Hart leans against my desk. “You were running tests for a new client of ours, BioFutures. They do medical devices—pacemakers, insulin pumps, and other implantable devices. Our job is to test the devices’ security. Follow me?”
Absolutely, and that’s why the whole thing looked off. It wasn’t one of my usual targets. Medical devices have been found to be vulnerable to attack. It’s scary to think how someone can switch you off. Terrifying. But honestly there’s better money, better returns, with other types of hacking. Credit cards or bank accounts or whatever.
I nod. “Oh. Okay. That makes sense.”
“We should’ve told you. The others never care. I guess Dr. Norcut didn’t think you would either. Sorry.”
I study Hart. No one ever apologizes to people like me. It’s such a small thing and it means so much. I’m sorry means I regret betraying you. I’m sorry means you exist to someone, that you mean enough for someone to regret hurting you.
“But why wouldn’t we test the device here?” I ask at last. “You could test the software from a location on-site.”
“True, but our customers are rarely here. We don’t want them bothering you guys. Besides, BioFutures wanted to see if the device could be accessed remotely. Since medical devices are under such scrutiny, they want to be first to the market with a hacker-proof device. Wandering through a coffee shop and having someone hijack your pacemaker would be bad for business, you know?”
He laughs at his own joke and I force a smile. It’s a perfectly good explanation. It makes sense and yet I’m still trying to pry it apart, dig for any inconsistency. I mentally shake myself. Hart’s being helpful. If I would just stop being so suspicious . . .
Hart studies my face, my hands. They’re wrapped tight around the chair’s armrests. “I’ll be sure to tell you more in the future, okay? You’ll know exactly what you’re doing and why.”
I nod, knowing I should say something, but I have . . . nothing. Zero. My conversations with my dad and Joe never went like this and I’m not sure what to do. This is how normal people behave. It’s stupid easy for something that was so damn hard to say.
“We’re the good guys, remember?” Hart’s grin is as wide as his face. Wider. “That means you too. You’re doing the right thing.” He laughs and scratches his thumb across his eyebrow, ducking his head closer to me. “We’re fighting the good fight, yeah?”
He says it like it’s dorky and he knows and it is dorky, but now I’m laughing too.
And honestly? I kind of might possibly like the idea.
I used to hack to catch cheaters and abusers and deadbeat boyfriends and I believed in it. I saved other women from what my mom went through, but I was never proud of it because I hacked for money—to save myself, to save my sister. And some days, those were absolutely the right reasons.
Until they weren’t.
I spent so much time looking for monsters, I saw them everywhere.
Hart’s grin fades and he crouches down so our eyes can meet. “Look, Wick. I know what you had to do.”
It’s the soft voice again, so soft I know the others can’t hear, but I still stiffen. I don’t talk about who I am. I’m too used to burying it. I am my family’s undertaker. I bury all the bad memories, all our lies, putting everything in little coffins so we can go to bed. And then we all get up and do it again.
Or is that just what I tell myself? Told myself?
“I know what happened,” Hart continues. “I know what you had to do and I understand. But it’s not like that anymore.”
Milo rocks to one side of his chair, watching us. I can see the edge of his face around Hart’s shoulder. He looks so relaxed, I start to relax.
“I know,” I say, forcing myself to take a deep breath.
“We’re going to make sure people with these medical devices can’t ever be hurt by hackers.” Hart’s voice drops a little more. “It’s not so different from what you used to do, right?”
I’m nodding again—or still; I’m not sure.
“Good.” Hart stands and brushes away nonexistent wrinkles from his pants. “I’m glad we talked. You can come to me anytime.”
“Okay.”
“Promise you will if you get concerned again?”
“Promise.”
Hart beams at me and then glances down at his iPhone, which just buzzed. “Sorry. Gotta take this.”
He steps away and I turn to my desk, sneak a glance at Milo.
“See?” he mouths, but he’s grinning too. It’s an I told you so smile, a you owe me smile.
A makes-everything-in-me-go-bright smile.
I face my computer so he can’t see how I’m turning ten shades of red.