Kitabı oku: «Killer Colton Christmas»

Chapter 1

Livia Lives!

Marie Meyers cringed at the headline alert on her phone, the sugar-sweetened coffee in her mouth going bitter. It couldn’t be true. A headline like that was an exercise in sensationalism. Click bait. Livia Colton, ruthless killer and crime boss of Shadow Creek, Texas, had died on her way back to jail when her car was washed into the river. True or false, this was almost the worst news Marie had ever heard.

As the chief digital officer for Colton, Incorporated, Marie defined her primary goal as creating a superb online experience for their customers and she worked to keep that positive experience a priority in long-term corporate growth strategy. Not only did that require her to collect data on their customers’ habits, it meant being aware of what was trending in the media and analyzing the corresponding data to better anticipate their subsequent interactions with the company.

Marie’s thumb hovered over the link on her cell phone, resisting the inevitable. She had to open the article, had to know what kind of message, rumors or facts were circulating out there, so she could be informed during the inevitable crisis meetings at the office today.

She set aside her coffee and held her breath as she clicked the link, half expecting her phone to explode. Or implode. Didn’t matter, as the result would be the same.

The banner for Everything’s Blogger in Texas had been updated to reflect the top, scintillating story, and the article boldly declared Livia Colton, criminal mastermind presumed dead, was in fact back among the living. The blog promised to deliver every juicy detail of the hunt for the Queen of the Coltons in real time. There was a convenient link to subscribe for updates.

“Lovely,” Marie muttered. A quick search proved Everything’s Blogger did have the jump on other gossip sites and traditional news outlets. They posted quotes from victims and people connected to Livia’s prior crimes and were weaving the story as they went along, connecting dots that might not even be related. The other sites were merely reporting the shocking news and waiting for confirmation, making them appear half a step behind.

Marie didn’t expect the lag to last, and the more reporters covering this development, the tougher things would be at work. Her appetite gone, she skipped breakfast and headed into the office, the news following her on every station as she scanned the radio channels during the drive. Her grip tight on the steering wheel, she cursed the way one high-profile bad apple could ruin the whole bushel.

For Marie, Colton, Incorporated, was more than a career choice. The company had embraced her and she returned that welcome with a loyalty and affection as powerful as family ties. Now, thanks to one evil woman’s machinations, her family of coworkers would be cast into a glaring spotlight as the authorities investigated Livia’s connection to the company.

She’d seen it happen elsewhere. The most innocuous decisions and comments would be scrutinized for use as potential evidence, and as those details reached the press, the court of public opinion would weigh in first. Doubts crept into the customer mind-set quickly, and regardless of damage control, it could take years to restore confidence.

In the digital age, nearly everything lasted forever. Usually that worked in her favor as a CDO, sifting through data for patterns, identifying influencers and tailoring experiences for their customers. This process was known as data mining, but companies that mishandled the wealth of information had given a valuable process a bad name. She feared this kind of headline would work against her beloved company.

As she pulled into her parking space near the office, the radio went silent midbroadcast as if the station had lost the signal. In the next moment a new voice broke the quiet, speaking through an alteration device that hid the speaker’s gender and identity. “The Cohort will prevail. We can and will expose everyone colluding with Livia Colton. We will see true justice is served.”

“Not good,” Marie murmured to herself as the normal radio hosts came back on air, apologizing for the strange interruption. The Cohort, a notorious hacktivist group, claimed to work collectively for pure transparency, holding the powers that be accountable. In college, her professors had built several lectures and case studies on the organization’s methods, recruiting and most successful hacks. Unfortunately, they were often as destructive as Livia had been, despite their noble claims.

At thirty, Marie had experienced her share of bad days. Mentally, she shuffled today into her top ten list of worst ones, though there was serious competition in her history. She turned off the car and took a deep breath, resisting the urge to run flat out into the office and stay locked inside the building she loved until they stopped whatever the Cohort had planned. A thriving corporation connected by name and bloodlines to Livia would be an irresistible target.

