Taken by Tuesday

Chapter Twenty-Two



Everyone had left and Meg disappeared into her room. Judy kicked off her shoes and wiggled out of her pantyhose, but left the dress on while Rick locked up the house. They’d come to an understanding in the garden. She was going to do her best to not blame herself for the craziness of their lives, and they were both going to keep their conversations open and honest.

When Rick didn’t follow quickly behind her, she sat up on the bed and grabbed her tablet.

The game she’d played obsessively hadn’t called out to her in weeks. She saw the icon and clicked into the game. Sure enough, there were many chat messages, all asking where she’d been. A few closer players, people she’d talked to off the game, asked her to send a private chat. All that could wait. She went through the routine of collecting money from her virtual buildings and restoring those that had been bombed by others. It was silly and mindless . . . and it felt strangely comforting to have a desire to pick it up.

Rick stepped into the room while she was vaulting the money she’d collected. While the dial spun, she glanced up and noticed him smiling at her.

“You’re beautiful,” he told her as he slid next to her on the big bed and looked at the game in her hand. “War games?”

She closed the tablet and tossed it aside. “Stupid, I know.”

Yet he was grinning even bigger, his hand found her knee and started a slow ascent up her thigh.

She was pretty sure she purred.

“I think it’s cute,” he told her, his lips going straight for the V of her dress. Judy closed her eyes and slid lower in the bed.

“Cute? I’m a three-star general on that game. I kick serious ass . . .”

Rick’s fingers were dancing up her thigh, sending shockwaves up her body. She arched into him.

“Tough as nails on the Internet, soft and supple in real life.” He pushed the edge of her dress aside and exposed her breast.

His tongue ran over the tip, bringing it to attention and making her moan. She was warm, everywhere, instantly.

Rick started to move to the other side and paused . . . the hand on her thigh tightened.

When he didn’t move, she opened her eyes to see him staring at the tablet.

“Don’t stop now,” she said, teasing.

He went from touching her, tasting her, to staring without an ounce of humor in his face. “Do you talk to people on that game?”

“What?” Her head wasn’t following his thoughts.

He pulled away, his hands left her and reached for her tablet. “This. Do you talk to people on the game?”

“Yeah.” She sat up, readjusted her dress so she wasn’t hanging out of it. “We have chat rooms set up for wars . . . allies for battles. Enemies to conquer. All in fun.”

He opened the device and glanced at the screen, which opened to the game since she hadn’t shut it down before closing it. “Is it all in fun?”

“For me. Once in a while there will be a die-hard gamer that thinks everyone should dedicate their life to this . . . spend money to win wars. We weed those players out of our team once they start pitching a fit.”

Rick’s green eyes found hers and didn’t let go.

Chills, and not the kind she wanted while in bed with Rick, made her shiver.

You’re not so tough now, are you?

You’re not much of a fighter, are you?

“Oh, God. You don’t think . . .”

“Do you use your real name?”

“No . . . but . . .” But she knew many of the real names of those on her team. They’d been playing for over a year. She hadn’t worked terribly hard to keep her name out of the game.

Rick tilted his head. “It’s a lead, Judy. Our only one.”

Without Rick’s help, she changed into a pair of cotton pajama bottoms and a T-shirt and met him back in the kitchen, where he’d set up the tablet and her laptop. She freely admitted that her knees knocked a little as she made her way to Rick’s side.

“What are we looking for?” she asked as she sat beside him.

“A link. A direct path to you from this game.” He pushed her laptop over to her. “Log in to your Facebook account, Twitter . . . whatever you use.”

She brought up the Internet while Rick brought a cup of coffee for her from the kitchen.

“Hey.” Meg had on a long pink robe, her bare toes sticking out from under it. “I thought you’d be . . . well, I didn’t think you’d be in here. What’s going on?”

Judy exchanged glances with Rick.

“Rick thinks that maybe someone from the game I play online might be behind the attack.”

“The war game?”

