screen. There were streaks of silver in his black hair and crow’s-feet stretched to his temples, more visible through the lenses of his glasses that he stared over as he focused on the computer. He was a gaunt man, but not grossly unattractive.
The thick gold band on his ring finger and the heavy gold chain around his neck stood out against his brown skin, making them look more like intentional bling-bling than jewelry he’d probably worn for so many years he forgot they were there. Something told her, in the week or so she’d spent communicating with him prior to arriving here in Mission Hills, that her opinion of him summed up his nature: the computer geek taken for granted and often forgotten by agents in the field until they needed his talents. Special agents like him were overlooked in the heat of the action, yet Kylie wouldn’t be as ready to jump into this case if it weren’t for the profile he’d already created on her perp.
Paul pulled the flash drive out of the USB port and held it in his hand, palm up. Kylie walked over to his desk and took it.
“What you think does matter. I want your opinion, Paul,” she said quietly, and moved so she could see the screen he stared at through the lenses in his glasses. She pressed her lips together, hiding her smile when she realized he was playing a computer game. “Any gut reaction or thoughts that come to mind, whether you can prove them at the moment or not, matter to me and I need to hear them,” she added, walking around his desk and staring at his monitor.
“Okay, sweetheart,” he said, clicking his mouse repeatedly while moving a starship into orbit around a glowing red planet. “Peter is a city employee, paid by the hardworking citizens of Mission Hills and sitting at a computer right now somewhere here in town, trying to beat my high score.”
An instant message box popped up in front of Paul’s starship, and he moved the cursor to minimize it so quickly Kylie barely managed to read what it said.
“You’re battling against our perp right now?” she asked, shocked.
“Don’t know,” he said, and sent a stream of laser fire toward an approaching ship until it exploded on the screen.
The next evening Kylie pulled into the narrow driveway of the rental house provided by the FBI and hung up her cell phone. Everything was in place. The tag on her car was registered to Kylie Dover, her undercover name. She’d signed a month-to-month lease and picked up all of her new identification for her undercover work. Her aunt in Topeka owned the house, as the cover story went, and anyone who did a background check would learn that much. The FBI was very good at protecting their own.
She’d answered to many names over the past five years. Although a lot of her cases were handled in her home office in Dallas, once she showed an ability to narrow in on this particular type of perp, her supervisor, Susie Parker, started sending her around the country, helping out local law enforcement agencies to nail online sexual predators.
At least this time she would use her real first name, except when she was online. She might not be attacking starships in distant galaxies, but her battle would definitely go down on the Internet. The online predator stalking and killing teenagers in Mission Hills would die from worse than laser file, at least if she had anything to say about it.
Paul Hernandez turned the corner in his Ford F-150 and pulled in behind her rental car. This wasn’t her favorite part of a case, all the prep work, and she was grateful he’d agreed to stop by and help her get organized. Kylie pushed the button to release the trunk and then hopped out of her car.
“Holy crap,” Paul said, and then let out a low whistle between his teeth. “How much for the goods?” he drawled, strolling up her driveway and eyeballing the skimpy outfit she’d worn while scoping out several of the teenage hangouts in town.
“You couldn’t afford me,” she told him smugly, and walked around to her opened trunk. “There’s more stuff inside. We’ve got this computer, and then a camera system that needs to be installed. Without your help, this would take me all night.”
“You stay in that getup, we might be here all night anyway.” Paul reached in and lifted out the box holding her new computer, then wagged his eyebrows at her before heading toward her house. “That or I might have to persuade the wife to put her cheerleading outfit on tonight.”
“I’ll change,” Kylie called out after him, and smiled when he groaned.
Slamming her trunk closed, she looked up and down the street before heading inside. She’d been here a couple days and had stopped at quite a few different businesses where kids tended to hang out, the fast-food chains in walking distance of the high school, the mall, the bowling alley, as well as the library. Only once did anyone pay attention to her, and that was while she watched the kids trying to get into their friend’s car outside the mall. It didn’t take much to learn the man who’d tried approaching her was an off-duty cop, and she hadn’t seen him since. She couldn’t let her guard down for a second, though, especially with their perp possibly being a cop.
Her work was cut out for her, getting to know who’d been friends with Maura Reynolds and Sally Wright, as well as learning enough about the kids in town to find out if any one of them might be chatting with someone named Peter. Kylie would need to go online and try to lure her perp out of hiding. The toughest part of her job would be getting to know the local cops. Anyone comfortable enough to rape and murder while donning a badge daily would be shrewd, incredibly confident, and also capable of obtaining inside knowledge about how close she might be to closing in on him.
Kylie changed into comfortable shorts and a T-shirt, ordered pizza, and worked with Paul until the house was secure and wired thoroughly.
“No one will set foot on your lawn without you knowing.” Paul finished screwing the plate into the wall and stood back adjusting the cameras in the smaller of the two bedrooms that now looked like a high-tech surveillance room. “Any chat conversations will be saved using this program here. Every keystroke is monitored as well. It’s all saved to this flash drive.”
All the equipment now installed in her small two-bedroom rental house was standard-issued equipment. “I’m familiar with the programs,” she assured him, but continued listening since Paul seemed intent on explaining how everything worked.
As it grew dark, she closed blinds and turned on lights. It had been a long two days. She pinched the bridge of her nose, her eyes dry with exhaustion.
“Okay, kiddo.” Paul packed up his tools in a small leather case and looked at the room like a proud father. “My work here is done. Get some sleep. I’ve finished the easy part. You’ve got the hard part of the job, catching this asshole.”
“We’ll catch him.” Kylie patted Paul’s shoulder while walking behind him down the hall to her front door. “But you’re right; I’m ready to crash.”
She would soak in a hot bath and then see how many hours she could get online before she couldn’t stay awake any longer.
“Where are you headed tomorrow?” he asked, pulling his cell out and glancing at the screen before shoving it back in his pocket.
“Tomorrow is Friday. I can hit the bowling alley after school and there are a few house parties I heard about while hanging at the McDonald’s across from the high school today.”
“You’re going to house parties?” Paul reached for the front door but turned and raised an eyebrow.
“No,” she said quickly. “That won’t be necessary. I need to be around the kids in order to learn if any of the girls are chatting with someone online they don’t know. From what I heard today, the group I was following will be at the bowling alley tomorrow and Saturday. Then there’s another group that camps out at the movie theater by the mall both Friday and Saturday.”
Paul stepped around her and scooped up one of the remaining pieces of thin-crust pepperoni pizza slices. She watched him stuff half the slice into his mouth. “I’ll need to log into your local network,” she told him.
Paul nodded and grunted, his mouth full of pizza. Wiping his hand on his jeans, he reached into his back pocket, pulled out a worn wallet, and then freed a card, which he handed to her. She stared at the plain business card, one similar to the kind she had-somewhere.
“Call me tomorrow and we’ll get you set up with a screen name and password. That’s my cell,” he said, pointing with his thumb at the card. “I’m going to head out. The wife’s already called twice.”
Kylie smiled. Everyone in her world had someone to answer to except her. “I’ll call if I need anything.”
