A killer app, p.24
A Killer App, page 24
“I’d hide the note on the River Rat. Can’t compete with our villain in AI and hacking realms, but I know security cameras and how to hide them. Two spy cams I ordered for Kay’s B&B arrived yesterday. Planned to test them before installing them for Kay anyway. I can set them up to record the good doctor when she snoops on board the River Rat.”
“Do they connect to Wi-Fi?” Dad asks. “If so, the professor will probably hack your Wi-Fi while she’s aboard, find the videos, and erase them.”
Aunt Kylee shakes her head. “No. To allow Kay’s guests to connect to the internet, her Wi-Fi is public. That’s why she wanted wireless, motion-activated spy cams that don’t connect to Wi-Fi. The cams are for the B&B’s common dining and living rooms. With guests constantly coming and going, her doors are only locked at night. Practically invites thieves to walk in and steal, either from Kay or guests who leave valuables unguarded while they’re getting coffee refills. If something goes missing, Kay can physically download videos stored on the cam cards to her computer.”
“What kind of note would entice the doc to risk coming aboard your boat to grab it?” Dad asks. “We’ve ruled out disclosing anything that might compromise the J.T. and Steph investigations. What else is there?”
“It appears the former professor is very protective of her reputation. Wouldn’t want it tarnished by having her old, dirty laundry washed in public. If she feared her university misdeeds were about to come back to haunt her, I bet she’d react.
“How about learning there’s a new initiative to dig up dirt at her university? I could say I’m flying to New York to interview the woman’s former colleagues and students.”
“How does a document fit in with that, Aunt Kylee?” I ask. “Just gives the doc more incentive to take you out of the picture.”
Before I think better of it, I inject a little sarcasm. “Sounds riskier than taking a kayak for a spin at four a.m.”
“Smartass,” Aunt Kylee snips. “But you have a point, Grant.
“How about this? I email Mom. Let her know I’m flying to New York City Wednesday morning, July 5, to get the doc’s former colleagues and students on the record. They’ve promised to deliver some very juicy details.
“I’ve jotted down all their names and why they despise the ex-professor in my spiral notebook. Too bad I haven’t had a free minute to transfer my notes to my computer. I put my notebook in my carry-on so I can update my laptop on the plane ride. Put the carry-on where I’ll trip over it, if I try leaving the River Rat without it.”
Dad groans. “Not one of your better ideas. Yes, the doc might be curious about who’s stabbing her in the back at the university, and what they’re prepared to share. But it still makes you, Kylee, not the notebook, the primary target. If she finds a willing proxy to kill you, problem solved. Your little notebook won’t matter.”
“You’re wrong there,” Kylee argues. “She’ll want to destroy the notebook. Otherwise, someone investigating my…let’s call it disappearance…might look into the possibility my notebook holds clues about why I was disappeared.”
Dad’s voice gets a little louder, always does when he’s frustrated. “That only means she’ll want to do away with both you AND the notebook. Doesn’t make me feel any better. The doc’s prior actions suggest she’ll trick someone into doing her dirty work.
“How can we protect you if we haven’t a clue who might be coming after you? Bubba and J.T. aren’t exactly likely assassin choices. Those two have zero in common. There’s no way to predict who the witch doctor’s next proxy might be.”
While I agree with Dad, I have a hunch Aunt Kylee won’t give in.
“Let’s back up,” she replies. “From her prior hacks, the woman knows I’ll be on Hullis Island all day tomorrow, the Fourth of July. That means she also knows where I won’t be—aboard the River Rat.
“With no one aboard, she has a perfect no-risk window to visit the River Rat and take a peek at the notebook. She’d want to know what’s in it to plan her next moves. If she decides the university stoolies are just gossips with no first-hand knowledge, she can let me go merrily on my wild-goose chase. If not, she can then destroy the notebook and figure out how to get rid of me.”
“There’s a big flaw in your supposed logic,” Dad complains. “What makes you think the doc won’t decide to get rid of you first and the notebook second.”
“Hey, I thought we agreed she’s unlikely to try anything during Hullis Island’s Fourth of July festivities,” Kylee counters. “Too many witnesses. She’s arranged her other attacks to take place in deserted spots with no witnesses. Plus, I’ll have three armed Coast Guard ladies in my posse.”
