Page 85 of Protected from Malice
“So do I.” Indy glances over at me from the passenger seat. “I just want to know already. Put an end to this.”
“It’s probably him,” Webb replies. “Tyler said there’s a ninety-eight percent chance of the results being accurate. That this piece of shit Chris Rickard is our guy.”
After days of coming up against one false lead after another, Tyler finally got a hit yesterday, which is why we’re headed out well after dark to confront our prime suspect. Though Tyler was right about a burner phone being used to hire the man who broke into Eden’s house, and later, the hotel room, it didn’t end up being a dead end as we feared.
With Leo, Matt, and Beth’s help, Tyler traced the purchase of the burner phone to a convenience store in Portland. From there, he was able to get a partial shot of the buyer’s face on the store’s surveillance system. On its own, the partial wouldn’t beenough. But Tyler was able to use AI to generate the rest of the man’s face, then feed it into facial recognition software to come out with a name.
Chris Rickard. A thirty-six-year-old customer service rep who lives in Sandy, a suburb just east of Portland. A seemingly ordinary man with no known connection to Eden.
But there has to be something. Some reason why he targeted Eden. Did he see her out at a store? A restaurant? Did he follow her home that first time to get her location? Then, as time went on, his obsession with her grew until he decided he wanted to take her for himself?
I’m going to find out. Whether he wants to tell me or not.
And if heisinnocent? It’s back to the damn drawing board. Which means Eden’s going to push even harder for her idea, which is setting a trap at her house, using herself as bait.
Obviously, I’m not in favor of that. Neither is Indy. When Eden first brought it up, Indy flat-out refused to consider it. “No way,” he informed her. “It’s not happening. I won’t allow it.”
I was thinking the same thing, but I was smart enough not to say it. Partly because I know I have no right to, but also because telling Eden no is akin to waving a red flag in front of her. And Indy should know that by now.
“It’s a good idea,” Eden snapped at him. “And you don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t do.” Then she sagged as she added more quietly, “I need to get back to work for real. I need to see this project through. You know it, Indy. If this drug gets FDA approval, it could save people’s lives. People like our dad.”
Because that’s what’s been driving Eden so hard for the last few years. Not just scientific curiosity, but a burning need to find a cure for the condition that took their dad far too soon.
If this Chris Rickard isn’t the one, she’s going to keep pushing until we give in. And no matter how carefully we planout the op, there’s always a chance of something going wrong. Of Eden getting hurt or traumatized again.
So it had better be him.
It has to be.
We need to put an end to this, as Indy said. Get Eden back to her normal life.
And from there? I’ve been thinking a lot about our future. About my home back in Texas and how far it is from here. How, technically, I could work from anywhere.
“We’re almost there,” Indy says. He gestures to the intersection coming up ahead of us. “Just another mile or so.”
I slow to a stop at the empty intersection, then accelerate through it. Fortunately, the streets are basically empty by now, just as we’d hoped. It’s past eleven PM, and most of the houses we pass are dropping into darkness as the residents head off to bed. And Rickard? Hopefully, he’s home. And if he’s not, we’ll wait until he is.
“Okay,” Webb leans forward. “So we’re leaving the car at the apartment building around the corner, right?”
“Yes.” I glance at the map on the dashboard, spotting the small apartment building a quarter mile south of Rickard’s house. “Tyler already hacked into the security cameras around the building and parking lot. The feed is on a loop, so it won’t record us arriving or leaving.”
Indy nods. “Good.” He reaches beneath his seat and pulls out his Sig. “Are we still good with the plan? Rafe and I sneak around back and enter the house through the back door. And Webb, you’re our lookout until we give you the signal.”
“Sounds good to me,” Webb replies. A soft snick comes from the backseat; a sound I immediately identify as him checking his gun.
“Works for me,” I agree. “We’ll approach from the south, then use the trees around the house for cover. There’s a decent-sized cluster of trees for Webb to hide in with a view of the front. And?—”
As we pass the house, I fall silent. We all do.
It’s a split level, surrounded by trees on three sides. Lucky for us, because it makes our approach much easier. There’s one light on upstairs, glowing softly through the curtains. The moon is mostly hidden by clouds, casting the yard into darkness.
Once we pass by, I say, “He’s in the bedroom. I can recognize the location from the rental listing online.”
“Then we should be able to enter the house and get upstairs without him noticing,” Indy adds. “The critical part will be making sure he doesn’t call the cops before we can restrain him.”
“He may not be too eager to get the cops involved if he’s our guy,” Webb remarks.
“He won’t call the cops,” I growl. “Trust me. I’ll make sure of it.”
