The one unexpected thing they did find in his trash was an empty cat food bag and a bag of used litter. Nowhere had there been any indication Woods had a cat. There had been no vet bills on his credit card over the last year, unless he was one of those owners who didn’t vaccinate his cat. And if he bought the cat food at the grocery store, there would be no trips to a pet store. Okay, they’d need to be careful entering Woods’ place, so they didn’t accidentally let the cat out.

  That was all they found of interest in his bins. There were no papers of interest. Nothing that gave them any indication of any place he frequented that they didn’t already know about. And nothing that would indicate what he could possibly have hired someone to do in a chatroom on the darknet, not that they expected to find the answer in Woods’ trash.

  After they brought Woods’ bins back outside and returned them to the curb, the men returned to the warmth of the townhouse. Everyone returned to bed. Roth settled back in on the couch and immediately fell asleep. He was awoken at six-thirty hours the next morning by the smell of coffee coming from the adjoining kitchen.

  Wilson and Burke sat at the breakfast bar, sipping coffee. Roth greeted them on his way to the coffee pot. “You both are on at seven hundred, huh?”

  “Yeah,” Wilson said.

  Lambchop soon joined them. “If Woods doesn’t come out all day or go to that bar this evening, we’re going to have to lure him out. We need to get access to his place.” His eyes met Roth’s. “That’ll be on you.”

  “I could pretend I don’t recall the name of the bar he told me about and go knock on his door,” Roth said. “And then I could invite him to come join me. I don’t think that’d be too obvious. And I could maybe get a peek inside his house in the process.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” Lambchop agreed.

  “Got the target’s garage door opening, and the car is running,” Wilson advised. It was zero seven-thirty, and he was in the loft on look out. Burke was positioned in the strip mall parking lot.

  “We need about twenty minutes in his place,” Lambchop broadcast through comms. “Go get the others up,” he told Roth.

  Roth popped his comms in and then ran up the stairs and opened each of the bedroom doors, rousing Tessman and Mother.

  “Target is backing out of his driveway,” Wilson broadcast. “Handsome, prepare to follow. I’m watching the time.” He knew the others would be as well, but as overwatch, it was his job to mark the time the Op started and ended.

  “We’ll be ready to move the second he’s at least fifteen minutes away from here,” Lambchop said. “Tessman, you’ll cut the internet after Roth does a front door knock to ensure the house is vacant. Mother and I will go in through the back.”

  Everyone acknowledged him. The men in the house put on their jackets and gathered their gear, everyone waiting by the back door. Roth watched the hand on his wristwatch click through the minutes. “Fifteen minutes,” Wilson announced.

  “Go,” Lambchop ordered. The four men filed out the back door.

  “Target just pulled into a coffee shop parking lot,” Burke transmitted, after the men had cut through the guest parking lot.

  “Going through the drive thru or inside?” Wilson asked.

  “Inside, and it looks busy. Even if he takes it to go, we’ll be fine on time. I’ll keep you advised.”

  “Roger that, Handsome,” Wilson replied.

  While Lambchop and Mother followed Tessman behind the building that housed the townhouses where Woods’ unit lay in the middle, Roth walked towards the front door. He paced himself, like he was out for an early morning walk. He listened as Burke reported Woods was still in the coffee shop. Tessman reported he’d reached the cable box, and finally, Lambchop reported that he and Mother were at the back door.

  He rang the doorbell and waited a moment, his ears straining to hear any sounds from inside. Then he fisted his hand and knocked three times on the door. He waited a few moments. “Doorbell ring and knock complete. No sounds, no sign of movement from inside. Just remember the cat when you enter.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and pressed it to his ear, lingering to make it look like with no answer, he was then on his phone, a reason to hang around the door, just in case.

  “Internet cut,” Tessman broadcasted.

  “Entering now,” Lambchop reported.

