Chapter 2

TWO

THREE YEARS LATER

MONDAY, 8:15 A.M.

"Nobody move. This is a good ole-fashioned bank robbery."

Juliette Montgomery froze in line for the bank teller. Four masked men had burst through the front doors of First United Bank of Savannah, guns blazing.

Screams echoed through the lobby, and her hand went instinctively to where her gun usually rested, but she'd left her sidearm at home. It was just one quick trip to the bank before breakfast.

And now men dressed like ninjas held innocent people hostage.

Noelle Burton, Juliette's colleague and friend, rolled her eyes. "I never should have agreed to breakfast with you," Noelle said through gritted teeth. "Danger always seems to follow you. Just one errand?"

"Everyone quiet and on the floor. Now."

Juliette complied, moving at a snail's pace so she could survey the lobby. Nine patrons. Three bank employees. Four gunmen. One security guard that a gunman had dragged to the back of the bank.

And two professional bodyguards with the Elite Guardians Agency.

Juliette shimmied six inches to the left so she could hide behind the table with the deposit slips. Noelle dropped and crept to the right. Juliette shot off a text to Matthew Williams, friend and officer with the Savannah Police Department. Then she hit the Record button.

A shot, followed by more screams, bounced off the tile floor and reverberated through the lobby that looked more like an exhibit hall at the Louvre than a bank in downtown Savannah. The paintings on the wall were probably worth more than the historic house that her grandmother had left her. She lived in the basement apartment and had leased the top two floors to the Elite Guardians.

"Toss your cell phones to the center of the lobby."

Drat.

She left the video recorder on and slid her phone toward the pile of others while one twitchy bad guy went from person to person to ensure compliance. Juliette committed to memory the man's cold gray eyes and height. Five foot ten-ish. Lanky.

One of the robbers, the shortest of the men, took a can of spray paint to the fancy artwork. Blood-red paint dripped down the side of one of the paintings as the man etched one word.

Rushmore.

The spray painter joined the other masked man in the back room, presumably to force a bank employee to open the safe. That left Twitchy and one other beefy guy, who looked like he lived in a gym, to guard the lobby. If she was going to make a move, it needed to be now.

Two against one? She'd faced bigger odds than that.

Juliette wasn't a wait-and-see-what-happens kind of woman. She acted first, then thought about the ramifications later. No way would she let innocent people be hurt on her watch. She was a bodyguard, and she mentally took on twelve new clients.

She glanced at Noelle, sending her a silent message of her intent to intervene.

Noelle squinted and shook her head. She mouthed, Are you crazy?

Juliette shrugged. No way would she cower on the ground while these men took what they wanted and threatened innocent civilians. Now, what could she use as a weapon? Juliette searched the room and spotted an award proudly displayed on the corner of a desk a few feet behind her. The crystal trophy had "best customer service" engraved across the front, but what caught Juliette's eye was the sharp point at the top of the keepsake. Heavy and sharp—just what she needed for the perfect improvised weapon. She inched her way to the desk and waited until the bulkier of the two men headed toward the back of the bank.

"Do you really think you'll get away with this?" Juliette stood, faced the bad guy. The man swung his gun in her direction.

"Down. Now."

Noelle stood. "Listen, just let the people go. You don't want to hurt anyone." The second the gunman took his eyes off Juliette, she grabbed the award and rushed the man. He was a hair too slow, and Juliette clocked him in the head with the corner of the crystal before he had a chance to get a shot off. Noelle kicked the gun from his hand.

A few bank customers cheered from their positions on the floor. But this wasn't over. One down, three to go.

Sirens wailed in the distance. Juliette went to grab Twitchy's gun. The man clutched the gun but held his sleeve over his forehead to staunch the blood from where the award had clipped him. But a voice stopped her in her tracks.

"They called the cops?" The three men rushed from the back of the bank, guns blazing. Juliette and Noelle held their hands up.

"Back on the ground," one of the men growled, pointing a gun in Noelle's face. Juliette and Noelle hit the floor and lay on their stomachs, hands over their heads.

The man Juliette assumed to be the ringleader of the group jumped up on a desk. She noted his blue eyes and pale skin peeking through the eyeholes of his mask.

"Listen up!" The man angled himself right in front of a security camera. He sent a shot into the ornate chandelier in the middle of the room, sending shards of crystal scattering. Shrieks tore through the room, and patrons covered themselves the best they could.

