Page 2 of Hack
He probably didn't need the home as secure as it was. With hidden cameras and alarms around the whole place, he knew each and every bird that was nesting in his yard. It made no sense really, he had nothing here to hide. There was nothing at the house that would incriminate him or give away what he did for a living. The most valuable things he owned were the pictures of his daughter and wife.
With the alarm off, he flipped on the lights in the kitchen, tossing his keys and wallet onto the counter. He thought about charging his phone, but he had no clue where he'd left the charger, and wasn't in the mood to go looking for it. With the team on hiatus, there wasn't any reason to worry that someone would need to get hold of him right away. In fact, it was kind of nice cutting himself off from the team and all the stress for a while.
The silence of the house surrounded him. It was why he liked the bar. He wasn't so alone and the noise there distracted him from his own thoughts. He opened the fridge, hoping for a beer, but there was nothing but a few bottles of water. Taking one, he twisted off the cap and drank half of it before setting it down. How did things get so fucked up? How had he let this all happen?
He'd prided himself 0n keeping things safe, making sure everything ran smoothly, now he had one of his friends in jail and the rest of the team suffering because of it. It all sat on his shoulders. He was the one who promised they'd be safe. He was the one who secured each scene, and he was the one who had failed.
It was frustrating that he couldn't do anything more than wait for Bryon to give the go-ahead. He wanted Dyson out. He wanted Dyson home, but that wasn't going to happen. His time on the team was done. Once they managed to get him out of jail, he'd have to leave town quickly and start a new life, under a new name. It was all because of one simple mistake. Dyson was losing everything because of him.
Taking his water, Carter made his way to the bedroom. He spent so little time in the house that the rooms were almost strange to him. He leaned against the doorframe of his room, staring at the bed. Usually, the only time he slept in the bed was when he had a date or hooked-up with someone. It had been months since that had happened. He was so busy at work, that he seldom dated. It was only when the need for release crept up on him that he'd go out and find someone to spend a night or two with. He hadn't had anyone serious in years.
With the bed tempting him, he set his water on the dresser and pulled off his shirt before stumbling forward. He wasn't sure if he was more drunk or tired. The mix of the two had his head swimming. He managed to kick his shoes off before falling onto the bed. He crawled up to the pillows and sighed as he closed his eyes.
Maybe if he slept a little, he'd wake up and find this was nothing more than a bad dream. Visions of Dyson in a small jail cell filled his head, and he rolled to his back, opening his eyes, and staring at the ceiling.
How could he continue doing this? Would the guys ever trust him again? Could he trust himself? None of it mattered now. What mattered was getting Dyson out of jail. Once that was done, he could figure out what to do in the future. One thing was for sure, he'd never forgive himself for fucking up. Dyson deserved better, and now life as he knew it was over.
Wishing he could trade places with Dyson and take the punishment on himself, he closed his eyes again and prayed for sleep to help him escape.
