Firewalls

By Eileen Schuh

She’s loved him since the beginning of time, but so much has happened since Corporal Chad Leslie rescued her as a wayward teen from the clutches of The Traz biker gang. He’s now her superior officer, fifteen years her senior...and married. Even if things were to change, young Constable Katrina Randal may be hurting way too much to accept his love.
While working with the Alberta Police force, Katrina has become a master at breaking through computer security in her pursuit of cybercrime but when the criminals behind the firewalls turn out to be villains from her past, her job takes on a much more dangerous tone.
Obsessed with haunting memories and wracked by emotions she sometimes can’t name, her nightmarish ordeal turns uglier as she ignores orders and takes to the street to lure the criminals from the shadows of cyberspace to face justice.
Imprisoned by dark thoughts and dangerous behaviours, it’s not until her career is in shambles that she realizes that neither her war against crime nor her struggle with Post Traumatic Stress are battles she can win alone. However, the walls she’s built to protect her heart from pain and betrayal, don’t tumble easily. As she slides deeper into the darkness, she fears she’s waited too long to trust and love; her criminal associates from the past are on the verge of stealing her future and Corporal Chad Leslie is mere steps away from walking out of her life forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eileen Schuh
• Release date: Oct 20, 2013
• ISBN: 9780986938849

Eileen Schuh

Eileen Schuh is excited to announce the release of Book 1 in her PROJECT W.Olf trilogy. The entire e-Series along with the paperback will be available before yearend. Wolfsinger Publications out of Colorado, U.S.A. is her SciFi publisher and has also previously released her two adult Science Fiction thrillers, SCHRÖDINGER’S CAT and DISPASSIONATE LIES.In addition to her sci-fi books, Schuh has released four novels in her ongoing BackTracker crime series that centers on biker gangs, drug dealing, murder, computer hackers, international espionage and the role of law enforcement. Books in the series include THE TRAZ, FATAL ERROR, FIREWALLS and OPERATION MAXTRACKER. Her adult crime thriller, SHADOW RIDERS, runs parallel to her BackTracker series and is partially set in an exotic South Korean locale.Her children's novel BETWEEN THE SUN AND THE RAINBOW, is a tribute to her ancestors and a gift to her grandchildren. Loosely based on her childhood growing up on a small prairie farm, the book seeks to provide a link between generations.Schuh writes psychological thrillers across genres but is perhaps best known for the surprising and satisfying endings. Whether it is travel to quantum physics’ alternate universes in SCHRÖDINGER’S CAT, a glimpse into the future of the computer in DISPASSIONATE LIES, or a look at the weird world of genetic manipulations in PROJECT W.Olf, Schuh is sure to entertain.Born Eileen Fairbrother in Tofield, Alberta, Schuh lives in Canada’s northern boreal forests and draws her inspiration from the wilderness, her grandchildren, family and friends, and her adopted community of St. Paul.All Schuh’s books are available in both eBook and paperback formats.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

June 2001, Northern Alberta Police Detachment

Sergeant Kindle wants us in his office, Syd said. The tension inside her coiled tighter. She glued her eyes to her computer monitor and slipped the black Jack onto the red Queen. Syd’s announcement ended her doubt; she was just moments away from losing her job. Katrina?

Concentrating intently on the game, she planned every move to the finish, touched her fingers to the mouse and rapidly clicked across the screen. As the 52 e-cards fluttered into place she leaned back and sighed. Just take Sergeant Kindle a message. Tell him I quit.

This isn’t about your job. It’s about James’ new book.

As if that news is any better. She slouched into her steno chair and nervously ran her eyes around the room. A serpentine row of a dozen desks curved toward the wall of windows. It stopped well short of the squares of morning light brightening the floor tiles because, Katrina surmised, computer geeks had evolved in dark basements and preferred not to bask in sunshine.

