didn't have any standing appointments for me to have missed.”
Dillon hesitated only for a few moments before imparting a secret so well kept, she hadn't given it up even during torture.
“The women's shelter is one of the lay-over points for battered women in transit via a network called Vanguard. Patti coordinates all the movements between drivers and safe houses in Texas.
“I refurbished the building and helped them move from the old shelter, and I do transport sometimes. Picking women up to bring to the shelter or taking them from the shelter to the next stop or transporter in the chain.”
Nasa made noises to say he followed, his fingers flying across the keyboards. “Are you sure Patti doesn't know where you live?”
He was speaking to her, but now he was hunched forward, scowling intently at the screen directly in front of him.
“I've never invited her over or shared my address with her. It's possible she followed me home one day or had someone in a vehicle I wouldn't recognize follow me. But considering the steps she takes to protect women from stalkers, I can't imagine her stalking me. Why?”
Nasa flicked his fingers at the closest screen. “There's a report on file at the DPD about a pair of quote, 'unwashed bikers' who came to the shelter and got verbally aggressive with Patti five days before Ghost paid you a visit. Patti's phone records show three calls to a cell phone the day the Leviathans came to your house.”
“She should have called me the day those two buttholes came to the shelter. What number was she calling?”
Nasa pointed to a page on one of the screens above his head and rattled off the number to the cell phone Dillon used specifically for calls to the shelter.
It was inside the silver case upstairs with her cash and guns, and the battery was probably dead by now. Tucked into the padded liner, Dillon wouldn't have heard it ring or vibrate.
She told Nasa that, and he grunted like a caveman. “I'm gonna need that phone to check and see if Ghost tampered with it.”
“Of course. I completely forgot about it, to be honest. When I went home, I just threw all my important shit together and didn't think about it again.”
“Why would you have?” Nasa absolved. “So, you're not close with Patti, but you built the shelter she runs?”
Dillon tipped her head from side to side, warring with herself about what she should and shouldn't say about Vanguard.
In the end, she decided it was better she give him what information she could, rather than let him hunt it down himself and potentially uncover something that would put one of the shelter occupants at risk.
“I volunteered at the original shelter and used it to interview women who needed a safe house through my foundation.
"I got familiar with the building, and I didn't like it. It was outside the city limits by a fair distance and had a history of angry husbands and ex-boyfriends making appearances to try and terrorize their women into coming back to them.
“After the last guy brought a gun and blew the locks off the front door to get inside, I dipped into my foundation fund to refurbish a four-story building only a few blocks from the 321st precinct in downtown Dallas. I put in some serious security modifications, especially in the first-level entry and exits.
“Bulletproof glass, steel doors, electromagnetic locks on a deadman's switch at the front and rear entrance. There are bars and bulletproof, one-way glass on all the windows, except for the emergency exits required by the Fire Marshall.
“There's a central panic room big enough to hold every occupant of the building, security cameras everywhere, and an alarm so loud you can hear it for three blocks. Did you just hack into the security feed? It's a closed system!”
“Babe,” Nasa drawled, that one word laden with patronizing amusement guaranteed to pissed her off. “A secure Wi-Fi connection is about as secure as a screen door for someone like me. Patti's working on an open terminal connected to the security system.”
Dillon watched him pull up every single security camera and flip through them until he got to the main entry, then dug into the logs to find the date and time listed on the police report filed.
Steaming like a teakettle on the stove, Dillon tried not to be impressed by Nasa's skills.
“Patti was probably calling to tell me about the security breach and got worried when I didn't get back to her. She knows how seriously I take the policy regarding buildings of mine being violated, physically or otherwise.”
The bite in her tone caused Nasa's fingers to pause in their rapid-fire drumming, and he swiveled in his chair to face her.
He wasn't smiling, and he wasn't being patronizing when he reached out to settle his big hand on her waist.
“I'm not going to go back and spy on this place in my spare time or use anything I find to hurt anyone inside.
"Patti reported two men who came to the shelter looking for a woman. I'm betting it was the same two guys who came to your house, and I want to see what happened.
“I also want to see if anyone else found a way in like I did, so I can help you shore up those tiny weak points in the security. That's it, I promise.”
She swayed from side to side, letting the repetitive movement of rubbing circles on Harper's back give Dillon the time she needed to take a breath and put aside her overprotective, possessive, proprietary feelings about the shelter.
Nasa said he wasn't hacking in to cause trouble, and looking into his eyes, Dillon believed him.
“Okay,” she murmured.
“Okay,” Nasa repeated, giving her hip a squeeze before releasing her. “How did you get involved with Vanguard?”
“Do you want the Reader's Digest version
