[Anthology] Killer Thrillers Read online

  Randy saw the number and shrugged. “Government’s paying for it, so I guess they’re using the best network.” The number came up on the screen just below the name of the caller. Juliette Richardson. Well, at least it wasn’t Livingston.

  He poked at the phone to answer it. “Hello?” he handed the rifle back to Drew and walked back toward the table.

  “Randy — hey, it’s Julie. Sorry, I know you’re on vacation. You have a minute?”

  “Of course, what’s up?” Unlike David Livingston, everyone liked Julie. She was fun, pretty, and adventurous, never waiting around for the red tape.

  “Thanks. Listen, I don’t know if you’ve been keeping up with the news, but something’s going to break, and I’m trying to stay in front of it.”

  Randy hadn’t been keeping up with the news, which was part of the family covenant of their vacation. As he was constantly bombarded by technology, industry news, and media during his job, his wife had made him promise to give it up for the week they were out of town. No TV, no internet, no computer. Just them, the lake, and peace and quiet for a week.

  He glanced over at her now. She did not have a happy expression on her face, knowing that Randy’s cellphone breached their covenant. He shrugged apologetically.

  “Uh, yeah, okay. What’s the deal?” The CDC often had something they were “trying to stay in front of,” so it wasn’t out of the ordinary for Julie to be asking for a work-related favor. But the fact that she’d called his cell directly seemed odd to Randy.

  And her hurried tone of voice.

  “Sorry, I can’t explain it all right now. Can you get me access to a computer?”

  “Sure — is it connected?” Randy didn’t hesitate to answer. Even though it was an explicit part of his job description, he considered it to be “hacking” when he needed to gain access to another CDC machine. And he loved hacking.

  “Uh, yeah, it is, but it’s not onsite.”

  “What do you mean? It has SecuNet access, right?”

  “No, sorry, I mean, it’s connected, like to the internet, but…”

  “Aw, geez, Julie, you’re asking me to hack an outside machine?” Randy asked.

  “Not hack, just… gain access. I need to get some information on—”

  “That’s called hacking, Julie. That’s literally the definition of hacking.”

  Randy heard his wife let out an exasperated sigh from next to him on the picnic table bench. He looked at her, covering the phone’s microphone with his palm. “Sorry… I… it’s just something real quick.”

  “Hello? Randy? Hey, come on. This is a serious request. Can you help me out?”

  Randy didn’t know what to say. “Julie, this is… you can’t. It’s not legal, and I could get fired for even trying. Why can’t Livingston put in a formal seizure of data request?”

  “You know how long those take, Randy. And come on. Livingston? I haven’t even seen him for the better part of a week.”

  It was true. Their boss had been enjoying a series of “work related” excursions, including golf, four-hour lunches, and strip clubs. How he managed to expense everything to the company’s accounting division was beyond Randy’s comprehension.

  “Okay, fine. I assume you’re on to something big, but I still can’t—”

  “It’s a matter of national security, Randy.”

  “Seriously?” Randy almost laughed out loud. “You’re going to try to guilt me into this with that line?”

  “Randy, turn on the news. You can’t honestly be that out of touch. After the bomb at Yellowstone, there was—”

  “What? A bomb at Yellowstone?”

  “Yes, Randy, a bomb. And it released something into the air. Some sort of virus that’s killing everyone who came into the area close to the explosion. It’s contagious, highly deadly, and we need to find out if anyone has anything on it.”

  Randy stared out at the water in shock. Never, in his year of employment with the CDC, had Julie ever seemed so… frantic. She was always calm, pleasant, and laid back, albeit in a hard-driving, get-it-done sort of way.

  He wasn’t sure how to respond. “I… I guess…”

  “Okay, great. I need it quick, too. Can you get it, Randy?” She paused. “Randy? You there?”

  Crack! Drew fired the rifle again, missing the skeet shot. He immediately prepared a second shot and launched the disc from the skeet launcher next to him.

