Only there was nothing. Nothing but the sound of her racing pulse echoing in her ears and her frantic breaths.
A new sense of terror consumed her. Shaking, she backed into a dark corner in the basement and tried to breathe, tried to think, tried not to completely break down.
And as she did, she felt it again. That sense of dread that told her something horrible was about to happen. Only this feeling was so strong, she knew it wasn’t a false alarm.
Hunt flipped the switch on the generator, confused as to why the thing hadn’t automatically popped on.
As he’d thought, the storm had cut out power all over this portion of the coast, and no lights could be seen for miles on the hillside around him. Shining his flashlight over the machine, he checked for any evidence it had been tampered with but couldn’t find anything. There were no cut wires or broken pieces. In fact, the entire property checked out. Everything was normal. Which meant he’d scared the crap out of Kelsey for no reason.
He waited while the generator fired up. When it was running with a steady hum, he headed inside the garage, turned the light on, and looked up as the room was illuminated. The generator seemed to be running fine now, which he was thankful for.
He moved to the breaker box and checked the switches just to be safe. Just as he was closing the panel, a muffled scream echoed from inside the house. Kelsey’s muffled scream. Coming from beneath him.
His heart lurched into his throat. Reaching for the gun tucked against his lower back, he tore into the house and raced down the stairs to the basement. The room was completely dark except for a sliver of light. He stilled as soon as he hit the carpet and squinted to see through the weight-lifting equipment set up to his left. Heavy breaths met his ears, putting him on high alert.
His stomach tightened as he gripped the gun. Someone was standing in the shadows in the corner. Someone he couldn’t see. His adrenaline surged. A muffled sob met his ears.
“Kelsey?”
“Hunt?”
The air whooshed out of his lungs. Hitting the safety, he quickly tucked his gun into his back waistband and crossed to her. “What are you doing out here? I told you to stay in the bedroom. Are you okay?”
“Oh my God, I thought . . .” She moved into him in one swift move, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her cheek to his chest in a way that ramped up his pulse even more. “I was so scared.”
“It’s okay.” He rubbed a hand up and down her spine. “It was just the storm. The generator already kicked on. We can turn the lights back o—”
“No.” She shook her head and pushed back, fear making her voice lift an entire octave. “You don’t understand. Your phone. It just buzzed. It just came through.” She pushed his phone into his hand and tapped the button to illuminate the screen. The room glowed blue-white. “Look.”
Hunt scanned the message, his blood turning to ice as the conversation replayed through his memory.
“How does he know what we said?” Kelsey whispered. “Was he here the other day? And Princess . . .” She covered her mouth with her hand. “What if . . . ?”
“Motherfucker.” There was no way the fucker had been here the other day. There was no way he’d gotten into this house without Hunt’s security being tipped off. Which meant only one thing. One thing he hadn’t considered until right now. “He hacked your phone.” He powered the phone down and shoved it in his back pocket. “The son of a bitch was using it like a microphone to listen to our conversations.”
“But this is your phone.”
“If he hacked yours, he could have easily gotten my number and hacked mine. Son of a bitch.” He needed to get a screwdriver and pop the battery out of her phone so the asshole couldn’t use it against them anymore. But first he had to get Kelsey somewhere safe, just in case.
“Can someone do that?” she asked in a small voice.
“Yeah, hackers can do all kinds of shit these days.”
“But how? I don’t understand. You gave me my phone after the bombing. You said it was secure.”
He raked a hand through his hair, working for calm when he felt anything but. He didn’t want to scare her more, but he knew Kelsey well enough to know she wasn’t going to listen to what he needed her to do if he didn’t explain this.
“Remember the cameras at your warehouse? You had the new phone with you when you went back there the morning after the bombing. My guess is he got access to your phone there, through your already compromised network. Remember the hacker who stepped forward and told the FBI how to hack the iPhone after the San Bernardino terrorist attack? Apple didn’t even know how to do that. A good hacker can find a way into anything, even one of my secure devices.”
