That they could stay put for however long it took the Sierra’s Web experts to unravel the tangle his life had become.

  Still in travel-weary clothes, they were sitting on opposite ends of the couch, all shades drawn, including the one that covered the dash and driving windows, as well as the one that pulled down to hide the driving cabin from view of the living space. Precisely at ten, she turned on her phone. He watched her do it, seeming to notice every second of movement, of sound.

  She didn’t glance his way. Or acknowledge him.

  Less than ten seconds later, her phone rang. “I’ve got you on speakerphone,” she said as soon as she clicked to answer.

  Warning her boss not to say anything he didn’t want Joe to hear?

  Considering the urgency with which she’d done it, the motivation seemed pretty obvious.

  “Good.” Glen’s response came loud and clear into their small quarters. “We’re looking at your phone now, but we’re pretty confident that number hasn’t been compromised.”

  “But you obviously think my other one was.”

  He’d had her smash the phone and ditch it.

  “We didn’t see any trace on it yet, but based on what’s going on here, we are assuming it would’ve been.”

  Joe didn’t want assumption. He wanted answers. Sierra’s Web had been on his case for three days, two nights and...

  “Someone was watching my and Hud’s phones,” Glen continued. “Could be related to another case, but as a whole, the partners agree that nothing else we’re working on at the moment would warrant an illegal trace. This is the only case we’re on together, and no other phones are being tracked.”

  “Someone knows I hired you,” Joe confirmed, agreeing with Glen’s assessment immediately.

  “We have to assume as much. So...we both now have burner phones as well. Only you two will know the numbers. And we only communicate with the phone you’re currently on.”

  “Got it.” McKenna’s tone was firm. “Do you know yet who was tracking you?”

  “No. Which means we’re dealing with someone highly skilled in the technical field.”

  “Another expert.” Joe couldn’t keep silent any longer. He was a take-charge guy. One who worked as hard or harder as anyone worked for him.

  Maybe if he was doing more, he’d be wanting less from the woman sitting a small cushion away from him.

  “Someone who at least has the skills to track phones illegally, to hack into accounts and see numbers called, times and durations of calls, at the very least.”

  “What’s more concerning,” Joe said, “is that someone knew I hired you.”

  “Exactly.”

  “William’s the obvious answer,” McKenna said, still not making any kind of eye contact with Joe. She’d stared at the phone she held between them. At the door. Even the floor.

  “Our thought, too,” Glen’s tone didn’t sound...confident.

  Which prompted Joe’s thoughts to an out-loud version. “No way. That kid is—”

  “You’re right, Mr. Hamilton,” Glen interrupted. “We’ve already confirmed that not only has William not been unsupervised for one second since he left you, but he’s lost all electronic rights for the next month, at least, and was made to turn over his cell, his tablet and his computer.”

  “I’m guessing that didn’t go over well.” McKenna’s comment made clear what Joe had already known. She didn’t like that the kid got off without punishment for his intent to murder a man.

  Joe didn’t think the kid, once faced with the opportunity to finish his plan, would actually have done it. He’d been William’s age once...

  “Actually, according to his mother, William volunteered to turn them over. And to pee with the door open and sleep on the floor of her room if that’s what it took to earn her trust back.”

  Joe didn’t realize he was grinning until he caught the movement of McKenna’s gaze swinging in his direction.

  “So that leaves who?” she asked then, looking at Joe for another few seconds before turning away once again.

  “Unless either of you have told anyone, that’s us and whoever was told at Bellair.”

  “It’s pretty clear that whoever framed me had a high-up position at Bellair,” Joe said, his tone finding real conviction for the first time in a while. Sitting forward, his heart pumping with new life, he said, “So there we go. Why would anyone from Bellair be trying to find me, illegally no less, unless they knew I’d hired you to find out the truth?”

  “Which means exposing them,” Glen said. “We’re ahead of you on that one. And have decided to let the situation ride for the time being. Unless, Joe, you can tell us, with your life on the line, that James Bellair can be one hundred percent trusted...”

  “I can’t. Not anymore.” The words left a bitter taste in his mouth. “It could also be someone at Bellair who bought stock when they first heard Stellar’s reports and then lost a life’s savings,” he added, as though to take the heat off James at the same time he’d put it on. “Someone in middle management. Maybe someone whose life took a downturn after the crash.” He’d been searching for people who’d had sudden upticks, but what if...

  “With Bellair’s permission, we’re checking out every single employee, including any lifestyle or obvious emotional changes, on the payroll, both current and during the year before the fraud started,” Glen stated then. “Kelly Chase, our expert psychiatrist partner, already has an expert specializing in corporate relations on scene conducting interviews.”

  He was impressed. Relieved. Almost grinned again.

  No one mentioned the other possibility—someone from Sierra’s Web, someone who wasn’t, perhaps, happy that the firm had taken on the case of a believed criminal and had leaked the information to the rabids out to get him.

  He couldn’t see anyone wanting to put McKenna—one of their own—in more danger. But the goal could be to get the firm off the case...to avoid the negative publicity.

