back.
* * *
Campbell finally convinced T-Bone to come into the house after Kensington went up with Abby. The big man filled the hallway with a hulking combination of sheer heft and dark menace that Campbell had always enjoyed being on the right side of.
“What are you dragging me in here for?”
“I want to know what you found out. Uncensored.”
T-Bone sighed before pointing toward the stairs. “They out of earshot.”
“Yes.”
“Then here’s what I know.”
T-Bone gave him a quick recap that matched Kensington’s before diving into the things left unsaid. Namely, the break-ins were nearly identical in execution and equally hard to understand.
As he watched the big man nod, Campbell felt the pieces click into place in his mind, like the tumblers of a slot machine that fell into a neat, even row. “You think something was left behind?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“They sweep for bugs?”
“The security companies did. They didn’t find anything and I’m not surprised. I don’t think it’s a bug.”
“What do you think it is?”
“Whoever it is has figured out a way to get eyes inside Abby’s house and into her equipment.”
“Undetected?”
T-Bone shook his head. “You know as well as I do no one breaks in for fun. And they certainly don’t do it twice. Those weren’t random.”
“How hard would it be to get me inside the houses?”
“How well do you speak French?”
Campbell let out a large bark. “About as well as I speak anything other than English.”
“How could I forget? The only language you know is code.”
“I know French.” Abby’s voice floated over them from the stairs. “Quite well, as a matter of fact.”
T-Bone shifted his large frame to stare up at her. Campbell didn’t miss the man’s broad, calming smile and wondered abstractly why he never rated one of those.
Ever.
“Hello, Ms. McBane.”
“Abby, please.” She descended the stairs like a regal queen before coming to a stop in front of the big man and extending her hand. “You must be T-Bone.”
“At your service.”
“I overheard your conversation with Campbell. You think something was left in my neighbors’ homes to spy on me?”
“I think they’re spying on your technology.”
“Well, then. What do I need to do?”
“How well do you know your neighbors?”
Chapter 6
A bby ignored the buzzing of her phone as she hunted up details on the Paris house. She kept a small leather notebook in her attaché case, full of all the minutia of her life. Those details filled the book, from family birthdays to her neighbors’ names to various security and tax information.
She’d long laughed at herself for the attachment to a paper device, but there was something about the well-worn leather that comforted. Especially the pages in the front of the book that still held her mother’s careful script.
She ran a light finger over the faded ink that outlined all the pertinent details on their New York home before flipping to the pages that detailed the house in Paris.
Monsieur and Madame Dufresne lived on one side of her and an aged widower, Monsieur Tremaine, on the other. Tremaine was a lovely old man who spent the majority of his time in the South of France. He was also the first house hit and likely was used for practice, his frequent absences making him an easier mark.
Abby shifted her muzzy thoughts to the Dufresnes. Etienne was a former diplomat and, if she recalled correctly, Celine was wife number three. Although she’d not formally met Celine, a vague image of Etienne roamed around her tired mind, finding no purchase as she tried diligently to conjure up a face. When nothing stuck, she reached for her coffee mug and turned to her computer.
“Ah, well, Abby-girl, you can sleep when you’re dead,” she muttered to herself as she tapped Etienne’s and Celine’s names into a search program. And as her gaze tracked the results, she allowed the hot rich coffee to slide down to her stomach,
* * *
Campbell finally convinced T-Bone to come into the house after Kensington went up with Abby. The big man filled the hallway with a hulking combination of sheer heft and dark menace that Campbell had always enjoyed being on the right side of.
“What are you dragging me in here for?”
“I want to know what you found out. Uncensored.”
T-Bone sighed before pointing toward the stairs. “They out of earshot.”
“Yes.”
“Then here’s what I know.”
T-Bone gave him a quick recap that matched Kensington’s before diving into the things left unsaid. Namely, the break-ins were nearly identical in execution and equally hard to understand.
As he watched the big man nod, Campbell felt the pieces click into place in his mind, like the tumblers of a slot machine that fell into a neat, even row. “You think something was left behind?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“They sweep for bugs?”
“The security companies did. They didn’t find anything and I’m not surprised. I don’t think it’s a bug.”
“What do you think it is?”
“Whoever it is has figured out a way to get eyes inside Abby’s house and into her equipment.”
“Undetected?”
T-Bone shook his head. “You know as well as I do no one breaks in for fun. And they certainly don’t do it twice. Those weren’t random.”
“How hard would it be to get me inside the houses?”
“How well do you speak French?”
Campbell let out a large bark. “About as well as I speak anything other than English.”
“How could I forget? The only language you know is code.”
“I know French.” Abby’s voice floated over them from the stairs. “Quite well, as a matter of fact.”
T-Bone shifted his large frame to stare up at her. Campbell didn’t miss the man’s broad, calming smile and wondered abstractly why he never rated one of those.
Ever.
“Hello, Ms. McBane.”
“Abby, please.” She descended the stairs like a regal queen before coming to a stop in front of the big man and extending her hand. “You must be T-Bone.”
“At your service.”
“I overheard your conversation with Campbell. You think something was left in my neighbors’ homes to spy on me?”
“I think they’re spying on your technology.”
“Well, then. What do I need to do?”
“How well do you know your neighbors?”
Chapter 6
A bby ignored the buzzing of her phone as she hunted up details on the Paris house. She kept a small leather notebook in her attaché case, full of all the minutia of her life. Those details filled the book, from family birthdays to her neighbors’ names to various security and tax information.
She’d long laughed at herself for the attachment to a paper device, but there was something about the well-worn leather that comforted. Especially the pages in the front of the book that still held her mother’s careful script.
She ran a light finger over the faded ink that outlined all the pertinent details on their New York home before flipping to the pages that detailed the house in Paris.
Monsieur and Madame Dufresne lived on one side of her and an aged widower, Monsieur Tremaine, on the other. Tremaine was a lovely old man who spent the majority of his time in the South of France. He was also the first house hit and likely was used for practice, his frequent absences making him an easier mark.
Abby shifted her muzzy thoughts to the Dufresnes. Etienne was a former diplomat and, if she recalled correctly, Celine was wife number three. Although she’d not formally met Celine, a vague image of Etienne roamed around her tired mind, finding no purchase as she tried diligently to conjure up a face. When nothing stuck, she reached for her coffee mug and turned to her computer.
“Ah, well, Abby-girl, you can sleep when you’re dead,” she muttered to herself as she tapped Etienne’s and Celine’s names into a search program. And as her gaze tracked the results, she allowed the hot rich coffee to slide down to her stomach,
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