Page 14

Thirteen

Coffee.

At six in the morning, it seemed to be the very stuff of life. He had friends—even friends in the agency—who didn’t drink the brew. And that was great—for them. For him, it was an amazing eye-opener, a way to shake off sleep and, unfortunately, the sweetness of the last hours.

But it was morning. And he was on his second cup of coffee.

Cary was at her computer again, as was Aidan. But he knew that Aidan was studying records that had already been drawn up, rather than seeking the deep unknown at the moment.

Vicky was also seated at the table, coffee in hand, reading from her computer.

She looked up at him. “This is interesting. CEOs and founders of many tech companies—creators of AI—are asking for moratoriums. They’re afraid that AI is now making itself so intelligent that it’s becoming seriously dangerous. One of Google’s top scientists quit—to warn the world!” she said.

“But we believe that a person—or persons—are responsible for what’s happening. AI isn’t to the point where it can create its own murder sites,” Aidan said.

“Right. I know,” Vicky assured him. “I was just looking at various articles. And, apparently, anyone with the right knowledge to access an elevator’s control system could have caused yesterday’s accident. And I’ve discovered, nationwide, self-driving cars and those with computer systems that are accessible through phones and other devices are being stolen right and left. I’m liking our old guy—the car—out there better and better all the time,” she said. She shook her head. “I’ve always loved computer sciences and what we can do with them. Now…”

“Ah, don’t hate computers. I’ve managed to access a slew of truly interesting files here—because it’s also amazing what you can learn on a computer,” Aidan said.

Jude laughed. “Everything is learned on a computer these days—even drivers’ ed is on a computer many places. And all kinds of stuff that isn’t true at all is learned on computers!” he reminded them.

“People need to learn to verify the source of information, check out legitimate sites,” Aidan said. “And in this case, dig around and you can find a great deal that is in public documents. Well, my suspicions aren’t in the public documents, but lots of facts are. Take our good friend Mr. Barton Clay—Esquire, of course. He’s leading the personal injury division where they also take on cases of wrongful death and heirs fighting for their inheritances. Seems he’s excellent at both wrongful deaths—and digging through red tape and possible holdups on those deaths that have been considered natural but may be suspicious to the heirs who then need a good lawyer to get them the money the dearly departed left behind. And it’s truly amazing how many of his clients, suing someone or a business entity for wrongful death, had marital or family problems before their passing. In many cases, the plots thicken! The deaths very conveniently left those family members who were on the outs with the deceased the heirs due to collect their personal fortunes. Most of them were able to quickly settle out of court with Clay’s help.” He paused, shaking his head as he looked at them all. “Take this case. Anton Ripley had spoken to his attorney about a divorce. He hadn’t yet filed papers. Then, he died suddenly of a heart attack—he had a prenup with a much younger wife and if he’d followed through with the divorce, she’d have gotten nothing. With his sudden and untimely death the young woman became a millionaire and Barton Clay apparently collected a nice fee—a very nice fee—and I’m thinking maybe a little extra under the table.”

“But a heart attack?” Jude asked.

“The man was forty-four and his would-have-been-divorced wife was a lovely young thing of twenty-five,” Aidan supplied.

“Still, if a medical examiner ruled natural causes…” Jude murmured.

“Oh, come on, Jude! We all know that there are many ways to bring on an entirely natural-looking heart attack!” Aidan said.

Jude grimaced. “I’m just being the opposition here. Slimy. Almost as slimy as Paul Sands in Tennessee.”

“Well, here’s hoping he didn’t hide everything beyond the possibility of finding—the warrants allow us to search the house, garages, cars…you name it,” Aidan said.

“Well, it’s time to get those warrants on the man, his wife, his cars, his home, and everything that he touches,” Jude said.

“Already delivered,” Cary said, looking up. “They’re on the table by the door. I believe that a new site will go up on the dark web today. If I can only find something when it first goes up…” Her words trailed and she shook her head again. “There has to be a way to catch this at the source!”

“There is, and we will find it,” Aidan assured her. “Jude and Vicky may be off to find it today. And, hey, maybe the two of them will find another Carlos Rodriguez who just decides to blurt out their cleverness about how they can manipulate anything!”

“Yeah, maybe,” Jude said dryly.