  Keeping those thoughts to himself for the time being, Joe thought they were done when Glen said, “We’ve got some other things to discuss,” in a tone that sounded less friendly and more...like a cop investigating a crime.

  When said cop wasspeaking to a person of interest.

  Holding his judgment, Joe waited.

  “You know anything about computer viruses?”

  “You’re speaking to me, I presume?” Joe asked, trying to figure out in a blink where the conversation could be heading.

  “Yes.”

  Without time to figure out what was obviously a problem coming at him, Joe went with the only truth he had available. “I know that I go through a lot of irritating authentication steps to avoid them. And that the company pays a hefty sum, with my sign-off, to be protected against them.”

  “I meant in terms of creating them.”

  What? “I know nothing about that,” he blurted. Firmly. And then, more slowly, “Why are you asking?”

  They were working for him. He had a right to know anything they’d found on his dime.

  Glen didn’t give any indication of arguing with Joe’s unspoken thought as he relayed that they’d found a virus written into the return software that caused the system to automatically hold reporting on returns of Stellar for six months. At which time there’d been the major dump in the system that had first caught his attention. The database hadn’t been physically changed by a person, as Joe and others had thought, but by a virus created by a person? A virus that could act on its own accord when any of them were present in the office? “The virus was sophisticated,” Glen said. “It took Hud’s team, with Hud working on it himself, a couple of hours to figure out what was going on and how. A small, thirty-second-to-implement code in the software was all it was.”

  “And you’re going to tell me that it looks like I did it.”

  “I’m going to tell you that it was done from your work computer.” Which should not have been a surprise to anyone.

  “Just like inventory numbers were randomly changed from my computer,” he reminded. “Or by someone hacking into my computer and using it remotely.”

  Which was what he’d always contended-that whatever had actually happened, had been done by someone hacking into his computer-but he couldn’t explain who, when or how. Couldn’t prove it, either. “Since the night I was arrested, I’ve been trying to figure out who had access, capability and motive,” he said, not even caring at the moment that his weariness, his clearly disheartened spirit, filled his tone.

  “Right,” Glen agreed easily. If there was judgment in the words, Joe couldn’t find it.

  And...he reminded himself when it occurred to him that McKenna hadn’t moved, or said a word, one way or another, they were all still on the phone, having this conversation.

  Which wouldn’t be happening if the firm was convinced of his guilt.

  If they were on the way there...if something Joe said in the next moments got them there...

  “Is there a timeline for when this was done?” He asked a question he’d posed before. And hadn’t ever received an answer to. “Surely they can tell when the computer was accessed?”

  “The computer’s internal clock was overridden. The randomly changed inventory numbers, and the virus creation, both show as having happened when the computer was brand-new.”

  He hadn’t even known someone could do such a thing.

  “And there’s more. The virus was a miniscule, few-stroke change in code, one that could only be seen by comparing hundreds of lines one by one, and still then, a couple of experts missed it...” Get on with it! Joe wanted to say. But he maintained control.

  Because, no matter what the world made him out to be, he would not be his father’s son.

  “In addition to that virus, Hud’s team found a command embedded in the sales program itself that ordered every tenth sale of Stellar to double itself. To make it harder to find, the command wasn’t in the part of the software that handled numbers of orders, but rather, was down farther, after payment had been made, added to shipped orders.”

  “But they never really shipped.” If he hadn’t been sick to his stomach with panic, he might have been impressed as he assumed where the story was leading. “This guy’s good,” he said, feeling like ashes sitting there.

  “Just to confirm, you’re telling me you had no knowledge of the change.” He heard Glen’s words. Considered them fair. Opened his mouth to respond but heard McKenna’s voice first.

  “If gray skin tone and glazed-looking eyes are anything to go by—and in my line of work, they are—I’m going to say that’s a definite no.”

  That gaze she’d called glazed swung to her—wide-open and aware.

  Had she just stood up for him? Expressed a measure of faith?

  As grim as his prospects looked from what Glen was relaying, Joe’s entire future seemed brighter in that moment. And he answered, “I had no idea, but it sure explains a lot.” And then followed up, “I’m guessing you aren’t now going to tell me you have a clue who’s responsible.” He wanted to head off the bad news at the pass. And go for the worst, too. “But it happened from my computer, right?”

  “We can’t confirm that yet.” Glen’s response surprised him, but not nearly as much as McKenna’s speaking up for him had done. Not even close. “This one’s odd. The software that runs the sales database is a Bellair product, one that’s used by thousands of companies, and the change is in the product itself.”

  Oh, God. Blood drained from his face again. “You’re telling me thousands of companies have been affected?”

  “No. Apparently Bellair uses the prototype, and that was all that was changed.”

  So, what? A designer was behind the cluster that had become his world?

  Joe needed a beer. “Can I interrupt with a prosaic question?” he asked.

  “Of course.”

  “Are McKenna and I staying put for the night?”

  “That’s up to her.”

  He glanced her way. She nodded.

  Joe got his beer. Uncapped it. Swallowed half a bottle. And heard Glen say, “We’re closing in, guys. Which likely means that whoever is behind all this could be pulling out all the stops to close in on you.”

