Chapter 1 #2
By the time we got done talking, it was ten thirty.
Loki had returned and gently told her it was time to rest. I agreed with him, so I wished her a good night.
After hanging up, I debated what to do. A part of me wanted to go back to sleuthing, but I needed some food and a hot shower.
And I have work tomorrow. In the end, my stomach won, followed by the shower.
Once I was through with those two things, we’d see if I had more in me.
I’d set an alarm, so I wouldn’t end up staying up all night.
???
Thank the Lord, my regular work week was finished.
It was insane, but I managed to get everything done.
I even had a little time to work on what Braelyn gave me.
When we spoke on Wednesday night, she had stressed to me that the trial was months away and that she was on maternity leave.
I could take more time to delve into the man she was prosecuting.
However, I detested procrastinating, so I wanted to work thoroughly yet quickly.
It had been hard for me to leave the trail I found last night and go to bed, then turn around and work all day.
Now, I was free for the next forty-eight hours plus.
Knowing how I would be, I got into my comfortable sleeping clothes after a shower, prepared food, and put half of it away in case I got hungry later.
Then I ate a bowl of the pasta and chicken dish I made.
After I finished, I went back onto the web.
I picked up where I left off on the trail I discovered.
I sank into it and became consumed by it.
I vaguely recalled jotting down notes. I preferred taking my notes on paper.
They were unhackable unless someone came into my home and stole them.
At the end of every night, I placed those notes in the appropriate file in my fireproof, locked safety box.
It was a huge thing, not one of those tiny boxes you find in most stores.
It was meant to last forever and couldn’t be easily carried off.
It was around one a.m. when I noticed someone popping up on the same sites I was visiting, as well as at the places I had been. It was cleverly done, but I had a knack for having almost a photographic memory. The same screen name kept appearing in the chat rooms and groups I was a part of.
The man I was dogging took me to some very questionable places.
But if I wanted to get everything that Braelyn needed to take care of this guy, I had to.
From what I’d discovered, though he was careful in some ways, he was somewhat arrogant and careless in others.
Those latter tendencies would be his downfall.
Aarón Mora was suspected of being a high-ranking associate of a terrorist group.
He was careful to project to the world the image of a wealthy, respected member of the international business community.
He invested in numerous ventures and generously supported various charities and causes.
But when you peeled back the outer trappings, there were the whispers that he was more than a successful Venezuelan businessman with operations in Venezuela and the States.
People who opposed him either quickly backed down, had terrible accidents, or disappeared. He always had an alibi for when someone ended up beaten or disappeared. His main home was in Caracas, which was one of the worst areas of the country.
Venezuela was a country you wanted to be cautious visiting.
Even though the US Department of State regularly issued level three or four travel advisories, US citizens still traveled there every year.
Crazy, if you asked me. The major crimes there centered around murder, carjacking, kidnapping, armed robbery, extortion, and detention of citizens and travelers.
The last one may or may not lead to ransom demands and freedom.
And then there were those terrorist groups that liked to operate along the borders between Venezuela and neighboring Guyana, Colombia, and Brazil.
The deeper I waded into the muck, the louder the whispers about Mora grew.
The discovery that I had made about my lurker pulled my attention away from Mora.
Adrenaline hit me as I entered another group on the dark web, and guess what?
The exact URL and username appeared shortly afterward.
Goddamn it, what should I do? Log out for a while, then log back in and hope whoever it was doesn’t appear again?
I knew there was a slim chance that I was overreacting, but I was terrified that I wasn’t.
It drove me crazy trying to figure out where I went wrong, leaving my presence and footprints exposed.
My anonymity depended on my ability to stay out of sight.
Spending another twenty minutes online, feeling my lurker was there, just masking himself or herself, shot up my anxiety.
Unable to stand it, I logged out of everything and shut down my computer.
Jumping to my feet, I paced the living room for a good half hour before total exhaustion hit me.
Maybe after some sleep, I’d be able to face this and figure out what to do.
My final task was to walk through the house and check that every door and window was locked.
Crawling into bed, I closed my eyes. My body ached, as if someone had been punching me. Then my brain kicked into overdrive. Tossing and turning, I tried to block out my overactive brain, but it took a long time before my exhausted body forced my mind to sleep.
???
The weekend had been equal parts hell and heaven for me.
The heavenly part was the information and leads I gained on Aarón Mora.
The man was dirtier than anyone suspected.
The hints were there. The tough and long part will be digging in and finding the proof.
Braelyn couldn’t go after him with assumptions and rumors.
It was shaping up to be a somewhat tedious process, but I refused to leave it half done.
I could get more. However, after I looked into the rumors, I had no idea what they might lead to or trigger. Time would tell.
As for my lurker, he was still ghosting in and out.
Rather than be intimidated by him, I decided I’d give him a taste of his own medicine.
I had to give him kudos. He did a more than decent job of covering his tracks.
I’d only catch glimpses, not a trail. As I traipsed around, I discovered that the person had triggers, or flags, as some called them, set up to indicate whether certain information had been accessed.
Once I found that, I had to be vigilant to avoid triggering any of those.
They were cleverly hidden. I only knew of them because I saw one by accident.
I felt like I was in a game of cat and mouse, except I had no clue if I was the cat or the mouse.
This type of vulnerability made my stomach hurt.
Having someone tearing through my life, looking for information on me, terrified me.
Yeah, it was hypocritical, since my second job was to do exactly that to others.
For the present, I’d given up on Mora and my lurker.
Instead, I dove into another main work project that wasn’t urgent, but I might as well work on it.
The company I was contracted with was a long-standing customer of mine.
The owner preferred to be extremely cautious and to know everything he could about the individuals or companies he dealt with.
He was shrewd in the deals he negotiated.
When he wanted changes to his networks or anything computer-related, he would contact me to design, implement, and maintain the networks I had created.
At times, I’d spent a significant portion of my time on maintenance for the networks I’d built.
Although it was challenging work, I found the other tasks I undertook at night and on weekends to be more stimulating and demanding than the everyday tasks.
But it was a steady income I could count on, unless I was fired.
I was on retainer for several of the companies. I should have this project updated by—
A loud knock derailed my train of thought.
At first, I thought I was hearing things, but I heard it again.
Rising from the desk, I crossed my small living space to reach the door.
I paused and peeked out of the window in the top half of the door.
It was dark, so all I saw were dark shapes. My heart jumped.
Not knowing what else to do, I flipped on the light.
I scrutinized the people standing there.
It was a man and a woman. I’d estimate them to be in their early to mid-thirties.
They were smiling at me. Deciding to risk it, I got the handgun from the table next to the door.
I had others stashed around the house. Then, I unlocked the door and cracked it open. The door hid the hand holding the gun.
“Yes, may I help you?” I asked politely.
“We hope so,” the man said.
“We just moved in down the street. We were unpacking, trying to get enough stuff out of the boxes to make a path through them and find our clothing so that we could sleep in the new house tonight. We looked for clothes that we were sure we had brought.” The woman started the tale. Then it switched over to the guy.
“Except we seemed to have forgotten it back at our old place. It’s over an hour away.
After working all day, we’re too tired to face that drive.
It’s late, and everything is closed. This is going to be a weird request. We knocked on your door because we noticed the light was on.
Would you happen to have any clothing we could borrow?
We’re even willing to buy a shirt and a pair of shorts or lounge pants.
Does your husband have any to spare?” the guy asked.