“You really didn’t look to see what was on them?”
Gabby lifted her arms. “No way to look. The robbers took my father’s computer,” she said, amazed at the steadiness of her own voice. “To be honest, I wouldn’t have looked anyway.”
The skin between his brows puckered into two long creases. “Why not?”
“Apparently my father encrypted all his files. Even the household ones. His lawyer told me that opening them improperly will corrupt the data and it is imperative that a professional run them through special programs. That’s the only way to be certain not to destroy them.” She hiked a shoulder. “I have computer expertise, but I don’t have those kinds of programs.”
The man frowned. “That’s a lot of trouble to protect a light bill.”
She smiled. “It is. But you know how old-school people are. Set in their ways.”
“I apologize for having to leave so quickly,” he said. “I’m afraid there isn’t any new information to report, and I really do have an emergency. They’re waiting for me.”
He didn’t want to run into Agent Bain on his way out and be exposed as his fake partner. “No problem,” she assured him, walking toward the front door. “I hope I haven’t wasted your time, calling you over here about this. It could be nothing more than household items.”
“Better safe than sorry.” He stepped outside. “Thank you, Miss Blake.” He turned back toward her. “Oh, one question.”
“Sure.” She wanted to shut the door and lock it but didn’t dare to move.
“Was Rogan Gregos a client of your father’s, or did he ever mention him?”
“I told you, I know nothing of my father’s business.”
“It could have been a personal relationship, from his childhood or something.”
Rogan. It was an unusual name. Where had she heard it before? The answer danced just beyond the edge of her memory. “I’m embarrassed to say this, but the truth is my father didn’t talk to me about anything. His childhood is as much a mystery to me as his business.” She held the man’s gaze, let him see the truth in her eyes. “Why do you ask?”
“An informant mentioned him once. Totally unrelated case.” He turned away. “Thanks again for your call.”
“You’re welcome, Agent . . .” She waited, but he still didn’t supply a name. Instead he rushed off the porch and down to his vehicle.
Gabby stood in the doorway until he stepped off the porch. Rogan Gregos. Who was he? And how did he connect to her father?
Having no answers, she put that aside to look into later, closed the door and locked it, then watched through the peephole until the man got into his SUV and pulled away. Her stomach in knots, she dropped to the floor, leaned back against the door and breathed deeply until she stopped seeing spots. He could have shot her. Might would have shot her if he’d thought for a second she knew he wasn’t Bain’s partner or if he hadn’t believed that she hadn’t seen the data.
She swept her hair back from her face with a trembling hand. She’d survived that round. Okay. Okay. Now what did she do about Bain?
4:00 p.m.
The house phone had been tapped. Nothing else made sense. Even if Medros’s henchman had been watching the house, the guy wouldn’t have known to ask for the thumb drives or the need for speed in getting them and getting away before Bain arrived. The only way he could know that information was if he’d overheard both sides of the phone call from her to Bain.
Agent Bain arrived and, after they’d exchanged pleasantries and he’d informed her he had no new information on her father’s case, he asked for the drives.
Gabby gave them to him. But instinct warned her to keep information about Medros’s man’s visit to herself, so she heeded the warning. The information belonged to Medros, after all, so it wasn’t as if he didn’t have the right to it.
“Have you looked at these?” Agent Bain asked.
Gabby could give him the same spiel she’d given Medros’s man, but she didn’t. Lying to the FBI was a lot different than deceiving a Medros thug, so she evaded, sidestepping. “They stole the computer, remember?”
“I do.” He frowned. “So how do you know what’s on them is of interest?”
“I don’t, which is why I said maybe they’re of interest. Or maybe they’re not,” she reminded him. “I have no means here to safely look at the drives.”
A little confused, he cocked his head. “What made you think they might be of interest?”
She hiked an eyebrow. “Well, why else would my father hide them in a wall?”
“Fair point.” His frown eased and he went on. “I understand you’re an IT guru over at Handel.”
“I work there in IT, yes.”
“If my people need help deciphering the data, will you help them?”
Testing the waters to see if she’d be cooperative. There was little the FBI couldn’t handle and even less that would require her help. “If I can, of course,” she said. “But don’t expect much. I know nothing about my father’s work which means if I saw it, I wouldn’t know what I was looking at.”
“Understood.” Bain rubbed at a graying temple, appearing more relaxed than he had been when he’d arrived. “We’re hoping these drives contain information that will help us finally nail Medros.”
Silence seemed wisest, not knowing if the phone or the house was bugged. So, she smiled and nodded.
Shortly thereafter, Agent Bain departed with a copy of the original thumb drives, no doubt eager to see for himself what was on them.
As soon as he looked, he would realize he had hit the Medros motherlode and be in a great mood. She almost envied him that. Almost. Because then he too would be a target.
She returned to her packing and second-guessed the wisdom of what she had done the rest of the afternoon. No matter what alternative she tried in her mind, she ended up vulnerable or dead.
By dark, nothing on that front had changed. Weary, she forced herself to keep working, eager to have this chore behind her and to drive away from this house for the last time. For the next few hours, she continued to spin scenarios, and finally concluded she’d done the best she could do to distance herself and convince both men she had no idea what she had given them. Nothing else afforded her more protection, and most alternate options offered her a lot less.
This was one time when ignorance was bliss.
Whether or not it was enough bliss to keep her alive remained to be seen.
Her phone rang. Recognizing Handel’s ringtone, she answered, “Gabby Blake.”
“Blake, it’s Fitch. I hate to bother you, but I need help.”
“With what?”
“We’ve had a security breach.”
Handel didn’t do security breaches. It stopped other businesses from having them. “I’ll be right there.”
Minutes later at the office, Gabby sat at her desk and began running diagnostics to assess the problem. Theirs was a complicated system and it took a good stretch of time, especially with Fitch standing over her shoulder, but finally she had her answers. “Handel hasn’t been breached. I have,” she told Fitch, then looked back at him. “Have you logged in on my computer?”