Treacherous Intent. Camy Tang

to be in the narcotics unit. He sometimes had to deal with the Bagsics, although they weren’t as active in his district. They deal in crystal meth.”

      Elisabeth nodded and headed to the kitchen. “Want anything to drink? Water?”

      “Yeah, thanks.”

      He’d jumped at her suggestion that they go to her apartment to do their research, partly because the internet connection at his place wasn’t always reliable, and partly because he was reluctant to bring her to the shabby duplex he rented on the outskirts of town. Focused on building his skip-tracing business, utilizing the computer skills he’d learned in the military, he hadn’t bothered with furnishings even in the eighteen months he’d been home. So he had one small card table to hold his computer and exactly three chairs. He had no curtains at the front window and he still didn’t even have a bed frame for his mattress. His sister-in-law Monica had just forced a garage-sale couch on him.

      But from the day he’d moved in, he’d had pictures of his family and friends on the windowsill. He displayed his signed Buster Posey baseball and other mementos, like a slightly misshapen pottery bowl that his deceased sister had made for him when she was in high school. It held some Celtic coins and a claddagh ring that had belonged to his mother. He also displayed his vintage watch collection—nothing too expensive, but special to him because they had belonged to family members—and a few paperback books.

      In contrast, Elisabeth’s apartment had no personal touches. No pictures on the narrow white mantel above the living room’s small fireplace, no mementos on the side table. There were the framed diplomas on the wall for her college degrees in psychology and criminal justice, and the multiple computer monitors set up on a table in a tiny dining room.

      He realized that the apartment wasn’t a fortress—she was. What had happened to her that made her wall herself off?

      She entered the dining room with glasses of water for them both and nodded toward the computer paraphernalia. “Pull up a chair.”

      Liam had brought in his laptop with him in a case, so he found a clear space on the table and booted it up. Elisabeth gave him the password to her wireless internet network—or rather, one of her wireless internet networks. She had several, some with high-security protection. He also noticed that her desktop computer, which rested underneath the table, was hardwired into the cable internet and had a secondary security box attached.

      He must have looked surprised, because she noticed his face and said, “I have to be careful because I have information on women on the run from some really bad men. It’s truly a matter of life and death if one of the abusers manages to find his victim.”

      Liam also suspected she had a high security clearance for the work she did for the FBI. The security measures were likely for that information, too.

      “So here’s what we have,” he said as she fired up her computer. “Joslyn is somehow connected to the Filipino Bagsic gang from Los Angeles. My guess is her ex-boyfriend is a gang member.”

      “It makes sense. They have the money to hire someone like Patricia and to pay a hacker to make sure a background check raised no flags. The gang is probably involved in whatever murder Joslyn witnessed. We need to figure out what murder it was.”

      “If Joslyn witnessed it, the victim might be someone who was connected to her. But to find out who it was, we need Joslyn’s real name. I doubt it was the one Patricia gave to me.”

      “We need her boyfriend’s name, too.”

      The worked side by side for an hour. Liam was used to working in silence by himself, but he found, to his surprise, that it was helpful to have someone there to bounce ideas off, or to have them offer tidbits of info they discovered in their searches. However, they couldn’t find Joslyn’s real last name, nor her boyfriend.

      Liam heaved a sigh. “The problem is that the Bagsic gang members use nicknames, not their real names, on social media.”

      “Or just their first names. And they’re careful about not declaring their gang affiliation on the internet.” Elisabeth frowned at her computer screen. “I wish we had more on Joslyn herself.”

      They were interrupted by the sound of Elisabeth’s neighbor’s dog barking frantically, followed by the doorbell.

      Elisabeth tensed. “I’m probably just being paranoid. I get visitors often enough.” She looked through the peephole, and her shoulders immediately relaxed. “It’s Kalea, from the women’s shelter.”

      She opened the door. “Come on in.”

      “No, I just stopped by to give you this.” Kalea handed her a crayon drawing on a piece of paper. “Kayoi drew this for you and insisted I give it to you today.” Kalea rolled her eyes.

      Elisabeth smiled. “Tell her thanks.”

      “See you!” Kalea waved and left.

      Elisabeth shut the door and returned to the dining room. Her eyes softened as she looked down at the drawing. “This is the third drawing this month that she’s done for me.”

      “Could I see it?”

      She handed it to Liam. It was a very colorful picture with people scattered around a green field, with a jungle gym drawn in the corner. There were several children, each portrayed a little differently, and four adults—one with an S on her shirt, one with a ponytail, one with curly brown hair and one with long dark hair.

      As Elisabeth pointed toward the people on the page, her neighbor’s dog started barking frantically again.

      “The ponytail is probably me,” Elisabeth said. “The long dark hair is her mother. The curly hair is either Kalea or Tiffany, and the S on her shirt...” Elisabeth’s brow wrinkled. “Wait a minute...”

      The dog was still barking. It had only barked like this when Liam and Elisabeth, and then Kalea, had been outside her apartment door. But Kalea was gone.

       Someone else was outside her apartment door.

      Liam shot to his feet. “No one knocked, right?”

      “It might just be one of the neighbors walking past.”

      “No harm in checking.” He drew his gun from the concealed belt holster he’d put back on after leaving the shelter.

      He checked the peephole but saw no one in front of her door. Liam stepped behind a curtain to the side of the front window and barely touched the blinds to peek outside.

      Two Filipino men in purple and gray stood outside Elisabeth’s front door, angled to avoid appearing in her peephole. Neither of them was the leader from today’s attack, but Liam remembered seeing one of them coming out of one of the other cars—he had a pockmarked face, puffy cheeks and a slightly bulging belly over his dark gray jeans.

      Liam’s pulse raced, and he turned to silently signal Elisabeth to remain quiet. She nodded from her position a few feet away, slowly pulling a gun out of her purse. Her slim body was taut, alert. Although they both had their weapons, he would do everything in his power to avoid using them. This was a residential area, with families and children. A stray bullet could seriously injure or even kill someone.

      He looked out again. The two men were talking in low voices, so low that he only heard a barely audible rumble. He probably wouldn’t have understood them anyway if they were speaking in Tagalog. What were they intending to do? Break down the door? Pick the lock?

      One of the men moved to the front window to try to peer inside, and Liam moved against the wall so he couldn’t be seen. Elisabeth also ducked out of sight.

      When the man’s shadow moved away from the blinds, Liam peeked outside again. One man crouched near the front doorknob with lock-picking tools, working frantically, while the other stood guard. Liam guessed that the neighbor’s dog barking spurred them to get inside before drawing more attention to themselves.

      Liam mouthed to Elisabeth, “Is there a back door?”