  “Which would explain the Sierra’s Web phone hack,” McKenna said, whether to take up Joe’s slack, or just because he didn’t know. But he was grateful to her for it as he sat back down.

  “And the #wheresjoenow hashtag has also spread like wildfire.”

  “You think there’s a connection there?” Joe asked.

  “I think it’s possible. My team is working that angle now. But even if the doer is behind the onslaught, a whole lot of people have been riled up into thinking that they can somehow help see justice done.”

  “Which means there will be completely-unrelated-to-the-case righteous-cause fighters on our trail as well,” McKenna summed up.

  “Right.” Glen’s sigh came clearly over the line. “The partners met tonight and all agree that we should keep up the same protocol for now. You always check your cameras at the designated times whenever stopped, and you call for check-ins at least twice daily, using only this number or the one I gave you for Hudson. We’re going to continue to monitor your phone 24-7. Good news—yes, there is some—no recent pictures have popped up on either #wheresjoenow or the dark web. There’ve been suspected sightings being reported all day long, in various states, but none in the Yuma area. And no mention of any companions or an RV. Good job, Ken.”

  Ken?

  Joe glanced at her. She was staring at the curtain between the living room and the cab, clearly avoiding his view.

  “William found us,” she pointed out.

  “He’d been hanging out online nonstop, watching the board, saw the second the photo of Joe in the green shorts, long hair and beard posted. Recognized something in the background and has been following Joe ever since.”

  “That was days ago.” Joe made a point of making sure the others got that. If the kid had wanted to kill him, he’d had ample opportunity.

  “There could be others,” Glen pointed out.

  Doubtful. The kid had been filled with rage, panic, driven by grief. But he hadn’t been a killer. Which was why it had taken days for William to make his move. Joe was pretty sure anyone else who worked so hard to find him wouldn’t hesitate to do their worst. Even if that just meant smearing his current situation, including the rig and McKenna, all over social media so anyone who wanted him dead would find him.

  “I’ve got this,” McKenna told her boss, but when Joe looked over, she was looking back at him. Telling him.

  “Stay safe” were Glen’s last words before the call disconnected.

  For the first time since McKenna Meredith had descended upon him, Joe had doubts about that. Not for his physical safety. He’d never been worried much on that score. But emotionally...he had no idea how much damage the woman was going to do to him before the job was done.

  Chapter 12

  Bony knees. Bony knees. Bony knees.

  Not soft fingers, or a warm gaze that seemed to want to tell her things.

  A tone of voice that had prompted her to assure him, within her boss’s earshot, that she had his back—literally, if not figuratively.

  The firm, experts that they were, seeing what they saw, weren’t quitting him.

  She wasn’t alone in her sense that there was more to Joe Hamilton’s story than a chief financial officer trying to make money with fraudulent activity.

  More to the man than the thief he’d been labeled.

  “The evidence that Hud and Glen are finding isn’t exonerating you.” She had to get right to the part of the conversation that had bothered her most.

  Because it hadn’t convinced her to quit him?

  “No, but they’re getting closer than anyone has to date. I knew the what. Couldn’t figure out the how. And while we don’t know how my computer was compromised, at least we know in what form the desecration took place. We know we’re looking for someone within Bellair’s ranks who’s a tech whiz...”

  For all she knew, he could be. Just because he’d said he wasn’t didn’t mean...

  “Ken.”

  Automatically glancing up as she heard her name, McKenna’s gaze collided with Joe’s. “Don’t call me that.”

  He nodded. “Reserved only for friends and family, huh?”

  “Only the ones who want to piss me off.”

  Eyes widening, Joe looked like he was holding back a smile. Which did kind of raise her ire.

  “Glen Rivers is the only one who calls me that. When he’d first been told that I was coming in for an interview, he’d only heard Ken Meredith—there’d been some remodeling going on in the home office—that day. He’d been expecting to meet with a man and he made kind of fool of himself when I showed up. Doubted my ability to do the job...”

  “I’m guessing he made the same mistake I did,” Joe said with a quirky twist of his lips.

  If he meant seeing her size and misjudging her capabilities, then, “Pretty much.”

  “Did he get the same response?”

  “Oh, no. He decided the interview would be a physical one, coming at me quickly to show me why I wasn’t right for the job, and landed on his back.”

  “You flipped him, and he hired you anyway?”

  “I let him down gently. And he’s called me Ken ever since. His way of telling me that I’m as good as any man at what I do.” Or so she chose to think. Could also be that Glen was reminding himself not to underestimate people.

  Either way, she was happy to comply.

  And they weren’t dealing with the job at hand. Straightening, she put her hands, still holding the phone, in her lap, and said, “We’re going to have to go to the box store in the morning and purchase several hundred dollars’ worth of prepaid credit cards. My name isn’t on the Sierra’s Web site, nor is the expert list made public anywhere, but there’s no guarantee with tens of thousands of internet users jumping on #wheresjoenow that someone won’t know that I work for the firm.”