Page 24 of Slap Shot
The observation stung because it was true. "That's no excuse."
"Isn't it?" He turned to face her more fully. "You told me about your ex-husband who did the same thing. Once burned, twice shy."
"You’re nothing like David. I should have remembered that.”
“Things have been going really fast between us. And you’re under a lot of pressure to shut this hacker down.”
“You're being very understanding about this." It actually made it worse.
"Because I get it." Oliver's hand found Charlie's head, scratching behind the dog's ears.
“I feel like you should be angrier at me.”
“What would be the point? I spent three years after the warehouse assuming everyone was lying to me, that every friendly gesture had an ulterior motive. Trauma makes you suspicious of the people who matter most."
Heather studied his profile, noting the way Charlie leaned into his touch. "Speaking of the warehouse, you never told me how you got out."
Oliver was quiet for a moment, his hand stilling on Charlie's fur.
"That's a longer story," he said finally.
"We have time. And after today, I think I owe you the courtesy of listening without judgment."
He studied her face, seeming to weigh whether he could trust her with this. Finally, he nodded toward the partially open door she'd noticed earlier. "I should probably show you something first. So you understand how I think about security."
She followed him into what should have been a spare bedroom. Instead, she found herself in what looked like a high-tech command center. Multiple monitors lined one wall, displaying scrolling code and network diagrams. A server rack hummed quietly in the corner, and the desk setup looked like something from a science fiction movie.
"This is incredible," Heather breathed.
"This is what paranoia looks like when you have technical skills," he said, watching her reaction carefully. "I've been building this setup for three years. Every security protocol I can think of, every defensive measure I've ever encountered."
"You're still doing white hat work."
"Freelance, under a different identity. Safer that way." He moved to one of the computers, his fingers dancing across the keyboard. "After what happened in that warehouse, I swore I'd never be caught unprepared again."
She moved closer, studying his setup. Everything was organized to the nth degree. Cables were routed cleanly, systems labeled and documented. "How does this connect to how you escaped?"
"Because I learned from my first mistake." Oliver pulled up a screen showing network architecture diagrams. "During my government contract days, I was careful but not careful enough. I trusted my partner, trusted the system. That almost got me killed. The only reason I survived those three days was luck. A street sleeper heard something and called the cops. By the time they found me..." He trailed off, his jaw tightening.
"Oliver," she said softly.
"After that, I decided I was never going to be helpless again. This," he gestured at the room, "is my insurance policy. Early warning systems, encrypted communications, multiple escape plans. Maybe it's overkill, but it helps me sleep at night."
"This is why you're so good at what you do. You think like both the attacker and the defender."
"It's also why I understand why you suspected me." Oliver turned away from the screens to face her. "The evidence was convincing because it was designed by someone who knows how I think, how I work. They used my own methods against me."
"Any idea who?"
"A few possibilities. People from my government days who might have access to my old code repositories. Former colleagues who could have studied my techniques." Oliver's jaw tightened. "The list isn't long, but it's not short either."
“Why would they do that?”
“When we find them, we’ll ask them.”
“Do you think it’s the same person or people who are behind the hacking the Chill?”
“Too coincidental not to be.”
