Caught Off Guard Page 21

  Toby sighed. “Easy to say. Hard to live with.”

  I said, “High tech, not amateur stuff—that’s all for hire on the dark web, right?”

  He nodded. “And hard to trace. I can only do so much.”

  I smiled. “And you’re not willing to go to the dark side, right? So why are you expecting to have figured this out?” I punched Precious in the shoulder. “And you… Anyone in your position would have done exactly what you did. Austin Strong is a sociopath, a narcissist that uses people and discards them. We have to stop looking back. We can’t change that. But we still have a lot ahead of us.”

  Precious smiled. “You’re right. And that was well said.”

  Toby was clicking on his computer in the back. “I’ve been all around online, and there’s little talk about McVay. No chatter about anyone claiming that they made those videos of AJ. Nothing more than what we know.”

  After an agonizing crawl at thirty miles per hour through Toutle, we resumed speeding through the winding roads of the Gifford Pinchot National Forest. Eventually, we turned onto a well-worn blacktop road off the main highway.

  Toby pressed his face to the window as we drove through the woods where a handful of homes were nestled. “At least it’s not the only cabin out here. I’ve seen two others since we turned down this road.”

  “Must be more than we think, because we just passed a community mailbox,” Precious said.

  I looked in the rearview mirror, and sure enough, a large metal box was there with eight individual locked boxes. “I wonder if there are already eight or if that’s extra for future builds or something. And I wonder if our letter is in there.”

  Toby asked, “Should we go back and pick the lock?”

  I shook my head. “I’d rather not commit a felony if I don’t have to. I’m not sure which box, if any, is McVay’s, and I’d have to pick all of them. Let’s do a quick look through the cabin for a key. And make sure there’s no box there.”

  Precious pointed at the tip of a driveway, the rest occluded by trees. “I think this is it.”

  I was making to turn onto the gravel road when Precious put out a hand, grabbing the steering wheel.

  “Stop!” she cried.

  I paused, not turning onto the drive, and Toby and I looked at her questioningly.

  I asked, “Is something wrong?”

  Precious faced us. “Remember when we went to the Olympics because you had a bad feeling?”

  I nodded.

  She swept her hand in front of the windshield. “Well, here we are, and now I have a bad feeling.”

  “Look, we aren’t here for long. We’re going to look for the mailbox, grab the envelope, and get out. But just in case, remember—”

  “Don’t eat red berries,” Toby said.

  I pointed at him. “Yeah, what he said. Honestly, though, I think your bad feeling might be because we’ve been so upset on the drive up. I’ve been watching. No car has followed us. I don’t see any signs that anyone is around. I think we’re okay.”

  Precious nodded. “Okay, but just remember that I said I had a bad feeling and you dismissed me.”

  Toby chuckled in the back.

  “Whatever,” I said. “We gonna sit here all day or go find this mystery package?”

  Precious laughed and pointed up the driveway. I gunned her SUV, jerking the wheel to turn us onto the drive. We broke through the trees, and nestled in a flat field, with a backdrop of the foothills of Mount Saint Helens, was a small square cabin that looked like it’d been built centuries before. A wrap porch with rocking chairs skirted the small home.

  Toby put his window down. “Not looking like the home of a millionaire.”

  Precious said, “I kinda like that he didn’t build a mini fake mountain mansion out here.”

  I pointed at a helicopter to our south. “No matter where a person goes, they can’t escape the modern world, sadly.”

  Precious shook her head. “When we go deep into the woods looking for Bigfoot, it’s always a shock to hear a helicopter. Kinda ruins the experience.”

  I nodded in agreement and parked the SUV in front of the cabin. Hopping out of the car, I slung my backpack over my shoulder after taking out my lock-picking kit.

  Toby said, “I’ll wait here.”

  Precious had caught up with me, and we both turned toward him.