  Lambchop expertly used the lock-picking tools to unlock the deadbolt and door handle locks on the French door. He opened the door as Mother looked near his feet, ready to capture the cat if it was there, and tried to escape. It didn’t.

  They entered the kitchen. Even though the window treatments hid the interior from prying eyes outside, the space was not dark as they’d thought it would be. The blinds that covered every window allowed the sunlight to filter in.

  They found a tidy kitchen. The cat food bowl was beside an identical bowl of water on the floor in front of the stationary panel of the French door. As they walked further into the house, the cat came running, a friendly tuxedo cat. It wore a sparkly collar with the name Mittens on the tag. Lambchop picked it up and gave it a few strokes with his gloved hand. Then he set it down by its food bowl.

  “Any indication our target is gay?” Mother asked quietly. “A sparkly collar, and the cat’s name is quite feminine.”

  The others chuckled through comms.

  The two men found the extensive computer set up in the living room, which was predominantly computer equipment, with a loveseat and a recliner facing a television mounted to the wall in one area, an enormous computer desk with three large monitors positioned on it. A mouse, keyboard, and docking station completed the set up. All that was missing was the laptop that belonged in the middle of it all. “Damn, laptop and it’s not here,” Lambchop broadcast. “We’ll get the cameras and bugs planted.”

  He and Mother got busy.

  Delta

  Briana came awake to banging. Her head throbbed for the rum and cokes the night before. Her bleary eyes focused on the clock that was on the bedside table. Seven-fifty. “Are you freaking kidding me? Again?” she said aloud. This was the third morning out of four that the asshole neighbor next door was banging something this early.

  With this bedroom being in the front of the house, she heard every knock, every closing door, even many conversations that took place outside the front door units on either side of her. These townhouses may be only a few years old, but the construction was crappy. There was no soundproofing whatsoever.

  She reached for the bedside table and took hold of the eye drops. She instilled a couple of drops in each eye, not even needing to look in a mirror to know her eyes were Christmas colors festive after a night of drinking. They always were. She needed to pee, but she didn’t want to get up. She hoped the banging had stopped and she could go back to sleep. She rolled over and snuggled into the pillow.

  She wasn’t sure how long she lay there, as she knew she had dozed, but she heard something else that roused her from the shallow sleep, the sound of a door closing. Damn neighbor. Her bladder reminded her she had to pee, and she pulled herself from the bed.

  In the living room of Cameron Woods’ place, Lambchop and Mother were just finishing installing the cameras. They planted two. One was hidden in the light fixture in the entry, and it focused on the computer table set up, which should allow them to see what Woods would have displayed on his three monitors. They tapped into the electric to power it. They also had a listening device there. They planted a second listening device at the rear of the middle monitor. A second camera was installed in a floor lamp, angled to give a good view of where a laptop may rest if someone sat in the recliner while working on his laptop.

  That was when they heard the creaking of the floor above and then the flush of a toilet. “Crash, knock again. Someone is upstairs,” Lambchop whispered, moving towards the back door, Mother following. Not only did they both have to make it out of the house, but he also had to re-lock both locks on the back door to hide the fact they’d been there. If this unknown person was in the kitchen as he worked the locks, they’d likely hear it or maybe even see the locking mechanism turn. Shit.

  Roth stepped up to the door and rang the bell again. It only took a minute for the sound of the lock being undone was followed by the door swinging open. A mane of auburn hair hung from the head of the woman, who was bent over, scooping a tuxedo cat up from the floor. She stood to face him, tossing that gorgeous hair back over her shoulder. She had big emerald-green eyes, sparkling and magnetic. Across her nose was the cutest splattering of freckles. Her heart-shaped face was beautiful, youthful. He guessed her age to be late twenties.

  “Hi, who are you?” he asked.

  “The question is, who the hell are you and why are you here, waking me up so early?” She couldn’t wait to get a cup or two of coffee in here and a couple of ibuprofen, too. She knew she shouldn’t have stayed up as late as she had with Cam, nor should she have drunk as much as she had. She should know better by now that she can’t keep up with him, drink for drink.