“Oh, we have information on Carlos Rodriguez, just by and by,” Aidan said. “And, yes, as someone suggested, apparently he’s now going for an insanity plea. And that’s a little scary. From what I’m reading, his attorneys are painting a picture of a man raised in a society where he would have been worthy of death himself if he hadn’t behaved in a way that maintained his son’s honor. Then, because his son was humiliated, the only decent thing for him to do for his son was allow him to take the blame. And, from a news conference, Paul Sands was saying he believed his client belongs in a mental health facility, and the one he’s mentioned has the weakest security system on record.”

“I don’t believe any judge and jury will buy all that!” Vicky said.

“Then again,” Jude murmured, shaking his head. “We’ve all seen stranger things happen. Well, we aren’t judge and jury. We just need to stop people from dying. Maybe one day the AI will make itself so smart it can take over. But right now there is a human being—or human beings—behind this. We need to discover who is doing all the manipulating—someone very much flesh and blood. Vicky, shall we?”

“We shall,” she said.

Jude looked at Aidan. “You and Cary are coming to the Clay house, right? Starting up there?”

“We were told to let you get there—and a team of both FDLE and FBI are coming right behind you, a group of eight, to search every nook and cranny of the place. We’ll be along in another thirty minutes. We’re going to be taking their personal computers. The kind of searching we need to do can’t be done in a matter of minutes. Digging into the cyber and AI world can take time.” He smiled a little grimly. “Actually, I would love to see the man’s reaction when he discovers the scope of the warrants you’ll be serving him with, but…”

“I’m sure Barton Clay will threaten to sue us,” Vicky said. “He was all helpful at Marci’s funeral and at the office, but…”

“Now Celia’s dead, and we’re after him. Yeah, that will make a difference,” Jude said. “Anyway, we’re going to head on out.” With a wave he headed toward the door, stopping to pat Clover on the head.

“Strange, isn’t it?” Vicky murmured, when they were out and in the car.

“What? Life in general? AI?” he asked.

She grinned. “I was thinking about Clover. I mean, supposedly, this location and us being in it as a dedicated headquarters is top secret, only known by the heads of heads. But someone who can hack cars, boats, and houses could surely break into the most encrypted files. So, it’s strange that I’m counting on a dog more than anything else to keep us safe.”

He smiled. “Nothing beats a good dog!” he agreed. “Seriously, since Aidan is out when it calls for a forensics expert and Cary is alone, it’s great that we have Clover. And, of course, the security systems for that house are state of the art.”

“I know. I’ve felt safe enough.” She grinned at him. “Especially knowing that we both wake up at the drop of a hat!”

He nodded. “The things this job will do for you!”

She smiled. Surprisingly, for once, the “job” had done something very good for her—put her with Jude Mackenzie. She’d spent so much time working she hadn’t given much thought to her personal life.

Then again, she hadn’t met anyone before who made her wish she didn’t work so much.

But…

He was assigned, by choice, she understood, to the offices here. She lived in Northern Virginia and worked out of the main offices. Not that, per regulations, they could be full-time partners and full-time…partners.

But the future was just that—in the future. Now they had to deal with what was going on in the present.

“Nice place!” Vicky said as Jude pulled up in front of the Clay house. The front wasn’t gated but they could see that the two-story Victorian did have a handsome wooden fence around the back.

But it was easy enough to exit the car and walk up the steps to the porch with its handsome pillars and ring the doorbell.

“Nice house,” Vicky murmured.

“Ah, but we’re in St. Augustine, not New York or Los Angeles or even Miami. The house seems appropriate for an attorney with as prestigious a firm as Wharton, Dixon, and Smith,” Jude told her.

“If he’s making money under the table—”

“If he’s making it in cash and hiding it in a mattress, there wouldn’t be a paper trail,” he reminded her. “But I believe most of the money he makes is legitimate—on paper. I don’t know if his clients have been helping wealthy family members meet their early deaths or not but representing people in their quests to secure large inheritances…well, that can give a man a good income.”

The door opened.

Of course, it wasn’t opened by either Barton Clay or his wife.

The young woman who opened the door was an attractive young brunette in a black-and-white maid’s uniform.

“May I help you?” she inquired.

“Yes,” Jude told her. “We need to speak with Barton Clay.”

“I’m afraid he’s not available to speak with right now,” the woman told him.

“May we speak with Mrs. Clay?” Vicky asked.

“She’s not available now, either,” the maid said flatly.

