In Deep with the FBI Agent (17 page)

“Now she tells us,” Casey muttered, examining her forearm where the oil had spattered.

“Are you all right?” Sam grasped her wrist and held up her arm for him to examine.

“I'm fine,” she said, but since he was holding her tenderly, she couldn't resist hamming it up a tad. “Well, maybe it burns a little.”

“Rub some butter on it,” Lance advised from his spot in front of his stove, where he was expertly tossing the shrimp in his pan, sans oil spatters.

Sam grinned at her and planted a tiny kiss over the burn spot. “Better?”

“Much.”

He released her wrist and stepped closer with a furrowed brow. “I think you got a little burn there too.”

“Where?” She touched two fingertips to her face, worried she'd actually been burned.

“Here.” His lips landed on hers for a gentle, slow kiss, and Casey forgot the rest of the class.

“Your shrimp's burning,” called one half of the male-male couple from the stove behind them.

Sam pulled back, and they both looked wide-eyed at the once blue-gray shrimp, which had skipped over the pink-white stage straight to blackened and charred.

“Shoot,” Casey said. “Maybe I'm not cut out to cook.”

“That was my fault,” Sam said. “I distracted you.”

“True, but I liked your distraction. But this is supposed to be our dinner; now what are we going to eat?”

They turned in unison to Lance and Ari. Lance brandished a long slotted spoon. “Don't even think about it. I'm hungry and I'm not sharing.”

“Fine,” Sam said. “We'll double up on the side dishes.”

Sam smiled at Casey as they drove away. “That was fun.”

“Yes, but I still don't know how to cook,” she said ruefully. “I think Chef Aliza was disgusted with us.”

“She'll get over it. Sorry.”

“No worries, but I love that you're creative about the kind of dates you take me on. I appreciate the effort. The last guy I dated could barely be bothered to do more than take me for coffee to the place near Montgomery Prep.”

Sam's fingers tightened on the steering wheel at her mention of the last guy she dated. He wasn't a jealous kind of person, but this thing with Casey was too new and fragile for him to have much faith in it. When you'd waited your entire adult life for something, it seemed too big a gift to have it land in your lap, and dating Casey was a gift.

He kept expecting to wake up and find that the past few weeks had been a dream. In his experience, life wasn't like the movies, and the girl about whom you'd dreamed never turned out to be yours. If by some fluke you did land the dream girl, she turned out to be stupid or mean, and you would end up wishing for the girl next door—the one to whom you'd confessed all your desires for the unattainable girl.

Instead, Casey was everything he wanted in a dream girl, and more. She was smart, gorgeous, and sexy as hell. All in all, Sam was feeling as if he'd hit the mother lode.

“Who was the last guy you dated?” he asked, feigning a casual interest. “That guy in the photo on your phone?” he said, wondering if she'd deleted it.

She shrugged. “Yeah. He was that guy who owns a tutoring company. We didn't have much chemistry, and he was always traveling. It sort of fell apart.”

“Strange that he would travel frequently. You'd think all his clients were local.”

“It's an online tutoring and test-prep company,” she said, “but enough about Matt. Let's talk about more interesting things.” She leaned over toward him and trailed a fingernail down his forearm, nearly causing him to drive off the road. “Where are we sleeping tonight?”

He grinned, relieved she'd easily seen them sleeping together tonight as a foregone conclusion. He wanted to be Casey's conclusion, her endgame.

His dream was shattered the next day. The day had started normally enough. He'd rolled over, planted a soft kiss on Casey's warm, sleeping body, then snuck out of her bed to head to his own home to shower and get ready for work. He'd texted her before leaving his house to reiterate that he'd had a great time with her the previous night, and he hoped to see her soon.

He got an answer immediately of an emoji of kissing lips. He saved it, which made him realize he didn't have a single photo of him and Casey together saved on his phone so he could look at it during the day. Yes, he was being a sap, but he was a man in love. Well, a man newly in some serious deep like. Hell, maybe it was love. How was he supposed to know, having never experienced the romantic version of it before?

