Chapter 8

Eight

Three days.

Three unnecessarily long and aggravating days were spent cashing in favors, currency, and intelligence to get a lead that turned out to be a VOIP line. My informant had been sweating when they handed it over because it didn’t seem like much.

The thing was, I didn’t need much. Find a thread, tug on it, and it usually led to the next thread. Then the next. My next stop was a data broker. For a flat fee of a half a million dollars, he pulled the packets apart, then traced the IP address of the last four calls.

I kept calling Patch. Every few hours. Not once had she answered.

The last call routed to a disconnected message with advice to reach out for a new handler.

She’d been excised from the chain.

My data broker hadn’t liked the disconnected message but it didn’t slow him down. After far too many hours and energy drinks, he handed me a location.

It was in Colorado.

Another thread to pull.

“Donnie,” I said as I headed for the door.

“You were never here, I have never seen you. And I just triple deleted the info.”

“Thank you.”

“Anytime, man. Anytime.” The music cranked up as I closed the door. Donnie wasn’t the easiest of men to get along with, but he’d worked for the NSA until he got himself booted for insubordination. Now, he freelanced for them so he didn’t go to jail or the office, and they didn’t have to put up with his crap.

I liked him.

For the most part.

He was no Patch.

It took time to get a flight to Denver. The whole time I kept turning over every iota of information I had on Patch. She’d been my handler for years. My operator. She could find anything, get me through so many doors, could and had bailed me out of situations gone wrong.

If she told me to duck, I’d be on the floor before the word cleared her lips. In all the time I’d known her, however, I’d learned very little about her.

She liked reality television shows.

Her favorite ice cream was strawberry.

Mornings were not her favorite time of day.

She functioned better at two in the morning after being awake twenty-four hours than she did rolling out of bed.

Video games were a weakness she couldn’t indulge when she was on the job.

Patience was a virtue she possessed in spades and nothing ever ruffled her. Whether it was talking me through security to get to a target or running the numbers and the routes to get me an escape path—she never tensed up.

The sexy, sweet voice wrapped around me like a lifejacket. As long as she was on the line, I was going to survive.

She hadn’t answered in days.

Thirteen hoursafter getting the name of the town, I followed the directions from Denver, that took me on a northwest path toward the mountains. The interstate slimmed down to a highway then to a state highway, then a two-lane road.

Civilization seemed to fall away. With Denver not that far behind me, the road twisted through suburban areas before it became rural. Or rural enough that the homes clung to the sides of mountain like goats on a perch. I couldn’t recall a time that I’d been to this state much less the city.

I’d certainly never been in these mountains. Still, I followed the route that took me through Boulder, then higher to a place called Lyons, and higher still on a path that would take me near the Rocky Mountain National Park entrance in Estes Park.

The only thing I knew about the quaint town was it happened to be the location of the Stanley Hotel which appeared in the Stephen King novel The Shining.

Good book.

Interesting movie.

Not remotely why I was here.

My ears kept popping on the drive up and the temperature outside dipped the higher I went. Fair enough. Estes Park itself wasn’t huge. Motels, hotels, restaurants, strip malls, and a quaint little “downtown” area with local shops and a Starbuck’s.

Not bad.

I pulled into the parking lot, pulled up my computer and hopped on the “free” WiFi that I could reach. Engaging the virtual firewall, I cloaked my activities and then entered the IP address from the VOIP.

It wouldn’t necessarily give me a street address, but it might get me close. Maybe. It was a long shot. Donnie had provided me with the program on a thumb drive.

The default window just sat there, cursor blinking as it said searching…

Attention divided between the screen and the area, I tried to see it as Patch did. Why here? Why would she base her work in a town that was higher up on a mountain, likely suffered from a lot of snow in the winter, and might even have to deal with supply chain issues.

Summertime probably brought a fuckload of tourists too. I suppose that wasn’t just limited to summer, still… what attracted her to this place?

How did she even manage good internet up here? Fuck knew, she had to have excellent connection. The isolation might help keep her off the grid. It was easier to be lost in a crowd. A tourist destination meant that year round residents were probably protective of their own.

The computer dinged and I glanced down in time to see the browser opening a map window, then the screen zeroed in, again and again until it covered a handful of homes about ten minutes from where I was sitting.

Swapping the view to street level, I studied the collection of houses. Nice, suburban, upper middle-class, and a little cookie cutter. Nothing to really stand out.

A perfect place to hide amongst civilians.

Would they notice if she was missing though?

Noting the address, I put it in the GPS before shutting down the laptop and heading for it. There were roughly seven houses along that street. There were other homes in other clusters, but it had the feel of urban planning, keeping a lot of open green areas around the homes.

A few of them had fenced yards. Some had gardens, at least from what I’d glimpsed. Based on when the images were shot, that could have changed.

On a whim, I dialed Patch’s number as I pulled onto her street. It went straight to the disconnected message with the advice to reach out for a new handler.