  “Sorry, yeah, I was thinking. I don’t know, I have my laptop but I’m—”

  “Randy, I’m sorry, but there’s no time. I can’t wait on this. Really. Please.”

  Crack!

  “Randy, what is that? God, it sounds like a gun.”

  “It is — sorry, it’s fine. My son’s skeet shooting—” he took the phone off his ear. “Drew! Knock it off for a second, alright? I’m on the phone!”

  “Randy, you know I wouldn’t ask you this unless it was serious. Trust me.” Julie paused on the other end of the line.

  Randy sighed. “I know. I do trust you. It’s a pretty big deal, that’s all. But I get it. Yeah, I think I can do it. Give me until tomorrow afternoon—”

  “I have less than a day, from what I can tell. I need to get going on this before it’s a media craze, and I’m waiting on more information from you now.”

  “Okay, okay. I can do it. I need to head into town, find a coffee shop.” He thought for a moment. “It’s not going to be secure, but what are you looking for? I’ll email it over.”

  “Randy, thank you. I owe you one. Her name is Diana Torres. We need to track down anyone this person was working for, or with. I’ll send you an email with her name, email address, and the company she was with. She’s the only person we know who was studying the virus, and she might know what it is. Anything she found out will be on her computer, at that company.”

  Randy thought about the next question he was about to ask. Did he really want to know the answer? “Why can’t you just ask her yourself?”

  Julie anticipated the question and responded immediately. “We tried. She died a few hours ago, and we think her company was behind it. They sent someone to find us, too. Randy — I need this information, and I need it now.”

  Randy confirmed, but Julie had hung up already. Seconds after he disconnected and left the call, the phone dinged with a new email from her.

  He turned off the phone’s screen and placed it in his pocket, standing up from the picnic table again. “Sorry, babe, I, uh…” she glared at him. “I think I’m going to need to break the rules for a few hours.”

  29

  The hotel was, thankfully, better appointed than The Family Diner. Situated in the suburbs of Twin Falls, Idaho, it had been purchased from an out-of-business chain and updated to reflect a lodge-like style. The street sign, front entrance, and two connected buildings that made up the hotel had a consistent wood paneled exterior.

  The eighteen-wheeler and its three passengers pulled into the parking lot half an hour after the incident at the diner.

  Ben shook the driver’s hand before he slid down the steps of the truck. He offered the man a tip, reaching for his wallet. Their driver refused, instead asking the pair if they needed money or any more help.

  “You’ve been more than kind,” Julie answered. The man was a career truck driver, working for two main shipping companies and picking up other driving jobs in between. He had a family in Rhode Island, two kids and a wife, and was working his last year before he retired early. Ben appreciated him for another reason: he talked a lot and got along with Julie well. Their conversation had so little empty space that Ben spent most of the ride staring out the passenger window.

  “Listen, here’s my card,” the trucker said, handing Julie a beat-up business card that he’d pulled from somewhere under the dashboard. “If there’s anything else you need, you let me know.”

  “We will, thanks, Joe,” Julie responded. She smiled and shook the man’s hand, thanking him again as she hopped out of the truck. She stood next
to Ben as the truck pulled away.

  “Ready?”

  He nodded and stepped up to the grand entrance of the lodge hotel.

  “I still can’t believe what happened. You sure you’re okay?”

  Ben nodded again. “Just tired. You?”

  “Yeah, me too,” she replied.

  They reached the front atrium, where a young woman welcomed them from behind a chandelier-lit log desk. Everything looked warm and comforting, no doubt built and designed with those exact goals in mind.

  “Do you two have a reservation?” the woman asked.

  “We do,” Ben replied. “I called earlier today to set it up. Sorry, we’re a little late.”

  “No problem,” the woman smiled as she grabbed the ID from Ben’s outstretched hand. “Did you run into some weather? There were some thunderstorms in the area earlier.”

