Virtually Impossible (Once and Forever #2)

  ‘I need to go. Do what you have to do for the security.’ I signed off and spun my chair around to face my boss. I explained what had happened, leaving only Sira’s involvement out—my suspicions and her retrieval of the information.

  Unfortunately, Bart didn’t get to be who he was by having a good nature or being slow. “How’d you find out what the cocksucker did?” Initially, I’d considered it a sign of trust that Bart felt comfortable using his more colorful expressions around me. It turned out trust had nothing to do with it. Bart simply behaved the way he wanted to and people let him. I let him.

  Some would look down in discomfort or even blush, but they would never say anything aloud. Very similar to how people had reacted to my father. As if I needed another reason to dislike the man.

  “I have a friend who’s good with computers and followed the trail back to Tim.” I should’ve said ‘my assistant.’ It would’ve been nice to give Sira credit for what she’d done, at least. Before I could correct myself, Bart spoke.

  “Well, you owe him a drink.” Of course, he would assume my friend was male—she was far too competent to be a woman. “A couple drinks, because that computer shit ain’t your forte. Or mine.”

  “Great idea. I’ll do that as soon as possible.” Take her out for a drink under the guise of a celebration for a job well-done.

  “I thought you were slipping, Bennett. Heard a few things that…disturbed me, and thought you were slipping. I’m glad I was wrong.” That was as close to an apology as I’d ever heard him say.

  “As much as I appreciate you saying that”—and was uncomfortable that he had—“unfortunately, you weren’t entirely wrong. I neglected the security on my email account and let Tim walk right in. It’s been changed since, and I’m having my friend upgrade everything.”

  “Hmm…I hate this computer shit. It doesn’t make any sense—information gets turned into numbers and sent through wires to be put back together? How the fuck does that make any sense?” He shook his head. “Maybe I’m just too old, a relic of the past.” He may have paused to give me time to disagree. I always disagreed with him, except for comments like that. So I looked at him pleasantly and waited for him to leave.

  Bart cleared his throat. “We can’t have anybody sneaking around in those computers, and it’s happening more and more often. Today is the first time it’s happened in my company, but then, maybe there’s somebody out there who has already gotten in and seen everything. The bastard could just be waiting for the right time. Or the right offer. Get your buddy to take a look at the whole system, see what he thinks we need. Tell him he can bid for the contract, and we’ll put him high on the list.”

  That was the best offer Sira would ever get from him—‘Thanks for uncovering a thief and possibly saving us millions, but you’re still not getting shit.’

  “I’ll pass along the offer.”

  “Tim, huh?” he asked in wonder, putting his hands behind his head and leaning back in the chair until the front two legs lifted off the ground. “Would’ve never thought he’d do something like that. Didn’t think he’d have the balls to. Never trust a faggot, Hayden. Especially the ones who don’t own up to what they are. They’re used to lying.”

  I clenched my eyes at the slur. Over the years, I could probably count how many conversations I’d had with Bart in which he didn’t use that word, or another equally derogatory one. Bart was of the mind that as long as he didn’t say them in front of ‘the little queers who were overly sensitive and had teams of lawyers on speed-dial,’ then he was being respectful of their ‘girlie’ sensibilities. That he could speak his hate freely in front of his friends and family bothered me even more than his belief that I was in both of those groups. And Clare? Well, Clare was family and surely felt the same way he did about everything and everyone.

  “Tim isn’t gay,” I said. “He’s a dishonest asshole.”

  “Same thing.”

  “Not the same thing, Bart,” I snapped. “Completely different things.”

  Bart lifted his head, his eyes wide. Then he cocked his head to the side. “You say potatoes, I say po-ta-toes,” he sang…badly. “You say…”

  I smiled at the reference, not at the man who’d used it. For once, I agreed with him. I would do anything to call this whole thing off.

  22

  Andi

  When I told Rob the news about Tim, and that I’d found a way to prove Tim was a dickhead without bringing Rob or me into it at all, the gratitude in his voice was palpable. Then Emilia grabbed his phone and put it on speaker, so I got to hear him explain the entire thing to her and then listen to her verbally beat him up for being stupid, not telling her earlier, and dragging me into it. Eventually, I hung up to give them some privacy. When Rob called me back a while later, they both apologized and thanked me.

  The last thing I deserved was their gratitude. I mean, it wasn’t as if I hadn’t gotten something out of it. Plus, I’d broken a whole bunch of promises and laws to do it, so I put a quick end to their undeserved appreciation, said goodbye, and went to bed.

  ’Power and money make men do awful things.’

  ‘True,’ I typed. ‘Although, you have a ton of power and money. So why aren’t you a douchebag?’

  ‘Oh, I am. Not sure how you missed it.’

  I laughed. ‘I miss a lot of stuff.’

  ‘You mean like me not being a bird-loving dead man?’

  Oh shit. ‘You had to bring that up, didn’t you?’

  ‘Of course. I’m a douchebag, remember?’

  It had only taken a day for Hayden and me to slip back into our normal working relationship. It had taken two more days for us to start a different kind of relationship, one where he felt obligated to check in with me regularly for no apparent reason other than boredom. A week and a half later, I couldn’t get rid of him. Not that I’d tried very hard, of course.

