Predator

  “Then we need you to shut it down for tonight. Tell them they have to go home.”

  He didn’t like the sound of that. “I can’t do that without clearing it with my board of directors.”

  “You don’t have any authority to make decisions on your own?”

  “Well, yes. Some. But this is a pretty big deal.”

  “We need secrecy, Ryan. If we tell everyone what we’re doing, there’s no point in doing it. We don’t want to give people the chance to clean up their caches.”

  He finally agreed, knowing he was going to catch a lot of flack for it. Before he made the announcement, he decided to ask Ian’s advice on what to tell the workers. He hurried across the floor to his friend’s desk. As he approached him, he saw Megan’s face on Ian’s computer screen.

  “Whatcha doing?”

  Ian jumped. “Man, you scared me.” He turned back to his monitor and minimized his screen so the picture would go away. “Nothing. I was just looking at her page, trying to get a clue.”

  Ryan sat down on Ian’s cluttered desk.

  “I’ve been working on the Data-Gather code,” Ian said. “I called Willow and asked for their software, but they were reluctant to give it. No worries, though. I hacked into their computer and got it on my own.”

  Ryan winced. “You did what? You can’t do that! I could have called Henry Hearne and asked him.”

  “That’s no fun. You can still ask him, but we’ve gotten a head start. And just in case he says no, we’ll still have it.”

  Ryan didn’t like the sound of that.

  “Bridgit’s been working hard to make the modifications in the search strings. Maybe if we stay until the wee hours, we’ll get it done.”

  “Not tonight,” Ryan said. “I need to close us down tonight.”

  Ian rubbed his eyes. “What for?”

  “The FBI asked me to. I’m not sure why, but they need to do some investigating in here tonight.”

  “Here? In our offices?”

  “That’s right. Seems the killer texted Megan, threatening her. They pinged the phone and found it in a Dumpster outside our offices.”

  Ian’s face changed. “No way. Are you kidding me?”

  “That’s what they said.”

  “So…what? They’re going to search GrapeVyne?”

  “I don’t really know what they’re going to do,” he lied. “They just want to come in, and they’ve asked me to shut it down. I need to come up with a story to tell the employees. Something that makes sense.”

  Ian stared at his own reflection in his screen. “Tell them we’re shutting down for some computer maintenance.”

  “Will that fly, when they’re the ones who do the maintenance?”

  “Oh, right. No, it probably won’t.” He snapped his fingers. “Tell them we have a leak in some of the water lines, and you have to get a construction crew in.”

  “Yes, that would work.”

  “Some of them can work from home anyway.”

  Ryan hadn’t thought of that. Most of them worked on their laptops from home. How would the FBI search those computers?

  This was just too complicated.

  But somehow, he’d have to figure it out.

  Twenty-eight

  Since the FBI didn’t want Ryan announcing that they were coming that night to spy on his employees’ computers, he could do nothing about them taking their laptops home. But that still left all of the desktop computers in the building, including those used on the customer service floors.

  He let the cyber crimes agents in and paced the floor as they studied each computer’s cache, to see who had viewed Megan’s or Ella’s pages before their attacks. Because they were also working on his own computer, he lay on the couch in the Rumpus Room and tried to sleep while they worked. But sleep wouldn’t come.

  Whose phone had sent Megan that text? Could it be someone here at GrapeVyne? Could he be working with an evil serial killer?

  It couldn’t be any of his engineers. But maybe it was someone he didn’t know well. Someone from customer service. He hoped the agents found what they were looking for.

  When they’d finally narrowed it down to sixteen computers that had viewed Megan’s or Ella’s pages in the days prior to their attacks, they enlisted Ryan’s help. He went from one computer to another with an agent named Levin, looking to see how the page was viewed, and what business that employee might have had there.

  He sat down at Sharon Crain’s computer. “Sharon’s one of my photo screeners. So she could have legitimately hit both girls’ pages if they posted any photos.”

  “Megan posted one just minutes before her kidnapping,” Agent Levin said. “Ella posted one the morning of her disappearance. So what does Sharon do here?”

  Ryan showed them. “We try to filter out porn. So her job is to delete pictures that are pornographic. I only have women doing this, since the men might get hung up on it.”

  “Makes sense.”

  He pulled up a screen with a hundred thumbnail snapshots. “These are some of the pictures that were uploaded to our site today. Sharon would scan these pretty quickly, deleting anything that catches her attention.” He skimmed the page, found a picture that wasn’t appropriate, pointed it out.

  “So technically, Sharon wouldn’t have necessarily gone to Megan’s page. She just would have looked at the photos Megan uploaded, and that would register as a hit on her page.”

  “Right,” Levin said.

  “She may not have even done more than glance at it. Moving at the pace she does, she would move right past it.”

  “Okay, she’s fine. We’re looking for a man, anyway.”

  They moved on to the next six on the list, who were also women who did the same task.

