Page 7 of Captured Heart

That sounds believable, right?

The fact that I know these details sets her at ease. “She didn’t give you a time?”

“No, ma’am...or maybe she did, and I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Well, Katelyn is a very dedicated and diligent student. She spends most of her time studying at the campus library. Most days, she only gets home after six. Shall I tell her you came by?”

Absolutely not. “Nah, that’s alright. I’m heading back to campus now, anyway. I’ll give her a call and meet her at the library to get it.” I nod to signal the end of the conversation. “You have a good day now.”

“You, too.”

My annoyance escalates as I retreat to my truck. I should’ve known this job wasn’t as easy as Victor made it out to be. And just when I think it can’t get worse, a car zooms past, lights flashing, and parks in front of the house. The sticker on the side door tells me it’s a private security company.

I check the watch on my phone. Three minutes. With that kind of response time, even if I broke in, I’d never find the files and get out before they arrived. That’s another spanner in the works.

I watch as two armed men get out of the car. One of them greets the old lady, and she must explain that I was a friend of Katelyn’s because, after a brief chat, they wave and hop back into the car.

I wait for them to drive away before I start the ignition to avoid suspicion. That did not go the way I thought it would.

Okay. Time to regroup. I’ve got nineteen days (well, eighteen now) and one shot. I’m going to go back to Morty’s trailer, come up with a solid plan, and then try again tomorrow.

3. Aleksandras

So, my solid plan isn’t so solid. It’s reliant on multiple unpredictable components, all coming together seamlessly by sheer luck and whimsical happenstance. I’m methodical to the point of obsession. Every step is calculated, every angle covered, so I feel a bit out of my element because I’m just straight winging it with this one. Given that this kind of job isn’t something I’ve done before, it’s the best I could come up with on such short notice.

And what makes everything even more uncertain is the fact that I’ve decided to lay the full weight of this not-so-solid plan on the shoulders ofthatguy right there.

Yes, I’ve put all my faith and future freedom into the hands of the dorky, scrawny redhead talking to Katelyn right now. I’ve been following her all morning, and he seems to be the only person she actually talks to for more than two minutes. They must be study buddies or something because I followed them from their last class to the library, and they’ve been brainstorming ideas for some chemistry project for almost three hours now.

The snippets of whispered conversations I’ve heard so far sound like indecipherable gibberish, but I’ve been sitting here patiently, staring at the back of their heads, waiting for the moment I can get this guy alone. It’s already late afternoon, and I’m bored out of my mind, battling to stay awake. It’s relatively quiet in here, just the soft hum of murmurs and the occasional rustle of pages turning, so it’s very easy to fall asleep.

A breath of life fills my lungs when dorky dude finally stands up. “Okay, so you’re gonna do the literature review and the hypothesis formation, I’ll help you with the experimental design, but I’ll do the full data analysis once we’ve collected all the data from our experiments.”

I catch a glimpse of her side profile when she looks up at him with a smile. “Sounds like a plan,” she replies. “See you tomorrow, Corey.”

I wait for her to pack her books away and keep my head down as she passes. As soon as she exits the library, I get up to go after dorky dude. I double my steps to catch up to him, passing rows upon rows of bookshelves, then slow down when I’m right behind him. This guy has no gut instincts, no sense of self-preservation because I’m basically breathing down his neck and he doesn’t even turn around.

I grab his backpack and yank him between two bookshelves. He lets out a small yelp when I shove him up against one of them.

“Don’t hurt me,” he whisper-shouts. He reaches into his back pocket and frantically chucks his wallet at me. It hits my cheek before it falls and lands at my feet. “Take my money. Take all of it. There’s only sixteen dollars in there, but there’s a coupon for a free smoothie. Just take it all.”

I realize then that I just used theonlycommunication skill I picked up while working for Victor. It’s a simple three-part process. Demand. Intimidate. And if neither gets me the information I require, the last resort is forceful extraction. That was standard practice during any job. The same tactic also worked surprisingly well in prison whenever I needed anything.

But that approach may be a tad too aggressive for people out in the real world. Dorky dude is scared shitless. Not the first impression I wanted to make to the guy who holds the key to executing my plan.

“Yo, cool it,” I say, my voice even and calm. “No need to make a scene.” I sort of straighten out his shirt as a gesture to show I mean no harm, then bend to pick up his wallet. “I’m not trying to rob you.”

“You’re not?” He carefully takes his wallet from my hand. “You look...you know...I mean...you kinda look like someone...who would.”

“I do?”

Victor gave me money to get myself cleaned up, and I bought some decent T-shirts and a new pair of jeans, but this new look isn’t fooling anyone because I clearly still look like a criminal.

He must hear something in my voice that makes him pause before he answers me. “No. Of course not. I didn’t mean that...the way it came out. You look like a wholesome...standup guy. Boy next door, you know. The way your buzz cut complements the array of tattoos going down your arm is just so...notintimidating...at all. You look like the kinda guy who’s gonna let me go without hurting me.”

He shifts slightly to the side and slowly inches backward. I gotta hand it to him. That’s a commendable tactic. He may just have some survival instincts after all.

“Nice try, but you’re not going anywhere.”

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