  Ben frowned, considering what to say. “No, uh, we just… got a little held up.”

  Julie smiled, trying to sell it as well. The woman looked them both over and grinned. “I understand. Not a problem.” She winked at Ben.

  Ben wasn’t sure what the woman thought she understood, but he didn’t press it. They hadn’t called the police, though when the lady from the diner had finally come out to the parking lot, she’d offered to call for them. She may have still called after they’d left, possibly to report the truck they’d left in the diner’s parking lot.

  The plan was to rent a vehicle the next day and have it delivered to the hotel. After they felt certain they were no longer being followed, they’d return to the diner and pick up Julie’s truck.

  The woman at the counter finished typing something into her booking system and looked up again, still smiling. “I actually have you down for two full-size beds in room 201. I apologize, I can—”

  “No,” Ben said, interrupting her. He didn’t mean to sound so forward, but it was too late. “Sorry. I know, I booked it that way on purpose. We’re…”

  He didn’t know how to explain their relationship. He most definitely wanted them in the same room, in case something happened. They were adults after all, but there was no reason to share a bed.

  “Oh.” The woman seemed disappointed. “That’s fine — we’re good to go, then. Do you have a credit card you’d like to leave on file? I’ll need one for a deposit.”

  “Would you take cash?” Julie asked. It was a long shot, but they weren’t about to use a credit card that was linked to either of their names.

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Richardson,” the young woman said. “We need one in case of damages. We would accept a debit card, however.”

  Julie handed her a credit card. “This is my company one; it should be fine.” Ben saw that the name on the card was, in fact, the name of her office at the CDC. It wasn’t much, but it might provide a tiny layer of protection for them.

  “Very good.” The woman typed some more and handed the card back to Julie. “Thank you. Here are your keys, and will you need anything else this evening?”

  Ben shook his head and took the packet of room keys.

  “Do you have any wine? Red, maybe? Something, uh, sort of… romantic?” Julie asked.

  Ben felt his face immediately flush a bright red. His eyes widened as he saw Julie’s smile, quickly matched by the woman behind the desk. “Well, I guess we could bring something up. We actually don’t have room service, but as you probably know, we have a fantastic menu at our restaurant.”

  The woman pointed to a hallway just off the main atrium, beneath a sign that said Le Petit Paris — French-American Cuisine.

  “You two get situated, and I’ll bring you a bottle in a few minutes.” She turned back to the computer as the pair walked away, a smug look on her face.

  As they neared the elevator, out of earshot from the front desk, Ben pulled a still-grinning Julie to the side. “You want to tell me what the hell that was?”

  “You should have seen your face!” When she realized Ben wasn’t laughing, she put on a fake-pouty look. “What? It’s not like we’re ever going to see her again. Besides, she seemed so disappointed when she thought we weren’t together.”

  “We’re not together!” Ben stormed into the open doors of the elevator, Julie trotting behind.

  They rose in silence, then exited the elevator to find their room directly to the left. Ben inserted the key, then swung the door open. “I’m going to run down to the desk and pick up some toiletries. Do you need anything?”

  “I have everything I need,” Julie said, wheeling the suitcase she’d packed at her farmhouse into the room. “You can use my toothpaste and stuff, if you want.”

  He glared at her and let the door swing shut.

  When he returned to the room a few minutes later, he found Julie sprawled on one of the beds, gripping a glass of red wine and wearing a pair of pajama bottoms and a worn t-shirt. She looked up as he entered, still wearing the cheesy grin. “It’s good,” she said, swirling the glass a bit. “You should try some.”

  Ben shook his head, but found that he was smiling — just a little. He threw the small bag of toiletries he’d just purchased on the bathroom counter and sat down on the empty bed. Julie had apparently done some quick cleaning up. Her hair looked like it had been combed, falling gently around her shoulders and toppling over the pillow behind her. Ben watched her drink the wine for a few seconds until she turned to look at him.