There were only a few police officers at their work stations, studying their monitors with fake intensity. Katrina was sure that they were all listening. Listening, speculating and inwardly mocking her—the tiny blue-eyed rookie who was mere minutes away from being booted from the force. James is an idiot, Katrina muttered. James’ book, her job, yesterday’s ethics session—it was all related and today she was taking a tumble.

A fellow officer folded his hands on his lap and gawked across at her. Katrina returned his stare, not blinking until he dropped his eyes back to his keyboard.

She was feeling as empty as the grey metal filing cabinets squatting between the workstations in the room. The cabinets were empty because computer people don’t store information in non-digital form. She was empty because death had stolen those she loved and now Sergeant Kindle was set to steal her dreams.

They can’t fire me. They need me. Although she’d been here only a few weeks, she knew everything there was to know about the Computer Crimes Department and about the aging, pre-internet-era bosses who were trying to run it. She was aware of the dozen meetings addressing the lack of paperwork in the cabinets and the two dozen increasingly irate memos regarding the Computer Centre’s rampant and persistent disregard of the uniform dress code. Katrina and her fellow officers took it all in stride, well aware that even in a police detachment their specialized knowledge out-powered seniority. However, she could think of nothing that would give her power over Rusty James, ex-cop-turned-literary-bestseller.

When James had been Syd’s undercover partner on the streets of Calgary and she’d been a wayward juvenile, she’d tangled with him more than once. He was an idiot as well as a moron but today he held a pen. How the hell can I fight that?

Well? Syd asked. Are you coming?

Is this book James’ millennium project?

The millennium was last year.

No it wasn’t! 2000 was the last year of the second millennium. We now start the third. It’s not a difficult concept.

Is it a difficult concept that Sergeant Kindle wants you in his office?

It’s a difficult concept that Kindle fears the lies James has written.

Don’t dismiss James so easily; he has believers this time around.

Why would anyone believe him?

I guess, Syd said so quietly Katrina had to strain to hear, the truth has a way of rising to the top.

The truth? Is James gutsy enough to put the truth in print? When Rusty James promised the media his first book would reveal the identity of the Crown’s tiny blue-eyed child witness who’d brought down The Traz biker gang, the elite at police headquarters and a pack of high-priced tax-payer-paid lawyers led the fight against him, forced him to revise his book, and then legally changed her name from Katrina Buckhold to Felicity Randal. Although, all paperwork including her driver’s licence and personnel file carried her new legal name, to her friends and co-workers, she insisted on being Katrina. The bikers had stolen so much from her, she just couldn’t let them also take the name her father had given her.

It’s never going to end, is it? Katrina said, exiting the solitaire game and staring up at Syd. There was no sympathy on his face, just accusation. "Don’t give me that look! You’re the dirty one here. James’ story is your story, your dirty little story."

If nothing else, Syd replied, "I was hoping you’d learned in yesterday’s session to accept responsibility. Obviously, that didn’t happen."

Whoa, buddy! Katrina slowly rose. At only five feet tall, it was a long way up to meet Syd’s green eyes. Seems to me, this whole thing is boiling down to what you have never taken responsibility for.

The young officer gave a quick nod. Perhaps.

More than perhaps. As Katrina stepped toward him, he backed away and nervously ran his fingers through his straw-coloured crew cut, obviously fighting a blush that was threatening to drown his freckles.

Maybe it won’t end until we all come clean.

"We all come clean? Excuse me, Syd. We?"

You’re not an innocent victim.

Was it up to you to supply the evidence of that fact? None of this would’ve happened if you hadn’t brought your damned King’s Ace surveillance photos up here to Sergeant Kindle. Where were you when the brains were passed out? The photos had tarnished her reputation and nearly lost the Crown all two hundred-plus biker convictions. ‘Concealing evidence,’ the defence has said. But the worst part was the pictures had revealed she was a friend of the murder victim.

She jabbed her finger at her temple. How stupid are you? How the hell did you make it through training depot? It doesn’t take a genius to realize which photos you should’ve deleted!