  I tried. ‘Unless you really start paying me to giggle, I should get back to work.’

  ‘Am I annoying you?’

  ‘Yes.’ No. If anything, it was annoying that I didn’t get annoyed by his constant interruptions.

  ‘Then I’ll try to stop. But I’m fairly sure I’ll fail.’

  I chewed on my lip for a second. ‘You annoy me because you’re impossible to understand.’

  ‘Am I? I feel like a very simple man to understand. You must be confusing me with someone else.’

  Yeah, right. ‘That’s probably it. People like you are a dime a dozen.’

  When I heard a knock on the door, I quickly typed, ‘Gotta go,’ and went to answer it without waiting for his response. My stomach dropped when I saw who was standing there.

  Flashback moment of the worst kind. Same detective, same nondescript clothing, but now his hair was a little grayer and his wrinkles a little deeper. Unfortunately, he probably wasn’t here for a social call.

  “Hello, detective. Long time, no see.” Long time no want to see. Or talk to. Or think about. Detective Williams reminded me of a huge chunk of my life I’d love to forget. Not that I could, but boy would it be great.

  “How have you been, Andrea?” Hearing my full name again after so long killed any pleasant nostalgia I had left. I imagined a bunch of suitcases with tags that read: Andrea. The name I hated because it only reminded me of the ex-boyfriend who’d left me with all that baggage to begin with.

  My suddenly clammy hand slipped on the knob of the door I was partially hiding behind. “Why are you here?”

  “I’m investigating a case,” he said without expression, without giving anything away.

  “And you want my help with it?” It was possible. When the police tech people couldn’t figure something out, they used outside resources. They’d never used me, and I never thought they would, but it could happen.

  “I’m here to talk to you about your possible involvement, Andrea.”

  “I wasn’t—” I swallowed, fear moving down from my mind to the rest of my body. “I haven’t done anything. Not
since I got in trouble. I swear.”

  He had a cop-face, one that wasn’t easily read, but throughout the investigation and trial, I’d learned how to recognize certain things about him. For instance, his hands were in his pockets—a sign of trust. He looked at the ground instead of watching my every move—a sign he wasn’t on guard like he’d been with my ex-boyfriend and the other two guys who’d set up the scam.

  “I really hope that’s true,” he said, “but I’m going to need to speak with you about it.”

  Speak with me. Oh. Okay, that wasn’t good.

  “Right now? I’m kind of busy.” Freaking out. Plus, we were standing about thirty feet away from tech paraphernalia I could get in trouble for having.

  “Are you working right now, Andrea?”

  “I go by Andi. And I’m just doing odd jobs and that sort of thing for pocket money.” He knew about the money I’d inherited from my grandmother, along with this house. He just didn’t know that instead of living off it, I’d used it to repay all the people I’d hurt.

  “With technology?”

  “No,” I lied. It was just one word—one word didn’t matter. Aaand there was another one. They always travel in packs.

  Lies always mattered—to the person being lied to and the person doing the lying.

  “Then what are you busy with?”

  I sighed, giving myself a little time to come up with something. “My boyfriend is here…in the bedroom. We were getting…busy, you know?” Hopefully, that would embarrass the interrogation right out of the detective.

  He nodded slowly. “What were you busy with two nights ago around 8:30?”

  “I’m not sure.” I looked up as if trying to recall where I was. Knowing there was a 99.9% chance I was sitting in front of my computer working. “What day is it today?”

  “Tell me what were you doing on Wednesday night.”

  “I was with a friend,” I blurted before logic had time to rear its ugly head. Then sighed. It was actually impressive how quickly I could screw something up. It wasn’t a lie—I had been with Emilia, but the last thing I wanted to do was drag her into any more of my trouble.

  “The same friend who’s currently in your bedroom?”

  Could imaginary friends testify against you in a court of law?

  “No, I was out with a girlfriend. Do you need her name?”

  He pulled out a pad of paper and a wooden pencil. A bizarre homage to the olden days for a detective who investigated computer crimes. “And her number.” Great. I was going to owe Emilia big time. But it wouldn’t be for long. They’d find out who was doing something they shouldn’t have been doing on Wednesday night and forget all about me.

  I gave him Emilia’s information, making a mental note to warn her that he’d be calling.

  “And what about the previous day?” he asked. “That would be last Tuesday.”

  Shit. “Um…I’m not sure. I’d have to think about it.”

  “I tell you what,” he said, sliding his notebook back into his pocket. “Why don’t you come down to the station and let me know as soon as you can.”

  “I didn’t do anything wrong, detective.”

  His eyes warmed a little bit as if he believed me. “Like I said, I hope not. But somebody got into a computer system they shouldn’t have, and they had help doing it, which means the tech guys will be going through a long list of known hackers in the area. And while you were never prosecuted, your name is still on that list. So, eventually, they’re going to get to it. To you, Andrea.”

  “Andi,” I corrected stupidly. As if that changed anything.

