She looked up again when delicious aromas emanated from the kitchen. If he kept taking up space, she could notdothis. She needed concentration. She gritted her teeth and focused. Despite the constant battering at all her senses, she did one thing extremely well—focus.
At 19:25, her phone beeped with a message.soups on
The back door slammed. Now she understood the need to throw something, anything, to express frustration. Except she kept her desk free of clutter, and throwing a monitor wasn’t happening.
It was hours too late for dinner. Setting her jaw, she ignored the text and continued working—except her security alarm went off again. She flicked on the screen, revealing the bastard slipping around the house to the front door. Did he think she’d abandon her desk just because he’dfixed dinner? Would he barge in on the front room, thinking she was in the kitchen, eating?
He found an angle on the porch where the camera didn’t reach, and she lost track of him, blast the wretched beast. That washissecurity installation on the porch. Had he planned that hidden corner? Was he spying on her even now?
She couldn’t take the distraction of fearing he’d barge in on her. She picked up her phone and texted.eat at 23:00
He’d have to use his own equipment until then.
Some of these bank transfers were leading toSavannah. She couldn’t stop now.
* * *
Evie climbedthe attic stairs to the newly finished garret bedroom Loretta had insisted on. They’d used their combined allowances from Loretta’s trust to add insulation and walls in the turret and installed a window air conditioner. Loretta was still deciding on décor, but the room was currently painted spring green because Evie found paint on sale and couldn’t stand white walls.
The kid was happily ensconced in a maple poster bed she’d discovered in the jumble of furniture stored in one of the Victorian’s packed bedrooms. A stuffed spider now hung from a bedpost, and a battered magenta teddy bear slept on the pillow. Instead of a nightstand, the kid had added a square oak, spindle-legged table she’d stacked with books.
Loretta’s designer bedroom in her parents’ home had been a pink fantasy out of Disney. She could have anything she wanted now, but with the independence Evie offered, she was establishing her own distinctive style.
“Don’t make me come back up here to turn out your lights.” Evie kissed her ward’s head. “And you should get used to turning them off early to practice for school nights.”
Loretta happily wriggled into her mattress and sheets. “Reuben fixed the lamp so it goes off at ten. I’m good. I like listening to the birds when the sun comes up.”
“I hope that means you turn off the a/c if you’re leaving the window open!” Evie had never had air conditioning, because she’d never had money. Paying for cool air seemed extravagant.
“It goes off on its own. Quit worrying. I want to finish this chapter before the lights go out.”
Having been royally dismissed, Evie jogged downstairs and out to the back porch, where Jax and Reuben were settled in with drinks and nibbles. They used to do this in the cellar rec room, but since Roark had left, the energy had changed. And with Loretta tucked so far away, Evie preferred being able to listen for doors opening and closing, even if the mosquitoes ate them alive on the porch.
“Do we need to check on Stacey?” she asked as she grabbed a cold drink and settled into her aunt’s ancient Adirondack chair. “Granny was most emphatic that we get her out.”
Reuben gestured carelessly. “She said she’d leave after the rest of the boxes got carted off. She ain’t believing in warnings from beyond. I told her those computers might be dangerous, but she’s looking at selling them.”
Evie reached for a chip and fretted about what she should have said.
“I’ve started tracking the names and addresses Granny left behind.” Reuben sipped his beer and snatched a tortilla chip from the package. “A couple belong to women who’ve reported their identities stolen by phishers.”
“Granny’s ghost mentioned fishers, which sounds grammatically incorrect. Shouldn’t it be fishermen or fisher people or something?” Ensconced in pillows, Evie sipped her iced tea. She was trying not to worry about Stacey sleeping alone in that apartment.
“Get the girl a real computer,” Reuben complained, digging into the salsa Evie had made with the bushel of tomatoes one of her dog-walking clients had insisted she take.
“Phishers, with a PH,” Jax explained from his matching chair, sans pillows. “They’re internet scammers who send emails from Nigerian lawyers to steal your bank account or who fake company logos to get your passwords. I’d like to think they’re feeding foreign villages and spreading the wealth, but Robin Hood doesn’t exist.”
Reuben snorted. “Phone scammers are usually American, because they need to speak good English, or what passes for it. Internet scams only require a modicum of grammar and an ability to copy graphics and can be anywhere. Those of us out on the darknet have slipped video bugs into some of their computers. They’re just bro’s smoking their assets or carting automatics in Caddies. Ain’t no honor among thieves.”
“You canvideothe villains?” Evie asked in incredulity, stopping before shoving a chip into her mouth. “Why can’t you turn them in to the police?”
“Yeah, you wanna explain how you hacked a computer and took illegal videos? Tell ’er, lawyer man.”
“Hacking is illegal. Evidence obtained by illegal means is not admissible in court. And the worst of the cockroaches are in foreign countries where US law can’t touch them. Some of them have armed gangs for protection. If Granny was chasing those jerks, she was getting senile.”
“Grannycould have been the phisher who stole the IDs,” Reuben reminded them.
“No way, her aura was crystal clear.” Evie sipped her drink and tried to imagine how an old lady could use identities stolen off whatever the darknet might be.