Glancing around the parking area, she imagined someone hacking into the cameras and flashing her panicked race to work all over the internet with another headline full of negative insinuations about the company.

With that unpleasant image in mind, she forced herself to move with deliberate, calm purpose, belying the dread knotting her stomach. Purse over one arm, computer case over the opposite shoulder, she strolled into the gleaming twenty-five-story glass tower, hoping the lingering panic inside was hidden by her professional confidence and perfect posture.

The Cohort had a global reputation for following through on its threats. She knew Zane Colton, as head of security, would have precautions and heightened alerts in place, and the cybersecurity division would be shoring up firewalls and such to protect the company from a digital assault. As soon as she got upstairs, she would do everything possible to help ward off an attack.

The lobby door had barely whispered closed behind her when a wave of jitters surrounded her like a sudden storm. The air in the soaring atrium practically buzzed with nervous energy. She hustled to the elevators and upstairs to her office, just in time to pick up the phone ringing on her assistant’s desk. “Marie Meyers. How may I help you?”

“Good—you’re in.”

“Zane?” she asked, startled by the obvious relief in his normally composed tone.

“You’re needed in the conference room,” he said.

No sense in wasting time with questions. “I’ll be right there.” The urgency was surely related to the Cohort broadcast. She wouldn’t know how bad it was or how best to help until she got down there.

If she’d thought the building had a jittery vibe downstairs, it paled in comparison to the action in the conference room. A grim resignation pulsed through the air, as various people sat around the long oval table, murmuring stats and updates as they studied laptop monitors. At the head of the table, Fowler Colton, company president, stood with his brother T.C. and their stepbrother Zane. Today the company’s top men wore similar expressions of anger, frustration and grave concern.

Had the Cohort made an attempt on the company already? It seemed impossibly fast, considering the news had just broken.

At a colorful oath, her head swiveled toward the presentation screen along with all the others in the room. Feeds from half a dozen computer monitors, presumably projections from those around the conference table, were displayed for everyone to see.

She walked closer to the screen, disbelief and alarm going to war with that knot of dread in her stomach. Under a black-and-white banner the names of the highest-ranking officers of Colton, Incorporated, were posted, including hers. Alongside each name were personal details, ranging from partial home addresses and phone numbers to bank accounts and social security information. While some of the information was shown for each name, other fields had been completed with Click for More links.

“What site is this?” she asked the room at large.

“Does it matter?” Fowler asked.

“It does,” she replied, thinking of customers and their viewing habits. “We need to get it shut down—”

“Too late, Marie. The first successful breach of the firewall occurred just after five this morning and we’ve been scrambling to stop the digital bleeding ever since.” Zane gave a nod to a young man at the table. “Show her.”

That put the breach two solid hours before Everything’s Blogger in Texas posted the story that Livia wasn’t dead. Marie was trying to make sense of that when the screen flooded with a scroll of more names. She pressed her hand to her lips to smother the alarmed gasp. The Cohort hadn’t just compromised the executives or those with the last name of Colton. It had systematically captured the personal records for everyone in the company.

“How can I help?” she asked, determined to fight back.

“You’re looking at a dark website where the Cohort has started an auction,” Zane told her. “We’ve contacted the FBI. They should be here any minute.”

An auction for this kind of data would be irresistible to thieves, smugglers and human traffickers. The criminals who could afford the information wouldn’t hesitate to use it. Although she had concerns for herself, she was only one person. Her heart sank for the employees and their families over the terrible consequences of identity theft of this magnitude.

How ironic that the Cohort, supposed champions of personal privacy, had just compromised the data of innocent people while she worked relentlessly to protect the information gained by her efforts.

“We have to move quickly and get an identity protection plan in place for everyone.” Each of them faced more than just immediate inconveniences. With just a few hours’ head start, bank accounts and retirement funds were already in jeopardy.