Work was crazy busy. In addition to the private school hacker, there were all the usual bank phishing scams and Russian mafia types breaking laws from a distance. By the time he looked up and realized he was supposed to have called Casey at lunchtime to make dinner plans, it was three in the afternoon.

He tried her anyway. Her cell went straight to voice mail. Next he tried the work number.

“Hey, Annie,” he said, hoping someday Casey would tell him her private line and how to bypass her gatekeeper, as nice and perky as she was.

“Hey, Special Agent Sam,” Annie replied. “She's not available right now.”

“Any time frame of when I should call back?” he asked.

There was a long silence, and Sam thought he'd been put on hold when Annie got back on. “She's pretty crazy for the rest of the day and says she'll call you tomorrow.”

Sam frowned.
Tomorrow? What about dinner tonight?
Now that he'd developed the habit of eating with Casey, he didn't want to go back to solo dinners on his couch.

“
Go see her tonight.”

“Huh?” Why was Annie whispering? “Annie, speak up, I can't hear you.”

“
I can't. Go to Casey's house tonight. Something happened and…
” Then in her regular voice, “Yes, we are a tax exempt entity.”

Dial tone.

Sam glanced at the receiver in his hand, utterly confused. What did Annie mean, something happened? He called Casey's cell again, and it went straight to voice mail. Fine, he'd go to Casey's apartment tonight and make sure she was all right, but that didn't stop the pit in his stomach from churning the rest of the day.

Too bad his workload was overwhelming. He didn't get off work until nearly seven that night, at which point he raced to Casey's apartment after calling her cell from the parking lot of his office. Again, it went straight to voice mail, cementing his decision to become an overbearing boyfriend and go to her house.

He broke a few speed limits on the way over, ready with his badge and a cover story in case he got pulled over, but luck was on his side and he made it to Casey's building in record time.

Too impatient for the elevator, Sam sprinted up the four flights to her floor and banged loudly at her door. When she didn't answer after a minute, he thought about using some of his training to break in. But his training entailed standing to the side while an experienced agent kicked in the door. He didn't think Casey would appreciate having to call a locksmith at close to eight o'clock.

At last he heard footsteps and the door opened to reveal Casey standing there clad in pink flannel pajama bottoms and a pale blue camisole. A towel was wrapped around her head and beads of water clung to her neck.

“Sam?” Her eyes—her red-rimmed eyes—widened in surprise. “What are you doing here? Didn't Annie tell you I'd call tomorrow?”

“She told me.” He left off the part about Annie telling him to come here tonight. He had a feeling Casey wouldn't appreciate her assistant overstepping her bounds.

“Then what are you doing here?” She was braced in the doorway as if she wasn't going to let him in.

“Call it gut instinct. Something's wrong.”

At his words, her tough-girl shell cracked, and tears spilled over the thin edge of her bottom eyelid.

Without waiting for an invitation, Sam stepped forward to pull her against his body and practically carry her to her sofa, kicking the door closed behind him. “Baby, what's the matter?”

He froze when he entered, seeing a wisp of a woman already huddled on the couch. She looked like Casey would in several years, but a Casey that was a shadow of her normal vibrant self. Her hair hadn't been brushed, and there were streaks of gray running through it.

Casey felt him freeze and stepped away from him, gesturing to the woman. “Sam, this is my mother.” She looked at him, daring him to respond.

Completely caught off guard, Sam automatically strode to the couch to shake her hand, but Casey's mom only pulled the thin throw blanket tighter around her shoulders and did not reciprocate the gesture, nor did she meet his gaze.

“This isn't a good time, Sam,” Casey whispered.

Understatement. He looked from Casey to her mother, then back to Casey. “Should I come back later?”

“No,” she said, breaking his heart at her forlornness.

He stared at her, not sure whether to believe her or not.

“It's okay, honey,” her mother said. “Go talk to him. I'll be okay for a few minutes.”

“You sure, Mom?” She got a nod in return.

