“Maybe Freddie did it,” Eric put in. “I wouldn’t put it past him.”
Eli narrowed his eyes, studying his nephew. Why hadn’t he thought to ask Eric for more information about Freddie? The kid was certainly in a position to know, having hung out with the punk for the better part of last summer.
“What makes you say that?” he asked.
Eric shrugged, mighty casual now that he was safe in his own home, surrounded by protective adults. “Freddie’s mean. That isn’t exactly red-alert stuff.”
“Did he—or does he—have a girlfriend, by any chance?”
Jill, Hayley and even Carrie gave a collective, “Ewwwww!”
“He was always messaging girls online,” Eric replied, reaching for the mashed potatoes and slopping a spoonful onto his plate, which he had already cleared once. “I don’t know if he ever met any of them.”
“Freddie isn’t on social media,” Melba said. “I checked.”
“He’s on the dark web,” Eric responded, as though that should have been obvious.
And it should have been.
A chill trickled down Eli’s spine, pausing at every vertebrae. “Are you?” he asked pointedly.
Eric looked insulted. “No,” he said. “Do you think I’m some kind of creep?”
“I wondered, for a while there,” Eli said moderately, remembering the kid’s previous escapades.
Eric colored, from the base of his throat to his hairline. “I’d never go on the dark web,” he said. “It’s full of terrible things. Besides, Mom would kill me!”
“With my bare hands,” Sara confirmed, watching her son very closely now.
Eli turned his attention to Dan, though he was still hyperaware of Brynne, who looked more than a little frightened.
“You must have people who know how to navigate that cyber snake pit.”
“Of course I do, myself included,” Dan said, slightly affronted. His gaze slid to Melba, who skirted it, probably embarrassed, as Eli was, by the oversight. “First place we look, when we’re dealing with the worst of the worst.”
Eli cursed silently, pushed back his chair.
Melba immediately followed suit.
“Eli,” Sara said, in the big-sister tone she reserved for certain rare occasions, “this is a holiday. We’re in the middle of a family dinner.”
Dan got up, too, but in a resigned way. He was obviously reluctant to leave a full plate—his second—to surf a scummy sea of ugly information.
Just the thought of it made Eli long to take a shower.
And then lose himself in the sweet, shimmering light that was Brynne.
Sara sighed, aware that she’d lost the battle, if not the war. “Use the computer in my office,” she said. “I don’t want any trace of this dark-web crap on the kids’ system.” Her gaze landed on Eric’s face, then Hayley’s.
In Sara’s modest office, furnished with a simple desk, a Mac desktop with two monitors, and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, jam-packed, Dan eased into the adjustable leather chair and reached for the wireless mouse.
One monitor flared immediately to life; the image was a family photo—Sara, Eli, Eric and Hayley posing near the chutes at the Creek’s annual rodeo.
Eli was comforted by that picture, which had been taken by either Cord or J.P. a couple of years back, but he was also reminded of how very much he had to protect.
“Password,” Dan said. The chair creaked under his weight as he turned to look at Sara, who was standing in the office doorway by then, with Brynne peering over her shoulder.
The man had eyes in the back of his head.
A handy trait, in his business.
Sara recited the string of letters and numbers.
“Too easy,” Dan scolded. “I could have guessed that in about five seconds.”
“Then why didn’t you?” Melba demanded, standing just behind her ex-husband and a little to the left.
“Damn it, woman,” Dan breathed. “Would it kill you to cut me some slack here?”
Eli chuckled at this, and received a scathing Melba-glare for his trouble.
Dan’s enormous fingers danced over the keyboard with amazing delicacy.
Presently, he said, “We’re in.”
Eli went to the door, gently but firmly easing Sara and Brynne backward, into the hallway. “And you two are out,” he said.
With that, he closed the door in their faces, then went back to his place opposite Melba. Dan was like a human mountain between them.
Eli fixed his attention on the monitor screen.
Dan was still clicking away on the keyboard, and as various images flickered by, Eli realized they were traveling deeper and deeper into patently evil territory.
He shuddered involuntarily.
They were on the devil’s playground now, a place where even angels probably feared to tread.
Presently, the image of an old barn filled the screen.
Eli recognized it, and so did Melba.
They both drew in their breaths.
“This,” Dan said, “is Lansing’s home page.”
“I thought that pile of scrap wood had been torn down years ago,” Melba said, and gave a little shudder of her own.
“Me, too,” Eli replied.
“Want a virtual tour?” Dan asked, unflappable as always.
“Yes,” Melba said, without conviction.
Dan clicked on the barn’s sagging doors, and they swung open.
“This guy might be a crap-wad,” he remarked calmly, “but he knows how to code. Too bad he’s on the wrong side.”
There were no bodies inside that pixilated structure, at least, none that were in camera range, just long, dust-speckled shadows, cobwebs and what looked like an army cot shoved up against one wall.
“Is this in real time?” Melba asked.
Dan shook his shaved head. “He could stream from there, if he wanted, but these images are still shots, edited to flow together.”
“What’s that? In the corner?” Eli leaned in, tapped a fingertip against a bulky shape.
Dan zoomed in, and the undefined shape crystalized into a navy blue backpack, clean and fairly new looking. The zipper pull was still shiny, and there were no tears or stains to be seen.
Eli straightened, looked over at Melba, who was looking back at him.