  Roth chuckled. “It’s after eight. It’s not that early.”

  She didn’t say anything. She just stared at him expectantly.

  “I’m Sebastian, Cam’s neighbor, from across the street. Is he home?”

  “No, if he was, he would have answered, and I wouldn’t have had to get up. I’m sure he’s at the coffee shop.”

  “Oh, okay, thanks. Sorry I woke you.” He waited, but she said nothing. She stared at him as though waiting for more. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name,” he said with his best smile.

  “That’s because I didn’t offer it,” she said. “Anything else?”

  Through his comms, he heard Lambchop. “All clear.”

  “No, sorry again that I woke you.”

  He turned and walked away, stealing a look back. She stepped out and picked up a couple of pieces of paper, trash, that were on the ground, still cradling the cat in her arms. Then she stepped back inside and closed the door. He took in her creamy white skin that was showcased by the black spaghetti strapped tank-top she wore blending into black yoga pants. Her arms looked toned and femininely muscled. She had alluring curves on her petite frame, around five-two, he’d guess. And she had an ample behind, he noticed. He always noticed women’s butts and hips.

  “Yes, indeed, who are you?” he said aloud as he crossed the street, heading back to the borrowed unit. “I don’t think Woods is gay,” he added. “She’s a knockout.”

  “With an attitude, it sounded like,” Tessman broadcast with a chuckle.

  “Yeah, definitely not a morning person,” Roth agreed.

  “And this will complicate things,” Lambchop added.

  They regrouped in the loft. Burke listened in as he was still in the parking lot at the coffee shop where Cam Woods sat at a small table in the window with another man. Both had their laptops open. He snapped a few pictures of him and would try to get a photo of his car and license plate when the two men left so they could identify him.

  Wilson was dispatched to take the other rented sedan to meet up with Burke. He’d go into the coffee shop to get eyes on the two men and then follow Woods when he left, leaving Burke available to follow his coffee buddy. As he was still long-haired with facial hair, his appearance could easily be altered with a shave and haircut. He wouldn’t be burned by being seen.

  They were on the phone with Garcia at HQ. Roth gave a description of the woman who’d answered the door.

  “There wasn’t a second vehicle in the garage, so either she didn’t drive there, or her vehicle is parked over in the guest lot,” Lambchop reported.

  “I’ll take a walk after this call and get you the make, model, and license plate of every car in that lot,” Mother volunteered.

  “I’ll be waiting for your call,” Garcia replied. “I’ll pull driver’s license pics of anyone around the right age and send them to you, Roth. Hopefully, we can positively ID her.”

  “Yeah, if not, I guess I’ll be knocking on his door again after we see him get home with hopes of an introduction.”

  “We’ll run that play later this afternoon under the guise of you asking the name of that country bar,” Lambchop said. “You can invite him and the mystery woman out and if we get lucky, they’ll both go, leaving the place vacant so we can get back in there and get HQ into Woods’ computer.”

  “Either Smith or I will be standing by, waiting,” Garcia said. “Anything else?”

  “No, we’ll sign off for now so Mother can go take a walk through the guest lot,” Lambchop said.

  Cameron Woods and his buddy were still sitting at the coffee shop when Wilson arrived. He entered and went up to the counter. He ordered a black coffee of the day. While he was waiting for it to be poured and handed to him, he was able to see Cam Woods’ screen. He was playing some video game, one of those multi-player, first-person shooter type of games.

  He chuckled to himself as he left with his coffee, seeing that the other guy was playing it, too. Once in the car, he spoke to the others through comms. “He’s playing one of those pretend to be special forces shooter games with his buddy.”

  The others all laughed as well.

  “Oh, hell. Woods could be there all damn day,” Burke said.

  “Unlikely, the coffee shop closes at noon. I saw the hours on the door,” Wilson said.

