Page 4 of Hacking the Holidays
His words hit me like a system crash. My carefully constructed world of predictable code and logical algorithms suddenly felt very far away.
“This is going to be epic,” Chloe said.
I glared at her, which had zero effect, then tried to reason with Thorne. “I’m sure I can crack this case at my desk. Why do we need to go to Leavenworth?”
“Because we believe this case may be much bigger than it appears,” Thorne said. “We need someone inside Sam Monroe’s circle. Someone who can get close enough to observe his patterns, his access points, and his daily routines. The library’s our best entry point since that’s where he spends most of his time.”
This can’t be happening …
“Your cover will be as a new volunteer at the library. Your name is Rose Thompson. You already have a profile on LinkedIn with your extensive resume. Here are your IDs and background info.” Thorne slid the second folder across the table toward me as my mouth hung open. “Monroe coordinates several community outreach programs, including multiple Santa events throughout December. We need youembedded in his activities at the library, gaining his trust, documenting his digital habits, and any suspicious behavior. We need to understand his methods, his network, and his next likely targets. The closer you can get to his inner circle, the better our chances of setting a trap and building a case that’ll stick.”
“What happened to our deal?” I managed, my voice slightly strangled. “You assured me I would not be going out in the field anymore.”
This was exactly what I’d fought to avoid when I’d negotiated my way into the Cybercrime Division. Thorne had promised I could stay tethered to my desk, safely analyzing digital evidence instead of interacting with human beings.
“I know, and I hate asking you, but we’re short-staffed and this case got flagged as high-priority,” he said, having the decency to at least look a little guilty before delivering the killing blow. “Of course, if you’d prefer, there’s also a high school case that just came in involving a teenage hacker, but undercover work is required there as well. Take your pick.”
Teenagers were like malicious software in human form—unpredictable, chaotic, and impossible to debug. I wouldn’t accept that case, even if my life depended on it.
“I’ll take Good Sam,” I said through gritted teeth. “But I want it on record that this violates our original agreement.”
“Noted,” Thorne said, looking relieved. “Chloe, you can keep your first name while you’re undercover, but your lastname will be Stanton. We’ve already got you both booked at the Bavarian Lodge.”
“I love that place!” Chloe said.
It wasn’t even worth my energy to glare at her again.
“And who knows?” Thorne said to me. “Getting out there may help you embrace a little Christmas spirit.”
I stared at him as if he’d suggested I take up competitive fire-breathing. Christmas spirit? Me? Did he forget who I was?
“Christmas spirit is an unquantifiable variable that defies basic logic,” I said. “It’s like asking me to run diagnostics on happiness.”
Admittedly, there was a time when I actually enjoyed the holidays—back when Old Zara still believed in the goodness of people. But life has a way of installing some serious anti-Christmas malware in your system when things go south during the holidays. And once it’s there, it’s nearly impossible to remove.
“It’ll be fine,” Thorne said, clearly trying to convince himself as much as me.
It would be nowhere nearfine.
This case was a train wreck waiting to happen, and the worst part was, my sanity was tied to the tracks like a silent movie heroine.
Chapter Two
SAM
“San-ta! San-ta! San-ta!” The rhythmic chant echoed through the community center as dozens of children bounced impatiently around the makeshift North Pole setup.
Brenda Jenkins, the director of the center, materialized beside me like a Christmas-themed hurricane in her red Rudolf sweater adorned with blinking lights.
“Showtime!” she beamed, squeezing my arm with enough enthusiasm to almost cut off circulation. “Are you ready to go?”
“Ready,” I said with a grin. “The kids look happy.”
“So do the parents,” Brenda said. “And just so you know, there are more than a few single moms in attendance, and some of them have got you in the crosshairs.”
I nodded and used every ounce of energy to not roll my eyes. “You mentioned that last week. Twice, actually.”
I found it slightly disturbing that women were giving me flirtatious glances despite my bright red suit, fake beergut, and facial hair so dense it could house a family of sparrows.