He raked a hand through his hair, still not sure how Graham Foster had done it. Nothing they’d learned about the guy painted him as an elaborate hacker.
He froze, understanding widening his eyes as he remembered that photo that Kelsey had received when they’d stepped off the plane in Oregon. “Oh shit.”
“What? What now?”
Hunt turned toward her. “Trey Foster designs online security software. He would absolutely know how to hack into your phone.”
A memory flashed from their meeting with Trey Foster in that coffee shop. The man had paused to type something on his phone. He’d probably been signaling a camera to take their damn picture right there in front of them.
“Trey? The son? But—”
“Listen to me.” Urgency pounded through him as he gripped Kelsey’s shoulders. “I need you to go in the safe room and stay there until I come get you.”
“What? No. You should come with me.”
“I can’t. I need to check the perimeter and call my team to get over here.”
“Hunt . . .” Her voice trembled with fear.
It took every bit of strength he had to keep his voice even when he said, “I don’t think he’s here. I think he’s just toying with us like before. But I need to be sure. And I won’t be able to think straight and do what I need to do if I’m worried about you.”
“But—”
He slid one hand under her hair and around her nape and cupped her cheek with his other hand, forcing her to look up at him. “I’ll join you if there’s any sign the system was bypassed, and we’ll wait for the cops together. But I need you to do this for me. Please go in the safe room.”
Her eyes searched his in the dim light, then she finally whispered, “Okay.”
More relieved than he wanted her to know, he pulled her against him and held her, soaking in the rapid beat of her heart against his as she wrapped her arms around his waist. “It’s going to be okay. I don’t think he’s here. And Princess is probably fine. He’s just trying to scare us. Okay?”
But in the back of his mind, he couldn’t be sure. The fucker had already set one bomb off and tried to kill him and her and dozens of other people. Hunt had no idea what he’d resort to next.
She clung to him and nodded. And though all he wanted to do was go on holding her, he wanted this over with more. He drew back and reached for her hand. “Come on.”
The access to the safe room was off a closet in the back of the lowest level. It looked like nothing more than a shelving unit, but when Hunt tapped a special button on the side of one shelf, the entire piece swung back and revealed a steel, blast-proof door. After typing in the access code on the panel, he placed his hand on the screen for the fingerprint analysis. A click sounded, and he turned the lever and opened the heavy steel door with a hiss.
Since the house was built into a hill, the safe room was made of concrete, steel sheathing, and bullet-resistant fiberglass. It could withstand high winds, heavy rains, a tornado, a shitstorm of bullets, even a bomb blast. The lights immediately flipped on as the door opened, and he moved back to let Kelsey step past him into the room first, scanning the downstairs behind him as he went to make sure no one was lurking in the dark.
The interior of the safe room wasn’t anything special. To their
left was a leather couch, a coffee table, a couple of side chairs, and a flat-screen TV on the wall. Pointing to the doorway just past the TV, Hunt said, “There’s a bathroom through there with a full shower.” Adjacent to the doorway, he nodded to a counter that ran halfway down the twenty-foot wall. “There’s water and nonperishable foods in the cabinets there, and a fridge.” Moving to a metal cabinet just past the counter, he pulled the door open and showed her supplies he hoped she wouldn’t need—blankets, extra clothes, flashlights and batteries, along with a first aid kit. “Anything else you need will be in here.”
Wide-eyed, Kelsey nodded to her right, where floor-to-ceiling steel cabinetry bookended another counter, this one topped with a bank of monitors. “And that?”
“This is the command center.” He moved to the counter, tapped a button on the keyboard, and typed in a code. All twelve monitors flipped on, illuminating different rooms in the house and locations outside on the property. “This room runs off its own generator, so regardless of what’s happening outside, everything in here will still work.” As she drew close he showed her how to toggle between screens to access different cameras. “From here you can see everything going on in and around the house. Cameras monitor every room. If you want to change the temperature in here or outside in the house you can do it from this panel. There’s even an intercom system accessible here that lets you talk to anyone who might be out there, but don’t use it. If there is someone lurking around, I don’t want them to know you’re in here.”