"We are Rushmore." The man's deep gravelly voice commanded the room amidst a few muffled sobs. "The CEO who runs this bank is Edward McMillan. He stole money from the people, and we're here to claim what belongs to the hard-working citizens. The courts might not have convicted him, but we will."

It would have been hard to have missed the news of Edward McMillan's acquittal for fraud and other unethical practices. The story had been blasted by all the twenty-four-hour news outlets for days. But that didn't demand this demonstration of vigilante justice.

The bank robber in charge stuck his hand in a backpack, pulled out a wad of cash, and threw it in the air. Hundred-dollar bills scattered everywhere. From her position on the floor, Juliette watched the four men waltz out the front door, strolling like they were on vacation and not fleeing a bank robbery. Money rained down around them like confetti.

Juliette and Noelle were on their feet the second the door banged shut behind the thieves. "What was that?" Noelle looked at Juliette.

Juliette turned to peer through the front window. People began congregating in front of the bank, scooping up the money.

"I have no idea who Rushmore is." Juliette nodded to the back room. "Hopefully the police get here soon, but I'm going to check to make sure no one is injured."

Patrons began to stand and brush glass off themselves. Juliette walked to the vault room and saw the security guard on the floor. He was conscious, and she helped him to an office chair.

"Are you hurt? Do you know what's happening?" Juliette tempered her desire to pepper him with more questions. But she wanted to make sure the man didn't have any injuries that required immediate medical attention.

"I'm Daniel Archer, security guard on the nighttime watch. It all happened so fast. They forced me to open the safe. One man hit me on the head, and the next thing I know, I saw you." He touched the golf-ball-sized lump forming on his head. Tall, mid-thirties, with an athletic build, the man should have been able to put up a vicious fight before going down, but it hadn't looked like any of the gunmen had been injured.

"Do you know what they wanted?" Noelle asked.

"Looks like they wanted the cash," Daniel said. "It's the second branch they've hit this week."

Noelle squinted her eyes, mirroring Juliette's own thoughts. Bank robberies were hard to pull off with all the security measures banks had in place. These men had waltzed through the front door and grabbed a bunch of cash only to throw it away.

And who was Rushmore?

"Police!" More voices filtered in from the lobby, followed by an army of heavy footsteps.

"In the back," Juliette called out.

Detective Matthew Williams with the Savannah Police Department burst through the door with his gun drawn. He scrutinized Juliette, Noelle, and the injured security guard, and put his gun away. "Is everyone okay?"

"This is Daniel," Juliette said. "Looks like the bad guys conked him on the head."

Matthew shook his head at Juliette. "Of course, if there's danger, I'll find you in the center of it. I got your text. Thanks for the heads-up. No one hit the silent alarm."

Paramedics rushed in to attend to Daniel, who appeared to be dizzy but otherwise faring well. Matt, Juliette, and Noelle headed to the lobby. Police and paramedics poured into the building, talking with witnesses and treating wounds. A few people had some cuts from the shattered chandelier, but injuries were minimal.

Ladecia Slaton, Matt's partner, joined them. Juliette was on a first-name basis with both of them, as her bodyguard duties sometimes collided with their cases.

Decia took notes while Juliette recalled her descriptions of the four men. "We took down one robber, but he escaped in the end. He has a nice-sized gash across his forehead and cheek."

"So, you let them get away?" Matt crossed his arms, squinting at Juliette. "Your skills getting a bit rusty there, Montgomery?"

Matt tried to hide a smirk. The man towered over Juliette by about ten inches, which gave him an intimidation factor that was only enhanced by the police uniform. But they'd been friends long enough for him to have had a front-row seat to Juliette's sarcasm. And he dished it right back to her. Matt was thirty—a year younger than Juliette. Too bad he only had eyes for the black-haired gothic beauty, Raven, the Elite Guardians' administrative assistant. Even though he'd never admit it.

She shrugged. "It's not every day you break up a bank robbery while running errands. How many robberies have you foiled today?"

Matt shook his head. "You never should have faced off with an armed man. Let alone the other three in the back. One of these days, you're going to get hurt."

"I agree," Noelle interjected. "You took a risk today, and it paid off, but you could have put us all in jeopardy if those guys had started shooting. We work as a team, remember?"

