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“Do you have a gun?”
“Yeah, but not here.”
“That is so cool. You are so pretty. I never would’ve guessed you’re a cop.”
Sarah felt inordinately pleased by the compliment, and shrugged. “Thanks. It’s kind of a new job, actually, so I didn’t really need this vacation. I’m going to go slowly insane if I don’t find some way to pass the time. I’m here for two weeks, and I just can’t sit around on the beach all day. And there’s no shopping here. Or anything.”
Frustration edged itself into her tone again, but this time Ivy seemed to understand.
“Well, it is peaceful here. Most people come here to get away from all that, from the noise and stuff. But there is a lot to do.”
“Like what?”
“Do you like crabbing?”
“I don’t like complainy people—”
Ivy laughed. “No, I mean, like getting crabs, to eat. You can do your own crabbing.”
Sarah just raised her eyebrows. The closest she’d ever come to getting her own live seafood was buying it at street markets in New York.
“Anything else?”
“Well, there are some museums and historic stops. Assateague and Chincoteague aren’t far away. You can see the wild horses and deer there on the beaches, which are incredible. Or, oh, you can take a kayak lesson with Jim McIntyre, he gives a discount to resort guests, and he’s like a magician on the water.”
Ivy’s cheeks had stained a light pink as she spoke about the kayak instructor, and Sarah guessed the young woman had a little more interest in him than a business referral.
“Is he your boyfriend?”
Pink turned to full-out red, and Ivy shook her head vehemently.
“No, no.” She sounded very disappointed by this fact. “But I wouldn’t say he’s the best just because of that. He really is very good.”
“And you like him? For more than his ability as a kayak instructor?”
Ivy hesitated, biting her lip, then nodded.
“Have you told him?”
“No. I couldn’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“He’s a little older.”
“How much older?”
“Twenty-six.”
“And you’re…?”
“Just twenty.”
Sarah took a deep breath. Numerically that wasn’t a huge difference, but she was willing to bet that in terms of experience, it was. By the way she was blushing, Sarah would lay odds that Ivy was as pure as the spotless white sheets she’d just put on the bed.
“Well, it’s probably just as well. Men can be more trouble than they’re worth.”
A small crease appeared on Ivy’s smooth brow in response to her statement. “Really? I bet you have guys asking you out all the time.”
Sarah shook her head. “Not really. I guess they pick up on the vibe that I give out.”
“A cop vibe? They don’t like that?”
“I don’t know if it’s that, but you have to be careful about men, Ivy. What you see is almost never what you get. And what you get is often a whole pack of trouble.”
Ivy seemed to have a hard time digesting that. “I should get going. I have to finish up. It was nice talking to you. Thanks for not being mad, you know, about the room.”
“Anytime. I hope we get to chat again. And don’t worry about this Jim guy. You’re probably too good for him anyway.”
Ivy smiled and closed the door, and Sarah lay back on the bed, feeling a little less irritated after talking with Ivy. The day hadn’t been a total waste after all; at least she’d been able to give some decent advice to the younger woman. Sarah wished someone had made certain things about men clear to her before she’d made some of the biggest mistakes of her life. If she could save girls like Ivy some of that pain, it was worth it.
3
LOGAN DIDN’T so much as move to rub his eyes, even though they stung from the bright blue light of the laptop screen that held his attention. The satellite Internet service that the inn used had been difficult to tap into. It was slow, and if it happened to be rainy or cloudy, he could forget it, but he’d lucked out tonight. The weather was clear, and every star in the southeastern sky was out—not that he was stargazing.
In fact, what he was looking at was far less pleasant. He’d discovered where Mel’s pictures had been posted from and after doing more investigating he’d found two other women from the same porn site who’d been reported as missing. They were from different cities, but they’d all vacationed in the same place, Virginia Beach.
It was the link he had been looking for. If his somewhat lacking computer skills and the computer connection he’d wired up would hold, maybe he could find those final pieces of the puzzle even sooner than he’d hoped.
He’d wanted to go to the same hotel Mel had stayed at, but that would have looked too suspicious. So he’d made some phone calls and had asked her family and friends to see if they knew more about her vacation plans, had received postcards, or anything of the sort.
He’d finally hit pay dirt—Mel’s best friend, a chatty woman named Terri, had told him that Mel had met some guy and had been excited about going on an offshore gambling boat. Apparently, the man she’d hooked up with was a high roller looking for eye candy, and Mel had been vulnerable after her breakup. Maybe the man was the one who could explain what had happened to Mel. Logan had tried to get a description, but Terri hadn’t had too many details.
Logan had an itch that this was the lead he needed. He’d heard of offshore gaming, operations where tourists were taken far enough out to sea that federal and state laws about gambling—and God knows what else—didn’t apply.