I couldn’t delete those photos! They were evidence in another investigation. Besides, you can’t seriously believe that you’d get away with testifying as an eyewitness at a murder trial and omitting the fact you were the victim’s friend.

Victim... She shivered, remembering that cold, dark, October night in a metal shed on the Alberta prairie. Although Lukas was the only one lying lifeless when the sun rose over that Quonset, there’d been many victims in other ways...and much blame. When the media, the brass, and the entire nation began laying that blame on Shrug’s shoulders, she’d covertly stepped in.

Shrug may have wrongly recruited her into the gang to assist with the police sting, but he’d also saved her life, several times over. She owed him. Besides, at the time of his disciplinary hearing, she’d needed some good words to support her application to police training. It was then she’d asked Syd to leak some of his surveillance photos showing her trading crack for dollars or tossing back some Ecstasy—just a little something to prove that although Shrug may have involved a minor, it wasn’t an angelic, grief-torn orphan he’d invited onto the backseat of his Harley. Syd was not supposed to have shown Kindle pictures of her cavorting with Lukas, a friendship that could have remained secret to this day. Someone two desks over coughed—a stark reminder of many other dark secrets that must forever remain untold.

Katrina lowered her voice to a whisper. No one needed to know Lukas was my friend. Besides, I never lied; no one ever asked if I knew him before he was murdered. Not even the defendants’ legal team and they could’ve—their clients knew.

Obviously Gator didn’t want the jury to hear that it was your boyfriend and not some random druggie that he’d forced you to watch get sliced to pieces—it would’ve made him look even more evil.

That was Gator’s decision, not mine. How can you say it was my fault? Katrina took another step toward Syd.

This time, he held his ground. For the sake of justice, it was something the court should’ve heard. Blame whoever you want for your troubles, Katrina. I’m past the point of arguing and past the point of thinking your problems are my fault.

But— She clamped her mouth shut. Considering my job’s at risk, I need allies, not more enemies. Syd would be a strong ally; he was open and honest and respected by both those above him and below him. Plus, he still harboured remnants of guilt because of what had happened between them when she was a child on the street—he’d said as much in yesterday’s session.

Rusty’s out to get me because I’m the reason he was fired. She studied Syd’s reaction as she spoke. "He shouldn’t be allowed to do that."

You weren’t the reason he was fired.

He used me to get information about the drug trade down at the King’s Ace.

So did I, and I’m not fired.

But he refused to admit he’d done anything wrong.

Exactly. So it’s his fault he got fired, not yours. It’s not always all about you.

Katrina’s vision narrowed and her jaw tightened. "You’re right, it’s not about me; it’s about you! James would have had nothing more to write if you hadn’t…. She left it unsaid and locked her eyes on Syd’s. He shifted from one foot to another. A police radio crackled in the distance. A phone rang. Or, do you believe that secret is somehow my fault, too?" The sun slipped behind a cloud and the room darkened.

Syd looked to his shoes and ran his toe along the grey grout hemming the worn tiles. The fluorescent fixture above them hissed and dimmed. It’s going to be in James’ book, Katrina continued. I guarantee it. Rumour is he’s promoting a conspiracy theory. All the dirt will be there. He has nothing to lose by talking about it.

Syd looked past her, over the humming monitors and clicking keyboards. Past the people straining to listen. He looked out the window. Let’s not keep Sergeant Kindle waiting, he finally said. It’ll only make things worse.

Katrina flicked off her computer. Why can’t I escape the past? She grabbed her sweater from her chair. I didn’t show up today to hear Kindle shout at me for shit that happened years ago when I was just a kid. I’m quitting, Syd, walking out of here forever. She reached for the desk photo of her father in his police uniform and ran her fingers over the frame. Her eyes misted. Her father had been a proud man.

