30. Trip Wires
30
TRIP WIRES
The command center had reached a new level of controlled chaos by the time Ronan and Maya arrived. Lawrence had apparently bonded with Kate over surveillance tech, the two of them hunched over his tablet while he demonstrated something involving thermal imaging. Mike Rutherford was regaling Victoria with a story about his Ranger days that had Christian pinching the bridge of his nose.
Jack and Austin were in their customary positions at the head of the conference table next to a stone-faced Deke, all of them looking slightly stunned. Ronan could see where the two energetic retirees, combined with the forces of nature that were his mother, and Lawrence Chen, might set anyone back on their heels. The top-tier security company had morphed into a mash-up of Golden Girls meets Die Hard.
Ronan tried to steer his mother away from the gray-haired Ranger. “Mom, that’s not actually relevant to?—”
“Everything’s relevant,” she countered, recording device at the ready. “Now, Mr. Rutherford, you were saying about the blood tests?”
The word ‘blood tests’ caught Kenji’s attention. He looked up from his borrowed station, where he and Star had been combing through data. “What blood tests?”
“The ones that made no sense,” Kate said, finally looking up from Lawrence’s tablet. “I went in for a cortisone shot for my sciatica. Somehow ended up giving enough blood for a platelet drive.”
Mike nodded. “Same here. Physical therapy for my knee turned into a vampire convention.”
“Standard protocol includes basic panels,” Kenji explained, but Mike was already shaking his head.
“Not like this. They took multiple vials, different colored tops. Said something about a new veteran wellness program.”
Griffin’s head snapped up. He’d been studying a terminal in the corner, deliberately distant from the group. “When exactly?”
“Three weeks ago,” Kate said. “Right after they changed my regular doctor.”
“Four weeks for me,” Mike added. “Different clinic, same deal. New doc, lots of tests.”
Maya’s father tapped his glasses against his chin. “Something about that library’s been bugging me. Star, honey, could you access the usage logs for the Santa Monica library for the past month?”
She laughed. “In a heartbeat.”
He nodded slowly. “Not hard to do, huh?”
Zara snorted this time. “A seventh grader could do it. Maybe a really talented fourth grader.”
He zoned in on Griff. “So really, anybody could.”
Griffin went still.
“Back in ‘89, we had this case—a serial burglar who specialized in home break-ins,” Lawrence explained. “He was smart. Only hit high-end homes in isolated areas. Places with expensive security systems that were somehow on the fritz. We interrogated every employee at every alarm company, right down to the janitors. Nothing. Took us a year to catch him. Turns out, his accomplice was at the Building Department. Any permits issued for home security systems got passed along to him. I think the minute you searched for those VA files, you lit up their radar somehow.” He turned to Star and Ethan and Zara. “That’s doable, right?”
The three computer whizzes murmured their assent.
“But I used a secure terminal protocol,” Griffin protested quietly.
“Doesn’t matter.” Lawrence clapped him on the shoulder. “They weren’t tracking you, son. They were tracking what you were looking for. Anyone digging into those specific medical records would trigger their system.”
“Then they’d follow the tracks,” Zara added, locking eyes with Star. “Eventually, they’d get past your protocol.”
Star nodded. “And they’d locate the exact terminals.”
Ronan watched understanding dawn on Axel’s face. “They set up a digital tripwire.”
Lawrence tapped the end of his nose. “Bingo. Just like my thief used permit requests. Only now it’s all algorithms and cloud computing whatchamacallits. Same detective work, different century.”
The room went quiet. Even Victoria’s pen stopped moving.
“The research you were doing,” Lawrence said carefully. “It wasn’t just about current VA patients, was it?”
Griffin stared at his hands, fingers working against each other. “You guys already know Tank was working at the VA outreach center in San Diego. A couple of months ago, a woman came in. Her uncle, a Gulf War vet, vanished. Police said he probably just took off—guy had some minor mental health issues, history of disappearing for a few days. But she knew something was wrong. Tank told the woman he’d check into it.”
