* * *
Jen tied her hair with the elastic band that kept slipping. “Lester, we’re ready for another build. Wei checked in the fix to the deadlock problem. Can you start it?”
“Hey, dinner’s here,” Satish said. “Wanna go over to
Big Chill
? I can help you with your laptop.”
“Sure, can you grab an outlet? The battery’s low and I have to take care of a few things.” Jen handed him the laptop, picked up her crutches, and headed toward the women’s room.
“Wait,” Satish said. The pinging of the instant message app sounded from her laptop. “Jewell wants you in his office.”
“Tell him I’ll be right there.” She hopped toward the women’s room. She couldn’t remember the last time she went. A misconfiguration by Lester corrupted the latest branch, and she had just finished labeling the approved check-ins.
After washing her hands, she headed for Dave’s office. Consternation threaded through her nerves. Had he discovered her identity? Lisa was not at her desk, so she knocked on his door.
He opened it and let her in, shutting the door behind her. His eyes were bloodshot, and his hair was rumpled and standing at odd angles. He pointed to his monitor, seemingly too exhausted to speak. A slideshow of a small girl played in a loop.
Jen dropped her crutches and sank into a chair in front of the desk. She stared at the rolling pictures. “They have her?”
“It came in the mail today.”
“Oh God, is it Abby?” A chill seized her chest, and she clapped her hand over her mouth.
“I don’t know.”
“What do they want? Is there a ransom note?”
Dave slumped in the chair next to her. “No, they said to follow the instructions. But they didn’t give any.”
Jen’s mouth went dry. They wanted the code, that’s why. “Do you think it’s related to the calls you’ve been getting?”
“Maybe. At least she looks well.” He wiped his eyes. “If that’s Abby…”
Jen picked up the envelope. “Are you going to call the police?”
“I can’t. They said they’re watching me and will hurt her if I do.”
Jen looked around. The shades were drawn and the door was closed. “What do we do now?”
“If they really have her, I’d do anything to have her back. I keep thinking. The damn nanny leaves the key in the door. That could be accidental. But why would she turn off the nanny cam?”
“Maybe it was broken?”
Dave stared at Jen. “It worked fine the next day. I watched her mope around the house crying and hugging Abby’s dolls. Silly, sentimental loser.”
Prickles skittered over Jen’s shoulders. He really hated the nanny. But who could blame him?
She had to buy time and get Abby back before he recognized her. Or maybe she should disappear, run away and join a band. Yeah, that would make her a real loser.
“Do you believe they have her?” Jen clicked through the rest of the pictures. “Anyone can download pictures off Facebook and create a slideshow.”
“Would you call their bluff?” He rubbed his stubble. The scratching sound gave her chills.
“No.”
He heaved a sigh. “I wish I could question the nanny. She knew Abby as well as anyone. Maybe she would recognize her.”
She’d help any way she could. If only it were as simple as trading her life for Abby’s. But real life didn’t work that way. Jen reached for his laptop. “Mind if I take a look at the memory stick?”
“Go ahead.” He folded his arms over his desk and put his head down.
Not sure he wanted her comfort, Jen tucked the memory stick and envelope under her arm, picked up her crutches, and shut the door behind her.
* * *
Jen sat in the cubicle, reading the note.
We’re watching your every move.
So that’s how they knew she was at Dave’s house Saturday evening. But who? The only people who knew she was there were her roommate and the people at work.
The engineer who sat across from her knocked on the cubicle frame. “I signed for a package for you.”
She thanked him and tore it open. It contained a prepaid cell and a note.
Remember, no police, or the girl dies. Do exactly as I say.
Crap. Her heartbeat thundered. She was in deep now. They were serious.
She tucked the phone in her jacket pocket and took the elevator to the lab to read the memory stick on the unencrypted LINUX system. Thankfully no one else was around. The slideshow played across the screen. Could this be Abby? She closed her eyes to picture baby Abby, but could not superimpose the baby’s features onto the child. She’d demand better proof—DNA. After copying the files over the network to her online photo album, she removed the memory stick and went back to her cubicle.
Satish brought a boxed dinner. “Missed you, so I thought I’d snag you one.”
She took the box and her laptop from him. “Thanks.”