Syd tentatively rested his fingertips on her shoulder. First, talk to Kindle, he said quietly. His hand relaxed and the warmth of his palm seeped through to her skin. Syd had been there in yesterday’s ethics session, pestering her to deal with her past. He’d watched her struggle. Watched her fall. There’s a right and wrong way to quit. With your smarts and your computer savvy, you have a chance at an astounding career. Don’t mess it up. Show some maturity. The world out there is crying for cyberspace geniuses and—

Her dad’s photo slid from her fingers and clattered to the desk as she spun to face Syd. "I don’t want a career out there! I want law enforcement. I was intending to redeem myself. Honour my dad’s memory. And Sergeant Kindle isn’t going to let me."

It’s hardly Kindle’s fault that you’re in this mess!

He can’t get it into his thick skull that I’m not the kid he once knew. You all have these preconceived ideas based on—

Come on, it’s not that. You just aren’t ready for this job. Give yourself a few years, and come back and try again. Kindle’s right and you know it. He needs maturity from those manning his computers. You have the skills, the smarts, no doubt. You just need some more living to go with it.

I’m twenty-four.

Syd raised an eyebrow. I was there. Remember?

She’d been born only nineteen years ago as of next week but witness protection had granted her five extra years with her new name and identity. Syd knew that, but it wasn’t up to him or anyone else to bring it up. Fuck off! she mouthed.

He pursed his lips together and his eyes flashed fire. Katrina, grow up.

Okay, perhaps she was a tad immature in some ways, but she knew lots of stuff—much of it bad, some of it good. What had gotten her this far was that she knew everything there was to know about computers and more than anyone in the entire world about the potentials and pitfalls of cyberspace. She was more intelligent than ninety-nine percent of the population and way smarter than anyone in organized crime. She was an invaluable asset to a law enforcement agency caught off guard by the internet revolution.

It wasn’t right that Rusty could ruin her life—again. Or Syd. Or Shrug. They’d taken away a good portion of her childhood. Her adult years ought to be hers.

Pissing Syd off probably isn’t a good place to start. She tucked in her chin and looked up at him through her long, dark lashes. I don’t see how the Sarge can hold something against me that I did as a child. Syd shifted his eyes, as guys often did when she looked at them that way, then gave a quick shrug and started toward the hall.

Syd, she said, confidently taking up stride. Although she’d messed up in yesterday’s session, there had to be a way to persuade Sergeant Kindle to give her one more chance. On Sergeant Kindle’s essay-type, final exam yesterday and I gave a four-word answer. Do you think he’s amused?

CHAPTER 2

When Syd and Katrina walked into Sergeant Kindle’s office, Shrug was already seated, the entire six-and-a-half feet of him hunched over in the chair. He was staring at his shoes. Katrina didn’t think it mattered where Shrug cast his slate grey eyes as they never revealed a thing about his soul. She’d thought that when he was in from undercover he’d disclose some of who he was—but he wouldn’t. All she could tell about Shrug was that he was one giant of a man with a voice of thunder and beneath his uniform a tapestry of demonic tattoos laced his bulky arms.

Before she was settled in her chair, Sergeant Kindle began. I’ve been told something bad is coming out regarding the Calgary stuff. He, too, had a voice of thunder and this morning it was ricocheting two-fold off the brick walls and tiled floor. It’s being said that I have three officers who can tell me exactly what went down. I’d like to hear it from them before I read it in the paper. The Sergeant paused and leaned across the desk. So, what’s up?

Katrina glanced at her cohorts. Shrug’s eyes were still on his loafers while Syd’s were dancing around the room. She tossed a thick amber lock over her shoulder and tried to catch Kindle’s attention. However, he’d pulled a stack of exams from yesterday’s session toward him and begun marking. The silence thickened and settled.

Syd’s fidgeting told her that the hush was weighing heavy on him but she knew it wouldn’t be bothering Shrug; she’d often seen that man cocooned by choice in his own private world. He could live for a decade in silence and not notice how quiet it is.

Quiet didn’t bother Katrina, either. When nothing of interest was happening she busied her mind with science, math, and technology. Today, though, she was far too nervous for such deep thinking. She tilted her head and stared at the paper Kindle was marking.

