He lifted one finger. “Tie up the thieves’ time by asking stupid questions when they call.”
Ariel grasped the frustration that would cause if the conmen spent hours without scoring a dime. Some might quit and walk away.
Roark held up a second finger. “Set up a bank account with a small balance. Pretend we’re victims and send them checks. If they’re stupid enough to use snail mail, we’ll catch them picking up the mail. If they ask for card numbers, we’ll bumble about and give them wrong ones, make them call back.”
She grimaced. “Stupid.”
Ignoring the commentary, he held up a third finger. “Once we have solid phone numbers, we robo-call them, keep their lines tied up.”
Ariel shrugged. Small operation, she remembered. But that wouldn’t catch the crooks, just drive them crazy. She waited.
“Once we’re locked into their actual phone accounts, we text alerts or leave voicemail telling them their phones are no longer secure.”
Ariel straightened, wide-eyed. She could get inside a computer with that kind of message, but a phone? “How?”
“Reuben has the software. We just need to provide solid numbers.”
“Why?”
Roark rubbed his big nose as if looking for a simple explanation. He finally shrugged those lust-inducing shoulders and talked. “Scammers running the insecure-phone fraud normally convince their victims that, for a few hundred dollars, they can save their data and/or clean out the phone.” He waited.
Ariel nodded. She’d been reading up on scams.
“What I want to do is tell the thieves that the police are monitoring their phones, and they need to take them to an address I’ll set up, to exchange them for new ones.”
“Preposterous,” she scoffed. But he looked so very eager... And she loved it when this man looked at her with hope and confidence. It made her tingle in inappropriate places. She knew she was super-smart about numbers, but she had limited understanding of human behavior. “What do I do?”
“Identify the best targets—elderly, alone, money in the bank.” He said it slowly, watching her every second, looking delighted with himself—and maybe her, just a little bit?
Ariel nodded. She could do that.
“I already started that, but I need more. Once I have a list of people agreeing to divert their numbers, I’ll need people to man the phones.”
She couldn’t do that. She glanced at her game camera notebook. She hadn’t noted one single thing this evening. She itched to check the videos and update her notes. What if she had missed something significant? But the clock said she should return to work.
She hadn’t really noticed the sandwich she’d nibbled at. She was grateful Roark saved her the time needed for preparing food. She hated to leave it behind. She hated messy food near her equipment.
“Eat,” he said softly. “I’ll leave you to think about it. I’ve got one more trick up my sleeve if the bastards don’t give up. If hacking doesn’t work, we’ll whack the moles.”
She had no idea what he was talking about, except he wanted her participation. Her therapist had said she should expand her boundaries, try new things. She watched him go, wishing she could go with him, like a regular person.
Instead, she finished her sandwich and returned to work late, like a regular person.
Eighteen
Evie curledup on Jax’s broad, naked chest and took comfort from his heat and strength. He might not stick around, but she enjoyed this luxury while she could. “Marlene could have lived another decade or two and brought down a gang of thieves, but they eliminated her like so much trash!”
The night silence settled around them. Even the old Victorian lady quit squeaking and groaning as the worst of the day’s heat slowly dissipated in a breeze. Evie took comfort in knowing others slept safely beneath her roof. She loved having a family of her choosing.
“Marlene had a heart condition. She knew that and took her chances anyway. I don’t like you investigating killers. Did she tell you anything useful that you can just pass on?” Jax stroked her back.
Stroking helped her focus. Evie sighed and squirmed as she tried to recall unclear messages from the dead. “She said she liked power drinks because no one else drank them. Apparently, the neighbors had a habit of helping themselves to each other’s refrigerators.”
“So anyone could have laced her glass or bottle and assumed only Marlene would drink it. We still have no proof that she didn’t ingest something intended for someone else. We need the full coroner’s report. I have Reuben on it.”
“On TV, they know all this instantly.” Frustrated, she turned on her back. “The killer could be in the Bahamas by now.”
“Stacey hired you to find out what her grandmother was doing, not to find a thief and a killer. You need to tell her Marlene was after nursing home thieves—then walk away. It’s not as if she can afford more.”