Dad shakes his head. “If we’ve learned anything about Dr. Holder, it’s that she doesn’t lack imagination. The attacks on J.T. and Steph had nothing in common. Maybe this time she’ll decide big crowds will work in her favor.”
Dad looks at Kylee and sighs. “Not going to change your mind about this proposed treasure hunt, am I?
“Nope,” Kylee says. “I appreciate your concern, but you’re exaggerating the risks. If she’s not stopped—trapped—soon, the danger will be even greater.”
I kind of agree with Dad. Aunt Kylee’s plan seems mighty risky. But I see my aunt’s point, too. Who knows what the woman might do next, if she’s not caught.
It just dawned on me how different it is to hear Dad and Kylee argue. With them, it’s give and take. Nothing like Dad’s and Mom’s scorched-earth fights before the divorce. At least, Dad and Kylee bother to listen to each other.
I think Mom had zero interest in what Dad did for a living or any concerns he might have beyond their social calendar. And Dad felt the frequently required State Department social appearances deserved combat pay. They’re both happier now.
When Dad parks at the house, he kisses Aunt Kylee. “Please be careful,” he says. “Send me a draft of that honeypot email tonight. Maybe I’ll have suggestions to finetune it.”
“I will. Promise.”
Dad touches Kylee’s cheek before she exits the car. “Just in case the good doctor might plan some Fourth of July surprise on Hullis, I’ll talk with Chief O’Rourke about his security plans first thing tomorrow. Grant, how about helping out the guards on gate duty? If it’s anything like last year, residents will call in gate passes for half of Beaufort County.”
I shrug. “Sure. I can help. As long as Kylee saves me some of the candy her Coast Guard buddies are bringing for the kids.”
Kylee laughs. “Not a problem. See you, gentlemen, bright and early tomorrow.”
We exit Dad’s car. As Aunt Kylee heads to her Camry, Dad’s shoulders slump. Kylee hasn’t convinced him, and he’s plenty worried. Have to admit I am, too.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Kylee
Tuesday, July 3, evening
Aboard the River Rat, I take out the two spy cams I purchased for Kay’s B&B. One looks like an ordinary picture frame, the other a clothes hook. When motion activates the cameras, they record videos that are stored on a card for later download to a computer. When the motion stops, the recording stops.
Just need to decide the best places to position the cameras. Want them to capture the witch doctor’s face when she picks up my carry-on and starts rummaging around for the notebook. I smile, imagining what her angry puss will look like when there’s no notebook to find.
But what if she wears a mask? Might make the videos worthless.
No. She’s not going to wear a mask if she visits in broad daylight. The marina has security cameras of its own, and folks manning the Ship’s Store would certainly call the police if they saw a masked visitor poking around the marina boat slips.
Might she come at night?
Certainly not tonight. I won’t send Mom the treasure hunt email until I leave for Hullis Island in the morning. One worry is how Mom might reply to the email. When she’s not working, Mom usually checks her emails first thing each morning, then doesn’t bother with the computer the rest of the day. I can’t phone Mom to warn her the email is bogus since the wicked professor might be across the street and has found a way to eavesdrop.
Why didn’t I think of this before? What a dummy.
I phone Ted. “Hope I’m not getting you out of bed.”
“No, I’m waiting to see the draft of your email. Besides, I don’t know if I’ll ever get to sleep tonight. I’m really worried this sting strategy will backfire. And I don’t know how to keep you safe.”
“Yeah, well, I just realized another way the sting could backfire.”
I explain my concern that Mom might inadvertently give the game away. Yes, my mother knows she’s been hacked. But I’m afraid an alarming email might prompt Mom to phone me before she remembers her daughter may not be the only person on the line.
Ted offers to roust Grant super early so they’re on Frank’s doorstep by six-thirty, about the time Mom and Frank usually get up. I agree to wait until seven a.m. to send the email. Plenty of time for Ted to give Mom an in-person heads-up.
“Still wish I could talk you out of this,” Ted says. “That woman’s smart, unhinged, and arrogant. A very frightening and dangerous combination. There’s no telling what she’ll pull next.”