Casey gestured they should enter the hallway, where she folded her arms tight against her chest, only loosening up when Sam instinctively wrapped his arms around her in a bear hug. He held her and rubbed her back, letting her cry until she could speak. It didn't take long. Casey Cooper was one tough chick, and he loved that about her.

“Is your mother okay?” he asked. “Is that why you left work early and didn't answer my calls?”

“Yes,” she said. “And no.”

He felt a frown crease his forehead.

“My mother is as she always has been. Good days and bad days. She suffers from debilitating anxiety and depression. Today was a bad day.”

He reached for her again, but she put her arm up, warding him off. “I'm so sorry, Casey.”

“Me too, but that's not why I left work early,” she said. “Nancy is onto us.”

“Onto us?”

She nodded and leaned against the bare wall of the hallway as if the weight of holding herself upright was too much to bear. “Nancy has been in a bitch of a mood ever since you went to her office. News of us being touchy-feely at the reunion got back to her, and she did the math, Sam. She's not stupid. She told me she couldn't dictate who I date, but that she was very disappointed I revealed something shared in confidence to my boyfriend.”

The muscles in Sam's body tightened. “She called you out for being a whistle-blower?”

Casey nodded.

“I can start charges against her for obstruction of justice. Would you like that?”

She smiled faintly. “No. She was more angry that I told my boyfriend. In fact she and the communications team are sending an email about the data breach to the parent body tomorrow. It's no longer a big secret around Montgomery Prep, but it does mean I'm on the outs with my boss. She told me between it being my log-in that was used and me dating the FBI agent on the case, she's not sure I'm trustworthy anymore.”

“That's tough,” he said, “but don't be too harsh on yourself.”

She pushed off the wall to stand like a soldier at line-up. “I'm not being harsh enough. I made a stupid choice, and now I'm going to pay for it. Nancy made it clear that I'd keep my job, but I'd find things a lot more comfortable if she didn't have to see you around the office as a reminder that my loyalties were to my boyfriend over my employer.”

“So I'll stay away from the office. No big deal. Other than the last month, I haven't been back to Montgomery Prep in ten years.”

“You don't understand,” she said, sounding exhausted.

“Explain it.”

“I need my job. If I lose it, and Nancy is clearly gunning for me, I might have to move out of town to find another job. My mom needs me here.”

Sam's heart thudded at her announcement. Casey's mom looked as if she needed a lot more than her daughter.

He tried to pull her back into his arms, but she was stiff and resistant. His arms dropped, unwilling to manhandle her. “Casey, please. Don't let your boss or your mom's needs dictate who you can date. We have something really good here.”

His skin felt cold when she turned a calm, determined face toward him. “Had, Sam. We
had
something good. It's over now.”

He shook his head. “I call bullshit. I don't want to end things. Casey, I'm falling in love with you.”

“Don't, Sam. Please.” She rose and took a step toward the door. “I can't handle this on top of work and my mom. Please go home.”

He froze in his spot, his muscles turned to ice, and his brain's synapses stopped firing, unsure what to say, what to do, and how to stop Casey from ending their burgeoning relationship.

“Fine,” he finally said over his tight throat. “I'll leave because your mom is waiting for you, but I'm not going to stop fighting for us. You've been shouldering this burden since high school, haven't you?”

She didn't respond and simply held her apartment door open, inching into the doorway.

He stepped away from her, because he realized he risked looking like a real asshole if he didn't respect her wishes. If only he believed this was what she truly wanted. He suspected her heart was cracking same as his, but she wasn't willing to fight. She didn't think he—
they
—was worth fighting for, and if she didn't believe in them, all the begging in the world wasn't going to sway her. His poor Casey, always feeling as if she had to be strong and perfect.

Sam leaned down to gently kiss her cheek before he left. “I'm always here for you. Just call,” he whispered and stepped out of her apartment and out of her life.

H
ey, Cooper, meeting in Ted's office. Now.” Jack threw a paper clip at Sam's head as he passed.

