Page 50 of Hacking the Holidays
“But nothing,” I interrupted. “This is going nowhere. Sam will probably be in jail by this time next week.”
“Two words …” Chloe smirked. “Conjugal visits.”
I crossed my arms. “You’re not helping.”
“Look, we don’t know for sure that he’s going to end up in prison,” Chloe pointed out. “There’s a big differencebetween suspicion and actual proof, and we’ve got nothing on him yet.”
“Yet,” I echoed with more confidence than I felt. “The problem is, I always find proof.” I sank onto my bed and put my head in my hands again. “How could this be happening to me?”
“You’re human,” Chloe said. “You like him. He likes you. Under any other circumstances, this would be a good thing.”
“Life is not fair—I want a refund,” I said.
“The check’s in the mail,” Chloe said. “Wait—how did it end with Sam? What did he say after you kissed him?”
“He didn’t have a chance to say anything,” I said with a wince. “I ran away.”
She laughed. “That poor man, he must be so confused. And just when I thought you couldn’t surprise me anymore.” Chloe glanced at the clock on the nightstand. “Okay, back to business because Thorne is going to check in with us any minute now. What are you going to tell him? He’s been pushing for updates.”
“Well …”
Right on cue, my laptop chimed from the desk before I could respond to the question—the notification of an incoming secure video call.
“Good luck,” Chloe said.
“Thanks,” I said, trying to calm my nerves. “I’ll need it.”
I moved to the desk and connected the call.
Agent Thorne’s face filled the screen. He was in hisoffice, tie loosened, desk lamp casting harsh shadows across his face. He looked like he needed a drink or two.
“I’ve only got a minute,” Thorne said without preamble. “What’s the latest on the case?”
“Still working on access,” I said, maintaining as much professionalism as I could muster. “Sam Monroe’s security is more sophisticated than we anticipated. It’s extraordinary, actually.”
“You almost sound like a fan now.”
“No, it’s just?—”
Thorne’s jaw tightened, and he held up his palm. “I don’t need excuses, Mazini, I need results. Why haven’t you gotten close to him, established rapport, and earned his trust?”
“I have, but?—”
“Then why don’t we have anything concrete yet?”
Because I’d spent the evening eating bratwurst, drinking beer, and flirting with him instead of doing my job. Because I’d kissed him on a public street like a civilian with no operational discipline. Because I was compromised in ways I didn’t even want to admit to myself, let alone my supervising agent.
“If I push too hard, too fast, I’ll spook him,” I said instead. “Monroe is smart. Probably smarter than anyone we’ve investigated before, even you told me that. His digital hygiene is exceptional. Everything is compartmentalized, encrypted, isolated. The man doesn’t make mistakes. Getting evidence is going to require time and patience.”
“We don’t have time,” Thorne said, leaning forward. “Ifwe don’t move on this before Christmas, he goes dormant for another year. You know how this works—he hits hard during the holidays, then vanishes. We can’t afford to miss this window.”
“I understand the timeline?—”
“I don’t think you do,” Thorne interrupted. “Because I’ve got the director busting my chops daily about why we haven’t closed this case. You told me it would be a piece of cake, and that you should have it wrapped up before the end of the week. Now, I need to go back to him and tell him you’ve got nothing.”
“I’m doing everything I can,” I said, wondering why there was so much pressure for this case when I hadn’t even been in Leavenworth a week.
Was there something he wasn’t telling me?