“We are,” Zane said. “There’s more, Marie.”

“I’ve got it here,” a tech offered.

“No,” Zane said. “Send it to my office.” He exchanged a stormy look with his family. His expression softened only slightly, his gaze holding hers while he crossed the room. “Come with me,” he said, holding the door open for her.

What couldn’t he say in front of the team? Her knees went watery under the combined weight of everyone staring at her. They couldn’t possibly believe she had anything to do with this. A breach like this could end her career, even though it wasn’t her fault. Her position as CDO had been a dream come true, allowing her to hit the pinnacle of her professional goals two years earlier than she’d planned. The Coltons had to know she would never jeopardize the opportunity.

To quell the worst-case scenarios stampeding through her mind, she turned her gaze to the stunning view of the city from the uppermost windows of the tower. Dallas sparkled below, rolling with glittering confidence toward the horizon. She remembered school field trips as a kid, standing on the sidewalk, tipping her head way back and staring up at this tower and others nearby. More than the glossy shine of excellent architecture and construction, she’d seen the security and stability she longed for as she watched executives, assistants and employees serving all levels of the businesses inside. Those field trips solidified her personal goals and she set out to achieve what many of those people probably took for granted—a place to belong. A place to make a difference.

“Marie, you should have a seat.” Zane gestured to the visitor’s chair in front of his desk.

She didn’t realize how far afield her mind had wandered until she noticed him politely waiting for her to sit down first. Perching at the edge of the chair, she waited for whatever he didn’t feel he could say in front of the others.

“As I said, the FBI is on the way,” Zane began. “I’m sure once they arrive, we can come up with the best possible solution.”

“Count on me to help out.” She cleared her throat when he frowned. “Security is your area, of course, but whatever I can do to...” Her voice trailed off at his raised hand.

“I appreciate the offer.” Shifting in his chair, he reached for his monitor and turned it so she could see the display, though it remained blank. “Unfortunately, I feel it’s best for you and the company if we keep you far away from this particular situation.”

“Pardon me?” Please don’t kick me to the curb so close to Christmas.

“Our cybersecurity protocols folded almost instantly,” he said, clearly disgusted. “Though we’re chasing down the breach, the FBI will soon take over. We’ve switched our efforts to covering everyone who’s been compromised with identity theft monitoring and protection.”

“Good. You’ve seen the latest blogger headlines?” Her voice sounded weak and she straightened her shoulders. Social media and online trends were only a small aspect of her role. If Colton, Incorporated, wanted to manage the rumors and innuendo and keep customers content, they needed her analysis and assistance with the strategy to overcome this crisis.

Zane scowled. “Yes. It’s ridiculous, though it’s likely to get worse before it’s over.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Marie.” He tapped something on his keyboard and more data from the piracy site flooded the monitor. Names and personal records scrolled through in alphabetical order, much as it had on the screens in the conference room.

When it reached the Ms, the scrolling slowed, rocking a little as the information came to a stop. The process reminded her of a jackpot on a slot machine. Her name on the left. Her social security number dead center, her bank account and balance on the right. In bold red lettering, centered under those pertinent details, her job title was listed along with her salary and a call to action with a link.

Data mining is dangerous! Stop the snooping, CDO!

Okay, that was rough. She didn’t appreciate her information being spotlighted by the Cohort simply because her job involved data mining to make customer interaction more engaging and valuable. Yes, the process was controversial, but unlike the hacktivists, she never publicly shared or broadcast the details she gathered. She performed her job with pride using the highest standard of security.

Leaning forward, she tried to make sense of the implications. It boggled her mind. “Where does that link lead?”

He clicked it, revealing a rant on the dangers of data mining ending with an input box. “I’m hoping the FBI can tell us what this is. My primary concern is for your safety.”