"Coming to grips with past experiences…" someone had written, is imperative if one wants to… Kindle laid his hand across the paper. It surprised Katrina that someone else had learned something from what she’d thought was a personal experience. Until now, there’d been no doubt in her mind that Kindle had designed yesterday’s session specifically for her. He’d wanted her to fail, wanted a reason to keep her from his computers.

Kindle lifted his hand and reached for his coffee. One gains confidence by accepting responsibility for events… That was bullshit; yesterday’s session had shattered her confidence. She closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair, no longer interested in revisiting the lessons she was supposed to have learned, but hadn’t.

Here’s the deal, Kindle boomed. Katrina jumped and flashed open her eyes. First one to talk keeps their job. She leaned forward, hoping to see enough of his face to tell if he was lying. However, he bowed his head even lower over the papers and kept marking. All I can fricken tell is that his bald spot is growing fuzzies.

Go for it, ‘trina, Shrug interjected. You’re the only one gettin’ out of here alive today, anyway.

The Sergeant’s head shot up and both he and Katrina stared at Shrug, who was still looking at his shoes. After another lengthy silence, Kindle lifted his shoulders and dropped them quickly, as if conceding to destiny. He pressed his ample girth against his desk and laid his clear blue eyes on Katrina. Although she was positive Sergeant Kindle wanted her nowhere near his computers, she’d swear he was serious. Maybe he’s under pressure from the Computer Department—Corporal Ben Leskiw knows my value.

I haven’t marked your paper yet, Sergeant Kindle growled. His eyes, patches of brilliant blue, drilled into her soul from under the ominous shadows of his greying brows. There’s a possibility you could pass.

She turned to Syd but as soon as she did, his eyes darted to the ceiling. Shrug, who had finally looked up from his worn brown loafers, caught her gaze and held steady. He might as well have kept his eyes on his shoes because, as usual, she couldn’t read a damned thing in his face. However, since Shrug was much more comfortable with lies than with the truth, that unblinking stare might mean his invitation to talk was actually an order to lie.

Shrug again looked to the floor and she turned her attention to Kindle, whose piercing, expectant look was familiar; she’d often seen the same look on her father’s face. There was no doubt what Sergeant Kindle was after—the truth. The truth in exchange for my job? I think you have a deal.

Her mouth opened and words tumbled out. I fenced James and Syd some electronics once. Katrina tucked her feet under her chair, wiped a strand of hair from her cheek and crossed her arms. I ought to just shut up. The Sarge’s silent, eerie gaze sucked at her core, though. I think they kept them for their personal use.

You sold James and Syd stolen goods? They knew they were stolen?

Um, sort of. Katrina looked to Syd and Shrug. For years, the three of them had vehemently denied they’d been in collusion to keep her friendship with Lukas out of the trials. The truth was going to infuriate Kindle. If I shock him too much, he might rescind his job offer.

Sort of? Kindle snapped.

They knew the shit was stolen.

And?

What the hell, James is going to reveal it in his book anyways. Katrina welded her attention to Kindle’s coffee cup. That fact was used against them to keep the King’s Ace information from being brought up at the trial.

Who used it against them?

Shrug and me. Well, mostly me, I guess.

You sold Syd and James stolen goods. How the hell does that have anything to do with the biker trials?

"Not really ‘sold’."

Okay, that makes it clearer! Kindle was shouting so loud she was sure the entire detachment could hear him. "So glad to hear that you didn’t sell Syd and James stolen goods—"

They knew if they said anything to investigators about me being friends with Lukas, someone would find out they had knowingly been in possession of stolen—

Kindle rose, slapped his palms on the desk and leaned toward them. His belly hit his stack of papers and sent the top ones sliding toward his phone. He leaned more. His holster screeched across the oak. He was almost flat on his desk. His jowls were puffy and red. His eyes were fiery saucers. A vein in his neck throbbed visibly. Katrina clutched the arms of her chair and pushed herself back so hard the upholstery buttons dug into her shoulders.