“Are they here, at home?” Jude asked, adding, “It’s a felony to lie to a federal officer.” He flashed his badge.

“What?” the maid asked.

Jude inhaled a deep breath. “I’m asking you if either of them are in the house and if so, you need to please let them know we’re here. And I’m letting you know that it’s a felony to lie to a federal officer.”

“Wait!” she snapped.

She turned and left them standing there, the door just ajar. Vicky looked at Jude, arching a brow.

“I guess they are here,” he said.

“And don’t want to be bothered,” Vicky agreed.

A minute later the young maid was back down. “I’m sorry. Mr. Clay is very busy and asks that you return later.”

“What about Mrs. Clay?” Vicky asked. “I’m sorry, I don’t know your name—”

“Darla. I’m Darla. And I’m so sorry. Mrs. Clay is occupied as well,” the young woman said. “If you care to leave a card and state your business, I’ll be happy to relay your desire to speak with the family and I know they’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”

Jude smiled—very pleasantly, he hoped. “No, I’m afraid that if we can’t speak with them, we’ll need to speak with you. We are federal investigators and other are coming. We have search warrants, and if you’d like, you’re welcome to wait outside while we see that everything is processed. We’ll be needing you to stay out of the way.”

She stared at them then as if they were aliens who had come down from outer space.

“Miss?” Vicky said.

As she spoke, Jude turned to see that several cars were arriving.

On the one hand he was surprised that Arnold had managed to get warrants that were so inclusive. What they had on Barton Clay was circumstantial, but his association with Celia Smith and the firm’s association with Marci Warden, Captain Quincy, and even Carlos Rodriguez via Paul Sands must have proven enough to influence a judge.

Not to mention the fact that Celia Smith was dead.

None of it, however, was nearly enough to put the man behind bars. Not unless they could discover something today.

“Wait here!” the maid announced furiously.

They waited, with little choice. She had slammed and locked the door in their faces.

“Just what we didn’t need,” Vicky murmured.

“A door in our faces?” he asked.

She shook her head. “They already know we’re here. Now she’s telling them we won’t go away. That’s more time for her bosses to take care of anything they don’t want us to find. Look at this place, Jude! It’s old. It’s surely been repaired, renovated, many times. There could be little hidey-holes anywhere.”

“There could be, and we may still find what we’re looking for,” Jude said.

“Okay. I’ll be more optimistic—”

“And if they don’t let us in soon, we’ll get some of the team to break the door down,” he assured her. “You know, it’s just a wooden door, I could prove my prowess and kick it open, but this thing looks like it’s several inches thick, so…”

“Well, I could try to help!” she said lightly.

But the door opened.

And it was Barton Clay himself who stood there, looking confused.

“All right, I’m not at all sure what’s going on. I understand that you searched the firm, and given what happened to Celia yesterday… Well, I guess someone might well know something or perhaps someone even rigged that elevator as you obviously believe, but…my house? My home?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” Jude said politely.

“You honestly think that I…”

“Sir, it’s not a matter of thinking. It’s a process of elimination. If we can prove that you aren’t involved in any way, you’ll be completely exonerated,” Jude assured him.

“Come on in,” Barton said and, indicating the legal papers Jude held, he added, “Of course, I will take those.”

“Of course.”

Jude handed him the papers.

Vicky gave him a similar speech to what she had given the maid, informing him that he could stay or step out, but he couldn’t impede the search.

“You don’t think I know my legal rights, young lady?” he asked.

“I’m sure you do. We’re still required—” Vicky began.

“Right, right. We wouldn’t want anything tossed out of court now, would we?” he asked dryly. “Seriously, go ahead. Be thorough.” He shook his head and let out a sigh. “You may not believe it, but… I was writing a eulogy for Celia. Nathaniel was closer to her, but he’s asked me to do it and with this being the second death in the firm in a very short time…” He broke off, shaking his head. “Do you care if I continue working on it—longhand, of course.”

“Not at all. Except I’d like to ask you a few questions,” Jude told the man.

“Oh?”

“I’d really like to understand the firm’s connection to Paul Sands,” Jude told him.

“No real connection. Sands represented Captain Quincy for some business in Tennessee. We represented him—well, Celia wound up representing him—here. Sands came to St. Augustine to see Captain Quincy and Sands knew there was another suit going on and he came in to speak with Celia.” He frowned and shook his head. “Even with what happened, if something has gone on that concerns the firm, Celia…”

He stopped speaking.