  The next person on the list was someone in customer service. They pulled his computer up, and Ryan did a search to see how he’d used the girls’ pages. “Okay,” he said. “This guy checks for spam operations. Whenever a member adds too many Friends in one day, he goes to their sites to make sure they’re not just hitting people with spam.”

  “What kind of client would do that?”

  “Bands, for instance, or authors, or any other commercial enterprise that’s using our site to advertise. There are parameters they have to abide by according to our Terms of Service.”

  “Can you tell if either of the girls did that on the day he viewed their pages?”

  Ryan went deep into their program and pulled up a spreadsheet. “Yep. Megan added thirty-five new Friends three days before her attack, the same day this guy viewed her page. Perfectly legit.”

  “All right, let’s move on.”

  They went through everyone else on the list, and in every case, there was a reason the employee was drawn to Megan’s or Ella’s pages.

  By the time they were finished, it was 4:00 a.m. Ryan felt the stress in his neck and down his back.

  “So that covers every computer except for the laptops that went home last night?” Levin asked.

  “Right. Those and the computers at Willow,” Ryan said.

  “Wait. Willow has access to GrapeVyne members?”

  “Technically, yeah. They handle the advertising data, so they have servers with information about our members.”

  “Then we’ll need to examine their computers too.”

  Ryan shrugged. “Guys, I don’t have any access to Willow. I’m not even allowed to go through their building without security. They’re extra tight over there.”

  “Then who do we need to contact?”

  “One of the executives at Willow. John Stanley, Henry Hearne, or the big guy himself, Marvin Bainbridge.”

  Levin sighed and looked at his watch. “Well, we’re probably not likely to get anyone on the phone tonight. If we have to go through those guys, we’ll have to have a subpoena and search warrant. By the time we get all that, the killer could have deleted all his information.”

  It only then occurred to Ryan that he should have demanded a search warra
nt too. But that wouldn’t help them find the killer any faster. He’d wanted to help in any way he could. “Good luck with that, guys.”

  “Maybe you could put in a word, get them to invite us to do the same thing over there.”

  “They don’t listen to me,” Ryan said. “They have their own agenda, and they’re pretty tough to convince of anything. I’m the stepchild of the whole company. They can’t ignore me completely, though, because of how much money GrapeVyne makes the company.”

  By the time the agents left, Ryan was wiped out. He locked up behind them, got a change of clothes out of one of the file cabinets in his office, and went to take a shower. When he’d gotten dressed, he stretched out on the couch again and tried to get a couple of hours’ sleep before his people began arriving for work.

  Twenty-nine

  At 5:00 a.m., Krista was still at her computer. So far, her alter ego, Maxi Greer, had twenty-eight people who’d agreed to be her Friends, and twelve more had initiated friendship. She focused on those twelve, certain that the killer might be among them.

  But she couldn’t appear too anxious. She had to play it slow, to keep his interest and not raise any suspicion.

  She wrote:

  Guess I should go get an hour or so of sleep. I can’t sleep late this morning.

  A boy named Sammy answered her.

  Why not? You’re homeschooled, aren’t you?

  Quickly, she checked his profile. He was from Houston, in the same area as she. She wrote:

  Yes, but my mom makes me get up early to do school before she goes to work. She’ll kill me if she finds out I’ve been on here all night.

  What time do you get up?

  Six. She goes to work at ten.

  So you only study for four hours?

  Yes, it’s a pretty intense four hours.

  What do you do for the rest of the day?

  This was the kind of question a predator might ask. Getting her schedule would be at the top of his priorities. She swallowed.

  Hang out by myself and watch TV.

  Her face burned as she waited for a reply.

  Sounds like fun.

  As she touched the keyboard, her fingers trembled.

  You should come over sometime and hang out.

  Again, a long pause.

  I have school.

  So come after school.

  She waited, certain that she’d found the man who murdered Ella. But he was gone too long. Where was he? Had he signed off?

  She’d almost given up, when his answer flashed onto the screen.

  I can’t go to a stranger’s house. You could be an axe murderer for all I know. Hahaha.

  The wind was knocked from her sails and confusion overtook her. Could he be exactly who he said he was? A sixteen-year-old kid talking to a girl on the computer?

  Was she the predator?

  Another line flashed up.

  And you shouldn’t be inviting strange guys over.

  Don’t you know about those girls who were murdered?

  Her throat almost closed.

  Sorry. You’re right. I’m stupid like that sometimes.

  It’s okay. It was just me. But next time, it might be someone crazy. I have to get some sleep now. Talk to you soon, okay?

  He signed off and she sat back in her chair, wondering if this was the killer’s modus operandi, to build trust in his victim. Or was this just some kid who really thought she was stupid?

  How could she know? She realized she was sweating and wiped her forehead on her sleeve. She really did need some sleep.

  Before signing off, she sent out a Thought Bubble:

  Going to bed so my mom will think I slept, so I can get up and study and sit by myself. Like every other day.

  She hoped the killer’s antennae went up at the sound of her loneliness. Maybe, if Sammy wasn’t the one, the real killer would contact her tomorrow.

