The Trigger (7 page)

He got back to work, scanning Bentley & Eastman’s website. This would be a major coup. If only he had more time… But Spencer was in a hurry and wanted everything done by Friday. Why was May 10th so important?
Oh crap.
If Friday was May 10th, this was May 8th, his mother’s birthday. Raff jumped up, excused himself, and went outside. He’d better be able to make a call. The service out here was shit.

The call went through and his mother answered right away. “Good morning, Gabriel. How wonderful to hear from you.”

“Happy birthday, Mom.” Only his family called him that. He’d adopted a pseudonym for hacking long ago. “What have you got planned?” He knew what she would say, but he had to ask.

“Just a quiet dinner with Alima.”

His sister, the lawyer, who made their parents proud. “What’s new? How are you doing?”

“I don’t see you enough, but my health is fine, and the business is finally starting to pick up.”

“It’s all good.” His parents owned a bakery in New York, where he’d grown up. They’d immigrated to the city as young, Middle Eastern refugees, a Jewish man and a Palestinian woman who’d run from the violence and condemnation. His grandmother was still in Gaza. “How’s Noni?”

“Her eyes are very bad now, but she’s found a family to live with.”

“Good. I didn’t like that she was alone.” Raff had only met her once, and he’d hated everything about his trip to Israel—except his grandmother. Her life was poor and tragic, but she’d kept her sense of humor.

“Still, I’m worried about the trouble with Syria,” his mother said. “It could become a regional war.”

In the Middle East, that was always the case. Raff didn’t respond.

“How are you, Gabe? Are you tired of the desert? And the stripper girls? We want you to come home.”

This was how it always ended
. “Not yet, Mom. I like Vegas. But when I move again, I’m heading to Hollywood.”

“What about a girlfriend? Have you met anyone?”

“I know lots of girls. I just haven’t settled down yet. I’m still young.”

“But we’re not and we want grandchildren.”

They must have given up on his sister. “Some day. I’ve got to get back to work now. Happy Birthday.”

“You have a job?”

He was already hanging up. Raff stared at the phone, visualizing his mother’s face, her mixed emotions. He wished he hadn’t mentioned work, but if it gave her a little peace of mind, what the hell. She had no idea he was a hacker. She thought he made money online buying and selling things. Close enough. He went back inside to see if he could Trojan-horse his way into a firm that controlled billions of dollars—and cause a little chaos while he was in there.

Wednesday, May 8, 7:15 a.m.

Dallas drank a cup of coffee and thought about swimming laps in the motel pool, then decided it wasn’t warm enough. Maybe by midafternoon. She changed into workout clothes and headed for the small gym at the end of the building, relieved to find an elliptical machine. The glider faced out the window, and the view of the snow-covered Mount Shasta was stunning. She wondered for the hundredth time why she didn’t leave Phoenix. Would she still be compelled to do undercover work if she lived somewhere aesthetically pleasing?

After a shower, she slipped into a black skirt and low-cut, sky-blue blouse for her lunch with Spencer, then applied more makeup than her usual foundation and mascara. Time to try the pheromones she’d purchased for this assignment. Strictly her own idea, but the bureau rewarded creativity and success. Dallas applied the liquid to her wrists and neck, curious to see if the potion would work and if she would notice the difference. The goal was to win Spencer Clayton’s affection as quickly as possible. She hoped the pheromones didn’t backfire and attract the wrong person.

With time to kill, she opened her laptop and checked her various email accounts. In her work folder, McCullen had sent her a message saying Emma’s gas tank was empty, reinforcing her theory that the Claytons had engineered the abduction. Their motivation was still a mystery though. In her personal file, Dallas found a sad little note from Trevor, which she ignored. In Sonja’s email, there was a message from Spencer:
Thanks for applying to join us at Destiny. You can meet the other members for an informal interview this evening at our monthly gathering.

Yes!
She wondered if he had run background checks on her. The undercover unit at Quantico could create a whole life of details in a matter of hours, so she was good either way, but she’d expected more paranoia from a prepper. Their website clearly stated that only those with some college education were welcome, so that limited the applicants to the small group of people who were smart but a little crazy. Dallas responded to his email, then read more of Spencer’s blogs, hoping to get to know him better. Thanks to FBI analysts, she already knew where he’d attended college, what music he liked, and every job he’d had since high school. All of it could be used to establish a connection.

