Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
“It depends,” I said, slowly. “There are a few options here. It could be that he just isn’t finished with what he set out to do. Doesn’t explain why we can’t find a trace of him or why he hasn’t contacted anyone.”
“It’s possible he can’t contact anyone,” Wren said, the hope in her tone begging me to agree with her. We both knew better than to hope in a situation like this. We needed to see what was, not what we wanted to see. “What if he needs our help?”
“It could mean that,” Maddox said. “Or it could mean he’s dead.”
“He isn’t dead,” Wren ground out between clenched teeth.
I found myself agreeing. “Not Silas.”
“Everybody’s ticket gets punched eventually.” Maddox crossed his arms over his chest, his chin lifted.
“So, you’re just willing to give up on him?” I demanded, suddenly irritated with Maddox’s dogged pessimism.
“We’re not doing ourselves any favors by hiding from reality,” he shot back.
I wanted to argue, but I’d been telling myself the same thing only minutes ago.
“So that brings us back to my question,” Cooper said. “Are we looking for Silas, or do we give him more time?”
“You would, wouldn’t you?” Miranda asked. “If we wanted to open a full-fledged investigation, you’d put aside the resources?”
“Not everything’s about business, Miranda,” Cooper said. “Silas is a friend. The six of you are assets, and I’m glad to have you at Sinclair. Silas going missing is a big deal. Especially after selling the company he spent half his professional life building. To deal with loose ends? I want answers too.”
“I think we’re worrying too soon,” Ryder said slowly. “He’s not a kid. He knew what he was doing. He clearly had a plan. He’s still executing that plan. Just because you’re all getting antsy doesn’t mean he’s done with whatever it was he had to do.”
“Maybe,” I agreed. “I’d like to think you’re right, Ryder. I think you could be. And I don’t think he’s dead, but—”
“What if he’s in trouble?” Wren asked. “Even Silas runs into trouble now and then.”
“We need to find him,” I finished for her.
Cooper’s icy blue eyes met mine. “I’ve had the same thought. Silas and I are square. He doesn’t owe me anything. Didn’t promise me he’d be back. But if he’s out there and in a jam—”
“So, we’re agreed,” Ryder said. “We keep looking?”
“Emmett did find something,” Maddox said. “He dug it out this morning.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded piece of white paper. He opened it and slid it to the middle of the table.
I leaned forward and snatched it up, staring down at the lines on the page. I raised an eyebrow and shoved it back at Maddox. “What is that?”
“Encrypted code. It popped up on one of Silas’s old networks—nothing anyone’s used in years. But this was recent, after he left that note and dropped off the face of the earth. They matched data packets coming from a device belonging to one Emily Shaw, who died when her car exploded in her driveway. Two days after,” he pointed at the paper on the table, “this indicates that she and Silas were communicating.”
“Who set the bomb?” Ryder asked.
“No idea,” Maddox said. “It hit the papers for a day or two—big splash, as a car bomb in a suburban neighborhood might be, then nothing. Closed, unsolved. Evidence is still sitting, unprocessed.”
“Who was Emily Shaw?” Cooper asked, picking up the pen he’d left on the table and flipping it between his fingers.
“That’s an interesting question,” Maddox said, tilting his head to one side. “According to the papers, she was a freelance data analyst who worked from home, which begs the question of where she was going when she got in the car that day. Emmett and I looked into her.”
“And?” I prompted.
“And she seems to be what the paper said she was. But the information we found was—” He looked at the ceiling, as if searching for the right words in the bright lights above. “Curated,” he finally said.
“Like everything fit into a perfect picture?” Miranda prompted, and Maddox nodded.
“Exactly. Too perfect. As if the Emily Shaw we were seeing was exactly who she wanted us to see. Which is outside the skill set of your average freelance data analyst.”
“Right,” Ryder finished.
“And that’s our only lead,” I said. “A dead woman and a car bomb. Nothing on those old servers of Silas’s since then?”
Maddox shook his head. “Nothing.”
“Well, I guess we keep looking, then,” I said. “And if we find out he’s in a jam—” I glanced to Cooper, who nodded. “Then we ride to the rescue.”
There was a quick triple rap on the door, and it swung open. Alice, Cooper’s wife and the Sinclair Security office manager, poked her head in, her short, dark bob swinging, her sky-blue eyes bright with intrigue.