She nodded, but her cheeks were completely pale, telling him she was probably only catching half of what he said.
Moving to the cabinets to his left, he typed in a code and flipped the door open, exposing the rack of guns and weaponry. Choosing a small 9mm that would fit her hand, he popped the empty magazine free on the Ruger LC9 and replaced it with a fresh one. “Do you know how to use one of these?”
Kelsey paled even more and stepped back, lifting her hands. “I-I don’t want that.”
“You’re not going to have to use it. It’s just a precaution.” He closed the cabinet door, a click sounding as it locked. Moving toward her, he lifted the small gun so she could see it and said, “This is your safety here. It can’t hurt you with the safety on. Once you flip that off, all you have to do is point and shoot. It’s easy, and the kick isn’t too bad on this one. Just don’t point it at yourself, and don’t shoot me when I come back.”
He held it out for her, but she didn’t take it, just stared at it in his hand with a nervous expression. Not wanting to push her, he set the gun on the command counter near the keyboard, then grabbed one of the two-way radios and clipped it to his belt. “If I need to talk to you, I’ll do it with this. Yours is over there. I’ll come back and get you when I know the place is clear.”
He moved past her for the door, but she reached for his hand as he drew close, stopping him. “Wait. Just . . .” She curled into him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Be careful, okay?”
He held her tightly, knowing she was scared. He was too, but he already felt better knowing she was safe in here.
“I will be. And I’ll be right back.” With one finger under her chin, he lifted so her eyes met his and added, “Hang out here and wait for me. And don’t go outside no matter what you hear. Can you do that for me?”
She nodded.
“Good. Everything’s going to be fine.” Pressing a swift kiss to her lips, he pulled away from her and moved for the door. But one look back at her worried expression told him she wasn’t convinced. “I do this for a living, Kels. And regardless of what you think right now, I’m actually pretty good at what I do.”
“I know you are.”
He flashed a smile for her sake and reached for the door handle to pull it closed behind him. “Relax, okay? Bolt the deadlock after me and find something to watch on the TV. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
The door hissed closed at his back, and silence met his ears, followed by the shelving unit automatically sliding back into place to conceal the safe room door. Because the safe room was sound proof, he couldn’t even hear her flipping the deadlocks, but he knew she’d listened and would do what he said. Knew because she was motivated by fear right now, which regardless of how much he hated that at the moment, just might be what could save her life.
Breathing easier, he decided to start with the basement. He checked every room and nook and cranny for signs of anything out of the ordinary.
Confident the bottom level was secure, Hunt moved into his office, shrugged into a light jacket, and powered up a new burner phone. Then he dialed Davies.
“It’s me,” he said when Davies answered. “I’m on a different number. My cell was compromised. I need a team out here ASAP.”
“You got trouble?”
“I don’t know. I’m going out to search the perimeter. Power went out and the generator didn’t come on. System hasn’t gone red, but I’d rather be safe than sorry.”
Keys clicked in the background. “I’ll get a couple guys out to you right away. Helicopter will be fastest.”
“That’s fine. Have you found anything yet?”
“About Foster? No. But just out of curiosity, I ran some searches on Vivienne Armstrong and Catarina Brunelli.”
Hunt glanced toward the door, anxious to get outside and search the perimeter. “Give it to me fast. I’ve got stuff to do.”
“This is probably unrelated to Foster, but Armstrong and Brunelli had a huge falling out a few years ago. I did a little digging, and it looks like the blow up was about a guy—Royce Sloane.”
“I know that name.”
“You should. He’s a huge movie producer in Hollywood. He gave Armstrong her first big break on a really bad B horror flick, which was filming just about the time Kelsey McClane was conceived.”
“Shit. You think the guy is her father?”