Her Skype icon pinged, startling her. Then she remembered her bi-monthly therapy session with Doctor Harper.
Oh crap.
She really wasn’t in the mood, but she clicked the answer button anyway.

The therapist’s wrinkled face quickly came into view. Doctor Harper was almost seventy, which had made Dallas uncomfortable at first, but she’d come to trust and respect the shrink. Still, their progress was slow, and Dallas’ patience was growing thin.

“Hey.” She never quite knew what to call her.

“Good morning.” Doctor Harper wasn’t smiling. “I see that you’re not at home. Where are you?”

“Redding, California. It’s a new assignment.”

“I thought you were going to take longer breaks between out-of-town work.”

Dallas didn’t remember the conversation quite that way. “This case is critical. A woman is missing, and I’m the only agent who can get into the community quickly.”

“Why is that?”

“I look like the wife of the man who kidnapped her.”

Her therapist scowled. “You’re supposed to charm a kidnapper? Maybe seduce him?”

“You know the bureau forbids hooking up with the target.”

“And I know you do it anyway.” Doctor Harper paused for a long moment, then glanced at her notes. “How is your relationship with Trevor progressing?”

Dallas felt like a kid who’d failed an assignment. “I broke up with him before I left.” She grinned. “But the sex was still good.”

“You’d only been dating a few weeks.”

“Five or six.”

“That relationship was shorter than most. Why?”

Dallas squirmed. Why did she put herself through this? “Because I was leaving, and I might be gone for months. It wasn’t fair to make him wait, especially since…” She trailed off. There were so many reasons.

“Since what? I want to hear this.”

Dallas used her fingers to count them off. “One, I was going to end it eventually anyway. Two, I need to feel free to be intimate with my target and not have any guilt. Three, I’m too young to get serious.”

“But you came to me because you wanted to develop a long-term relationship and not have the sex go stale. Because you were tired of hookups with strangers.” Doctor Harper softened her tone. “Those are your words.”

“That was before I developed a specialty for undercover work. I like it too much now to let a relationship get in the way.” Even though that was true, there was more to the story. She’d actually started counseling long ago. Her Aunt Lynn had taken her to a shrink when she was twelve, after her parents had become homeless meth addicts for a while. Dallas had sometimes fantasized about her parents dying in a car crash so she could go live permanently in the big house with her sweet, sane aunt. The psychologist had told her that was normal, and Dallas had decided that therapy could be a good thing.

Dr. Harper gave her a look. “Maybe you like the undercover work because it supports your pattern of enjoying sex with strangers and moving on.”

Dallas knew it was partly true. “It’s also exciting and meaningful work—and I’m good at it.” She shrugged. “I’m happy.”

“Except when you’re not.”

“Those episodes are rare now.”

The therapist raised an eyebrow. “Because you’re doing more and more undercover work that lets you become someone else?”

Dallas laughed. “Probably.”

“I want to talk about your abandonment issue. Do you still carry your security cloth?”

“Yes, but it’s only about three inches now.” Dr. Harper was the only person who knew that she’d kept a security blanket from her early childhood and liked to sniff it when she was stressed or lonely. It had a musty blend of her mother’s shampoo, her own baby sweat, and a sweet kitty named Pickle—and the smell took her back to a time when she felt secure. Over the years, her shrink had encouraged her to cut the dirty blanket in half and throw away a chunk at a time. Dallas was pleased with her progress, but she still liked to keep a tiny piece in her pocket, like a good-luck charm. “I don’t have time to talk about this today. I have a lunch date with my target.”

“Are you going to sleep with him?”

“I doubt it.” But she might hook up with Agent McCullen if the opportunity came up again. “I’ll call you when I get back to Phoenix.”

“I want to see you again in two weeks.”

“That’s not gonna happen. I’m joining an isolated community that may not have internet access.”

“That sounds dangerous.” Doctor Harper looked worried.