  Surprised that he would come all this way without getting out of the car, I said, “Okay. But maybe do a walk-around, and see if there are any cameras and if they have a company name.” We’d determined that McVay’s Lake Oswego home was using Strong’s security. In hindsight, that was another clue. In the moment, it had made sense.

  Toby nodded. “Then I’m right back in this SUV.”

  “Fine,” I said.

  Precious looked toward the woods. “If you think you hear Bigfoot, let me know.”

  Toby also looked to the woods and paled. “Dang it, Precious. You got in my head earlier with your bad feeling about being here, and now I’m freaked out.” He rubbed the area where Lady M typically hung in her pouch. He caught himself and smacked his own forehead. “And now I’m stroking myself. No emotional-support animal. No vaping because of that stupid lung disease they haven’t solved yet, and no Doritos. Can you blame a guy for being edgy?”

  We shook our heads. “Nope,” we said in unison.

  I said, “I’ll leave the door open. Call if you need anything.”

  He nodded. “I’ll need your stun gun if you want me to walk around this joint.” He held out his palm.

  I took my stun gun from my backpack and handed it over.

  Precious and I went to the door, where a simple lock awaited.

  “I think I can take this.” I opened my picking kit.

  Precious reached above the door to the lip of the jamb and felt around. “No key here. Try under the mat?”

  I flipped over the well-worn welcome mat to find nothing but dirt and a few stink bugs. Next to the door was a flowerpot, and underneath that was nothing more.

  I knelt before the lock. “I don’t think we’re that lucky, to have the key waiting for us. I stuck a lock-picking tool into the keyhole, but before I could begin, the lock clicked, and the door handle turned. Precious grabbed my shoulder as I shuffled backward hurriedly.

  The door whipped open, and I fell back on my butt as Precious let out a high-pitched scream.

  Toby, standing on the other side of the door, let out a matching scream.

  I jumped up. “Stop!”

  Instantly, they both stopped screaming. Precious was clutching her chest, Toby pressing the heels of his hands to his temples.

  “Jeez, you scared me,” he said.

  Precious retorted, “We scared you? How did you get inside the cabin?”

  Toby pointed behind himself. “I used the key I found under the mat at the back door.”

  Precious snort laughed and punched me in the shoulder. We’d had the right idea but the wrong door.

  Taking my lock pick out of the keyhole, I told Precious, sotto voce, “And here I thought he was too scared and was going to rush back to the car.”

  “He’s a constant source of happy surprises.”

  Toby said, “I’d be offended if she hadn’t just complimented me. And yes, there are four cameras around the house. But they aren’t run through the internet. Old-school wired to monitors with a clang-clang-clang alarm. I gotta give him props. No one can hack that.”

  “He was very paranoid, so I’m not surprised,” I said.

  Precious and I stepped into the house, and I closed the door behind us.

  The cabin had a large front window that let in light, but the copse of trees limited it to bands of sunlight. I clicked the lights on.

  “Look for a mailbox key,” I told my friends. “I’m guessing he did have one of the boxes back at that community mailbox we passed. We find the key and get the h-e-double-hockey-sticks out of here.”

  The cabin was furnished with comfortable overstuffed leat
her furniture with blue-and-white-plaid throw blankets over the backs. Though the floors were wood, thick braided rugs softened the rooms. Photos of McVay in various stages of growing up, with who I assumed were his parents and grandparents, lined the fireplace and walls—catching a large fish, camping, in his Pop Warner uniform with Chet Fuller on the side, and in his uniform at Stanford while holding a championship trophy.

  That was where McVay had lived. I was getting a sense of who he was as a person, of the person AJ told me he was.

  “This place makes me sad,” Precious said.

  “Me too,” I replied.

  I moved into the kitchen. Because the cabin was older, the floor plan wasn’t an open concept. The kitchen was square and had been updated with an island seating two in the middle, and off the end was a mudroom and the door Toby had come through. Fishing poles were resting in a corner. Back in the kitchen, a plate and a mug rested in a drying rack. On impulse, I opened the cabinets. Inside each was an assortment of mismatched dishes—until I reached the last cabinet. There sat two rows of monitors. I flicked them on, and images of the area surrounding the house came into view.

