Page 45 of Fatal Vision
Opening a folder labeled Paperback Novel, she scanned the contents. The novel didn’t exist, only files containing her research on investigations. She’d known other agents who’d been careless about their laptops, ending up with them stolen or hacked, personal notes on investigations suddenly in the hands of people who could use the info as blackmail or sell it to others who might do worse.
Shelby was extra careful, using several layers of encryption and never labeling anything with the actual case name. If someone were to hack through all her security, they’d see random notes on ‘characters,’ ‘locations,’ ‘backstories,’ ‘plots,’ and miscellaneous…all elements of a fictional tale.
She also used code names for her characters—the real life victims and perpetrators of the crimes she investigated. If anyone did put two and two together and figured out the details in these files were real, they’d still have a lot of work to do to link them to real cases.
She opened Three Dog Night, the name she’d given the veteran serial murder case “book” and began reading.
Twenty minutes later, she’d scanned through the case’s to-do list—another item that had been missing in her paper file. The one thing that stood out to her was to visit Irello Serevs.
Irello Serevs. Lori Evers.
It was a silly ruse, but one she enjoyed. She’s always wanted to be a code breaker for the FBI and in a way she was with her behavioral analyses of people’s faces. But since she couldn’t actually do it for the Bureau, the least she could do was create her own codes for cases.
In the file was a list of questions about Wyatt Evers and his time in the military. Shelby did a search for Lori’s phone number, picked up her cell and dialed.
LANGTON,EVERS,EDMUNDS.Three men he’d known, worked with. All involved with Connor’s rescue, all dead. Not just dead—murdered.
Shot by a sniper.
The same one that had hurt Shelby.
Only, he’d left her alive.
Not a kill shot.
Why?
To most people, it looked like ithadbeen, but if the sniper had wanted her dead, he wouldn’t have grazed her skull—he would have put a bullet into her brain, just like he had all three veterans.
Could it be a different shooter?
Colton had circled the subject every day, over and over again, in the past three months. Now, he had more intel, but no more answers than before.
His gut told him it was the same guy, only he had a different agenda with Shelby.
“All entry sensors are in place,” Connor said, coming into Shelby’s bedroom. “Everything is linked to the main base. Try your phone app and see if it works.”
Colton had been installing the bedroom sensor when he’d noticed the window lock was loose.These old houses. He’d taken a screw driver to the hardware and everything was locked up tight again, the sensor in place.
Pulling out his phone, he tapped buttons to link his Rock Star Security app to the base’s secured-access software. As the app went through its paces, checking each sensor and the newly installed keypad, he tapped his thigh.
Three of his fellow brothers-in-arms had been taken down on the streets of their own country. From Shelby’s research, the string of killings had started with Colton’s childhood friend, Bard. As soon as he had a chance, he wanted to do his own investigation. Connor could stay with Shelby while he did some digging. Maybe he should ask Beatrice if she had contacts inside the Navy that could get their hands on the three autopsies.
The app finished synching with the system and a large round digital face appeared on his screen. “System installation and interface complete,” a sexy woman’s voice, complete with a British accent, said. “What would you like to do next, Shinedown?”
“Run metrics of system, Vesper.”
“My pleasure, Shinedown. One moment please.”
Vesper was Emit’s baby, but he’d initially named it R2-D2 LXR Version 3. The Star Wars geek humor didn’t hold weight with Beatrice and she’d immediately changed it, deciding the soft, sexy voice sounding more like a James Bond femme fatale, was better than a squat robot. Colton had to admit he liked Vesper a hell of a lot more as a name than R2-D2.
While the software did its job, he picked up his screwdriver and found Connor in the doorway, staring at him.
“What?”
“Any leads on the shooter?”
Connor didn’t know about Shelby’s case, but he did know Colton wouldn’t leave her again until he’d hunted down whoever had targeted her. “None.”