  Or was he too smart to interact with her? Maybe he was just listening. Some of the people who’d Friended her hadn’t talked to her at all. He could be biding his time, gathering information from all the other conversations she was having, putting things together.

  Soon enough, she’d have the chance to draw him out. Soon enough, she would see her sister’s murderer face-to-face.

  Thirty

  Brennie was a good friend. On the first day of classes, she drove Megan to the Liberal Arts building and let her out at the curb. Though Megan had learned to get around fine with the crutches, walking all the way across campus was a little too difficult, especially with a backpack on her back. After class, her friend Jennifer, who didn’t have class until the afternoon, would pick her up and deliver her back to the dorm.

  Staying around other people at all times would keep the killer from coming for her. At least, that was what she hoped. But he was bold and hungry, and didn’t think like a sane person.

  She limped into her class and took a seat at the back of the room. A couple of people spoke softly to her as she passed. Others just regarded her with sad eyes. Some ignored her altogether, as if they feared embarrassing her.

  She emptied her backpack and laid her books on her desk, then slipped into it. One of the girls who’d spoken when she came in got up and came to her. “Do you need something to prop your foot on? I could run get you a chair.”

  Already she could feel her leg swelling under the brace. Propping it up would help. “If you don’t mind,” she said. “I don’t want you to be late.”

  “No problem, I have plenty of time.” The girl rushed out and came back in with a folding chair.

  She set it up sideways, then lifted Megan’s leg and carefully placed it on the chair.

  “Better?”

  “Much. Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

  The girl went back to her seat as the rest of the class filed in. Finally, the professor came in. Megan had had her before and knew how tough she was. The only way to pass her class was to take copious notes, then spend hours going over them. She tried to focus as the woman began.

  Ten minutes in, she found herself watching the door, almost expecting the killer to step into the doorway with an AK-47 and mow down the entire class, just to make sure Megan died. Her heart raced, her chest felt tight again. Her vision went from bright to black, then back again.

  “Miss Quinn? Are you all right?”

  She blinked. “Yes. I’m fine.”

  “You looked like you were about to faint.”

  She decided to make a joke of it. “My skin looks really white against the black of my bruises.”

  Nervous chuckles rippled over the room.

  “Let me know if you need anything,” the professor said.

  Compassion from this, the most hardened of her professors? She felt that shame again. She hated pity.

  She tried to tune back into the lecture, but couldn’t focus. Her gaze drifted across the room. Several students had their cell phones on their desks, carefully hidden behind the people in front of them, texting. Some of them were probably Tweeting or doing Facebook, or filling in Thought Bubbles on GrapeVyne. She felt that panic again, and she wanted to fly out of her seat and beg everyone to stop telling the world where they were at every moment of the day. She wanted to beg them not to mention that she was in this room. She wanted to tell them that their lives were like vapor, and that they could evaporate as quickly as Karen’s life had. That evil lurked in cyberspace, and may be lurking in the halls of academia.

  But she stayed quiet, trying to write down what her lecturer said. By the end of the class, perspiration dripped from her face. She tried to control her breathing, in…deep breath…out…long breath.

  When they were dismissed, she found herself afraid to step outside the room. But she had to. Everyone was leaving. She couldn’t be found here alone. She got up and loaded her books back in, slipped on her backpack, and put her crutches under her arms. When she went through the building’s glass doors, she saw Jennifer waiting in her car. As she went toward it, she looked from
side to side for a brown-haired man who personified evil.

  She didn’t see him anywhere. But she knew he was around, somewhere, waiting for the right time.

  Thirty-one

  Ryan wished he could skip the Tuesday board meeting, because he knew what was coming. Reports of his visit to the hospital last week hadn’t just come and gone—for the past week the Houston Chronicle had had daily editorials about GrapeVyne’s responsibility in the murders. He’d already had lengthy conversations with each of the board members, but none of them was satisfied. And if they’d found out that the FBI had swarmed the place last night, and that he’d allowed them in without a warrant…well, it would only get worse. So as soon as the meeting was scheduled, he’d invited Krista to speak to them. Maybe hearing her plea for changes would make them listen to his ideas for change.

  Fighting the fatigue in his bones, he headed down the stairs. When he got to the second-floor landing, he saw down to the first floor, where Krista waited nervously in the lobby. She had her laptop open on her knees, probably going over her PowerPoint presentation.

  She looked as tired as he. Maybe they should have done this another day.

  As he hit the first floor, he crossed the lobby to Krista. “You ready for this?”

  She closed her laptop and stood up. “I don’t know. I’ll do my best.”

  He met her red eyes, noted the shadows under them. “You okay?”

  “Just tired. I didn’t get much sleep.”

  “Yeah, me either. We can do it another day if you want to.”

  She shook her head. “No, it’s important. I want to do it now.”

  “Okay, then let’s do it. We meet next door, in the Willow Internet Division. Come on with me. You’ll have to wait downstairs until I can let the board know you’re coming. I’ll call you up when it’s time. That place…they have more security than we have, so you have to stay in the lobby until I get them to come down and get you.”