How could Juliette forget? Noelle reminded her constantly that the Elite Guardians thrived on teamwork. Juliette had endured the "we're bodyguards not soldiers" lecture a time or two. Juliette smiled at Noelle and changed the subject.

"Who is Rushmore?" she asked.

"Rushmore is a thorn in my side these days," Matt said. "It's a hacker group that believes in vigilante justice. They target financial institutions and corporations. This is the second bank heist in three days, both First United Bank branches. Let's hope we catch a break soon."

"Was it the same situation, where the gunmen dumped all of the cash in the streets?" Noelle asked. "Because they have motives other than money."

Decia ran a hand through her shoulder-length brown hair and snapped her notebook shut. At five-foot-eight and in a police uniform, the woman commanded attention when she spoke. "Rushmore have organized themselves online and targeted different cities. They seem to focus on CEOs and wealthy individuals within corporate America. They've got some sort of Robin Hood complex going on, targeting the one percent they perceive to control the money. But no one has seen them commit a physical crime. It's always been cyberterrorism."

"And thanks to these two"—Matt nodded at Juliette and Noelle—"we now have better descriptions of some of the members."

Decia tapped her pen against the cover of her old-school notebook. "Juliette might have made an enemy of a very dangerous group. You'd better watch your backs."

Juliette observed quietly as the police took over the scene, roping off the lobby with police tape while officers corralled witnesses to interview.

Noelle kept a scowl permanently fixed to her face. Juliette sighed. "If I hadn't intervened, they might have taken hostages."

Hands on hips, Noelle stared Juliette down. "You don't know that. Look, your soldier-warrior mode has to take a back seat. Those guys weren't looking for a fight, and you tried to start one. I'll always have your back, because that's what friends and colleagues do. But you work with a team now, as a bodyguard. You can't keep taking unnecessary risks."

Juliette walked away so Noelle wouldn't see how her words brought up an onslaught of memories.

Civilians would never understand, unable to fathom the depths of duty and loyalty that propelled Juliette into action. Noelle might be a former detective, but had she watched her friends die in battles? Juliette refused to play it safe. If anything, she needed to fight harder to protect the innocent.

Even if it put her in the crosshairs of cyberterrorists. Or her coworkers.

* * *

MONDAY, 9:00 A.M.

Caleb Styles reached out his hand to smash the snooze button on the buzzing alarm clock. Only he couldn't connect with it.

Another vibration sent a rumble through him. Not the alarm clock, but his phone. He lifted his head off the dining room table. When had he fallen asleep?

He grabbed the cell phone and swiped to answer it.

"Hello, Mr. Styles? This is Principal Rodgers from Ivy Covington's school calling."

Ivy.

He cleared the sleep from his throat. "What trouble has my niece gotten into this time?" The twelve-year-old couldn't seem to go a day without some sort of incident. He wasn't cut out for parenting a normal preteen, let alone Ivy with her off-the-charts IQ. It had been almost three years since Tessa had died, and he and Ivy still acted like outsiders in Savannah.

"You'll need to come pick her up. A teacher caught her hacking into the school computer to change another child's grade."

He almost asked if she was positive it was Ivy, but this had his niece's signature written all over it. The girl loved to push the boundaries of her intellect.

"Ivy's behavior is escalating," Principal Rodgers said. "These calls are becoming a weekly habit. Last week it was skipping calculus, but hacking is a serious offense. I could expel her for this."

If Ivy got kicked out of the private school that was costing Caleb a small fortune—he didn't have a backup plan for this. He put his elbows on the table and rubbed his eyes. If only he had a second to shave first, but time wasn't on his side today. "I'm on my way." He disconnected the phone and surveyed the mess he'd made on the dining room table. This was what he got for bringing work home.

Computers, papers, and half-drunk cups of coffee littered his table, creating a physical manifestation of his out-of-control stress levels. He thrived on neatness and order, and the mess made his skin crawl.

He tucked his Bluetooth earbuds in and called Blake Abernathy, his long-time friend and co-owner of Cyberskies Security. Blake picked up before the first ring finished. "Are you on your way to the office?"

Caleb searched the table for his keys and found them under a stack of unopened mail, reminding him how much he'd neglected basic life chores the past few weeks.

"Blake, I've been working around the clock since the bank robbery on Friday. I took home all the laptops scheduled to be sent to the bank to make sure they have the latest security updates. But I've got a situation at Ivy's school I need to attend to first."

