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  “The apartment belongs to my father, Ambassador Smithson. Perhaps you’d like to contact him in Washington for verification? He can be reached at the White House.” Sophie held Pillman’s gaze. She had done nothing wrong, and was not without resources. “What legal counsel am I entitled to?”

  “You may no longer use FBI union representation, of course, but you are free to employ private counsel.” Rapozo was a short, dark-complexioned man who reminded her of a pigeon, with a puffed-out chest and short, bandy legs that seemed to tip him forward.

  “You gentlemen have come far enough into my father’s apartment. I will be obtaining legal counsel for any further meetings.” Sophie stood tall and gripped the doorframe so tightly that it hurt. “Thank you for stopping by.”

  Pillman held his ground for a long moment, pale eyes scanning the apartment and returning to her, sweeping her body with a contemptuous stare that took in her cropped hair, exercise bra, and yoga pants—and stripped her naked. “We’ll be in touch.”

  “So be it.” Sophie closed the door softly behind them, to compensate for the urge to slam it. Ginger, who had been unusually quiet through the proceedings, padded up and leaned against Sophie’s leg, whining.

  “It’s okay, girl.” Sophie leaned her head on the door, stroking the dog’s ears and feeling a wave of panic sweep over her.

  She felt blind and cut off without DAVID, and she was under attack. Her enemies, and even the Ghost, knew where she lived, how to get to her.

  She had to get off the grid and figure out how to go on the offensive. She’d never be able to relax here now, knowing someone she needed to defend herself from could show up at the door anytime.

  The apartment that had been such a haven didn’t feel safe anymore.

  Sophie breathed through the panic, calming herself by making a quick mental list of tasks. She booted up her rigs with the key fob as she placed a series of calls and packed a bag.

  Chapter Nine

  The cash-only rental apartment had what Sophie needed: an internet cable already installed and a wheezing window air conditioner. It was a corner unit five floors up with good visibility from a sun-battered deck. Sophie wore a ball cap, sunglasses, and a white eyelet sundress, the furthest thing she could find in her limited wardrobe from her usual clothing.

  “I’ll take it.” Sophie handed an envelope of cash, enough for a deposit and three months’ rent, to the manager. The sun gleamed on the greasy strands of the man’s comb-over as he licked a thumb and counted the money.

  “Making sure you have the dog deposit in here,” he muttered.

  “Of course,” she said politely, Ginger’s leash tight in her hand, the bag over her shoulder heavy with computer gear. “What kind of security does the building have?”

  “What? You get sometin’ fo’ hide?” The man’s pidgin was thick as he looked up at her with beady brown eyes.

  “No. Just a woman alone. I have to make sure my home is safe.” Sophie smiled.

  The landlord thawed visibly, caterpillar brows bouncing. “Oh, you safe heah. I keep an eye on you.”

  “No, that’s fine. I just wondered if there was any—video surveillance? Alarm systems?” Sophie kept the smile pasted on though her cheeks ached.

  “What you need all that foah? Get gold in that bag?”

  “Ha ha. I’ll take my key now.” Sophie put out her hand and the man slapped the key into it, then clasped it between calloused, sweaty palms. “Don’t you worry ’bout nothing, pretty girl. I watch out for you.”

  Sophie pulled her hand away and wiped it on her skirt. “Thank you.”

  Sophie blew out a breath as she left, and tugged Ginger inside the apartment.

  There was no furniture, and the linoleum floor was stained. The walls had been so freshly painted that the place still reeked of it. A contact she’d met through the Bureau had provided her a new ID. Sophie still had to bring up her other bag, a duffel of clothing, from the beater white Ford truck she’d bought for cash and registered in the name she was using, Mary Watson. Her pearl-colored Lexus SUV was parked in a long-term rental lot, and her ID, credit cards, and everything else that identified her as Sophie Ang was now in the secret safe deposit box where she’d kept a copy of the DAVID software.