“That’d be my guess.”
“Her autobiography mentioned a relationship with a guy not in the film industry.”
“She was probably protecting him, don’t you think? On her own or because he threatened her never to ever use his name. You know how some of those bigwig Hollywood producers are. Think they’re gods.”
“Her attorneys said the guy was married.”
“Makes sense then.”
“Maybe. But we met with Brunelli two days ago. She’s the executor of Armstrong’s will. If Brunelli was fucking her ex and the two had a huge falling out because of it, why would she trust Brunelli with her estate?”
“I don’t know. Maybe they patched things up. Women do strange things. But this part is even more interesting. Brunelli is not only the executor of Armstrong’s will, she’s also the beneficiary.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Wish I was. And she’s in debt to her ears right now. Has been for a while, but it’s been getting worse. Spends way more than she earns. She’s a heartbeat away from filing bankruptcy.”
“Shit. That gives her motive to want Armstrong dead.”
“Yeah. Or Armstrong’s long-lost daughter who stands to inherit the whole thing.”
Hunt’s mind tumbled, rushing back over the conversation with the actress in Beverly Hills. His pulse picked up speed. “She couldn’t do it all on her own.”
“No. She couldn’t. Which was the first thing I thought. I mean, she’s an actress, right? She’s not a rocket scientist—especially if she’s nearly bankrupt. So I looked at her past movies, and wouldn’t you know, she starred in a thriller a few years ago called Revenge about a sociopath with a handful of names he’s ticking off a list. And to disguise the fact he’s actually committing targeted murders—”
“He plants homemade bombs.” Hunt’s stomach dropped. “Shit. I remember that movie.”
“Thought you would. After I found that, I thought I’d see if Ms. Brunelli’s been up to anything lately. I mean, if she devised this entire plot, she’d have to recruit people to do the dirty work for her, right? So I dug a lit
tle more, called some people, found out where her favorite hangouts are, where she likes to be seen—or not seen, and if she’s been dating anybody recently. And I got a hit at a little bar in Malibu. Not unusual to see the Hollywood types there, right? She probably thought it was safe. Turns out, she’s met with a guy in his late twenties or early thirties out there a few times over the last few months. I got a copy of his picture from the security system. It isn’t super clear, and you can’t see the guy’s face, but his size and shape are pretty damn similar to Graham Foster’s son Trey.”
Hunt squeezed the phone tighter. “Take everything you found to Brett Callahan at PPD tonight. It might not be enough to arrest Brunelli, but it’ll be enough for bring her in for questioning.”
“So you don’t think this is a stretch?”
“Hell no. I’m pretty sure Trey Foster is the one who hacked our phones. Kelsey just got another text, this time on mine. He was playing us the entire time. And it makes a hell of a lot more sense that Brunelli is the one who recognized Kelsey’s face in those fashion photos. The woman was wearing ten different designer labels when we met her. She even brought up Kelsey’s design company before we mentioned what Kelsey did for a living.”
“Okay. I’m on it. What about the older Foster? Graham?”
“Do you really think he’s still alive? He hasn’t been seen since before the Portland bomb blew. Would you leave him alive if you were planning to set him up for a federal crime like domestic terrorism?”
“Poor fucker.”
“Worry about the ones we can. Get over to Callahan. Then call me when you have news.”
“Will do.”
Thirty minutes later, Hunt stood on the covered side porch outside the kitchen, convinced Trey Foster was messing with them. A thorough check of every inch of the property had produced no security breach. Nothing indicated his system had been tampered with, and there was no sign of the neighbor’s dog—dead or alive.
A shiver rushed down his spine beneath his jacket. As the wind whipped his hair back from his face, he typed in his closest neighbor’s number and lifted the new phone to his ear. A buzzing sounded, indicating the phone lines were down. Since he knew his neighbors ran their phone through their Internet, that wasn’t a surprise, especially since he’d already checked with the power company and gotten confirmation the grid in this area was down from the storm.