  “This is the McVay I’ve come to know,” I mumbled. Paranoid. However, I noticed his two residences were diametrically different. One was modern with state-of-the-art tech and an escape room. The cabin, though, was the absence of state-of-the-art. In fact, the only tech in the cabin was the TV and the monitors, which were essentially TVs. Paranoia didn’t live here.

  Tucked into the corner next to a monitor, hanging from its side, were two keys and a tag with the number seven on it.

  “Found it,” I said.

  We quickly closed up the house and drove to the mailbox. Inside the mailbox was one plain white envelope. I tugged it out, held it up, and took a picture with my phone, wanting to make sure I documented what I could. Both the address and return address were the cabin’s, just like Mrs. Fuller had said.

  Inside the SUV, I opened the package and took out a letter. From between the folds, four Polaroids fell out: an aerial shot of a tropical island, a close-up of three kitchen cabinet doors, and two of house numbers. One of those showed black iron numbers reading 139, and the other, in silver, read 720.

  31

  Monday

  I unfolded the letter and handed it to Precious.

  She cleared her throat and read:

  Austin,

  Enough is enough. You don’t own me. Contrary to what you said.

  And I no longer owe you. What we did in college is done. There is no going back. But there is going forward, and I am in control of what I do in my future. Not you.

  If you’re reading this, I’m dead, and I know it was at your hand. You greedy, maniacal son of a bitch.

  You laughed when I said I wanted out. You laughed when I said I had proof of all the evil misdeeds you’d done. You said I was dumb and could never outsmart you.

  Who’s laughing now? I may be dead, but you’re scared, and even from the grave, I’m going to bring you down. I was in possession of proof that shows how you set up Kami Bartell and all those other women at those colleges with your spyware just so you could launch your own anti-virus software and make millions of dollars from it. I have video proof of you threatening me to throw the game so you could win large on a bet. And I have proof that the guy driving the armored car that hit me that night after leaving the training facility was hired by you. I hired a hacker to find the paper trail. You’re not the only one with computer skills or money, and it only took one of those to get what I wanted.

  So let’s play one final game, Austin. A Hail Mary, if you will. Here are the clues to where I hid all the proof. Good luck finding it. Hope you’re smart enough.

  You aren’t the only one with this information. The clock is ticking. Go.

  I tapped the envelope against the center console, thinking out loud. “This was supposed to go to the Lake Oswego house so that Strong would get it. McVay knew Strong was watching everything. But it didn’t. Fuller’s wife sent it here.”

  “Austin doesn’t know anything about these clues,” Precious said. “He knows McVay had evidence. He just doesn’t know what or where.”

  “Well, he kinda has an idea where to start looking,” Toby said quietly.

  Precious looked at us again. “I’m so sorry.”

  I put up a hand. “None of that matters now. We have the clues. Strong doesn’t.” I pointed at the pictures. “I think this was a way to draw Strong’s attention off of anybody else who might have this information. That would give Roman time to put something into action.”

  Precious asked, “Do you think it’s a wild-goose chase? Nothing on the other end?” She gestured at the pictures.

  I shrugged. “Only one way to find out. Because if, by chance, there’s another set of proof, and we get our hands on it, then this will help us bring Strong down too.”

  “We better get to figuring out these pictures, then,” Toby said. “Because the sooner we get Strong off the streets, the better I’ll feel.”

  “Me too,” I mumbled.

  “Me three,” Precious said.

  We laid the photos out in a row on the dashboard.

  “Toby, get a picture of the photos and the letter. Can you store the images safely?”

  He rolled his eyes and mumbled, “Can I store the image somewhere safely, she asks. Like I’m new at this or something.” Using his phone, he took pics, moved his thumbs over the screen for a few seconds, then smiled at me. “A better question would have been ‘Do you have enough bars to send data out?’”