No.

Ending the call, I pulled over and studied the different houses. One had flowers out front. Another had perfect rows mowed into the lawn on the diagonal. Another house had hedges all across the front. The hedges were a good shield for windows. You’d get light but it made it hard for people to look in or get close.

Sight lines here were a mess.

Toys littered the yard of yet another house. While it looked like another home owner seemed determined to pull every non-existent weed in her flowerbeds while she watched another neighbor’s argument through their very open dining room windows.

Husband and wife gesticulated wildly. He was red-faced and she was implacable.

Yeah, give that one up, buddy. Whatever line of bullshit you’re trying to sell her, she isn’t believing.

I flicked a look back to the nervous Nellie who’d actually pulled a few flowers while she watched the fight. Gossip? Neighborhood news? Or…

A car passed me and pulled into the driveway with the nosy neighbor. The way she jumped? Yeah, she was in on whatever that secret was.

Frankly, I didn’t need an episode of Desperate Housewives of the Rocky Mountains.

More cars rolled in and I checked my watch. It was after five. People getting home from their nine to fives to their families. Cars pulled into four of the seven homes.

The only house with no movement was the tall hedges. The lights snapped on at five-thirty though. Nice and prompt even if the sun was still up.

If I were a betting man—that house was Patch’s. But time to do a little more sleuthing because with all the nosy neighbors around, I didn’t want to draw more attention. Even if I wanted to be inside her place and figuring out where she was…

Maybe she had a cold. They did happen.

Starting the car, I pulled out of the little neighborhood and drove a few blocks back to town. I pulled into another fast food place to steal their Wi-Fi.

Sundown was another hour away. As soon as it came, I was heading back to check out that house. In the meanwhile, I took my time looking up each address.

Some searches pulled up the names of the residents. Others gave me phone numbers. A couple gave me two names.

The house with the hedges?

No names.

No numbers.

Nada.

Zip.

There wasn’t even a realty listing for it.

That was Patch’s place. It had to be.

The certainty brought impatience with it as I waited for sundown. I took myself inside the fast food place, borrowed their restrooms, washed up, and then got food before I headed back out to the car.

Burgers and fries weren’t my favorite, but I did pick up a strawberry shake—just in case.

I ate one of the burgers and half an order of fries before downing a bottle of water. Then I washed my hands as the sun vanished behind the mountain. I’d have to admire the view later.

Once it was full dark, I headed for her neighborhood but I parked two blocks away next to a community center advertising bingo.

Dressed all in black, I wouldn’t stand out and I made my way to her street. Then I moved behind them. While I hadn’t clocked cameras on all the houses, I wanted to distance myself. Her place would have motion detectors, that was just a risk I’d have to take.

Her place also had a fence.

The eight-footer would definitely offer some privacy. But a jump and pull and I was up and then over. I went low and waited for any sign of movement.

You know, I could get inside and find myself face to face with a muzzle. She could very well blow my brains out before I get a chance to tell her who I am…

Patch knew who I was. She knew what I looked like.

Worth the risk. At least then I’d know she was alright.

Still, no visible movement from the house. The backyard was almost pretty nondescript. The grass had been mowed, the hedges along the windows blocked any decent sight lines, but like out front—they were neatly kept.

“Don’t kill me without saying hello, Patch,” I murmured before I crossed the yard. A lot of people spent all their security on the front of their homes, trusting the backyard fences and the fact it was the back to discourage others.

A pair of deadbolts on her backdoor made me proud. She was going to make me work to get inside.

I always did like a challenge.

It took me three minutes to get the locks freed. They were definitely the sturdier kind. I approved. Another two to free the chain on the door. There had been a beep when I nudged it inward.

That was a sensor.

There was no alarm that sounded.

The lack of an actual alarm worried me more than anything. I almost gave into the urge to put my shoulder to the door and force it the rest of the way in, but I fought it.

Observe.

Explore.

Verify.

Act.

I needed to know what was happening. When the door swung inwards, I stared at the modestly decorated place. Tidy kitchen, coffee maker. Everything in its place.

Only one person lived here.

Definitely feminine. The lack of shoes near any of the doors surprised me, but I still slid my own off. I went to the garage first.

There was a car parked inside. The engine was cold.

Moving through the darkened house, I looked for any sign of foul play.

Nothing.

There also weren’t any computers.

Or monitors.

I checked the three different bedrooms.

Two were clearly unused for anything. Based on the dust, no one went in or out. Or touched anything.

The third bedroom was done up in purple, but also neat. A stack of books decorated the nightstand. A television occupied the wall opposite the bed and there were a couple of tablets just laying on the bed.

Tablets.

But no computers?

This was Patch’s house. It had to be.

That meant she had to have a computer room.

It wasn’t up here, on the ground floor or in the garage.

Basement was the next logical choice.

I was on the stairs when the backdoor opened.