Caleb could hear him typing in the background. "You always have an Ivy situation. But we've got a predicament of our own. Turn on the news. First United Bank was robbed. About an hour ago."

"What? Was anyone hurt?" Caleb's head pulsed, but there was no time to grab an aspirin. A second bank robbery? He dashed out the front door of his apartment. "Tell me more."

"It was the same scenario as Friday's robbery. Gunmen walk into the bank, spray-paint Rushmore on the bank wall, and walk out while throwing wads of cash in the air."

Rushmore. The thorn in his side. Caleb ran a hand through his hair, which was much shaggier than he liked it. He mentally added get a haircut to his running to-do list and hit the stairs, wishing his three-story historic apartment building had an elevator. "Rushmore is a group of hackers. Why are they walking into banks with guns blazing? It doesn't make sense."

"I agree. We received that email threat from them about a cyberattack on the bank, but I didn't expect them to walk into the bank and rob it. I'm taking their threat seriously and have called the FBI. We can't let the hackers win, Caleb. Everything we've worked for will go up in smoke if Rushmore decides to attack the bank systems."

"All it would take is for one bank employee to open an email with malware. Our business would go up in smoke. No one wants to hire a cybersecurity firm that let hackers freeze personal bank accounts and steal money." He'd lose every cent he'd invested in Cyberskies. His livelihood, everything he had, would be worthless with one cyberattack.

Caleb held the glass front door open for his neighbor, Abigail Prewett, who struggled with groceries in her hands. The older lady tried to talk to him, but he pointed to his earpiece that he was on a call and she waved him on.

He stepped out of the building and took a deep breath. October in Savannah gave the town a reprieve from the humidity. If he didn't have multiple crises on his hands, he might consider ditching work.

A sigh filled the other end of the phone and brought him back to reality. "Sorry, Caleb. I didn't mean to dump this on you. You're just as stressed as I am, plus you have Ivy's behavior issues to deal with. What are you going to do about her acting out at school?"

He found his Honda CR-V parked in the lot outside the building. His thoughts shifted between the hacker threat and Ivy. Rushmore could cost him his entire company if the bank's security systems failed.

But what was he going to do about Ivy?

He connected the Bluetooth to the car speakers and stashed his earbuds in the center console. "You know I always have a plan before I act. But with Ivy, I'm at a loss. She's brilliant but misguided. After losing Tess and her husband in that car accident, she's all the family I have left, but I'm not qualified to be her parent. I'm an analyst, and the things she does aren't logical."

"Maybe you'll have to find new ways to challenge her."

"I've tried. I've always created ciphers and puzzles for her to work on. I've taught her a lot, but she's got it in her head that she's ready to be a white hacker and help save the world. She's trying to grow up way too fast."

"You're the perfect parent for her, Caleb. She's got that same eidetic memory as you. You understand her in ways most can't." True, he saw the world around him in a series of mathematical equations, something he had in common with Ivy. And he knew both the blessings and curses of their eidetic memories. Caleb remembered everything with perfect recall, even the things he'd like to forget.

But while Ivy's genius level impressed everyone, it came with disadvantages. "She's twelve going on thirty. Maybe I shouldn't have let her skip those grades and start high school. She's not ready. I just want her to have a normal childhood." At thirty-three and single, he'd assumed the fatherhood ship had sailed. And now this.

"You've got this. I know you two will find a rhythm. This parent gig is still new for you both."

"Thanks, Blake. Between the hacker threat and a headstrong preteen, I've hit my max for problems."

"Not to mention you have zero social life since moving to Savannah last year. When's the last time you went on a date or even just had a night out without Ivy?"

Caleb shook his head, even though his friend couldn't see the gesture. The image of one woman popped into his mind, and he shoved it out as fast as it came. Juliette Montgomery was in his past. She'd walked out on him without so much as a forwarding address.

"I probably should take your advice. But right now, I'm pulling into the school. Wish me luck."

"Praying for you, man. Let me know if you need anything."

Caleb disconnected the call and trudged into the school office. The brick exterior and lush landscape made the private school seem like a resort rather than an institution.

The receptionist ushered him into Principal Rodgers' office. He sat in front of the principal's desk with an awkward feeling, like he was the one in trouble. He tapped his foot as he counted ceiling tiles in the office. Sixty-two.