Judy nodded.

“It’s a game.” Meg’s confusion was written in her eyes.

“A game where the top players spend serious cash to be in the top slots and get pissed if their team doesn’t play with the same intensity.” The more Judy considered the possibility that Rick was right, the worse she felt.

“But it’s a game.”

“I know, Meg. I feel the same way.”

“It’s also a sick world out there,” Rick added.
     



Meg tucked into a chair. “I’ve heard of pedophiles using online games to find victims, but adults falling into the same trap?”

“Internet crime against adults isn’t limited to monetary extortion.” Rick pushed close to Judy and leaned over the tablet. “OK. Tell me how this game works.”

While Judy explained the details of the game, Meg brought out her computer and looked up information about the game, the complaints, and the chat rooms.

The game wasn’t complicated, and since there wasn’t an active war going on there weren’t a lot of people online chatting. Judy explained the chats and the way to have private chats. “There are very few women playing, so those of us who do have hooked up elsewhere.”

“Where?”

Judy showed him her Facebook account and pointed out two women who knew her real persona. “My privacy settings are such that you have to be a friend to see all this.”

There were pictures of her friends at college, a shot of her with Meg and Mike at graduation.

Rick started writing down names of her Facebook friends and a list of all those on her team in the game. “This is going to take some time.” He looked over at the sofa and they both noticed that Meg had fallen asleep with her laptop on her knees.

“She’s been a real trooper. The night you went to jail, we were up until after two, fact-checking marriage and testimony laws. Sometimes it doesn’t feel like we’ve left school.”

“You should go ahead and go to bed.” He patted her hand.

She patted his back. “I don’t think so, babe. I’ve been in a cold bed for three nights, and when I finally crash, you’re going to be in there with me.”

Judy woke Meg long enough to motivate her to bed and took her friend’s place on the couch. She went through old messages on Facebook, searching for anything sketchy. She and Rick worked in a rhythm, she’d say a name, and he’d write it down or cross-reference it as a fellow student, a friend from Utah, or a friend of a friend or virtual stranger. Rick grew quiet while he was following people from her list around the Internet. Not sure what else to look for, she clicked into the topography of the Santa Barbara project until her eyelids gave up the fight and she fell asleep.



Rick took another look at the names of the women from Judy’s game, his mind working backward. There were four of them, two were middle-aged housewives and the other two were both college students. Because he was on Judy’s computer and acting as her, he was able to access everything on these ladies’ accounts. Both girls had picked a picture off Judy’s page of Judy and Michael. Rick was sure the draw wasn’t Judy, but her famous brother these girls were all over. There were comments galore with plenty of likes from numerous friends. He started writing down names, clicking over to pages to see if any of them were unsecure. He was surprised at how many people put absolutely every piece of information about their lives on their pages. Phone numbers, addresses, where they partied every Friday night, who they had sex with and the when and where of it.

It boggled his mind.

Judy’s page was conservative by nature. There was very little information about her day-to-day life with the exception of where she went to school and what she was studying. She hadn’t even updated where she lived from Seattle to LA. Probably an oversight since she had posted a couple of pictures of the paparazzi pointing their cameras at her. There was something here . . . he felt it.

His eyes were crossing and he looked up to find Judy sound asleep. Her soft pink lips were parted slightly with the steady rise and fall of her chest.

What a resilient woman she turned out to be. His memory flashed to her beaten face from the ER and he flinched. He would find the man who touched her, and then the police would have cause to arrest him.

He powered down the computer and removed the tablet from Judy’s lap. She twisted into a ball and rolled on her side. Instead of waking her, he scooped his hands under her and picked her up.

“Time for bed?” she mumbled as she snuggled closer.

“Shh.”

She said something he didn’t quite understand and he carried her to bed.

It took some time for his head to turn off. He lay there with Judy curled up beside him and simply cherished holding her.