“Why Marcus?” Victoria asked, pen poised.
Ronan’s arm throbbed as he shifted position, something about Griffin’s tension setting off warning bells.
“He worked the outreach desk twice a week. Veterans trusted him.” Griffin’s jaw tightened, and he pushed himself up to pace the small space. “Turns out, the uncle had gone to the local VA clinic for some kind of minor health thing. High blood pressure or something.”
The familiar cold settled in Ronan’s gut—the same feeling he got before missions went sideways.
Griffin stopped at the window, his reflection stark against the darkness outside. “Anyway, three days later, the guy disappears. Tank messed around in the clinic files. Saw a whole handful of similar cases. Mostly nobody reported them because the vets either lived alone, or died. Suicides or accidents.”
Kate made a small sound, and Mike’s hand found hers.
Ronan’s hands clenched involuntarily. He could see where this was going.
“The deeper he dug, the more suspect cases he found. And he’d barely touched the clinics in Southern California.” Griffin turned back, meeting Ronan’s eyes. “So he called me.”
The pain meds were wearing off, but Ronan barely noticed now. His whole focus was on Griffin, who seemed to be carrying the weight of what came next.
“Marcus called me because ...” Griffin’s voice roughened. He dropped into his chair like his legs wouldn’t hold him. “Because he knew I’d believe him. That I’d understand why a bunch of vulnerable vets suddenly deciding to vanish wasn’t right.”
“How many?” Ronan forced the words past the tightness in his throat.
Griffin’s hands trembled slightly as he reached for his water. “Fifteen vets so far that we confirmed. All in the last eight months. They’d get called in for new evaluations, medical tests, biometric scans—way more extensive than usual VA protocols. Then they’d vanish.”
Mike’s hand went to the bandage at the crook of his arm where they’d taken blood samples.
The silence that followed felt like a physical presence until Christian leaned forward, breaking it. “They’re harvesting their data before killing them.” He clasped his hands behind his neck, squeezing hard. “The why we can work out later. I say we start with the who and the what.”
“Copy that,” Austin answered before Ronan could.
Murmurs of assent filled the space.
Hands on his hips, Axel paced the outer edges of the room. “Then we need to look at the footage. Security cameras, waiting room videos, anything from the VA facilities where these tests happened.”
Star squinted at her monitor. “The Santa Monica clinic keeps their security feeds for ninety days. Policy after an incident with the pharmacy break-in last year.”
Zara nodded, her gaze on her own bank of monitors. “Same with the West LA facility. Plus they upgraded their system recently. Better resolution.”
“We’ll need all of it.” Ronan eyed the group. “Every frame from both Mike and Kate’s visits, plus any footage we can find from the other clinics Marcus investigated.”
Star was already typing. “Pulling emergency backup servers now. They know we’re closing in. If they’re altering records?—”
“They might have missed the security footage,” Lawrence finished, nodding. “Basic detective work. People always forget about the cameras.”
“We’ll work in shifts,” Jack decided. “Cross-reference everything. Medical staff, orderlies, anyone who had contact with the victims on Marcus’s list.”
Griffin stood abruptly. “I’ll take first shift.”
Maya caught the look Ronan and Axel exchanged. None of them liked the edge in Griffin’s voice, but they needed answers.
Maya touched Ronan’s arm lightly. “Take a break. I’ll start the first review.”
He studied her face—the concern there wasn’t just professional anymore. “You picking up profiling habits from your dad?”
“No.” A ghost of a smile touched her lips. “Just getting better at reading you.”
The moment stretched between them until Deke cleared his throat. “Before we dive in, might be good to take five. Say a prayer for Marcus. For all of them.”
Griffin’s shoulders tensed. “Prayer didn’t save those vets.”
“No,” Deke agreed quietly. “But it gave Marcus the courage to act when he saw something wrong. Sometimes that’s all we can do—recognize evil and stand against it.”
Ronan felt the weight of those words. He’d spent years putting barriers between himself and faith, between himself and connection. In hindsight, that might have been the wrong choice.