“I don’t know,” he lied. He thanked Renee and disconnected the call.
Of course he knew what he needed to do. Sean aimed to find out just how much of a soft spot Mona Hill had for her half sister.
He turned back to his secure laptop. Mona Hill had checked her email last night. His worm had traveled through her system, and he mirrored her hard drive on his own computer. He was searching only for one file.
It didn’t take him long to find it. It was the last video file that had been viewed. In fact, a short clip had been copied and saved two days ago. He hesitated, then viewed it.
His heart nearly stopped. It was Lucy. Naked and chained to the floor.
He shut it down.
Rage exploded. He jumped out of his chair. It tipped backward and knocked over the books stacked on the shelf behind him. He barely noticed. He stormed out of the room, slamming his door so hard the wood cracked. Down the hall to his gym, where he hit the punching bag over and over until his fists were sore. A groan escaped his throat and he wanted to kill Mona Hill in the worst way. He wanted to hurt her. What she did for her sister—with her illegal money—might be considered noble to some, but she’d stepped on many, many people to do it.
She’d fucked with the wrong person.
A fraction calmer, but no less angry, Sean went back to his office. He deleted all the video files from her computer. He was about to install a nasty virus when he hesitated.
Why had she created that clip?
Sean searched her emails. The clip was attached to an email that had gone to a blind account that Mona Hill had sent on Monday afternoon—the same day that Lucy and her partner had spoken to her. Lucy’s gut instinct about Mona had been right, and Mona had then parlayed her knowledge … for what? To whom?
Sean pulled down all the routing information on the blind account. Everything was traceable given enough time and equipment. And desire.
He certainly had the desire.
Then he installed a nasty virus that would obliterate Mona’s hard drive and any device that connected to it. But even if he destroyed the virtual files, she might have a copy of the video on a disk. He needed to find and destroy it, too.
He erased his cache, reformatted his hard drive, shut everything down, and locked his laptop back in the safe. He’d rebuild the computer later.
Sean formulated a plan. By the time he was done with her, Mona Hill would do anything he wanted her to.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Barry was waiting for Lucy as soon as she walked into FBI headquarters. “Let’s go.”
She didn’t even have time to go to her desk. She followed Barry to one of the pool cars. “What happened?” she asked as they pulled out.
“Your idea about the bus route panned out. I had a couple analysts making calls to drivers and we found the stop our Gary used more often than all the others. I was about to send a couple agents out in the field to canvass, see if they could get a positive ID on the guy before we go out there, when Zach found him based on our description and neighborhood.”
“Zach is the best.”
“Gary is Gary Ackerman. He’s dead. Shot to death Sunday night in his studio apartment. I got it cleared by SAPD and we’re going there now.” Barry tapped a file that was on the seat between them. “That’s the report.”
Lucy opened it. Gary Ackerman was fifty-five, the same age as Harper Worthington. He had been born and raised in San Antonio. He’d been in the military for twelve years, retiring after serving two tours during Desert Storm. Returned, had trouble finding steady work, until he landed a job as a long-haul truck driver. His career was cut short when—while walking across the street—he was hit by a car. The driver was never found, and Gary woke up with brain damage and blindness in one eye. He lived on disability and a small military pension, had no credit cards, paid cash for everything, and the only thing he used his bank account for was to receive his disability checks—which he promptly withdrew the day they were deposited, never going into the same branch twice in a row.
He was shot twice in the chest Sunday night. Motive unknown, possibly theft. A small laptop that his neighbor said he was never without was missing, but nothing else.
“This isn’t a coincidence,” Lucy said.
“No, it’s not. Did you get to the last page?”
She flipped to the back and read a note Zach had written.