“You didn’t care much for her,” Vicky said.

“No, I think you misunderstand the way we all dealt with Celia. She was hell on wheels, yes. But she made us all better attorneys. I didn’t hate Celia. And I sure as hell would have never wished anything on her like what happened. But damn! You two were both there. Well, Special Agent Tennant, you were the one who came running out but my wife and I and Special Agent Mackenzie were almost on that elevator, too, along with Nathaniel Wharton.”

“You could have been on the elevator, but you weren’t,” Vicky said.

She could feel the chill as Barton Clay stared at her angrily. “Oh, my God, you’ve got to be kidding me! Come on, lady. We heard people talking. Whatever you found came out of Celia’s office. I still have a hard time thinking that Celia could manipulate so much using a computer—she grew up in a different age. I guess she is, though, fairly good. First-graders have tablets now but Celia…she went to school in the dark ages! Then again, she’s a smart woman and anything can be learned online these days!”

“Well, that may be true,” Jude told him. “But you’ve had some interesting cases.”

“Nothing that had to do with hacking!” he said. “What? Yeah! I got a man’s money for his wife when he’d intended to divorce her. Sue me!” he said dryly. “Look, his family hated the poor woman. But she was married to him when he died.”

“Died young,” Jude commented.

“Sadly, many people die young. And you do realize, don’t you, that you’re prejudiced toward defense attorneys or those of us who fight for people you may not believe deserve it. But that’s just it—everyone is entitled to a defense. Law and order and judges and a jury system are things that define us as Americans. You must read people their rights sometimes—or, I guess agents do as well as cops. The thing is, you may not like what I do, but everyone out there deserves the best representation possible.”

“Or that money can buy,” Jude said, glancing at Vicky.

She knew his look. They weren’t getting anywhere; they needed to lighten it up.

And the team had gathered just outside the door.

“All right, sir,” Vicky said. “Thank you for speaking with us. And, yes, of course, you may continue working on Celia’s eulogy longhand. Just be aware that—”

“They can tear the place apart,” he told them. “My computer will be easy to find. My home desktop and my laptop are in my office, and, hey, they can go through every nook and cranny in the house—they are welcome to do their jobs.”

“We’re going to need your wife’s laptop and phone, too, sir,” Vicky said.

“Fine. Everything is at your disposal,” Clay told them.

“Everything of yours, and everything of your wife’s as well,” Jude said.

“Whatever you want. I’ll get Belinda and let her know what’s going on,” Barton said. “She’s up in her office.”

“She has an office, too?” Vicky asked. “Nice. What does she do?”

“On paper?” Barton said dryly. “She stays home and takes care of the house and our lives. In truth, she helps out at the firm a lot. And it’s nice when she does happen to be there, meeting me for a meal, whatever reason. She could smooth things over between Celia and others. She may not have gone to college, but she’s got a better heart than most therapists out there. Despite what you think of my law practice, we also give to a lot of charities—she works with them. She makes good use of her office.”

“That’s wonderful,” Vicky said. “Well,” she turned to the doorway, nodding to the forensic investigators who had arrived, “they’ll get started.”

“I’ll get my pen and paper,” Barton said. “Belinda will be down to say hello to the two of you.”

Before he could head up the mahogany staircase, Belinda Clay came hurrying down. She appeared to be confused but not dismayed.

“Hi!” she said, greeting them pleasantly. “What are you all doing here? Sorry, nice to see you. I didn’t mean to be rude, but… Oh, I’m still so distraught over everything. I thought that—well, this is so horrible, but I thought that whatever was going on, Celia…” She broke off with a wince, but then continued with, “Celia wasn’t terrible. She was fierce. She taught the people around her. She was just amazing to watch in court! And not a bad person, really! But…”

She paused again, looking at her husband and then sighing and saying, “I thought that she had done whatever the firm was supposed to have done and that’s why when it seemed you all knew that she…she did what she did yesterday.”

“We don’t know that Celia did anything, and we’re skeptical that she—or anyone—would commit suicide via being crushed to death in an elevator,” Jude said.

“Then you suspect Barton?” Belinda said, staring at her husband in absolute bewilderment and disbelief.

“The powers that be will probably be checking out everyone at the firm—” Vicky began tactfully.