When he’d returned to the States with Neil and what remained of their team, Rick wasn’t sure he’d ever sleep an entire night through again. He learned quickly that he managed much better with a woman in his bed, but he still didn’t turn off completely. Until Judy. Even thinking about her in the past year helped his brain find some form of hibernation at night. Now, as his eyes were drifting closed and the fresh scent of spring curled even closer, he realized what made Judy stand out from all the rest.

Judy wasn’t some passing attraction, some easy fix for a lonely night . . . she was the real deal. The woman you took home to meet your parents, the woman you wanted to have your children.

Somewhere between Utah, Washington, and California, he’d fallen in love.

He held her even closer, kissed her sleeping head, and drifted off.



“I told them I’d come in for half a day and be back to work tomorrow. I’ve got to go,” Judy argued while she towel-dried her hair and walked between the bathroom and the closet. “They’ve been really understanding but I can’t keep disappearing. It’s not like they have to keep me there.”

She could tell by the scowl on Rick’s face he wasn’t happy with the thought of her going to work. “If it makes you any happier, we’ll be taking the Ferrari.” She knew how much he enjoyed driving Mike’s car, and in light of the fact that Rick’s constant need for an alibi was in question, everyone thought it was best he drive the flashiest car in Mike’s garage. The Ferrari won.

Rick grumbled. “I don’t like it.”

“You’re dropping me off after lunch and picking me up at five. I won’t even leave the office.”

His grumble now sounded like a growl.

“I can’t hide.” She walked back into the bathroom and talked through the door. “I’m no more or less safe than I was last week when you dropped me off and picked me up every day.” Though she knew eventually she’d have to hike on her big-girl panties and make the trip solo. “Putting my head into my work will help clear it up . . . make it easier for me to consider who might be doing all this.”

“You said you felt he was coming back for you.” Rick had left his perch from the side of the bed and now stood in the doorway of the bathroom.

“I do. One of the many things I looked up while you were away was the mindset of a psychopath. It isn’t often they actually give up the object of their obsession. This guy isn’t going to corner me in a garage, or catch me taking the stairs at work.” She brushed out her hair, put a handful of mousse into the locks. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and some of the pictures you and Neil will be looking over this afternoon will point someone out.”

“Maybe.”

“If he’s after me, he’ll get frustrated not getting close and eventually screw up.”

Rick’s lips twisted to the side. “You’ve been watching crime TV again, haven’t you?”

She applied a layer of mascara and pointed the tip of the brush at him through the mirror. “First, those shows aren’t completely based on fiction, but no. Actually, Meg and I have been burning up the Internet. We’ve been professional students for the last four years. Everything you ever wanted to know about anything is on the Internet, all you have to do is know where to look.”
     



Rick walked up behind her and slid both hands around her waist before nuzzling her wet hair. “I still don’t want you to go.”

“C’mon. Aren’t you the one who said it would get easier every day?”

“That was before someone was murdered.”

She didn’t like that either. “I’m not going into the dark basement alone, Rick. I’m going to work. Lots of pencil-pushing geeks who draw for a living. I’ll be fine.”

“We just got married.” He ran a hand down her arm and feathered his thumb over her ring finger. “You don’t even have a ring.”

She twisted around and offered a smile. “Then that’s what you do today . . . go find me a ring.” They hadn’t yet consummated the marriage either, but she wasn’t about to point that out or he’d never let her leave.

“Trying to get rid of me?”

She pushed him toward the bathroom door. “What was your first clue?”

The rest of her bathroom ritual went without complaint. Rick drove the Ferrari, keeping a constant eye on the road behind him.

The eyes on them had doubled since the last time they walked into the office. Most of the staff of Benson & Miller had yet to return from lunch, but there were a few people milling about the office when she walked in.

“See, safe and sound.”

Rick conceded and dropped a kiss to her lips. “You need anything—”

“I’ll call. Go.”

He turned to leave, and she called out to him. “And cubic zirconia looks just as good as the real thing. No need to do anything crazy.”