It was a popular business, and lots of tourists took advantage, not always aware of what they were getting into. Unregulated, many of the boats that promoted offshore gaming were suspected of being involved in the drug trade, as well as money laundering. So it was more than possible that one of them could be running a pornography operation on the side. And the Internet was the perfect vehicle to distribute their product, since the boats frequently offered online gambling.
Logan needed passenger lists and schedules, and he had to find out which boat Mel had been on. Clenching his jaw over the slow response of his connection, he waited, determined to be patient as he downloaded everything he could find about local tours available, their routes and schedules.
He didn’t have any proof yet, but his gut told him that he was on the right track.
SARAH FOUND herself wandering around aimlessly later that evening. She’d fallen asleep after Ivy had left, and though she’d had only a restless nap, she’d gotten up past dinnertime and was now completely awake with nothing to do. It was nearing nine o’clock and almost dark. She was hungry, and thought she would go and find some food. After a brief venture outside, she’d quickly slipped back in the door after being swarmed by mosquitoes.
Great. Just wonderful.
She poked around the downstairs of the inn, chatting with some of the guests, but most of them were couples who retired to their rooms shortly after she appeared.
Plopping down into a deep leather sofa in the main room, her spirits really plummeted when she realized that the TV offered only local channels, and local channels had next to nothing on. She really was in hell. If she hadn’t been stressed out before her vacation started, she would be by the time she got home.
She disliked being at loose ends, at night most of all. The daylight drove away most of her demons, but in the lonely hours of the evening, she usually had to work to keep her thoughts from eating her alive. Her mother used to caution that idle hands did the devil’s work. For the most part she’d left her devils firmly in the past; but at night, if it was too quiet, when the loneliness took over they still haunted her.
Crossing the room to the registration desk, she heard some murmuring coming from a small room to the back. Curious and looking for anything to do, anyone to talk to, she went in the direction of the voice.
An older man sat at a computer, swearing profusely under his breath. She recognized him; he was Harold Sanders, Karen’s husband. Harold was a polite and polished guy, and here he was swearing like a sailor. Computers brought out that familiar stream of colorful language in the best of people. He appeared to be at the end of his rope.
Sarah knocked softly, and he managed a small, polite smile when he saw her in the doorway.
“Yes, um, Ms. Jessup. I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you—is there something you need?”
Sarah wasn’t sure what to say. Directing her eyes to the computer he sat in front of, hoping she didn’t look like an addict in desperate need of a fix, she tried to sound casual.
“Having computer problems?”
Harold emitted a gusty sigh. “I’m sorry. I must have been turning the air blue, eh?” He settled back in his seat, gesturing in disgust toward the desktop computer.
“This satellite connection we have usually works pretty well. Sometimes it’s slow, but no worse than your average modem, and it’s usually enough for our needs. Tonight something is bogging it down, and I don’t understand it—I’m not handling any huge files, and the weather is clear.”
Sarah nodded. “Want me to take a look?”
Harold looked at her doubtfully. “You know anything about these things?”
“A bit. It’s my work. I don’t know what I can do, but I could probably tell you if it’s a problem with your machine or your network—you might have a virus.”
He looked hesitant. “Oh, I hope not. I keep the virus detection software updated. But I don’t think I should have you working on your vacation—Karen would have a fit.”
Sarah smiled sweetly, trying not to appear too eager. Maybe if she could look at his machine, she might be able to sneak in a look at her e-mail, her discussion groups…just one little peek.
“No problem at all. Truth is, I was kind of restless and at loose ends, wandering around when I found you. You’d be doing me a favor if you let me have a look at it.”
His brow creased in concern. “You’re not enjoying your stay?”
She hedged, realizing she was on delicate ground. “It’s my first day—you know how it takes some time to adjust to a new place, a new schedule. It’s beautiful here, but I’m just not in vacation mode yet.”
“I understand. It can be hard to wind down if you’re used to a busy schedule.”
She looked expectantly at the computer, then stepped forward when he was still hesitant. “It should only take me a few minutes. Why don’t you get something to drink? I…I could use something as well. It’s so hot tonight.”
Harold, looking relieved that he had a way to both escape his problem and serve his guest, stood up quickly, surrendering his chair.
Sarah sat down, running her fingers over the keyboard like a caress, a calm focus overcoming her as she tapped keys and studied the lines of text flying over the black background of the DOS box she’d called up.
Harold set an icy glass of tea by the side of the monitor, and she addressed him without looking up.
“Do you share this connection with any other computer in the inn or another business?”
“No, this is the only machine, and we just have one account on the connection. As you know, laptops and other such things are discouraged here. They interrupt the vacation environment.”