  She couldn’t wait to get DAVID set up again, but worried about detection without the elaborate firewalls she’d used at the FBI and her father’s apartment to screen the program’s location. She let go of the leash and Ginger quested about the barren space as Sophie headed for the rickety Formica table with a couple of metal-tubing chairs set up in the kitchen area.

  She opened her gear bag and plugged in the high-powered laptop that was the only thing she really cared about that she’d brought from the apartment. She booted it up and plugged in the small, square, boxy shape of the hard drive that held DAVID, and plugged in a second monitor—one screen was never enough.

  While the system was loading, she went out to the truck and retrieved her second bag and a metal toolbox. At the door, she installed a lock bar, a deadbolt, and a small surveillance camera over the door that fed remotely into her laptop.

  Security measures established, she set her hands on her hips. “Guess we need a few things to make this a home, Ginger.”

  Ginger wagged her tail in agreement.

  She’d left her regular cell phone in the safe deposit box with the battery unplugged…but she’d called everyone she wanted to have her number with the burner she’d purchased before she deactivated it.

  Now that phone buzzed and bounced on the table. She glanced at the contact and picked it up. “Hello, Jake Dunn.”

  “Why the change of number?” Dunn asked by way of greeting.

  “None of your business.” She wasn’t ready to disclose anything about her situation to him. “Got another job for me?”

  “Just the salaried offer Remarkian already made you. Was wondering when you’d be able to give us an answer.”

  Sophie blew out a breath. She didn’t want to commit yet—her life felt too upside down. “I need another week to think about it.”

  A long pause as Dunn breathed loudly through his nostrils in annoyance. “I want you as my partner and we have some other ops coming up. Remarkian said I could offer you a bonus from the first job.”

  “Oh really?” A bonus would come in handy. Sophie had savings, but executing her disappearance plan had cost a chunk of money. “I take it Sharon Blumfield came through with paying her bill?”

  “Yeah, she did. Thank God.” Dunn gave a theatrical sigh. “My ass would have been grass if she hadn’t. Now she wants us to investigate what happened to the other children’s mothers. Hilo PD already told her that without evidence of a crime, without a body, there’s no case. But she thinks the women were murdered. There were three others, besides her.”

  “I remember her saying that.” Sophie felt her interest quicken. This was a meaty case involving things that mattered to her. “So four women gave birth to ten children, total?”

  “Two of the women had three each, and one other besides our client had two.” Dunn sounded disgusted.

  “So what has Jackson’s response been to his children being taken from the compound?”

  “Nothing, as far as we can tell. Our client’s hiding out in a hotel with the kids. We have an operative on her, keeping an eye out, and she’s still working with our psychologist—but she’s leaving tomorrow to take the children to her family in Oregon, where she hopes they’ll be far enough away from Jackson that he will give up pursuing custody. So what’s it gonna be, Ang? Want to go back to the cult and dig up some evidence, spring the rest of the kids?”

  Sophie looked over at her laptop. It had been frustrating her to no end not to be able to use DAVID on the cult investigation. Now she could.

  “I’ll be in tomorrow.” She ended the call on Dunn’s whoop of triumph.

  Sophie took several hours to go to Target and buy the bare necessities, including more sundresses and a floppy-brimmed straw beach h
at. Paying cash for her wagonload of purchases, including a blow-up mattress, she felt the claws of depression reaching for her again.

  Going off the grid like this was paranoid. There was no real threat against her that justified it, and not going to Fight Club to work out had a price tag—she needed the endorphins to battle the depression.

  But she wanted to gain control of her life, and she couldn’t do it in her father’s place since the apartment had been breached and bugged in recent months. The Ghost, the man who’d done it, seemed positively inclined toward her—but he knew where she lived, he had surveilled her using video. And IA and the FBI were liable to pop in at any time and strip her computers.

  No. She had to do this. She could resume her real identity for work, and disappear into Mary Watson at the end of each day.

  She had to at least try this, and see if it helped.

  Sophie ate a simple meal of stir-fried tofu and veggies at the apartment and then took Ginger out for a run. She ran down the cracked sidewalk in the warm, exhaust-smelling Honolulu evening, Ginger trotting at her side. Inserting a Bluetooth into her ear and slipping her phone into her pocket, she called Marcella.