  “Right.” He looked away for a moment. When he refocused on me, he spoke quietly. “I know the last time was a stupid mistake made by a naive kid. That was clear from the first conversation I had with you. When you finally stopped believing that shithead of a boyfriend, you did the right thing. But this one is… This one isn’t that simple. Multiple enforcement agencies and departments are in on it. Right now, they’re working off the assumption that two people were involved—one who knew how to get into the building and another with computer expertise. I suggest you talk to a lawyer.”

  “I can’t afford a lawyer.”

  “Then you’ll get one assigned to you by the state if you’re arrested.”

  “Wait! Arrested? But I didn’t do anything.” My heartbeat picked up, and my throat closed down. “Why would I be arrested?”

  “Like I said, this one is a lot worse than the last.” He scratched the back of his neck. “A security guard was killed during the break-in.”

  I couldn’t find my breath. Didn’t remember how to breathe. “I’d never kill anyone, detective. You know that! I mean, besides the whole morality thing, I couldn’t. Just look at me.” I held out my arms as proof. “Do you really think these wimpy things could overpower a security guard?”

  “Just…” He put up his hands, as if that would somehow calm me down. “Talk to a lawyer.”

  “But I didn’t do anything,” I whimpered.

  He blew out a breath. “I’m not stupid, Andi.”

  “I never thought you were.”

  “Then why did you tell me you’re not working with computers anymore?”

  Oh shit. I held onto the door to keep myself standing.

  “I don’t care about the little crap you’ve been doing. In fact, I’ve always thought that part of your agreement was bullshit. But I do care about you. Understand?” He waited for me to nod. It was a struggle. “I’m here to give you a heads up. I wouldn’t do that if I really thought you were involved. But if I know you’ve been going into places you’re not allowed to go, and this case becomes the shitstorm I think it will, there’s a chance someone else will figure it out, too. I just hope you’re not working on anything even remotely connected to this case.”

  Me, too.

  “Now, like I said, there are a lot of names higher on that list than yours, and we’re just getting started. So you have time.” He glanced at his watch. “I gotta go. Just…talk to a lawyer, Andi. A good one.”

  After I shut the door, I stumbled into the living room and slumped down on the couch, pulling my grandma’s quilt over me. Everything had been going so well. Of course, something had to ruin it. I’d been piling up bad karma for a while now—lying for my job, working with computers, doing shit I shouldn’t. But murder? I couldn’t even fathom that. It just didn’t compute.

  Although, I didn’t exactly have a right to feel persecuted. Detective Williams should be suspicious of me. I’m a suspicious person. When was the last time I’d been honest about anything important?

  It’s so easy to tell yourself that you’re not doing anything too wrong or that your lies aren’t hurting anyone but you. So easy to forget that you want to change when you’re living every day separately—morning to night, plodding along, no clear goal ahead. So easy to veer off course and ignore what you’re doing to survive.

  ‘I’ll just do it today, only today.’ Lying to myself is an addiction.

  Dazedly, I heard my cell phone ring. I slowly turned my head toward the side table, then watched the phone vibrate on the wood for a second. I picked it up and answered, knowing whatever it was couldn’t be worse news than I’d just received. “Hello?”

  “I’m bored,” Sara said. “Wanna do something tonight?”

  I should call Emilia and tell her I’d given the detective her name. She wouldn’t have to lie to him—on Wednesday night, she’d dragged me to an evening Pilates class. I’d blocked most of the experience out, but it had to have ended later than 8:30. Didn’t it? Oh god, what if it hadn’t? What if I didn’t have an alibi for either night in question? If only I’d gone out with Sara and gone home with some guy the police would believe because he would have no reason to lie. Maybe I needed to start covering more of my ass. Maybe I needed to stop being such an ass. Tomorrow.

  “Hell yeah,” I said. “It’s Friday night! I want to go out, get so wasted I can barely walk, and screw some lucky bastard so h
ard he won’t be able to stand till Monday.”

  “Yay!” Sara yelled. “The old Andi is back!”

  Was she? That wasn’t a good thing. Not a good thing at all.

  I focused on getting ready to go out, breaking out my trampiest clothes from where they’d been tucked away the last time I was thinking clearly. I turned the radio on full blast and sang along with every song, whether or not I knew the actual words. Anything was better than thinking.

  Thankfully, the dress was so tight, all the wrinkles were ironed out naturally. I tried the same thing with my hair—slicking it back into a bun that was so tight I even got a mini facelift out of it. I may have gone a bit overboard, but when your life seems to be barreling downhill uncontrollably, being mistaken for a hooker doesn’t seem like such a big deal. In fact, tonight’s plan involved keeping my goals and my standards equally low.

  Before I left, I went to shut down my stupid computer and saw that Hayden had responded earlier. I stared at the words, my heart pounding so hard, my dress almost split open.

  It wasn’t important. Whatever Hayden and I were doing—not important. That he thought I was someone else—not important. So until I reported to the police station in a few days without a lawyer, forgetting all of my lies seemed very important. Just for a little while, I’d forget.

  So I shut it all down and walked away. Unfortunately, his comment wasn’t as easy to turn off.

  ‘I don’t think I could get you confused with anyone else, Sira. You’re probably the most singular person I’ve ever met.’

  Little did he know.

  23

  Andi