Surely she would be safe if she stayed here until the FBI shut down that page and the links. “The breach and mitigating the effect on our employees should be our primary concern.”

“Your loyalty is refreshing,” Zane said with a half smile. “And valued. I want you to be the CDO here for years to come.”

That was the first comforting thing she’d heard. “I’m not trying to be difficult, but what exactly are you saying?”

“This reads like a personal threat against you. Your information isn’t in the auction—it’s already been broadcast. I fear the Cohort has targeted you for some specific action.”

Meaning what? She couldn’t wrap her head around his assessment. Groups like the Cohort didn’t go after people in person. They struck from the safe side of their probing computers, exposing and embarrassing their targets to promote the agenda du jour.

“I don’t know anything about Livia Colton,” she said, recalling the Cohort radio broadcast. Only what she’d read in the press or heard from her coworkers. “My only tie to the Colton family is my employment.” Unless the Cohort knew something she didn’t. She clasped her hands in her lap to keep from rubbing that tiny burn behind her sternum. Not again, not now. Calm, blissful years had flowed by without that annoying flicker of hope that she might eventually learn her father’s name. How frustrating it was to discover no amount of crushing disappointment would extinguish it permanently.

“Regardless, the Cohort changed tactics. By definition, your job fundamentally offends the Cohort. Until we sort it out, I feel it’s best if you take a leave of absence.”

Those last three words reverberated in her head. She wondered where she could go and how she might fill her time. Zane explained the cybersecurity team’s instructions for managing the identity breach issues. Password changes and notifications to her bank, credit cards, landlord and the IRS topped the list. Just when she wished she’d brought in a notepad, he slid a short stack of paperwork across the desk to her. “This is the packet going out to all employees by noon today.”

Fast work, she thought, flipping through the comprehensive guide. “With all due respect, I’d prefer to stay and help.”

Her coworkers were bound to be worried and the cybersecurity department would be flooded with calls and questions. Not to mention what they needed to do as a company to reassure customers that their data was safe. When she added up the tasks and the personnel, she knew they needed her here.

Zane leaned back in his chair and rubbed his forehead, debating something. “Handle the notifications,” he said, “then come back to the conference room.”

“Thank—”

He interrupted her gratitude. “I’ll let you stay on one condition. You’ll cooperate with the FBI’s assessment of your safety. Whatever they decide, no arguments.”

“Yes, sir.” She hurried out of the office before he changed his mind.

As she walked to her office at the other end of the hall, she flipped through the guide, squirming at the long list of things she would now need to keep in mind. At least she didn’t have a spouse or children to worry about. In her situation, not even extended family was a concern, since she’d been a ward of the state of Texas since her birth.

Marie’s lips twisted and her throat went dry as those old questions tried to rear up from her past. Wouldn’t it be ironic if the Cohort had discovered who her father was or even where her mother had gone after she’d abandoned her newborn with nothing more than a name?

Distracted, her head down as she passed the elevator, the doors parted, and she found herself tangled in the group entering the hallway.

She nearly bumped into the man in the lead and he steadied her with a light touch at her elbow. The dark suits and serious expressions identified them as FBI, even without the badges they wore in plain view.

“Excuse us,” the first man said, his touch sliding away.

“No, pardon me.” She offered a tight smile and stepped aside. In her heels, she wasn’t quite eye level with him, though he wasn’t the tallest of the group. With dark brown hair, straight eyebrows over deep-set brown eyes and a stern mouth framed by a trim beard, he radiated authority and he gave her a long study that put heat in her cheeks as he passed by.

What did he see? she wondered, striding away. Did he think he knew her? She couldn’t shake the strange sensation that he had come to some immediate conclusion about her with only a light touch and one long look.

* * *

Special Agent Emiliano Ortega recognized Marie Meyers as he steadied her when she brushed by them. Her picture and résumé were in the initial briefing documents he’d skimmed when his boss called him to Dallas early this morning.