When his face was just inches from Syd’s, he jabbed a finger at each of them. There was an agreement among you... He swished all his fingers across their faces to accuse them as a group. To withhold evidence? Time stood still and in the thick silence that followed no one breathed. No one moved. THERE WAS AN AGREEMENT AMONG—

Yes, sir, Syd and Shrug interjected in unison.

Kindle slowly straightened. His face, that had been red, paled. We’re splitting up. You, Katrina, are going to answer to me first. Stay here. The Sergeant led the men from his office and the door clicked closed behind them.

Katrina stood and shook the tension from her shoulders, unable to believe that Shrug would be the one giving her a chance to salvage her career. Or, for that matter James, one of her worst enemies. She paced from wall to wall and counted the floor tiles. Kindle’s office was a hundred square feet. She strode around his desk.

She also would never have predicted that Kindle would be after her to betray Shrug and Syd. He’d once told her that as disturbing as it was that she, a daughter of a cop, had been such a wild child, what really troubled him was her historic lack of allegiance to either side of the law. She was, he said, capable of betraying anything and anyone if it were to serve her purpose. She circled Kindle’s desk again, touching his chair as she passed. His is definitely a seat of power.

Although she could mount good arguments for the reasons behind her past disloyalties, and often did, she couldn’t deny she’d been disloyal...several times. Kindle would likely forgive her for playing both sides of the law as a child but she doubted he’d ever forgive her for designing BackTracker during her university years.

"BackTracker, she’d tried to explain isn’t malicious software. It’s experimental software." That distinction hadn’t impressed him. To Sergeant Kindle, what mattered was that while preparing for a career in law enforcement, she’d crashed the entire University of Calgary computer system with her questionable programming.

Katrina made one more lap around the room and then sank into her chair. She cradled her chin in her hands and closed her eyes. Hers was a lonely life. She had no living relatives and hadn’t since a car accident claimed both her parents when she was twelve. A few months later, Gator killed Lukas—the only friend she’d ever had.

Katrina inhaled. The air whistled through her nose and rumbled down her throat. She exhaled a hollow, throaty breath. Again she inhaled—breathing in to recharge, as Grandma Buckhold used to say when they did yoga together.

Her breath tumbled from her lungs. Breathing out to relax. In and out—slower, deeper. It was a comforting, soothing, empowering rhythm that she could totally control.

The office door creaked open. She could hear Kindle’s quick, loud, and labored breathing. He needs to lose weight. The door slammed. Heavy footfalls squeaked across the tiles. Somewhere in front of her, they stopped. Kindle grunted and his chair groaned as he settled into it.

Katrina slowly opened her eyes. The Sarge, with his square shoulders, thick chest, and crisp uniform was once again behind his desk. He was in command. He glared at her. She had no choice but to blink and avert her gaze, respect demanded it.

It’s a start, but it’s not enough, Katrina. You have this one chance only. I need everything and I need honesty. If I don’t get it from you, the computer security clearance is not yours.

She waited nervously for his next words, hoping he had some. No one used silence as effectively as the Sarge. She imagined him in the interview rooms downstairs, masterfully eliciting confessions from hardened criminals simply by not saying a damned thing.

Start at the beginning, he eventually ordered.

Katrina rubbed her toe across the chipped corner of a tile. It wasn’t easy deciding where the beginning was. She wished she knew what Shrug was expecting her to say. There was a time when she might’ve been able to read what he wanted from that innocuous stare. When they were together in The Traz biker compound, a good portion of their conversations were not verbal, at least his half of the conversations. But better than knowing what Shrug wanted, would be knowing what James had written. If she knew that, she’d know what was safe to omit, what she had to include, and what needed a positive spin. What if I don’t answer? If I just let Kindle’s silence—

KATRINA!