  “What’s with this new number?” Marcella asked.

  “Burner phone. I’m off the grid.” Sophie filled her friend in on the overview of the steps she’d taken. “I’m taking the job with Security Solutions. But I need to stay under the radar for a while.”

  “What are you hiding from? Anything IA does you’ll see coming from a mile away.”

  “That’s just it. I didn’t see it coming.” Sophie described the agents’ visit. “I felt really—ambushed, even though you alerted me.”

  “You just want to be able to use DAVID and not get busted.”

  Sophie smiled. “You know me so well. But I never agreed with that statement, for the record—if you’re ever called to testify against me.”

  “You think it’s going to get that bad?”

  “Agent Pillman came to my door. He’s the one that went after Lei a few years ago.”

  “Ugh. He reminds me of Agent Smith in the Matrix movies.” Sophie could almost see Marcella’s shudder. “I’d drop off the map too if he were after me. Well, I assume you won’t be going to Fight Club?”

  “Not for a while.” Sophie hated to say the words. “Security Solutions has a state of the art gym. I’ll be using that for now. But let’s meet for a run or something, and you have my private number.”

  “And you have mine. Check in with me every day. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll assume you’re in the closet in a fetal position and hunt you down.”

  “You can try to find me.” Sophie gave a hollow laugh. “But I’m feeling better. I promise.”

  It was a lie. The depression beat its black wings around the edges of her vision. She just hoped to stay ahead of it by disappearing, by exercising, by getting DAVID working.

  And by finding out what happened to the mothers of Sandoval Jackson’s children.

  Chapter Ten

  Sitting in her new Security Solutions office with DAVID booting up on her laptop and a mug of strong Thai tea at her elbow, Sophie decided she’d done the right thing by choosing to take the job. She badly needed somewhere to be, things to do. Sitting alone in that ugly apartment was not a good thing.

  Dunn blew in. “I thought we’d begin our case by building profiles of the missing cult mothers. Our client arrives in half an hour, to give us their names and as much background as she knows.”

  “Good. That’s how we’d do it in the FBI,” Sophie said. The laptop’s screen was too small, so she’d hooked up to the monitor Security Solutions had provided.

  “What’ve you got back there?” Dunn loomed over her desk. He smelled of something lemony and masculine, and the tiny hairs on her arms lifted in awareness.

  She didn’t take her eyes off her screen. “Remarkian didn’t hire me for my skills in the field. I come with some extras.”

  Dunn grinned. “I can make that happen for you, I guarantee it.”

  “Inappropriate, Dunn.” Sophie slanted a glance at him. “As if I’d ever sleep with a partner. I can’t work with you if you keep up the sexual harassment.”

  “Hey. Can’t blame a guy for trying.” Dunn blinked his pretty eyes and shrugged his big shoulders. “Gotcha. Platonic and professional. That’s how you want it, that’s how it will be.”

  “Good.” Sophie felt better for smacking him down. Dunn struck her as the “give an inch and he’ll take a mile” type. She turned the monitor so Dunn could see the data on the screen and the program’s process results cache box. It was time to share the program with him—he had to know how it worked if they were going to use it on cases. “This is DAVID. The reason I left the FBI. DAVID stands for Data Analysis Victim Information Database. It’s a data-mining program that can penetrate law enforcement information storage and sift through cases and aggregate results. It seeks information using keywords, and then uses a confidence ratio to assess results. I’ve entered everything I know about the Society of Light and the situation at the cult: the compound, the number of people there, the children, and the background of Jackson. I asked DAVID how likely it is that the children’s mothers were murdered. You can see the result here.”

  Dunn leaned in close, squinting. “What am I looking at?”

  “A sixty-two percent confidence ratio that the women were murdered. Which is very strong. These confidence ratios are seldom that high because they can only work off of known data that’s been inputted, and a lot of case information never makes it into the electronic databases.” Sophie swiveled the monitor back. “The other thing DAVID can do is retrieve data from confidential sites based on keywords. I’m going to have it sift for everything to do with the cult’s finances. I want to know where Jackson gets his money and if there’s any financial motive for the women’s deaths.”