“To this extent?” Barton queried dryly.

“You know, we’re just the foot soldiers,” Jude told him.

“Right, right. Belinda, I’ve told them to do their jobs,” Barton said to his wife. “So, they’re going after all computers, tablets—and, oh, our phones.”

“Convenient! Mine is here, in my pocket. I can hand it right over,” Belinda said. She was wearing a casual blue pantsuit with pockets, and she reached into the left side and produced her cell phone. “Here you go! Oh, what are we going to call people on?” she asked. She laughed. “Wow. Hmm, life is sad, huh? Can’t imagine going all day without my phone!”

“The team will provide you with phones until we return yours,” Jude assured her. “We’re not out to hurt anyone here. And we’re truly sorry for this invasion of your privacy.”

“I understand. I don’t think… I cared about Celia. But I loved Marci. I still have trouble believing anyone could set a house to attack someone, but…” She laughed and glanced at her husband. “What do I know? I haven’t got a law degree. Oh, I don’t even have a college degree—I wanted to get out of high school and fly the friendly skies!”

“You were a flight attendant?” Vicky asked her.

“I was. Luckily, I was working first class when Barton was headed to the Big Apple and… Well, we chatted during the flight, and the rest is history!” She linked an arm through his and grinned. He grinned in return and smoothed back her hair.

“So,” he said. “I’m going to keep working on the eulogy.”

He looked at the people who were now moving into different rooms. Then he shook his head again as if trying to clear away incredible confusion and disbelief. He arched his brows and looked at Jude and Vicky with a grimace. “Ah, make yourselves at home! Well, I guess you will.”

Aidan and Cary came in then, nodding gravely as they saw that Vicky and Jude were speaking with Barton and Belinda Clay.

“Ah, that’s your prime team, right?” Barton said quietly.

“They’re good at what they do,” Vicky said.

“The best? And your best hasn’t managed to solve this yet?” Belinda asked, sounding a little sad and desperate. She turned to her husband and asked quietly, “Barton, what will this do to the practice? Poor Nathaniel—he really is such a good man!”

“I don’t think Nathaniel Wharton will have much to worry about. His reputation is spotless, and while something may have been going on under him as the head of the law firm, AI taking over is such a new concept that I don’t believe he’ll be blamed. We will get to the truth,” Jude informed her. “So, we’ll get started, and I promise, we’ll do our best to keep your home as is.”

“Okay, follow me. I’ll show you the offices and you can start ripping everything up!” Barton said.

He headed for the stairs. Vicky, Jude, Aidan, and Cary followed.

The rest of the team was moving downstairs, dividing to work in different rooms.

An hour later Vicky was still going through the clothing and bins in the extensive double walk-in closet in the bedroom that Barton and Belinda shared.

Jude was going through drawers.

“Anything?” he called.

“Belinda really likes shoes!” she returned. “You?”

“Bathing suits. They must truly enjoy their pool.”

Aidan walked into the room.

“Did you find something?” Jude asked him.

He shook his head. “Of course, real digging takes time and we’ll be taking the computers and phones to work on. So far, nothing. But we’ve collected every computer, tablet, and phone—so Cary and I are going to head back to the house, connect with the teams working at the main offices, and keep trying to dig.”

“All right. Has anyone started on the cars yet?” Vicky asked.

“Yep. Team went through them both. If Barton and Belinda are hiding anything, they’re doing it very well,” Aidan said.

“Ah, but if you’re good enough to do everything that’s being done, you’re smart enough to see that anything that could incriminate you is gone, gone, gone,” Aidan said.

“But,” Vicky reminded him, “they didn’t know we’d be showing up this morning.”

“Now that’s true,” Aidan agreed. “Anyway, I wanted to let you know that Cary and I are out of here and that we’ll be at the house.”

“Thanks. I have no idea when we’ll see you!” Jude told him.

Aidan left them.

There were still dozens of pockets in outfits for Vicky to search since a burner phone might easily be hidden in a pocket of a blazer or even a pantsuit—Belinda had already shown them she liked to carry her phone in a pocket. If she had another…

But Vicky had to sit for a minute.

She walked out and plopped down at the foot of the bed.

“Ah, come on! We’ve hours to go,” Jude said lightly.