“I’ll be fine.” Dallas reached for her mouse. “See you again soon.” She clicked off Skype and shut down her computer.
Abandonment issue.
She hated that phrase. It made her sound weak and whiney. Her parents had never really walked away from her—but they’d never really been there either. She would have been better off if they had dumped her and let Aunt Lynn have custody. Dallas put all the bullshit out of her head. She had to get into Sonja mode and go meet Spencer Clayton.

Dallas googled the restaurant, checked the map for directions to get a visual layout, and took off in the white Audi. The Redding Bureau had taken care of the motel and the vehicle, and McCullen had probably handled both. She liked his taste. With only three agents, the Redding office was even smaller than the Eugene bureau where she’d conducted her last assignment. She wouldn’t likely see the building or meet the other members of her team until she’d found Emma and/or made arrests.

The drive took only fifteen minutes, but she noted that Redding was clean and attractive, with an eclectic mix of historic buildings, modern malls with all the familiar retailers, and lots of stucco and red-tile roofs. The palm trees surprised her, as did the town’s size. Redding was bigger and more bustling than she’d imagined. Under a bright blue sky, distant mountains surrounded the town, giving it a sense of place.

Still operating on Phoenix driving time, she arrived twenty minutes early, so Dallas sat in the car and read through her Sonja background again. She liked her character and her desire to reject her financially comfortable world and seek a more meaningful future. Especially after the death of her fiancé, who’d killed himself after he began to show signs of Huntington’s disease.

Knowing it all by heart now, Dallas closed the password-protected file and shut off her tablet. She had studied the slim profile again on the plane and was as ready as she could be. Now she just needed to be charming and sincere and eventually express an interest in having children, despite the uncertain future. The thought made her chuckle. Would she be able to say it with a straight face? Of course she would. Aunt Lynn had paid for acting classes when Dallas was in high school—after piano lessons, tennis instruction, ballet, and she’d noticed anyway.

The parking lot started to fill up, so Dallas went inside, where she asked for a private booth and told the hostess she was expecting someone to join her. “His name is Spencer.”

“Spencer Clayton? From Destiny?”

“Yes. Do you know him?”

“Of course. He comes in here all the time.” The hostess gave her a long appraising once-over. “How do you know him?”

“We met online.” Dallas smiled warmly. “The internet is an amazing social tool for bringing likeminded people together.” Spoken like a true social media consultant.

“You’re joining his community?” The hostess’ middle-aged face registered concern.

“I’m thinking about it.”
Time to start digging.
“What do you think of Destiny? Should I be worried about anything?”

The hostess glanced around to see if anyone was within earshot, then leaned forward. “A month ago, I would have said ‘Suit yourself. It’s harmless.’ But one of the main members disappeared last week, so we’re all a little more skeptical now.”

Dallas feigned surprise. “What do you mean
disappeared
?”

“Spencer’s sister-in-law left Destiny to visit her mother and never arrived.” The hostess’ voice was a whisper. “They finally found Emma’s car yesterday about ten miles from the community, but she and her baby were gone.”

“That’s weird. Do you suspect her husband of something?” Dallas kept her voice low too, hoping to keep her talking.

“I don’t know.” The hostess led her to a corner booth and spoke in a regular tone. “The older brother is nice and her husband seems okay.”

“What about the other members?” Dallas wondered how the town folks viewed the community.

“The Destiny members are just regular folks. No wackos or crackpots. Just people who want to be ready for the worst.” They both heard the front door open, and the hostess spun toward it. “I have to get back to work. Welcome to Redding.” She hustled to her podium and seated two women in casual business clothes.

Dallas was relieved to hear the preppers weren’t viewed as crackpots. Still, they possessed a significant stash of weapons, and she would have to keep that in mind at all times. Anyone she encountered out there could be armed. Her backup weapon was in a hidden compartment in the bottom of her purse. The shoulder bag was a new department-issue item, but the zipper on her last one had stuck when she needed her gun, so she felt less secure than she should have. Her Glock was at home in Phoenix, because they hadn’t had time to create the paperwork she needed to take it on the plane. That was the only part of undercover work she didn’t like—not having her primary weapon at her fingertips.