Sam didn't bother ducking or dodging. A paper clip would be a fraction of the pain he'd been suffering since Casey had dumped him last week. Five days ago. It felt like five minutes ago, because the pain was still fresh in his soul.

“Jesus, man. Snap out of it.” Jack threw another paper clip. “She dumped you. Get over it.”

Sam stood and held his fists tucked at his sides, willing himself not to throw a punch at Jack. Jack was his friend, he told himself. “You're married. If your wife dumped you, should I give you five days to get over it?”

“Exactly. I'm
married
and have been for a long time. You were dating Casey, what? Ten minutes?”

“I've been in love with her since we were fourteen.” Sam fell into step with Jack as they walked down to Ted's office. He had no idea what the meeting was about, which was another sign of how bad he was feeling. Cases had been opening and closing all around him, and he knew none of it. He was on autopilot, responding to emails and scrolling through code but not making any sense of it.

“You were fourteen. You were in love with the idea of her, not the actual her.”

“That's what she said,” Sam replied.

“She's a smart woman,” Jack said. “Listen to her.”

“I did,” he said bitterly, “which is the only reason I left her apartment in the first place. If I had my way, I'd still be there fighting for her.”

“You left because she could've rightfully called the police on you if you refused to leave.” Jack started to crack another joke, but they'd reached Ted's office, and he was waiting at his desk for them.

The expression on the senior agent's face made Sam realize he had to snap out of it or he risked losing his job. Whatever was happening was serious to give Ted that expression. He and Jack entered and took seats opposite Ted.

“Sam,” Ted said, “how close are you on the private school hacker?”

“Not very,” Sam was forced to admit. “Tor dead ends all around. I'm just waiting for another hack, or a mistake.”

“Well, we may have it,” Ted replied. He pressed a button on his phone and said, “Marie? This is Ted Sanders. With me is Special Agent Jack Suarez and Special Agent Sam Cooper.” He looked at Sam and Jack to say, “Marie works for Paulson Testing Corporation.”

Jack blew out a breath, and Sam gripped the armrest of his chair until the knuckles on the back of his hand turned white. Paulson was the largest educational testing administrator in the world. They were responsible for administering the PSAT, SAT, GRE…you name it. If it required a number two pencil or an online multiple choice test, Paulson was behind it.

Why were they calling the FBI, Sam wondered.

Marie's voice was professional and calm. She gave herself a quick introduction, naming herself as the CEO of the privately held company. She also got to the point fast. “Two days ago, our systems administrators noticed log-ins from international IP addresses. Not unusual for us, as we have employees all over the world—but not in the Bahamas.”

Sam glanced at Jack, who was also listening intently and taking notes.

“The sysadmin was suspicious and did some digging to confirm that, yes, we had a breach. We then looked at the source and the effect of the breach. Paulson's worth is estimated at a billion dollars. Nearly every high school student in America pays us to take at least one standardized test, if not two. But here's the strange thing…”

“No money was stolen,” Sam blurted before Marie could finish.

“Correct,” she said. “We have the Social Security numbers and addresses of nearly every teenager in America. It's likely one of the largest identity thefts in history.”

“Were test scores changed?” Jack asked. All three agents leaned toward the phone speaker.

“We believe so, and there's almost no way for us to know which scores were tampered with. We may face having to refund every test taker's money or offering the test again at no charge. Needless to say, the board here would like to avoid that at all costs. We also need to craft the message about the security breach to the public. Can you imagine the panic when we report this? I'm dreading it.”

Sam could imagine it all too well. If Nancy thought the parents at Montgomery Prep were freaking over a tiny breach, how well would they handle learning that their children's SAT scores—their very futures—might be at stake. Well, it was a very big deal.

He and Jack threw a few more questions Marie's way. Finally they ended the call with Paulson and he and Jack remained in Ted's office.

“Well?” Ted lifted a brow at them. “Is it related?”

“We'd have to do a more in-depth examination of their systems before we could say for sure,” Jack said.