She smiled at him and shook her head. “It’s all so… I don’t know. I mean, we’ve had extremely clever criminals through the ages, and we’ve had machines since man first figured out how to use tools and looked for ways to make them better. The industrial age came and machines became king, but…”

“A computer is a machine,” Jude said.

“Well, a computer runs on electricity. Machines may run on gas or another form of fuel,” Vicky murmured.

“I know that. I looked it up, too. But AI started with everything being fed into it—and it is true that many top technicians now worry about what AI can teach itself. And that’s for people far more brilliant than me to figure out. We need to remember—right now, someone is manipulating AI. Someone who could crack into the building’s system and access the elevator controls.”

“But what we found did come from Celia Smith’s computer,” Vicky reminded him.

“And Celia is conveniently dead,” Jude said.

Vicky nodded and stood. “Back to Mrs. Clay’s extensive wardrobe,” she said.

She returned to the closet. And she went through everything.

It took hours for them to finish in the bedroom, but they didn’t find a hidden tablet, phone, computer, or anything else that might implicate the couple in anything illegal.

By early evening the house, garage, and Barton’s and Belinda’s cars had been systematically searched. Vicky knew the teams from the Bureau and the FDLE were good and that they’d been thorough.

Careful not to destroy the home or leave it in a dismantled condition, but still thorough.

Nothing.

And it was time to give it up.

Except, of course, the computers and phones that had been taken were still being searched and it was possible Aidan, Cary, or the cyber sleuths working diligently from afar just might find something.

Still…

Barton and Belinda, appearing almost amused instead of indignant, walked them out.

“I told you,” Barton said. “While I find it almost impossible to believe, I guess that Celia had to have been involved in some way and, of course, I’m horrified that the firm is liable in any way. Not even I know what this will mean in the future, but! I told you—I had nothing to do with any of it.”

Belinda smiled, linking her arm through her husband’s.

“I told you!” she said, “And I could swear it on a thousand bibles! Barton has nothing to do with this!”

“My practice may be a little on what you see as the smarmy side,” Barton said dryly. “But I’m an attorney. I do my best to make the law work for my clients. That’s not a crime.”

“Well, of course, we thank you for your cooperation,” Jude said. “And we’ll get out of your hair now!”

The forensic search teams exited ahead of Vicky and Jude, letting them do the talking.

It wasn’t until they were in the car on the way home that her phone began to ring and Vicky looked down to see it was Aidan calling them.

She answered the call, telling Aidan, “I’ve got you on speaker. Did you find something?”

“Not what we were looking for, but… I won’t be surprised if you don’t get a secret call from Mr. Barton Clay,” Aidan said.

“A secret call?” Vicky asked, puzzled.

“You know, a call asking you not to share anything that we’ve discovered with his wife.”

“Oh?” Jude asked.

Aidan’s phone was set on speaker mode, too, because they heard Cary’s voice next.

“He’s going to ask you to keep personal information secret,” she said. “You know the sweet young receptionist who was hired immediately after Marci Warden’s death? Nancy Cole?”

“Yes, of course. She hopped right into protective mode when it came to Celia Smith and the firm,” Vicky said.

“Well, she slept her way into the job,” Aidan said. “There are calls and texts between Barton and Nancy. They were having an affair, and she needed a job—he got her one.”

“He knows you’d find all that,” Jude said.

“And it might prove motive,” Vicky murmured, glancing at Jude. “Belinda is little Miss Perfect housewife, adoring and protective. What if Barton Clay got nervous—frightened first that Marci knew what he was doing. That she’d caught him somehow. And Marci was friends with Belinda, from what I understand. So…”

“Kill Marci. But why the rest?” Jude asked.

“Maybe Nancy was brought in to help with a project that was already ongoing—murder for hire, the judge, Captain Quincy…” Vicky wondered aloud.

“Well, she’s due for a deeper investigation, that’s for sure,” Jude said. “Anyway…we’re heading on home.”

Aidan didn’t answer.

They suddenly heard Clover barking furiously over the phone line.

“Hurry!” Aidan said. “Electric is out. Something is going on right here I think. You can hear Clover.”

“We’re just a few blocks away. The backup generators should kick in any minute,” Jude said.

“Aidan!” they heard Cary calling to her coworker over the line. “Aidan, the stove is starting to burn up!”

Jude glanced at Cary.

Whoever the hell was calling the shots had figured out where they were living!

“Get out!” they shouted in unison.

Then the phone line went dead.