Page 425 of The Daddy P.I. Casefiles: The Second Collection

“Mommy cam,” Max says. “Cheap. Good range of vision. Bad news, I can’t trace the signal back to a phone number because it runs through a cloud app. Potentially good news is that those things chew through batteries, so Joker’s B would need access to it frequently to replace the batteries. That means they’re moving around through the vents, Lo.”

I eye the dark maw of the vent. “I don’t think even Emily could squeeze through there. Not without dislocating her shoulders.”

“Face it, Lo,” Mac says. “Joker’s B is a kid.”

I shake my head, although whether that’s unwillingness to admit I’ve been outwitted by a kid or just utter chagrin, I can’t say.

“It makes sense,” Max says. “Those notes. What they’ve stolen. Young teen or tween maybe.”

“I’m honestly not sure if that’s better or worse,” I say.

“Plaster over your wounded pride and grab the box out of the kit with Verifsys on it. Also take out the thing that looks like a fabric pouch.”

I locate the correct matte black box and gray fabric bag.

“Okay, listen to all of my directions before you do anything. We’re going to fritz that camera. Turn off all your electronic devices. Phones, your laptops, smart watches, everything. Putthem in the fabric bag and zip it shut. Take the mommy cam and the Verifsys box outside, away from any telephone poles or electric lines. Find the on button on the Verifsys box. Turn it on and let it warm up. Then hold the camera against the Verifsys box for a count of thirty. That will kill it. Turn off the Verifsys box. Then you’re safe to go back inside. Power up your phones, put your earpieces in, and call me.”

“Will do.”

Mac and I follow Max’s instructions to the letter and are back inside in less than five minutes. Max runs us through using the wizard wand to test the mommy cam and confirms its dead.

“If you find any other mommy cams, follow the same procedure to kill them.”

“What’s the range of the wizard wand?” I ask Max.

“Less than five feet. You have to be right on top of it. There’s so much clutter in urban areas with radio signals, home broadband routers, smart appliances, and smart phones that it’s increasingly hard to isolate signals.”

“You did it remotely with Bren’s shop,” Mac recalls.

“Yeah, because I have that place wired down to the ground already.”

Mac clears his throat. “We’ll talk about that another time.”

I raise my eyebrows at Mac. Does he object to Max’s monitoring? It makes me feel safer. Mac shakes his head.

Guess it’s between the two of them.

“So, walking around and sticking the wizard wand at all the vents in this place is ...”

“Inefficient but not a waste of time,” Max finishes my question.

“Well, we do have all night,” I say.

Mac and I divide up the task. While he has an hour’s kip, I walk around sticking the wizard wand at random vent covers. No pings. Max is silent in my ear.

Maybe this is stupid. Maybe there’s another reason there’s a mommy cam in the kitchen vent, although I can’t believe Jaimie or Olaf didn’t mention it.

I rejoin Mac and we eat a late dinner together. Emmy’s gone all out, in my little girl’s usual fashion. Curried chicken sandwiches, potato salad with crunchy capers, fluffy rolls fragrant with garlic and sprinkled with sesame seeds, mini-quiches, tiny pork pies with boiled quail eggs hidden in the middle, and for dessert, Bakewell squares. My baby doll knows me so well.

“Emmy can cook,” Mac admits. “Although I sense my girl’s hand with spices in that curried chicken.”

I chuckle and nod. Emmy knows I like strong seasoning but she was nervous about over-spicing my food until she started cooking with Brenna. Brenna believes Scotch bonnet peppers are just pleasantly tingly.

I sit back on my cot and rub my full belly. “I’ve never eaten better, not even when my mum was alive. How do you do it? Owing your girl for taking such good care of you while still being tough with her?”

Mac’s always been a harder sadist than I am. Until he came to Blunts with me, I’d forgotten how heavy the play he goes for is. He wrings tears of pain out of Bren, and she is a leather-ass if I’ve ever met one. He’s also unexpectedly inflexible when it comes to his rules. I put a lot of rules in place to keep Emmy safe. Mac has very few rules for Bren but even a hint of an infraction gets Bren a punishment that would break quite a few masochists of my acquaintance.

“Ah.” Mac stretches back on his own cot. “First, I don’t look at it as owing her. She takes care of me because she loves me. I’m hard on her because I love her.”