He silenced the buzz in his pocket. A sneak glance at his phone showed the headline of a news article Blake had sent about the bank robbery.

One problem at a time. He'd have to think about work issues later.

Principal Rodgers entered the room and sat at her desk. "This is the third incident in four weeks," she said, looking down at him through her long eyelashes. The gob of mascara in the corner of her eye made it difficult for Caleb to concentrate on her words. "We know Ivy is highly accelerated in math and computer science, but she needs to be reeled in. The school has every right to report this incident to the police. Maybe it's time to consider getting help."

Translation: Are you sure you can handle being a parent, Caleb?

Why couldn't people just say what they meant? "Sorry, ma'am. I know she's getting out of hand. But if you can give us just one more chance before suspending her, I'll make sure this doesn't happen again." If Ivy got suspended, he couldn't go to work. Assuming he still had a job if the situation didn't improve with the hacker threats.

The principal stared him down, and he forced himself to not slouch in his chair under her scrutiny. Why did this woman have the intimidation factor of a rabid wolverine? After being in the military for eight years, he should be ready to face anything. But he'd left those days behind to take care of Ivy.

The principal sat back in her chair, which squeaked from her ample girth. Her eyes softened. "I know your situation is difficult. Ivy losing her parents has forced her to deal with grown-up things. But I can't have her circumventing the rules and disrupting other students."

"I agree. I just ask you to please give her one more chance. There isn't another school in the area as prestigious as this one that can challenge her."

The woman's face lit up with the compliment of her school, and Caleb prayed it would buy him some time.

"I know Ivy's been in counseling. Maybe you can increase the number of visits."

Caleb nodded. "I've already texted her counselor after the last school incident for Ivy to have more sessions."

The principal stared at Caleb, her unruly salt-and-pepper curls bouncing as she sized him up. "I think you might be the one that needs help. You're doing this all on your own."

First Blake, now the principal chimed in on the relationship desert in his life. He had Ivy, but forming new friendships, even dating, wasn't on his list of priorities. In his mind, that just made things more complicated.

And the one thing he didn't have room for in his life was more chaos.

Caleb forced a smile. "My neighbor, Abigail, has been helping me watch Ivy in the afternoons. So I have some help."

She sighed. "I know it's been a difficult transition for both you and Ivy, but she can't continue down this path. Take her home today and I'll allow her to return tomorrow with one last chance to prove herself. But she'll need to stay in line."

"Thank you, Principal Rodgers."

He left the school office and found Ivy sitting in the hallway on a bench. "Let's go, kid." Ivy grabbed her bag, and they walked to the car. He didn't have the energy or the words to argue with her now. Hacking the school computer? Even when he was a kid he hadn't been bold enough to attempt that. In the future, her computer skills would either lead her to a high-paying job or a prison cell. At this point, it was a toss-up.

Once they got in the car, he let out a breath. "How much did the kid give you?" He held out his hand, and she passed him a twenty-dollar bill.

"Why would you risk getting in trouble, Ivy? I'm taking away all your electronics. No going online."

Ivy folded her arms and sulked in her seat. "He didn't think I had the skills to do it."

"So it was a dare? You hacked into a school computer to prove your ability?"

He should be mad, but the shallow part of him beamed with pride that she had pulled the stunt off. "You need to learn when it's okay to show off your talents. Just because you can do something doesn't always mean you should. You are so smart, but you're going to be in so much trouble if you keep this up. The school has the right to suspend you. Or worse, involve the police."

"Well, maybe you should teach me a few things about hacking. Then I can get a job and help stop crimes and stuff."

Her auburn hair shimmered in the sunlight, even with the beanie she'd slung over her head. His heart caught—she looked just like her mother. They'd both lost so much after the car accident took Tessa.

"You should concentrate on passing the ninth grade without getting kicked out of school. No one's hiring a high-school dropout, even a smart one."

Had Caleb made a mistake when Ivy's test scores had allowed her to skip from the sixth grade straight to high school? Mentally, the girl could handle it. But emotionally?

"You should know better than to hack a school computer," Caleb said. "What's going to happen when they kick you out, Ivy? What if the school had called the police instead of me? What you did is a criminal offense." He willed his blood pressure to return to a normal level. No sense getting into an argument with a sullen preteen.