The FBI had assembled the fast-response task force Emiliano served on to investigate cyberattacks all over the country. They could even reach destinations overseas at a moment’s notice to protect US interests. Reporting to Dallas meant a particularly short commute in this case, getting them on scene quickly and reducing the window of time in which the hacktivists could erase their tracks.

He hadn’t had much time to delve deep into the file but he knew the key points on the top executives at Colton, Incorporated. Thirty, never married, Miss Meyers had earned her bachelor’s and master’s degrees in computer science and minored in psychology. No debts beyond a minuscule credit-card balance.

Everything about her appearance, from her glossy dark brown hair curling softly around her shoulders to the pricey designer high heels, shouted that this woman valued order and discipline.

He glanced back down the hallway, but she was gone. Why wasn’t the CDO headed to the conference room? A cyberattack of this magnitude usually brought all hands on deck.

When his team reached the conference room with the obligatory massive table, monitors and floor-to-ceiling windows, the introductions were swift. Everyone seemed eager to hand over investigative control to the FBI. A typical reaction with attacks as aggressive as this one seemed to be.

He kept glancing to the door, waiting for Miss Meyers to join them as he and the team listened to the rapid-fire updates from the technicians and executives on hand.

The Cohort had claimed responsibility immediately: not the first time Emiliano and his team had encountered that strategy. Another stroke of luck, as the verification was swift and put them on the right track immediately.

As he and the team systematically peeled back the first layers of the breach, Emiliano soon realized the Cohort had employed a brand-new tactic. The trail of links from Marie Meyers’s information led to a private message board called Campus Martius, where Cohort Principes were encouraged to share ideas on how best to make an example of her.

“We have a problem,” Emiliano said as he kept digging. He shared his display on the presentation screen and conversation around the room halted in stunned shock.

He spotted Zane Colton standing with his family near the wall of windows. “Where is Miss Meyers?”

Zane started to answer and stopped short. “Right here.”

* * *

The notifications took longer than Marie expected, so she wasn’t surprised to discover the FBI team had turned the conference room to crisis central by the time she returned.

Seeing her name and face plastered across the big presentation screen—that unnerved her all over again and she hesitated at the doorway.

Zane motioned her closer. “Marie Meyers, our CDO,” he stated. “This is the FBI’s National Cyber Investigative Joint Task Force.” He gestured to the presentation screen. “They just drilled through the rhetoric to this direct death threat against you.”

Despite the shock rattling through her system, she forced herself to stride forward.

The man with the dark eyes who’d studied her so intently in the hallway extended a hand in greeting. “Special Agent Emiliano Ortega.”

She grasped his hand, momentarily distracted by the calluses on his palm. “A pleasure to meet you.” She kept her eyes on him, rather than the presentation screen. His square jaw offered a much better view anyway.

His mouth tilted in a skeptical half smile before he introduced the three other members of their task force as Special Agent in Charge Selene Dashwood, Special Agent Finn Townsend and malware analyst Tristan Staller.

Despite the suits and no-nonsense attitudes, the task force was a study in contrasts, from the sleek Dashwood, tall and lean with flawless ebony skin and no accessories beyond her wedding band, to the not-quite-rumpled Staller, who seemed reluctant to tear his gaze from his monitor. She knew his type well. In between were Townsend with his curling light brown hair and friendly smile and Ortega, who watched her closely.

“We’re aware this isn’t a good day,” Ortega said.

Not her worst, either, though she kept the thought to herself. “How can I help?”

As Dashwood resumed her conversation with Fowler and T.C., Agent Ortega planted his hands on his lean waist. “Sometimes attacks like this one resemble battering rams. This attack, while large in scope, had some precision elements.” He pointed to the screen. “As you know, they took everything in order to inflict the most chaos and damage to the company as a whole.”

“Obviously,” she agreed.

“Underneath the obvious, we believe the strategy was meant to blur their particular focus on you.”