He flashed his white even teeth and propped himself on the credenza. “Rough weekend? Was it as bad as Nick the SnotOgler wrote in his blog? He interviewed the neighbor who says they carved up your stomach.”
Satish had such a nose for gossip, Jen was surprised he didn’t have Booger status on OgleNet, the internet’s premiere gossip site. Thankfully, Olga the TurdOgler lived in New York City.
“They hurt me, but I’ll be fine.” Jen examined the dinner. Meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and green beans. “Thanks for bringing this.”
“No problem,” he said. “So what were you doing at Jewell’s house in the first place? Do you and him have a thing going?”
JLo sang from her cell. Christy’s number. Jen shook her head and waved Satish away.
“I need a favor,” Christy said. “Can you go to Mami’s storage unit and find my birth certificate?”
Jen sighed. “Oh, honey. I’m kind of stuck until next Monday. We have to camp at work until the Black Friday launch and make sure the code keeps working through Cyber Monday.”
“But Jen, I’m almost seventeen and I don’t even have my permit. When will you have time to teach me how to drive?”
The prepaid cell phone rang the default chiming ringtone. Jen clapped her hand over her jacket pocket. Crap. She had to stop the ringing. “Christy, I have to go. Soon, okay?”
She clicked Christy off and hit the receive button on the prepaid. “Hello?”
A nasal voice said, “I don’t have to warn you again. No broken builds. I want all the mobile phone code, Android, iPhone, Mobile Windows, Blackberry, everything.”
Jen glanced around. Two engineers debated code changes in the next cube. “Give me a minute to go somewhere private.”
She grabbed her crutches and hobbled onto a balcony. “You won’t get anything until I have proof.”
“Didn’t you see the pictures? Go ask your boss.”
“Pictures schmictures. You could have downloaded them from Facebook. I want DNA. Until then, no code.”
“No, you give me the code first or we hurt the child, or kill her. Your choice.”
A hollow pit opened in her stomach. Jen gripped the phone and wiped her other palm on her jeans. “Hurt or kill the child and you get nothing.”
“Except I’ll take you down, bitch.”
Jen swallowed and straightened her shoulders. “Bring the child back to her father,” she said. “You may keep me prisoner, but I won’t give you the code until she’s restored to him.”
The voice laughed. “Be careful what you wish for.”
The call ended. Had that been a man or a woman?
Chapter 17
Dave prowled the darkened office building. Five in the morning and he couldn’t sleep. He had dialed his answering machine to check for messages. None. His email was full of the usual ‘Sherry M’ diatribes. Nothing from the purported kidnappers. He stepped around occupied camp cots and sleeping bags. The men had camped in
Big Chill
. Lisa and some of the ladies were in
Moonstruck
. But where would Jen be?
He approached the
Nightmare on Elm Street
conference room. It was a smaller one tucked near the lab with spidery elm tree branches outside the window. His father really had a sense of humor, naming all the rooms after movies of the eighties.
He peeked in. A pair of crutches leaned against the whiteboard. Jen lay curled in a sleeping bag, her hair flung across her face and onto the carpet. He sat on the floor next to her, wanting so much to touch her. He hadn’t exactly clarified his relationship with her. Jocelyn wanted him to be happy, but could he?
Jen opened her eyes and blinked. Dave froze, hoping she hadn’t seen him. She rolled over and shut her eyes again. He’d been so lonely, first in the mental facility, then working nights and weekend developing the code, starting the company—all to forget the emptiness and focus on getting Abby back. No pictures to remind him of her lost babyhood. Abby would be seven by the time Shopahol made enough money for him to hire the mercenaries.
“Dave?” Jen’s voice brought him out of his reverie. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes… no. I’m really worried. What if they do have Abby?”
She reached for his hand. “Ask them for DNA. What do you think they want?”
He clasped her hand with both of his. “It has to be money. Why wait until we’re on the verge of signing some big deals. Would the kidnappers really hurt her?”
Jen sat and drew her robe tighter across her chest with her left hand. “What would you trade for Abby?”
“Anything. I’d give my house, my company, my life.”
Her eyebrows tented with sympathy. “So would I.”