  I gave him a thumbs-up. “Thanks.” I pointed at the island picture. “Any ideas where that is?”

  No one had any.

  “How do we narrow down where these houses are?” Precious asked.

  I shook my head. “They’re too random, these pictures. I don’t think we’re supposed to look at them in context. Like, this is an island. Maybe that’s the street name for one of these house numbers.”

  Precious held up a house-number photo and the kitchen photo. “So this could be 720 Kitchen Road?”

  Toby whipped out his laptop and, using his hotspot, began searching. Soon, he said, “There’s Kitchen Drive, Lane, and Road, in multiples. We have about six of them that meet this criterion in this county alone. No telling how many are up and down the state.”

  “How about Oregon?” I asked.

  “Or Minnesota,” Precious added.

  I shook my head again. “That’s too many options. A wild-goose chase. He mailed this to Strong. He knew he could run a program to narrow down all the houses that meet the criteria of house number and Kitchen or Island being in the street name. McVay knew it would take time, and that’s what I think he wanted. Time for Roman.”

  Precious gave me a puzzled look. “Why not mail whatever proof he had to someone in media, someone like your dad?”

  “Overly paranoid? I dunno.” I thought about what Paulie Bea had said, that people with money have more options when committing a crime. “I think McVay knew Strong has endless cash flow and can do whatever he wants. So mailing this to someone like my dad only puts that person in the crosshairs. Mailing it to someone like Roman with more funds and a desire for revenge opens up opportunity.”

  I spread the photos out in a different order and studied them. Then I shuffled them again and tried to read them instead of seeing them. Reading photos was far easier than reading books—that was for sure.

  I gasped and read the pictures again. “I think I have it. Go back to the cabin.”

  Looking at my friends, I held up two photos. “Kitchen and island. I think this might be the combination. Kitchen island. And these look like the cabinets in the cabin, don’t they? Maybe there’s a clue hidden at the cabin’s kitchen island. Which, when McVay had this mailed, Strong knew nothing about the cabin. He would’ve had to find the property first.”

  Toby snickered. “And good luck with that. It’s buried. Not being able to figure this out would have d
riven Strong insane.”

  Precious clapped with excitement then threw the SUV into drive and spun us around, kicking up pebbles and dirt. She took the turn into the driveway at a speedy clip, spraying even more dirt in her wake. I was out of the SUV before she had it in park. I ran around to the back and used the key Toby had found earlier, which we’d replaced. Precious and Toby followed.

  In the kitchen, I studied the island. It looked like any other. One side was the sitting area. The other side had two cabinets for pans. I opened the cabinet doors and tried to see beyond the pans. Nothing looked out of sorts. I saw no false side or bottom or any lever to open a secret passage.

  I wondered if I’d misread the photos. Not yet willing to give up on my interpretation, I felt around all the edges again and pushed on the panels. Toby and Precious stood back and watched.

  “Maybe the pans need to come out?” Precious suggested.

  I removed all the pans and felt around the shelves—nothing. I sat back on my haunches, the pans at my side, and stared into the cabinet. “I don’t get it. Am I being too obtuse? Is the answer right in front of me but I’m looking too hard?”

  “Maybe we’re wrong,” Precious said.

  “Maybe.” I reached to my side to put the pans back into the cabinet but lost my balance and had to catch myself by thrusting out a hand, only to knock over some of the cookware, the lids tumbling off with a loud clatter of clashing steel.

  I scooped them up and thrust them into the cabinet. The last one, a large pot for cooking spaghetti or soup, lay on its side. The lid was still attached, but no clamps were keeping it in place. The lid, steel with a round black handle the size of an egg, looked like all the other lids in McVay’s cabinet. Nothing about that pot and its lid stood out except the fact that it hadn’t come off. Leftover food residue and a poor cleaning could have caused that.