Page 88 of Captive of Outlaws

“We’ll need to figure out if anyone knows you’re gone,” Rob says. “If there’s any indication he’s really on your trail, or if he was just bluffing. Check police reports, public records—”

“On it,” Tuck says. “I can do that easily.”

“Good boy,” Rob says. “And we’ll double down on security at the house.”

Will nods. “Perimeter check?”

Rob nods back. “Just do a sweep and make sure there’s no gaps. LJ, I want you to check on artillery.”

Artillery? Jesus Christ. I shiver a little. But LJ just jerks his head affirmatively.

“Sure.”

“And you’re going to teach Maren to fight,” Rob goes on.

“What?” LJ and I say at the same time.

“She needs to know self-defense,” Rob says. “You’re the best fighter we have...in human form, anyway. Teach her the basics so that she can stick up for herself in case we’re not there to fight for her. I’m not taking any arguments on this.” He folds his arms.

“Fine.” LJ says. “Tomorrow morning. Seven a.m. sharp. My apartment.”

I nod crisply, not letting him get anything out of me. “Okay.”

“And in case anyone’s wondering what I’m doing,” Rob says, “I’m going to make some calls to...associates. Put out some feelers, as they say. See if we can’t size up what kind of a threat your uncle really is.”

“Thank you,” I say. “Seriously. I...I don’t really know what my uncle’s capable of, or even what he’s done, but...” I swallow. “He’s clearly not the person I thought he was.”

“We’ve got you, Maren,” Will says. “I’ll make sure this place is airtight. You’ll be safer than all the gold bullion at Fort Knox.”

“And I can teach you defense,” LJ grunts. “Might as well learn it from the best.”

It’s overwhelming, honestly. No one’s ever so much as reminded me to wear a helmet on my bike, and now all of a sudden I have a DEFCON-level security force protecting my every move.

“I’m guessing there’s not much you need from me,” Tuck says, half-smiling. “Unless you need some databases hacked.”

An idea occurs to me. “Actually...do you think you can help me with something?”

Chapter Twenty-Three

“OKAY, AND...WE’RE IN.”

Tuck’s face lights up like a kid’s on Christmas as he deftly taps the last few keys. We’re back in the office, crammed in front of his computer, and his nerdy excitement is on full display as the county database backend reflects in his glasses.

“I can’t believe you actually said that,” I say, laughing. I lower my voice to imitate him: “We’re in.”

Tuck chuckles. “Sue me, I like to be the cliche movie hacker once in a while.” He pushes his glasses up his nose and points to the screen. “So this is it, basically. The motherlode.”

I survey the screen. “It looks like a spreadsheet.”

“Well...it basically is,” Tuck admits. “But this has all the local records you could ever want. Court filings, criminal records, police reports, births, marriages, adoptions, wills—”

“I get the idea,” I cut him off, although I half-wonder how long he could keep going if I hadn’t. “And it’s really just this easy to get in?”

Tuck sits up a little straighter. “Well, I wouldn’t say it’seasy.You’ve got to know your way around SQL, understand the usual vulnerabilities, keep on top of patches...” He must see my eyes glazing over, because he snaps back to reality. “But really, once you know the rules, it’s just a giant machine. Computers do what you tell them; you just need to know how to ask.”

“Sounds like cars,” I say.

Tuck laughs. “I’ll take your word for it.” He reaches out and strokes my chin, just a quick, sweet gesture that nevertheless fills me with warmth. “So, what do you want to know?”

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