She rubbed her toe faster. If she slid forward a bit, she’d be able to press harder and perhaps chip the tile even more. On the other hand, she might rip the sole of her shoe if it caught the edge of the break—

When you were fourteen, you answered questions better than this! What do I need to do, get Corporal Chad Leslie in here?

Chad? No, not Chad. It was Chad, with his uncanny ability to see through her, who had finally elicited her cooperation in the murder investigation. Until he’d started hounding her, she’d had herself convinced that night of terror hadn’t happened. It wouldn’t be easy to slip anything past Chad. She tucked her legs under her chair and peeked up at the Sarge. I can’t say for sure if they were stolen goods or counterfeit products but I could get them quite cheap, considering electronic gadgets were worth a lot more than they are now and they were scarce.

Gadgets? Like what?

Palm Pilots, electronic organizers… Something in the Sergeant’s manner told her she’d better say more. I think James wrote his book on a Toshiba laptop.

I wouldn’t consider a laptop an ‘electronic gadget’.

A big gadget?

Worth what back then? Three, four thousand dollars?

It sounded like a lot of money when he said it. On the street, it hadn’t been that big a deal—the rarity of the products, not their cash value, had been their attraction. Katrina shrugged.

Kindle began tapping his pen on the desk. Faster and faster he tapped. Harder. His eyes bulged. The veins in his neck pulsed. She was sure something would explode if she didn’t answer soon. Yes, sir! Around four thousand. Five, six maybe.

And they gave you what for them?

I thought that as cops they’d be interested in this stuff so they could track where it was coming from. I—

Don’t avoid the question. I asked what they gave you.

They didn’t give me money. A deep flush started up Kindle’s neck and spread across his jowls.

Or drugs. Or...

Kindle rose menacingly and walked around his desk. Answer my question! He jabbed a finger at her face. "I didn’t ask you what they did not give you! I don’t care if they did NOT give you money! His voice grew louder. I don’t care if they did NOT give you a damn Caribbean cruise or a swift kick to the ass! I asked what they DID give you!"

He straightened and gulped in a lungful of air. And I’ll tell you what I’m NOT giving you. I’m not giving you your computer clearance if every word from this point forward is not the whole truth! If one thing contradicts what I hear from Shrug or Syd or any evidence I dig up... If one word is wrong, you, young lady, are out. Completely out!

Katrina looked past Kindle, searching for the right words and phrases. There was a multitude of framed certificates on the wall behind him, indicative, she assumed, of a lengthy and stellar career.

Have I made myself clear? Kindle shouted.

Yes, sir. She swallowed and met his eyes. "But what did not happen, is always as important as what did. It’s the pauses between notes that make the music. The blank spaces on a page define letters and words and create meaning. In everything, if what doesn’t happen or what doesn’t exist is annihilated, there can be nothing. No patterns, no music, no existence. Kindle raised his brows. His eyes were on hers and he did not blink. What was the question?" she asked meekly.

Kindle strolled to his chair. He stood for a moment with his back to her, his head tilted up as if he were consulting heaven. Slowly he faced her. What-did-they, he enunciated as he dropped into his chair, give-you-in-exchange-for-the-electronics?

I have to come at this from a different angle. There were watermarks in the corner of the ceiling over Kindle's filing cabinet. When she looked at him, she saw fury in his eyes.

She scooted forward and set both feet on the floor. Really, I’m not avoiding your question, sir. I’m thinking how to answer it. Can I tell you why I gave them the electronics instead? Because it didn’t involve them giving me anything.

Kindle sighed. Tell me why you gave them electronics.

I was mad at Syd and James. She nodded quickly and smacked her lips.

And you always give computers to people you’re mad at?

It can work if they’re not supposed to have them. Sir, they were turning mean on me. Pushing me. At first, they said if I helped them get information on the drug trade, they wouldn’t tell my dad I was sneaking around at night. Then they started wanting more and I’m like, ‘No, I don’t think so, guys.’ She paused for effect but when Kindle began to again tap his pen, she hastily continued.