Caleb had tried to challenge Ivy, even before he'd become her legal guardian. She had a gift, and he'd wanted her to sharpen her skills in math and science. They'd sent special coded messages to each other when he was stationed overseas. For birthdays and Christmas, he'd sent her ciphers and challenges. But life with a twelve-year-old plus a demanding job sucked up every ounce of energy he had.

He pulled into the parking lot behind the apartment complex and looked at her. What would he do if she got kicked out of school? Would they even want to stay in Savannah?

He sighed. "Look, I know you've got a gift. How about I help you with some coding projects. But only if you stop…" Stop what? Hacking into school computer systems? Showing off how smart she was? Everything within him wanted to protect her childhood. He took a breath. "Stop trying to grow up so fast. Even though you're in ninth grade, I want you to be a kid. I know you want to take on the world, but right now, I need you to take school seriously. Make friends, have sleepovers."

She cocked her head to the side. "You want me to make friends with high school students?"

Right. Maybe he should have thought that sleepover comment through. "I just want you to have some fun times in addition to burying your face in a screen all the time."

"Can I go out with a boy?"

Good thing he'd parked, or he would have wrecked the car. "I'm not ready for that."

"Relax. I just wanted to see your reaction. But I am in high school now."

She stared at him, and he watched the battle going on in her mind. Like him, she couldn't hide her emotions well and had no filter. "What's going on with you?"

She huffed. "I miss Mom. I want things to go back to the way they were."

Caleb sighed. "I wish the same thing. But we've got to make do with what God's given us. We have each other. And I have a busy week ahead of me with work, which means I need you to stay out of trouble. Besides, you've got to get ready for the robotics competition this weekend."

Her eyes lit up at the mention of the tournament. Her team had made it to the next round of the competition, and her bedroom looked worse than Caleb's dining room table clutter. Electronics were spread from one wall to the other, with cords sticking out from under her bed like a secret science experiment. If only she had traditional kid problems, like having dirty clothes or makeup scattered about instead of spare robot parts littering the floor.

"I'm having trouble debugging the latest version of my bot. Would you help me later?"

"Of course."

Ivy scampered out of the car and raced off to their apartment. But before she could seal herself off in her bedroom, Caleb confiscated all her electronic devices. He double checked under her mattress and her closet in case he'd missed any. Then he changed the Wi-Fi password. Not that it would stop Ivy if she was determined to get online, but it would at least slow her down. The girl had qualified for Mensa at the age of eight because of her advanced math skills.

If only there was an algorithm he could program to give him answers on being a parent.

He handed her a thick book he'd pulled from the bookcase in the living room.

"What's this?" she asked, flipping pages in the manual.

"It's a book on robotics. It will help you with your program. Because no internet for one week."

A look of horror rippled across her face. "How am I supposed to work on the program errors if I can't have internet?"

"And that will be your biggest challenge yet."

Returning to his pile of work rubble that consumed the dining room table, he grabbed an envelope from the stack of mail.

He didn't need to look at the piece of paper to know word for word what it said. But he pulled out the document and stared at it.

We believe it's in the best interests of Ivy for her to be raised by her grandparents.

The words typed on the lawyer's stationery made his skin crawl. The Covingtons had filed a petition to become Ivy's legal guardians. His brother-in-law's family didn't think he was a fit parent.

And maybe they were right, based on today's fiasco. What would happen if Bob and Betty Covington found out that Ivy was about to get kicked out of school for hacking?

* * *

MONDAY, 11:45 P.M.

Every minute that ticked by seemed like an eternity for Ivy.

Grounded again. No electronics. No computer, TV, radio, or anything. She rolled over on her bed after having already taken two naps.

The pink walls started to close in on her like a coffin.

She flung a stuffed unicorn across the room. Silly toys for a high school girl. She'd only hacked into the school system to prove to the kids in her class she could do it. If only she belonged somewhere for once. But the kids in her new school were older, more sophisticated. And that one boy had made fun of her, so she'd needed to show him up.

Hacking into the school system was as easy as riding a bike. And it made her classmates pay attention to her.

She rolled over again and looked at the door to her room. An upperclassman had invited her to game tonight. Her first high school invitation, the equivalent of a sleepover. They'd stay up late and chat while completing a quest. She couldn't even get a message to her new friend that she'd miss out tonight.

So not fair. She launched her pillow to join the unicorn on the floor.