Though I agree, I don’t comment.
I try to sound upbeat. “Hey, don’t want to keep you up all night, since you have to get up before the roosters start to crow. I’ll send you that draft email in half an hour or less. Better say goodbye so I can finish it. I love you, Ted.”
“Love you, too.” Ted sounds worried and sad.
Makes me feel bad. Yet I don’t see another way to stop the woman. If we get video of her aboard my boat, searching my carry-on, the authorities will have something to take to a judge. The only way the doc would know to search my carry-on is by hacking. I suspect that would provide sufficient cause for a search warrant. One that should turn up evidence of her crimes.
Can’t imagine she’s discarded all of her burner phones. And, if the authorities could get hold of one of them, they could contact her service provider, even if she used a fake ID to pay for it. Knowing the provider, authorities could request records of all her texts and calls.
For twenty minutes, I fiddle with the email before sending the draft to Ted. Five minutes later, he’s suggested some minor tweaks.
“Thanks,” I reply. “See you tomorrow morning.”
Chapter Sixty
Grant
Wednesday, July 4, morning
At least Dad has coffee made when he shakes me awake. I can smell it.
When I open my eyes, my bedroom is dark. Means the sun isn’t up yet, though there’s a pre-dawn hint the sun will rise soon.
My bedroom has temporary window shades. Dad duct-taped old, so-thin-they’re-practically transparent sheets to the window frames. Far as I can tell, my shades only serve to prevent Peeping Toms from taking mug shots suitable for facial recognition. However, I’m sure a peeper could catalog my silhouette’s every move.
Like if I yawn and scratch whatever. My current activities.
Dad returns to my doorway to see if I’m actually out of bed. “Hurry,” he says. “Sorry to wake you so early, but I promised Kylee we’d get to Frank’s by six-thirty. Have to warn Myrt in person about the sting email Kylee’s sending at seven. Don’t want Myrt to freak out. You can take a shower at Frank’s once we get there.”
When Dad leaves, I throw on shorts and a tee-shirt, and pound down the stairs.
Dad hands me an insulated to-go mug of coffee and gives me a once-over.
“Uh, run back upstairs and grab a polo shirt and long pants to wear when you help at the security gate. Even if the help is gratis, Chief O’Rourke would frown on anyone wearing shorts.”
I sigh. “Okay, today’s gonna be another hot one. Hope O’Rourke doesn’t mind residents seeing sweat rings under my armpits.”
I think about trying to sleep on the drive to Hullis, but once I drink the coffee, I’m wide awake. Dad doesn’t say much. Too worried, I guess. So, I just zone out and watch the Lowcountry scenery slide by. The sunrise paints the clouds in pinks and purples. Since there isn’t a breeze, the watery marsh acts as a mirror, painting a watercolor in soft pastels.
Mimi would love to get a shot of this. Especially if a blue heron or flock of egrets would happen by.
Hope she’s still planning to join our family’s Salute from the Shore picnic this afternoon. Will text her after I finish my security gate shift.
* * *
It’s eight o’clock as I walk toward the security gate. Took a shower at Frank’s and Grandma Myrt fixed me up with eggs, sausage, and biscuits. Dad wants me to help the guards on duty until ten a.m. That’s when the parade starts. By then, he figures most folks coming from off-island for the Fourth celebrations will already have arrived.
I’m glad to see Bill Clark’s on duty. He’s leaning out the door, chatting with the newest arrival. Bill’s one of the younger Hullis Island officers, and he has a good sense of humor.
Not too fond of some of the old farts. When we visited Grandma Myrt back when I was fifteen and sixteen, they hassled me plenty. If Myrt sent me to the convenience store in a golf cart, they’d pull me over and ask to see my driver’s license. If I was in a car, they’d claim I was exceeding the fifteen-mile-per-hour-speed limit on Grandma Myrt’s road. Like adults drive thirteen miles per hour. You have to coast and keep one foot on the brake to stay under fifteen.
What Dad calls the Hullis Island security gate is actually a guardhouse. Kind of looks like one of the tiny homes going up outside Charleston. The guard house sits on a traffic island between entry and exit roads.