Sarge, what they wanted me to do was out of my league. But then they started like, if I didn’t do what they wanted they’d arrest me or something. James kept saying, ‘Do you realize what we have on you, Sarina?’

Sarina was the name she’d used when she was young and vulnerable, and playing in dangerous places. She paused, hoping that by using her childhood alias, she’d soften Kindle’s heart. The Sarge appeared unmoved. He’s not as sympathetic as he once was. During the investigation into the bikers, she’d often spotted pity on his face when the interrogators took her through particularly rough spots. I remember those warm arms of his wrapped over my shoulders. When James said, ‘You’re in too deep now, Sarina, to start saying, no,’ that’s when I decided to give him and Syd the electronics they shouldn’t have.

Let me get this straight. By giving them the computers, you had something to blackmail them with?

Unexpectedly, Katrina felt her anger rising, as if she were back in time, in the smoky room at the rear of the King’s Ace booting up electronics that ninety-nine percent of the world didn’t yet realize existed. Through the open door she could see the bartender, laying shotgun shells on the counter as a warning to someone in the shadows. Behind her, five minutes earlier one man had followed two ladies up the stairs. In front of her, James subconsciously felt for the Smith and Wesson beneath his vest as he watched her spring a laptop to life. And she was a month shy of turning thirteen.

They had to quit threatening me! she said fiercely. She leaned toward Sergeant Kindle. They had to quit asking me to do shit for them. I made sure lots of people that night saw them with the gadgets; I didn’t want it to be only my word against theirs if push came to shove. Of course, no one paid much attention to the fact I was pawning off stolen goods because no one knew it was cops I was pawning to. But make no mistake, if those two were to keep pushing me, I had lots of reliable witnesses lined up to help me push back. She stopped for a breath. The memories had her heart beating wildly.

Kindle raised his left eyebrow—a sure sign he didn’t believe her story. What else? he asked evenly.

What do you mean?

Despite your convoluted motives, I don’t believe for one minute that you could convince cops to accept free gifts. Syd and James knew they weren’t free, didn’t they? So, tell me, if you weren’t asking them for money, what was it you were asking of them? What’s the rest of the story?

The rest of the story? Why did anyone need the rest of the story? She highly doubted James would have revealed much more in his book as things didn’t exactly go well for him after that night; she’d made sure of that. She wasn’t sure Shrug knew the whole story but even if he did, she was certain he was clever enough to talk his way around it. The rest of the story ought to remain in the past.

Katrina studied Kindle’s face, wondering if she’d be able to slip anything past him. Those two were such idiots I could’ve convinced them to accept my free gifts. Perhaps all I said was, ‘Don’t tell Dad I’m down here, James, and you can have this Toshiba.’ He’d have drooled for a moment and then stuck it under his coat.

Kindle’s eyebrows both shot up. Shit, he knows I’m lying. How the hell does he know I’m lying?

Except, Katrina quickly continued, that’s not what I wanted them to think. I didn’t want Syd and James to suspect that I was setting them up. I warmed them up by telling them I could get these electronics and asked if they wanted to investigate them, track where they were coming from, find out if they were counterfeits. They said they’d be interested. Two days later, I was plugging in the toys for them in the backroom of the King’s Ace. I showed them how everything worked. Let them play with the stuff. Katrina looked up at Kindle through her lashes. They really quite liked them.

And then?

Katrina put her elbows on her knees and cradled her chin. Sarge, by then I knew they weren’t intent on any investigation and I had them where I wanted. I interspersed their user lesson with complaints about a depraved guy who was after my friend, Lukas. When we were all done playing, as I was turning everything off and packing it up, I told them that the pervert after Lukas always hung around the alley behind Daiga’s Lounge on Thursday nights. Usually got there around midnight. I suggested perhaps they could do something to solve the problem. Then I gave them the stuff and said, ‘They’re yours to keep.’ I think the message was clear.