“No.” He didn’t meet her eyes. “Well, yeah, I did. I needed to run a backup and I didn’t want to tie up my machine.”
Gabby glared at him. “How did you get my password?”
His face red, he frowned at her. “You know how.”
He’d hacked her. She let him see her fury. “Fitch, give me one reason I should not report you and recommend Peter Handel fire you right now.”
Fear flashed through his eyes, settled on his face. “Blake. Gabby, don’t. Please.” He lifted a hand. “You don’t understand. I had no choice.”
“What do you mean?” She challenged him. “Of course, you had a choice.”
Fear flooded his face. “This goon gave me until nightfall to check out your computer and prove you hadn’t uploaded anything from a thumb drive. He stood right here while I checked.”
Medros’s thug had dared to come here? She described the potential goon, Bain’s fake partner and had-to-be Medros’s man. “Bald, beard, fifties, black coat and shirt?” She didn’t mention the weapon he carried.
Fitch’s eyes lit up. “Yeah, that’s him.” Fitch frowned and dropped his voice. “He had a gun on me, Gabby. I had to do it.”
She didn’t doubt Fitch was telling the truth. He was far too scared to lie. “Did the goon give you his name?”
“No, but the identification he used to get in the building was for Rogan Gregos.”
Surprise streaked up Gabby’s spine. The same name he had asked her about at her father’s house. “I don’t know anyone with that name,” she said, putting it out there. “What did you tell him?”
“The truth,” Fitch said. “That you haven’t been in the office since your dad died and there had been no remote access to your computer. It’s not allowed. Corporate policy. And even if you tried, you’d be blocked by security protocols. Handel himself can’t get around them.”
That was why he’d taken the risk to come here. He had no other options. “Did he say why he wanted to know this information?”
“No.”
A muscle twitched near his mouth. The one that said he wasn’t being forthright. “Don’t lie to me, Fitch.”
“I swear. That’s all of it. I looked at your computer and told him you hadn’t accessed anything or uploaded anything. He took a photo of the screen with his phone, warned I’d better not be lying to him or he’d be back, and then he left.”
That held the ring of truth. But there was something more. She felt it down to the marrow of her bones. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Fitch swallowed hard. “He said if I told anyone what he wanted in here he’d kill me.” Fitch blinked hard. “He knew where my family lives, Blake. Where my kids go to school. He even knew I pick up my mom from chemo and that’s why I’m late getting to work.”
That surprised Gabby. She hadn’t known that was the reason Fitch ran late. Guilt for her irritation with him about it set in. “I’m sorry about your mom.” Why didn’t Bain’s fake partner who obviously worked for Medros just kill Fitch? She glanced up, saw the camera. He couldn’t kill everyone in the building, and if he did, he still couldn’t eliminate the video footage, which was stored on-site and in a remote location.
“Yeah,” Fitch said. “This is her second round. So far, we’re hopeful.”
“I’ll keep her in my prayers.”
“Thank you.”
Gabby didn’t have to ask if he believed the man about the threats against him and his family. It showed in every line in his face. “How did he get into the building?”
“He said he was picking up a personal item for you. Convinced security downstairs that you needed something you’d left at the office. He had ID, of course.” Fitch lifted his hands and let them drop to his sides. “I’m sorry, Blake. We all thought he was legit. He knew all about your dad and everything.”
She nodded. “Okay. Write it up for the boss and I’ll sign-off on it, too.”
Fitch looked relieved. “Thanks, Blake.”
“You were trying to help me.”
“Who was that guy? What’s he after?”
She checked her watch. Nearly midnight. “You don’t want to know.”
Her phone rang. She pulled it from her pocket and checked Caller ID. NOPD? “Gabby Blake.”
“Miss Blake, this is Sergeant Falco, NOPD. Are you driving?”
“What?”
“If you are driving, could you pull over and stop, please?”
“I’m not driving. I’m in my office at work.”
“Good.” He paused. “Miss Blake, I understand that your father recently passed away. Was anyone living in his home?”
“No.”
“Is anyone there this evening?”
“No. No one is there. Well, no one should be there.”
“Any pets in the home?”
“No.” What was going on? These weren’t idle questions.
“So as far as you know, the house is empty then?”
How bizarre. “Yes.”
“Good.” Relief etched his voice. “Could you meet officers at the property as soon as possible then, please?”
“At my father’s house? Why?” Her stomach knotted. “Sergeant Falco, what is this all about?”
“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Miss Blake. “Your father’s house just exploded.”
Chapter Eight
Wednesday, December 9, 12:16 a.m.
The activity on her dad’s street surprised Gabby. Fire trucks lined up in front of his house—three of them, nose to end—and a handful of police cars and emergency responders stood parked on both sides, barricading the street. Gabby pulled in behind the lot of them near the next-door neighbor’s driveway and then exited her Mustang.
The acrid smell of soot and ash hung heavy in the air, burning her nose. She stopped at the foot of the driveway blocked by yellow crime-scene tape stretching around the perimeter of the property, and just stared at what had once been the house. Heaped rubble, bits and pieces of still glowing embers, littered the ground. A short stone stack likely part of the fireplace was the tallest structure to survive. Even fairly distant trees were scorched and singed, leafless and charred.
Agent Bain was speaking with Detective Marsh, the silver-haired homicide investigator. Marsh turned to talk with a uniformed officer, and she caught Agent Bain’s eye. He stepped over stretched water hoses spewing water and walked over to her. “Miss Blake.”
“What happened?”
“The fire marshal hasn’t made a determination yet but, from experience, it looks like an intentional explosion.”
“But why?” She didn’t get it. Why would they want to blow up the house now? She’d given them what they wanted.
Bain touched a hand to her arm and led her away from the cluster of people coming and going down the driveway. “Remember the confidential informant I mentioned to you earlier?”
She nodded.
“We heard from him again a short time ago. Actually, I was on the phone about him when I had the locals call you to meet me here.”