Her analog watch indicated that it was 11:45 p.m. Ugh. Fifteen minutes until the quest. Time to find a way online. The sound of the shower hissed in the background, and Ivy slipped out of the room. The password to the Wi-Fi wouldn't be an issue. He'd created a challenging system to change the password each time, but give her fifteen minutes and she'd get in. Nothing was hard for her to figure out with her eidetic memory.

The box of laptops on the dining room table called to her like candy on Halloween night. She got out of bed and padded across the apartment, calculating the odds of Uncle Caleb noticing that one laptop was missing. If he came back to work tonight, he'd notice it immediately. But if he quit for the evening, she'd have all night to return the stolen computer. She accepted the odds and slid the laptop from the middle of the stack, careful not to topple the rest of them.

She tucked her uncle's phone into her jeans pocket and bolted for her bedroom.

With a sweep of her arm, she cleared the textbooks off her desk to make room for herself to work.

"Well, this is weird." Instead of a normal operating system, this laptop booted up with only one program showing. She double-clicked one icon, and multiple windows popped up.

"What in the world…" Ivy stared at the screen. Numbers and letters scrolled across the windows. Her heartbeat double-timed. She checked the connection, and the laptop wasn't online, but the program held a massive database of information.

"Yes!" She clamped a hand over her mouth to contain her excitement. This had to be a cipher from her uncle. Just like he used to send her when her parents were alive. He'd probably created a code and left it for her to finish.

Forget gaming. This was much more interesting.

Her mind whirred faster than the program spat out numbers and letters across the screen. The information seared itself into her permanent memory banks, whether she wanted it there or not.

This was some kind of program. And not a good program, either. Hmm. Maybe Uncle Caleb wanted her to figure out ways to stop this kind of program, like his company did.

"Finally, a challenge worthy of my skills!"

Numbers and letters imprinted on her brain as she read through lines and lines of code. But the code was missing a piece. If she launched it, it wouldn't work.

It would be just like her uncle to plant this for her to find. But what was she supposed to do with this information? Fill in the missing code?

She poked around the rest of the computer, the game long forgotten.

A different file popped up. A text file.

This contained a coded note, and with a little bit of thought, she uncovered an email address and password.

The sound of the shower stopped. Ivy used her uncle's phone to log in to the free email account with the information she'd discovered.

The email account was empty. No new emails or any signs that it was an active account. She clicked on the only folder that showed signs of activity: the drafts folder.

Several unsent emails popped up. She opened one to find more letters, numbers, and symbols. A burst of energy pulsed in her veins. Had she just discovered a cipher? It was another one of Uncle Caleb's puzzles for her to figure out.

She grabbed the pen and notepad, not that she needed it. What she needed to work out was the key to decode the messages.

Ivy scrolled through the string of numbers and letters in the body of the email. It was an email exchange by a few different people, like they were leaving messages to each other. Her hand ached from writing. While information stuck in her brain like glue, writing helped keep her thoughts organized. And she needed a clue to discover the key to the cipher.

Her scattered notes started to make sense as her mind translated the information to letter and number patterns. Words coalesced into phrases.

The heat is on. He's getting too suspicious.

We need to send a message.

After tonight, we have a new target.

Ivy shivered, and not from the cold air coming from the AC vent. Who were these people? She looked away from the screen, blinking to regain some moisture in her eyes. What were they targeting? After the phrase new target was a string of numbers, letters, and degrees.

She opened the search app on her uncle's phone and typed the information into the search engine. Could it be that easy? The results popped up in a fraction of a second.

Ivy clicked on the link, and a map of Savannah pulled up. Bingo. GPS coordinates.

Wait. Was this the supposed target? What kind of game was her uncle playing with her? Was she supposed to go to this location? She zoomed in, and every muscle in her body tightened.

The map had pulled up her uncle's office building. Strange. Maybe he had something hidden for her at work. But this made no sense.

A creak disrupted her concentration. Hadn't her uncle gone to bed?

Another floorboard groaned. The apartment had been built a hundred years ago, so it wasn't a surprise the place rattled. But if it wasn't Uncle Caleb…

She cracked the door open two centimeters and peered out into the living room. Her uncle's room was on the other side of the apartment, and his door was closed. She listened.

A shadow crossed in front of her, and Ivy covered her mouth with her hand. Someone was in the apartment, and she didn't have a way to call or text Uncle Caleb. She had his phone.

So she used the only thing at her disposal and let out a blood-curdling scream.