  It was an hour later when Woods and his gaming buddy left the shop, each getting into their cars and driving away in different directions. Wilson followed Woods on a course back to his residence, pulling into the strip mall parking lot as Woods’ car continued into the subdivision of townhomes. Roth was the lookout in the loft. He broadcast to the others when he saw Woods’ little blue Ford Focus pull into his driveway and into the garage.

  Mother had hit paydirt in the guest parking lot. A white Transit Van was parked in the lot with Georgia plates, not unusual, as it was not even a week past Thanksgiving. It was registered to a Lisa O’Connor of Atlanta. She was twenty-nine years old. Garcia sent the driver’s license picture to Roth. Though the beauty in the picture had black hair, it was clearly the auburn-haired goddess who’d opened the door to Woods’ townhouse.

  Garcia got to work running her to ground.

  Burke followed Woods’ gaming buddy to a mall, where he donned the familiar blue shirt of an employee of Best Buy before he left his car parked at the back of the lot. He carried his laptop in with him. Burk snapped several more pics of him and his plates and sent them to Garcia. He was identified as Joe Elliot of Waterloo. Garcia would look into him as well.

  Shortly after Woods had returned, Roth saw him exit his front door. He had set his laptop onto his computer desk when he’d entered, but hadn’t hooked it back up to the docking station. He crossed the street. Odd, the mail hadn’t come yet. Neither had the trash or recycling pickup. He was surprised when Woods headed right for the front door of the unit they were in. “Woods is heading here,” he broadcast over comms.

  Woods knocked. Roth descended the stairs as the others got out of sight. After they were safely upstairs, he opened the front door. “Hey, how’s it going?” he greeted Woods.

  “Good. My sister told me you stopped by. At least, I assumed it was you from her description.”

  His sister? Hum, that was interesting. “Yeah, I forgot the name of that country bar. And you said it was a few streets over, but if you mentioned which street it’s on, I forgot. I’m planning to go grab a beer and a burger tonight.”

  Cam Woods smiled. “You do have a shit memory, don’t you? It’s the Kickstarter, over on West Street.”

  “Yeah, if I woulda remembered Kickstarter I could have Googled it.”

  “What time you thinking of heading over?” Woods asked.

  “Not sure. What time does the beer special start?” He flashed Woods a smile.

  “Four. That’s when I’m going.”

  “Is your sister going too?” He saw Woods’ unreadable reaction to his question. “No disrespect of your sister, but she’s smoking, man.”

  Woods laughed. “Don’t waste your time with her.”

  “Why? Is she gay?”

  Woods laughed again. “I won’t tell her you got a gay vibe off her. No, she doesn’t live around here and she’s heading home in a few days.”

  “That’s too bad,” Roth said.

  “Come over to my place at four. I’ll show you a shortcut to walk over there,” Woods said.

  “Sounds good,” Roth said. He watched Woods walk back across the street and re-enter his own townhouse. “That was interesting,” he said to the others as they rejoined him in the loft. “His sister.” He tapped out a message to Garcia with this tidbit of info.

  The team continued the rotation of watching Woods’ unit from the loft, as well as monitoring the cameras and bugs in the unit. For the first hour after he had visited Roth, nothing was picked up. Both Woods and his sister must have been upstairs.

  Finally, Cam Woods connected his laptop to the docking station and signed into his computer. The camera in the entry light gave the perfect view of the multiple monitors. He had several windows open. The team alerted Garcia, who patched in to view the monitors and the activity of their target.

  “He’s in two different email accounts,” Lambchop pointed out. “I can’t make out the account names.”

  As they watched Cam Woods zip through different websites, Garcia reported on Lisa O’Connor and Cameron Woods’ sister, Briana Woods. Both women served in the Army as MPs, their last post being at Fort Stewart in Georgia. They physically resembled each other. In her Army ID photo, Lisa O’Connor had the same auburn colored hair as Briana. Briana had green eyes and Lisa had blue, nothing that couldn’t be changed with contact lenses.

 

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