“Yes,” Sam said at the same time. Both men looked at him, and he shrugged. “Gut instinct.” Both he and Jack returned to their cubicles and waited for the data to come in from Paulson testing. The rest of the afternoon was spent going through lines of code and log histories, and on the phone with systems administrators from the company.

It was a pleasure to work with IT people who knew their jobs. When big corporations such as banks or big box stores had data security breaches, the IT teams were up to date on security and protocol. He dealt with the kind of people who could've been working alongside him on the Cyber Action team. Lately, however, he'd been working with all the private schools, who had small to nonexistent IT teams. They didn't have teams, period. They had one man or woman who ran the school computer lab and, by default, was also in charge of all in-house IT admin tasks.

They were well-meaning educators, but by no means were they crack security experts. Which was why Sam and Jack were wondering how a company like Paulson, with its security experts, had been hacked. They had all the latest firewalls, security patches, and updates installed. Where, then, was the hole? More social engineering, obviously. But who was the weak link?

He and Jack and the rest of the team pored over the data until their eyes felt as if they'd walked from Los Angeles to Las Vegas in July at noon. “We need to go on site,” Sam declared at nine that night. Jack was sitting next to him, on the phone with his wife, and immediately began shaking his head. He covered the receiver and leaned toward Sam.

“She heard you and said no. Put the kibosh on it. She's due in six weeks, and if she can't travel, she says I can't either.”

Sam was about to make a “pussy-whipped” comment, and then he realized if Casey were pregnant with his child, he wouldn't be traveling for the nine months of the pregnancy unless she was with him. Come to think of it, he wouldn't travel for the first nine months of the child's life. He might miss something. He forced his mind away from that thought. Casey had dumped him and there'd be no watching her grow big with their child.

“I'll go to Chicago,” he said. “As soon as possible.”

Two days later, Sam was sitting in the IT department at Paulson in Chicago and going through eight bazillion log-ins to their system from the last few weeks. He was now ninety-nine percent certain the Paulson hacker and the private school hacker were one and the same.

He was getting closer to discovering the hacker's identity; he could taste it. Whomever it was, he was using hidden IP addresses to log in with a correct password to the systems. Which meant the hacker had somehow gained access to the passwords; not a huge feat, considering most people had ridiculously bad passwords. Give him ten minutes, and he could guess at least three passwords into most systems without much effort. It was simply a matter of figuring out which one of the three thousand Paulson employees' log-ins it was.

Sam stood and looked at Eric, the IT admin Paulson had put on duty as Sam's guide into their department. “I think I've narrowed it down to three women.”

“Who? The person whose password was used? You think it was a woman?”

Sam nodded.

“Okay, who?” Eric asked. “Let's go get her.”

“She's not the hacker,” Sam said in the interest of keeping a good working relationship, “but she was coerced or accidentally gave away her password. I'd like to talk to all three women, starting with”—he glanced at his paper—“Jennifer Burns.”

“All right. I can call her up here.”

“No.” Sam stood. “I want to surprise her at her desk. I also want to see her workspace.”

“Okay,” Eric said. “I'll walk you down there.”

Jennifer Burns wasn't at her desk when they arrived, so Sam pulled up a vacant desk chair and waited near her cubicle. He took the opportunity to browse around Jennifer's desk while he waited. He didn't touch or move anything, but he was able to get a sense of who she was by what she'd chosen as her office décor.

From what he'd gleaned, he guessed she had no children. There were no photos or drawings. She was also new to the company. Her desk was too clean. There were people who were organized and maintained a spotless desk, but their keyboard letters were worn down or their phone cords were twisted. Everything on Jennifer's desk looked newly acquired.

Interesting. “How long…” he started to ask Eric, but Jennifer appeared at that moment and looked surprised to see her two visitors. As soon as she recognized Eric, her body stiffened. Obviously news of the data breach had spread, and if an IT guy came to your desk, it wasn't a good thing.

