K Stewart - A Devil in the Details

“Yeah. I doubt they’ll answer, but we can try.” I rocked in Mira’s chair, noting absently that it was nice to have a chair with both arms firmly attached. “Can you check and see when Miguel and Guy logged in last?”

“Yeah, sure, easily done.” I could see the frown, even in the grainy image. “But it is funny you ask. They both e-mailed me, saying they were having problems connecting to the site.”

“When was that?”

“Oh… three weeks ago, for Miguel. Guy was longer than that. Five weeks? Of course, I do not hear from Miguel that often. He must go into the city to get a connection as it is. But Guy, he has never missed a check-in, until now.”

Shortly before Miguel disappeared, then. And, if Guy was truly gone, then shortly before his disappearance as well. “You figure out what the problem was?”

“No. I needed to be on at the same time they were to see what was happening, and we never got the chance. Why? You think it is connected somehow?”

“Viljo, in the three years you’ve been doing this, the site has never gone down or had any access or security issues. Not once. And suddenly two people have problems, and then disappear? Yeah, it’s hinky.”

“I did not think of that.” He sounded ashamed.

“Listen, why don’t you flex those hacker skills of yours. See if you can find anything in their phone records that match up, or any registered travel plans or anything.”

He grinned at the webcam. “You are asking me to hack across international lines, you know.”

“That a problem?”

“Not as long as the old man has bribe money for immigration.”

I snorted. “If you get caught, you deserve to get deported. You’re better than that.”

He flexed for the camera. “I know. I just wanted to hear you say it. Anything else?” I hesitated long enough that he asked, “Jesse?”

“I’m here.” I so did not want to do this. “Do you have anything of Guy’s? A personal item?”

“Um… I have the card he sent me for Christmas last year.” That made me feel bad. I’d never sent Viljo a card.

“That might work.” I’d be happier if it didn’t. “Could you send me that, or anything else of his you have?”

“Mira working some mojo?”

“Maybe.”

“Yeah, I can overnight it. You’ll have it tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Viljo. Nice mustache.” I shut down the window before he could retort, then sighed, finding myself alone in the quiet house.

Part of me hoped that Viljo didn’t find anything on Miguel and Guy. I wanted this to be a horrible, tragic coincidence, even though the churning in my gut was telling me otherwise. I wanted to laugh with Miguel and Guy about it, a week from now. Most especially, I did not want Mira trying to scry for Guy’s location-not this close to the last attempt; not at all, really.

While normally I enjoyed peace and quiet as much as the next guy, today the house was eerie without Mira’s bustling and Anna’s usual chatter. Even the creaking and groaning of the building itself seemed ominous, a warning of impending collapse or something. I didn’t want to be there.

Had I remembered that Rookie Paulo would be at work, I don’t think I’d have been in such a rush to get there, either.

Senor Sulk was slouched against the wall behind the register, where someone had apparently left him on his own. Thankfully, there were no customers. His sullen gaze followed me all the way to the back as I dumped my stuff in my locker, then back out to the front.

“Hey, Paulo.” I glanced up to find Sarah on a ladder above me, rearranging the T-shirts on the wall. “Hey, Sarah.” Realizing what she was wearing, I averted my eyes quickly. Please, someone tell the girl not to wear skirts when she’s climbing ladders. Kids.

“Hey, old dude. You wanna hand me that?” Her hand fluttered in the air until I blindly slapped a T-shirt board into it. If she was surprised to see me start my shift early, she didn’t say so. “Kristyn says we’re moving the clearance shelves to the other side, if you wanna start on that. Paulo’s got the register, and I’m right here to keep an eye on him.”

If I hadn’t been in such a grim mood already, I might have danced. Okay, maybe not danced, but I could have twitched a little or something. Training Paulo was not high on my list of life’s enjoyable events. “So who else is coming in today?”

“Um… Chris, I think, and Kristyn’s coming in at five to close.”

“Cool.” I liked closing with Chris and Kristyn; we always had fun. Granted, I wasn’t technically supposed to close tonight, but if Kristyn needed the help, of course I’d stay.

The clearance shelves were a disaster. The shirts were scattered every which way, with nonclearance merchandise stuffed in between. “Damn savages.” I mentally cursed whoever closed the night before, and set about getting things organized before I could even start trying to move the fixture. The best therapy is often mindless menial labor.

I know I worked on it for a good hour before I felt that heavy gaze on me again. Standing up, I found Paulo on the other side of the fixture, sneer firmly in place. “Hey, Paulo. Something you need?”

“So… what does a security consultant do, exactly?”

That made me blink. I didn’t realize he’d paid that much attention to Kristyn’s introduction upon our last meeting. “Depends on the client. Sometimes I just test security systems. Sometimes I do actual bodyguard work.” Please don’t let him ask me anything about computers.

His dark eyes ran up and down as if he could actually see me through the shelving. “You don’t look like much. You’re skinny.”

“Looks can be deceiving. And I’m wiry.” I bent to my work again. I didn’t need to get into a dominance struggle with a kid who obviously thought I was the big dog he had to take down. Though, I have to admit, sometimes it’s hard to remember I’m supposed to be the adult.

“ ’Course, all you have to do as a bodyguard is get shot instead of the other guy, right? I could do that.” In some way I couldn’t figure out, I’d made him mad. His accent was stronger. “A mannequin could do that.”

“Yeah, but mannequins have a union. It’s a bitch to get around the paperwork.” I stood again and folded my arms on the top shelf, giving him the eye. “You know, I’m not having the best day of my life right now, so I’m just gonna ask. Did I do something to you I’m not aware of, Paulo? Or are you just a pissy little bastard in general?” Okay, it was not my most adult moment. I admit that.

Hatred flared in those dark eyes. Not just anger, but deep-seated, depths-of-the-soul hatred. No one that young should be capable of that much rage. “You don’t know me. Don’t think you get to judge me.” His accent grew thicker with every word. In another moment, he’d start spitting Spanish at me, and I’d be lost. Languages are Mira’s strong suit, not mine.

“Look, you’re right; I don’t know you. So I don’t know what your problem is. But if you can’t get a grip, one of us is gonna get canned, and I can guarantee you it won’t be me. You want this job, you cool it.” Whee, lookit me be adult again!

Maybe Sarah saw a problem brewing. The doorbell sounded its cheery “bing-bong,” announcing a customer, and she said, “Hey, old dude, you take this one, I need Paulo’s help on the ladder.”

Paulo gave me a look that could have melted titanium, but he went back to work under Sarah’s direction. What is it with kids these days? In my day, the worst we had to worry about was somebody keying a car. (Yes, saying “in my day” officially makes me old.) These days, I thought kids were scarier than any demon I’d ever stared down. I hoped Annabelle wouldn’t grow up to be one of those angsty teens.