  Again, he felt his face flush. Come on, Harvey, get it together.

  Julie laughed. “What? Been awhile since you’ve had a girl in your room?”

  It had been.

  “Shut up,” he said, reaching for a wine glass and the bottle of Merlot that rested on the nightstand between the beds. He poured himself a glass and took a sip. When was the last time I had a glass of wine? Most of his coworkers drank beer, if they drank at all. Ben preferred a glass of bourbon or whiskey, single malt on the rocks.

  They looked at each other for a moment, each trying to decide what to say next. Julie lost interest first, turning back to whatever was on the television.

  Ben wanted to ask her about her life. Who was she, really? Where was she from?

  Was there anyone else in her life?

  As someone not terribly interested in other peoples’ lives, he was surprised at his train of thought.

  But instead, he asked about their plans. “What’s next? After tonight, I mean?”

  Julie looked confused for a moment, then turned back to him. “Randy will probably get back to me soon, and he’ll tell us where to go next. Whoever was working with your mother probably lives in the area, and we can track them down pretty easily from there.”

  Ben nodded. “Makes sense. You think Randy will get anywhere?”

  “He always does. He’s a genius with computers. He’s pretty new at the CDC, but we get along well. He’s probably not stopped working on it since I called him earlier. The real question is if Diana shared any of her findings with anyone else or not.”

  “No idea. I hadn’t spoken to her in over a decade. She was never the secretive type, so I imagine she’d be open to working with someone else.”

  Julie took in the information, and both lay silent for a few minutes.

  “Okay, well, I need to get some sleep,” she said. “I’ve got my phone on, in case Randy calls. We can figure out anything we can from whoever might be around here, then I’ll get us some plane tickets back to Billings for tomorrow night.”

  Ben shook his head. “I’ll take the rental back. You go ahead.”

  “You won’t fly?”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “I just won’t. I don’t like it.”

  “Come on, it’s perfectly safe. It’ll be much quick—”

  “I’m not going to fly, Julie.”

  “Ben, what’s the big deal? You won’t —”

  “Knock it off, alright? I already told you, end of story. Drop it.” The words came out harsh, stressed. He regretted it, but the damage was done.

 
; “What the hell, Bennett? Why the attitude?”

  He didn’t respond.

  “Seriously, Ben, what’s up? Why are you like this?”

  “Julie…”

  “No, I’ve had it. You barely speak to anyone, you treated me like dirt, and you’ve been off the grid for ten years. What is it about you that makes you so cold?”

  Ben looked up sharply. He thought he could see Julie’s eyes welling up.

  He didn’t know what to say. Didn’t want to say anything. Hell, what am I doing here? he thought.

  He stood up from the bed and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Julie remained, a shocked expression on her face.

  30

  They were the only patrons in the restaurant. Le Petit Paris was frequented only by guests of the lodge, and this particular week was a very slow one for the hotel.

  Ben and Julie sat at the corner booth, enjoying a platter of waffles, sausage, bacon, eggs, and toast. Apparently the restaurant leaned heavily on the American part of “French-American cuisine.”

  “Sorry about last night.” Ben said the words slowly, meticulously, speaking through a mouth full of breakfast food.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Julie said. “I went too far. I shouldn’t have —”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong,” Ben said, stopping her. “I’m uncomfortable around people, if you haven’t already guessed. I don’t do well with confrontation and, well, feelings in general.”

  Julie laughed. “You wish you were a robot?”

  Ben thought for a moment and grinned. “Yeah, kinda. That would be okay.”

  “Really? No tasting food, no feeling joy, no, uh, more pleasurable emotions?”

  “No feeling pain, either.”

  “Pain’s not a bad thing, Ben. It makes the good stuff that much better.”

  He scoffed and grabbed another waffle. “Ever eat these with peanut butter?”

  “Gross. Are you serious?”

  “Oh yeah. You have no idea. It’s the only way to eat them. My dad —”