Sam knew he wouldn't get far with company. “Thanks for showing me down here,” he said to Eric. “I'll meet you back upstairs soon.”

Eric blinked at him, but acquiesced and turned away.

Sam held out a hand to Jennifer. “Hi, I'm Sam Cooper.”

Automatically, she grasped his hand, but only maintained contact for a fraction of a second. She sat at her desk and swiveled her chair slightly away from Sam. “I have a lot of work to get to. What is this about?”

“I believe someone stole your password and used it to hack into the database,” Sam said.

She spun back to face him, and gasped. “Me?” She was leaning toward him, looking worried. “Oh, my God. No. I'm very careful with my password. It's a complicated one, I swear.”

He pulled out his badge now that he had Jennifer on his team. “I'm an FBI special agent. I specialize in this kind of security fraud.”

“Am I in trouble?” she whispered, staring unblinking at his badge.

He flipped the leather case closed and shook his head. “No. I don't think you committed the attack. I'm here to help Paulson figure out who got your password and how he or she did it.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” Jennifer said. “The IT team around here has been acting as if everyone was a potential hacker or that I'd leaked my password.”

“Well, you can understand their caution,” Sam said. “It was a major breach and the reputation of the company is at stake.”

“Oh, I know,” Jennifer said. “I've worked here three months and already got a promotion. This is like one of the best jobs I've ever had.” She started to ramble about her last two jobs and how awful they'd been while Sam listened with one ear, his attention scanning her desk for anything that stood out.

In her effusiveness, Jennifer's elbow hit her mouse, which lit up the sleeping computer monitor. Her Facebook page flashed on-screen. She glanced at Sam with pink cheeks. “I was just checking before lunch. My boyfriend's been out of town and I wanted to see if he posted any photos.”

“Understandable,” Sam said, and then he blinked as he thought he recognized someone on Jennifer's Facebook profile picture, but she'd already closed out the window, revealing a more work-appropriate spreadsheet.

“No, go back,” Sam ordered.

“To Facebook?” She frowned in confusion, but followed instructions.

“Who is that?” He stood to lean over Jennifer's shoulder, trying for a closer look at the man in her photo. It was a blurry phone shot, but he knew the man's face. It was the same man he'd seen on Casey's phone.

“That's my boyfriend, Matt.”

And the same name as the man on Casey's phone. “How long have you been dating him?”

She smiled and flushed. “It's pretty new. Just a few weeks. He's camera shy and didn't want to be in the picture. That's why he's ducking. But I got him.” She grinned, not realizing she'd cracked Sam's case wide open.

It took a little while, but after calling in for backup from the local FBI field office, he had the support he needed to officially question Jennifer. Paulson arranged for a conference room, and he, Jennifer, and a female field agent and her SSA—supervisory special agent—gathered around the table.

Sam went to his chair and reclined back into it, a notebook at the ready. “Tell me everything you know about Matt. For starters, what's his last name?”

For the next half hour, Sam grilled Jennifer about her boyfriend, going over every detail once, twice. He learned that Matt picked her up in the Starbucks down the street. They kept meeting by accident and finally sat to drink their coffee together.
Accident, my ass
.

He learned that Jennifer hadn't been to Matt's apartment yet. It was being painted.
If painting your hotel room was allowed
. He also had to travel a lot for work.
Travel to each city in which he had a fake girlfriend.

The pattern was becoming clear. This Matt guy, whoever he was, would pick a target, probably all like Jennifer, young and naïve—except for Casey, of course. Then he would get to know them enough to either steal their password or guess it. Once he had a password, it didn't take a hacker of unusual skill to get in, hide his tracks, and get what he needed.

The one thing he now understood was motivation. The guy owned a tutoring and test-prep company, which was his front. He'd changed a few grades to boost his reputation, and then seeing the ease, realized he had a ripe opportunity to steal identities, credit cards, and more. A lot of criminals overseas were willing to pay a lot of money for information, and this criminal Matt had data on some of the wealthiest people in the nation by targeting prep schools, which were a much easier target than banks.