Sarah choked down a scoff. “Yes, well, as far as I can tell, you have someone sucking bandwidth off your connection.”
“I’m sorry…?”
“Someone is tapping into your connection. It seems like it would have to be someone physically here, in the building, but it could be a neighbor or someone nearby. Wireless and satellite connections are easy for others to tap into, much like splicing a television cable connection, if you know how to do it.”
Harold seemed at a loss. “But who would do such a thing? We know all of our neighbors. They wouldn’t—are you sure that’s what it is?”
His tone turned skeptical, perhaps unconvinced that a woman could make this technical assessment, she thought sourly. She’d run into that problem before, when she’d tried white collar work, where it was more important to her IT colleagues that she was datable than if she was competent. At least her little hacker circles had been a level playing field.
“I’m sure. It would be hard for me to explain to you why, but it’s there, believe me. I do this kind of thing every day. With some more work, I can probably trace the machine, maybe get the user’s name, but probably not the location.”
“And you know how to do this?”
“Like I said, it’s part of my job.”
“Yes, well, this is all very disturbing. You can’t find who it is? Have they, uh, hacked into our machine?”
Sarah shook her head. “They’re using your connection, but your machine seems fine. The only way I could find out who they are—maybe—is if I got into their machine and could track down some identifying information.”
She caught Harold’s startled glance and sat back, grabbing her tea. “But that wouldn’t really be legal, or necessary. However, I can cause them a little inconvenience.” Sarah smiled slyly, catching Harold’s eye. “I can shut them out. They may find a way back in, but for now they’d be locked out, and you would have your connection back and running faster. You can report the breach to your satellite provider tomorrow, and see what they can do to prevent it from happening again.”
Relief brightened her host’s features. “That sounds wonderful. Would you like a snack with your tea? Karen made pie earlier.”
“Harold, you are a man after my own heart.”
She smiled with sheer joy. Hacking and snacking—exactly what she’d needed to feel like herself again, and to have some fun.
Shutting off the interloper wasn’t exactly easy, but she knew she could get in there and do it, given a few minutes. Grinning, she imagined the hacker’s frustration when his or her connection was cut. Probably a neighborhood teen who’d figured out how to jump on the wireless connection for a free ride. No doubt as bored and restless as she was.
When she was done, she’d also warn Harold about handing over his computer to a strange user so easily, and run him through the basics of security, both human and technical. If she were a corrupt person, she could get control of their network, or get enough informationto do the small resort some serious damage. Hackers took exactly these kinds of opportunities to do their thing, sometimes right underneath people’s noses.
Forgetting that, she became so caught up in her work, she barely noticed anything, mumbling to herself and lost in the world of codes and programs, completely forgetting about Harold until she heard him snoring lightly, and looked over to see the older man had fallen asleep in a chair. His thin, gold, wire-frame glasses slid down his nose a little bit, and she felt affection for him, even though she didn’t know him very well.
Sleeping like that, he reminded her of her grandfather, and the memory brought both a smile and an ache. Pops was gone now, and she missed him horribly. He’d been the only one in her family who hadn’t judged her harshly for her mistakes.
Sighing, she decided against checking her e-mail or lists—for all she knew, Ian or E.J. had put a sniffer out there to tag her if she showed up, and Ian would dock her vacation pay if he caught her, as he’d threatened before she left. She finished off the fantastic banana cream pie Harold had brought her and shut the screen down.
Closing up shop, she reassured herself that the problem was solved for the moment. Pulling his jacket from the back of his chair, she covered Harold up and left him a quick note, whispering the words out loud as she wrote them. Harry, Connection fixed. Thanks for the snack. S.J.
Wandering back up the stairs, she grabbed a bunch of magazines from a stack on a table and grimaced as she glanced at the titles: Country Living, Martha Stewart Living and Sport Fisherman.
No Cosmo, People or, better yet, techie mags like 2600 or Secure Enterprise. Even Wired would do in a pinch. Ah, well, beggars couldn’t be choosers and it was going to be a long night. She could have gone several more hours online before winding down, and now she had a buzz from her light hacking episode. She grinned, the familiar happiness gripping her whenever she thought about the fact that she was paid to do this kind of work now.
As she reached the top landing, another door softly shut. Not really paying attention, she kept walking and nearly collided head-on with Logan—a noticeably more tense Logan than she had met that afternoon. He looked like something had really pissed him off.
She felt another, stronger tug. She liked him looking this way, and she could feel the energy that practically arced through the air like an electrical current. She took in the tight black T-shirt that hugged his firm upper body, and the worn jeans, feeling that surge of interest again.
“You okay?”
His eyes snapped toward her and he stepped back, running a hand through already disheveled ebony hair, getting control of himself.