  Dunn straightened up and whistled low through his teeth. “You’re even better than I thought.”

  “None of it would be admissible in court, though.” Sophie said as she stood. She straightened the same white button-down blouse and smoothed the loose-fitting black Lycra work pants she’d worn at the FBI. She’d brought gym clothes and her “disguise” outfit to change back into when she left Security Solutions for the day. “But we can use it to get evidence that can be.”

  “That’s the thing about private contracting. We don’t have to worry about a court case unless it’s what the client wants or our investigation uncovers a bigger crime. Of course, if we find any evidence of murder, we’ll want to turn that over to Hilo PD. Follow me. Let’s go meet the client.”

  Sophie unplugged her laptop and tucked it under her arm, walking to the conference room behind Dunn.

  Too bad she couldn’t just sleep with him. A few orgasms would probably help her depression, help her get over the heartbreak of her breakup with Alika Wolcott, brutally injured in her last case and now relocated permanently back to Kauai. Yes, sleeping with Dunn would be a terrible idea. Really bad. But she could still admire how he looked from behind. Even if that made her a hypocrite…

  As if detecting her thoughts, Dunn winked at her as he opened the conference door. “After you.”

  Sophie preceded Dunn into a well-appointed room with a long, gleaming conference table and whiteboard on one wall. A bank of windows framed the Honolulu skyline on the other wall. Two women sat at one end of the table—the washed-out, leathery blonde Sophie recognized as the client, and a striking Asian woman wearing a fitted sheath dress. Both stood to greet them as they entered.

  “Sophie, meet Sharon Blumfield, the client whose interests we’re representing. And this is Dr. Helen Kinoshita.” Dunn made a little bow to the psychologist. “She’s the best in the shrink business.”

  Dr. Kinoshita actually blushed. Sophie was relieved that she wasn’t the only woman working with Dunn that was susceptible to his charms.

  “Pleased to meet you,” Sophie stepped forward and shook the client’s hand
, smiling at Blumfield. “I am so glad we were able to get your children back to you. They look lovely. Are they doing all right?”

  “They’re fine, thank you! Really, I can’t thank you enough.” Blumfield’s eyes filled. “My mother flew out and she’s with them at the hotel now.”

  “They’re adjusting well,” Kinoshita said. “Considering they were woken up by two armed operatives.”

  “That was the best possible extraction we could come up with,” Dunn said. They all sat around one end of the table as Sophie opened her laptop. “Something you may not know is that Ms. Ang recently joined us from the FBI. She’s very familiar with investigative techniques and has some unique tools to help us find answers regarding the women you are concerned are missing.”

  “I do have some unique tools. But we always begin basic.” Sophie smiled at the women. “I’m going to type as we talk, and begin building a case file. Tell me the names of the missing women, and a brief physical description. Any details you can recall will be helpful.”

  She built three separate files, one for each woman.

  Mandy Jones, brunette, long brown hair, curvy build, glasses, age thirty-four, had three children, Odin, Freya, and Thor, with Jackson, and disappeared five years ago.

  Jennifer Roberts, tall slim blonde, age thirty-five, had two children, Zeus and Hera, with Jackson, and disappeared four years ago.

  Amy Fillmore: disappeared two years ago. Curvy redhead. Had three children, Horus, Isis, and Osiris, with Jackson.

  “Interesting.” Dunn was taking notes on a yellow legal pad. “What’s the significance of the god names?”

  “Jackson believes the children are reincarnated beings, and that giving them the names of gods captures some of the gods’ power.”

  “Jackson doesn’t seem to have one certain physical type he’s attracted to,” Sophie observed.

  “We’re chosen for him by his Council of Elders.” Blumfield looked down, working a pleat of fabric between her fingers. “We were nominated. Interviewed by the Elders. Inspected physically to make sure we were healthy and fertile.”