A barrier arm on the exit side raises automatically when cars approach. On the entry side, a security officer lifts the arm in advance if he sees a car approaching with a Hullis decal sticker on the windshield. That lets owners roll through without coming to a full stop. Cars without decals must stop, and the drivers have to show QR—Quick Response—barcodes on their cellphones or hand printouts to the guard. The codes are scanned to verify they’re pre-approved guests.
Of course, guests sometimes forget to bring codes or owners forget to call ahead for guests. That’s one reason I’m here. When it’s super busy, cars start stacking up behind the gate, and the officers get real harried. During prime times, there are two officers on duty. I’ll probably help out by scanning the QR codes and checking them off the pre-approved list while Bill and the other officer answer questions, phone owners, and work the barrier arms.
Bill grins when he spots me. “Glad to see you, Grant. You just missed your Aunt Kylee. She came through maybe five minutes ago. Your dad told us you’re gonna help Pete and me out for a couple of hours.”
Anyone who’s ever spent any time on Hullis Island quickly learns everybody seems to know everybody else’s business. If a strange car remains parked in Frank’s driveway for more than an hour, someone will call Frank or Myrt asking who’s visiting them. Kinda glad Frank has more than old sheets up on his windows, or someone might ask why I don’t wear PJs.
As expected, Bill tells me to scan QR codes and check them off on a printout. That means I’m tucked out of sight in the back of the very hot, non-air-conditioned tiny house. I understand why the air-conditioner isn’t on. Pointless with Bill and Pete constantly leaning out the open top half of Dutch doors to gab and hand out passes. Means I sit on a high stool and sweat.
Coulda worn shorts. Nobody would know.
I’ve been at it about half an hour when Bill mentions Frank Donahue’s name as he greets a guest. Bill hands me the printed QR code to scan. When I go to put a check beside the address requesting the pass, Frank’s address comes up. Huh? Frank didn’t mention calling in any guests. The name of the guest is listed as Curtis Donahue. I lean forward to hear what Curtis and Bill are saying.
“So, are you a relative of Frank’s?” Bill asks.
“Uh, yeah,” a young man answers. “His nephew. Here to spend the week.”
Nephew? I’ve met both of Frank’s nephews. They’re around Dad’s age, and neither is named Curtis.
“You probably know Grant then,” Bill says to the unseen Curtis.
I shove Bill hard while trying to remain out of sight. When the annoyed officer turns around, I shake my head and put my fingers to my lips. Then, I whisper, “Don’t say anything else.”
“Well, you have a good day now,” Bill says as he hands Curtis the guest pass to display on his dash. “Happy Fourth of July.”
Bill turns to me. “What in the devil is your problem?” he begins.
“Frank doesn’t have a nephew named Curtis.”
I practically knock Pete over as I bolt past him and out the guard house door on the exit side. Want to see the car Curtis is driving, and get his license plate number.
As I burst back inside the guard house, Bill’s already on the phone. “Yeah, I let a kid through the gate before I found out he had a fake QR code. He’s a teenager. Could be a pickpocket hoping to work the crowds. He’s driving a gray 1998 Chevy Malibu.”
I grab Bill’s arm. “Wait, don’t let anyone stop that kid, thinking he’s some purse snatcher. I think he’s armed, and he’s come to kill Aunt Kylee.”
“Hang on a minute,” Bill tells the caller and clamps a hand over the phone to hear what I have to say. His look says he thinks I’m off my rocker.
I tighten my grip on Bill’s arm. “I’m serious. Let me call Dad. He’ll explain. You have to believe me.”
Bill returns to the officer he’s put on hold. “Seems there may be more to this story. The kid could be armed and dangerous. Until we get this sorted out, see if you can spot his car and shadow him. Watch where he goes. But don’t approach until we know more.”
My heart’s beating a mile a minute. I pull out my cellphone. For a second, I wonder if my first call should be to Dad or Aunt Kylee, but Dad’s more likely to pick up. Maybe this Curtis is just some juvenile delinquent. Yet, the fact his pass supposedly came from Frank’s computer strongly suggests he’s one of the foul professor’s creatures. Not likely two people have hacked Frank’s computer. The scary part is not knowing what the puppet master told this Curtis to do. Whatever the orders, I’m sure they include killing Aunt Kylee.