Did he hear her right? She jerked her hand away and sat on it. He was tired, probably hallucinating. “Look, Jen. I’m sorry to disturb you. Is the build okay?”
“It’s stable,” she said. “The database locking is resolved. We’ve been simulating one hundred thousand transactions a second with no problem. Praveena will put in a fix for the thread count issue. We’ve suspended all testing of auto-update since it requires manual reimaging of the test beds.”
Okay… She fired off a lot of information, her voice almost robotic. He should leave. “Sorry I woke you. Want to go back to my place for breakfast?”
“There’s gossip already, and I should stay away from you.”
“I’m sorry. Will you forget everything that happened? I didn’t mean to take advantage of you.”
“You didn’t. I’m fine, really.” Her voice was cool and too smooth, and she wouldn’t meet his eye.
His heart sank and a lump caught his throat. With everything going on, it was wiser to leave her alone. He was so damaged he’d only drag her into his depression. The kidnapping wasn’t her problem.
He stood, his stiff muscles complaining. “Let me know if you need anything. You have my number.”
“I’m good. Bye.” She sounded distant, like her throat had tightened.
* * *
“That’s good to know.” Dave hung up the phone call with his banker. Melissa’s money had been deposited. He could pay his workers and reward them with bonuses if they pulled off the Black Friday build. He leaned back and yawned, glancing at Jocelyn’s picture.
The ever present ache clenched his chest. He picked up the photo and kissed it, touching the image of her rosebud lips. Somehow it didn’t comfort him like it used to.
His cell buzzed. It was Melissa.
“Dave, did you get the money? Any chance I can camp at your office to see how my investment is paying off?” Her chirpy voice stretched his nerves like an over-tightened guitar string.
“It’s not a party.”
“Heather and Amy want to come too. We can make positive energy circles around your build servers and test beds.”
“How do you know all our problems?”
She giggled. “It’s all over Facebook. I’m friends with Bob, remember?”
“Oh, him,” Dave muttered. Figures she’d know Bob, the test manager with the bulging biceps.
“I already told you it’s not a party.” His voice came out gruffer than he intended, especially to a major investor.
“Grouchy, grouchy. I know
you’re
not busy. Claire’s on that extended Mediterranean cruise, the one that detoured permanently to Iceland.” She snorted over the line. “And besides, you owe me.”
Dave scratched his stubble. “I’m not having much fun right now.”
“Which is exactly why you need me. How about I meet you at your place in thirty? I’ll bring the bubbly.”
“Umm…. I don’t know… What’s there to celebrate?”
“Your success, of course. Don’t tell me you have another woman tucked in your bed. See ya.”
He clicked the line, wishing he had one of those old rotaries where he could give it a hefty slam.
His phone buzzed again. His lawyer, Phil Marshall.
“Are you sitting down?” Phil said without preamble.
“Yeah.”
“Greta Debeers’ lawyer called. She’s suing you for sexual harassment.”
Steam rose from Dave’s rumpled collar. “I fired her yesterday… but I never touched her!”
“She’s suing on behalf of Jennifer Jones, third-party harassment.”
“What?” Dave clenched his fist. “Is Jennifer behind this?”
“I’ll have my assistant contact her.”
“Wait until I talk to her. Besides, I want no distractions until after Black Friday.” So that explained Jen’s coldness this morning.
“Okay. I’ll tell Ms. Debeers’ lawyer we are conducting an internal investigation. Thirty days is fair.”
The call ended, followed by a text message. Same mystery number.
The bitch used your car.
What the hell? Dave slammed his cell and crunched it with his boot heel. How had he let himself be drawn into this? If it hadn’t been for those big doe-like eyes, the trembling, kissable lips, the blood on his car. Jen had used his car and framed him, and she had promised not to sue. Now she was waiting to steal the next good build. He clenched his fist. She wasn’t going to get away with it this time.
* * *
Jen yawned and downed another cup of cold cappuccino and scrolled through her messages. She checked the prepaid cell phone. No missed calls. She had to be prepared to turn over the code, but they still didn’t have a good build. It was already mid-afternoon, and she’d been respinning builds all morning.
Once they had a build, she’d be ready as long as the criminals gave her proof. One thing for sure, she wouldn’t hand it over until Abby was safe.
What to do, what to do?