"Got it!" Kim yelled from her computer in the main room. She gathered some papers from the printer and dashed into Trent's office.
"Got what?" Trent wanted to know.
"I found the dates, times, and places JC9758 was when he made these emails and chats," Kim handed her data to him.
"That's all we have? A screen name?" Trent posed the question as he looked over the lengthy list. "Set up an appointment with…with…"
"Sherry Kinney," Kim finished his sentence, supplying the name of the client. The only downside to the improved nomenclature was that they tended to forget the clients' real names. "I'll have her come in as soon as possible?" she inquired.
"Sherry Kinney the millionaire?" he asked. Kim nodded. Trent was suddenly beginning to see why they were taking this case. He should have known Kim wasn't a hopeless romantic about anything besides a good profit margin. "Yes please," Trent was already looking over the list, checking for patterns. Wherever "JC9758" was writing from, it wasn't a home computer, for several different addresses were listed. Grabbing some highlighters, he began to mark the patterns he saw. "Is there any way you can trace these…" he indicated the long series of numbers that served as places JC9758 emailed from. They heard the front door open, and a few seconds later, Carlos yelling that he'd be right out.
"They're called IP addresses, and yes, I can," she said. "It'll take me a little bit longer."
"We're going to need them, I think," he said.
"I'm all over it!"
Carlos put on his friendly, you-can-trust-me-with-your-secrets smile and went out to meet whoever was at the door. As he walked out into the parlor, his silly grin melted off his face, replaced by a look of shock.
The girl with vivid red locks ducked her head self-consciously under Carlos' stare. "Carlos Martinez," she smiled shyly. "You never called."
"Nicole," Carlos leaned in the door jamb. "Wow. I can't believe it's really you! No, I didn't call, but I had a good excuse." He couldn't quite manage to keep his smile on as the memories came back to him.
"Yeah, I heard about Johnny," her eyes were distant; he couldn't read them. "Who knew?" She sighed. "I read about it in the paper: how Johnny Prima was some drug lord and how he almost killed you. But your name was different?"
"Sandoval," he told her. "I was undercover for the PD to bust the El Vaquero drug ring."
Nicole scoffed. "I must have sounded so stupid coming onto you at that club."
Carlos raised an eyebrow thoughtfully. "I should have called. I would have called, but if we had gotten too close, you could have found out and blown my cover, so I didn't. And then my cover got blown anyway, and it was all pointless after that. I would have liked to have been able to call you," he smiled slightly at his inane rambling. Even after all this time, Nicole was still one of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen. Her red hair—shoulder length when they had first met—was now layered and fell softly down her back, framing her perfect face and piercing brown eyes.
She blushed again and looked at her hands, leaving them in an awkward pause.
"So are you here on business?" he asked her finally.
"Yeah," she nodded, and Carlos ushered her into his office, closing the door behind him and offering her a chair. Nicole laughed nervously. "I didn't realize you actually worked here. You're not with the police anymore?"
"I went through kind of a rough patch and quit the force. Er, retired from the force. But enough about that. What can I do for you?" Carlos folded his hands and leaned forward.
"I think someone is following me," she returned. Carlos could tell she still felt self-conscious
"Why?"
"Believe it or not, Carlos, I'm worth quite a bit nowadays," she teased. More seriously, she went on. "I'm secretary to one of the biggest corporate lawyers in the country, and I know all his secrets. A case went bad a few weeks ago, and there was a threat, and I just don't feel safe anymore. I mean, there's always threats, but this one felt different." She would have gone on if Carlos hadn't interjected with some comments.
"There was a threat to your life, specifically?" Nicole nodded. "Do you have any hard evidence?"
"If I had that, I'd just go to the police," she answered with a pout. "I just feel like I see the same guy everywhere I go, and I could swear the same car follows me to and from work and shopping. I can't tell whether I'm paranoid or not." Her eyes began to tear up. "All I have is a hunch, which is why I came here for help. I don't know where else to go!"
"Calm down," Carlos told her gently. "We'll get to the bottom of this." He asked her a few more questions before deciding to take her case. He would survey Nicole for a week and gather evidence. "No charge," he added impishly, "For all those times I didn't call."
Trent was startled out of his hard work when his cell phone rang. He sprang from his chair and dug through the pockets of his jacket to find it. He flipped it open and jammed it to his head. "Malloy."
"Trent. Margo," a female voice answered.
Trent grinned. "Hey beautiful."
"You ready for some lunch, studmuffin?" Margo asked.
"Absolutely, darlin'," he replied. "I'll meet you uptown in ten minutes." She agreed to a restaurant, and they hung up. "Kim," he called as he put on his jacket, "I'm going to lunch. Be back in an hour," he added as he paused by the door. His exit was delayed by the entrance of Danae Launey.
"So I hear that you fellows have a case you can't crack?" she teased.
"There's never been a case we couldn't handle!" Kim replied defensively. "Good to see you back!"
"Carlos is with a client," Trent told her.
"He didn't tell you?" she looked surprised as she sat down a loaded bag of supplies she carried with her at all times. Her job as a medical examiner required her to be prepared to gather whatever forensic evidence she could find at a crime scene—even on her lunch break.
"Tell me what?" he the blonde man asked.
"Meet the newest member of Thunder Investigations," she said with mock bravado, taking a bow. "He said you guys were getting nowhere fast on a case about a haunted house and asked if I would help out."
Trent laughed. "He's not getting anywhere on the case, at least!"
"We're not paying you for this," Kim Sutter warned.
"I'm volunteering," Danae said good-naturedly.
"Here's the case file so far," Kim passed her a thin manila folder that had scant information between the covers. Trent studied Danae carefully as she read it. He had known Carlos forever, and aside from Margo, Carlos never really had female friends until he met Danae a few weeks ago. She had been with him when Raoul Ramirez had returned for vengeance, and Trent knew the two of them bonded somehow during the ordeal. Carlos had been uncommonly tight-lipped about any feelings he had for her, though, and for the most part, they seemed to be nothing more than friends. Occasionally, though, Trent would see a prolonged touch or a straying look between them.
"I didn't know you had country in the heart of Dallas," she said dryly, handing the file back to Kim.
"It's a few miles outside of the city limits, actually," he admitted.
"She hears, 'inhuman wailing and clanking,' at night," Danae said skeptically.
"She's old," Trent shrugged, "and very superstitious, but she's paying us to find out what's going on."
"Science versus superstition. Alright, I'm in," she said with a shrug. "When do we start?"
"Carlos and I were planning on going out tomorrow," Trent told her.
"You should make her come practice with us," Carlos said as he walked into Trent's office with a grand smile on his tan face. "Hey," he said to Danae.
"Hey," she said back, her own contagious smile growing. "What practice?" She turned back to Trent.
"I make this big lug train with me every Saturday," Trent joked.
"In a futile attempt to teach me how NOT to get my ass kicked," Carlos added humorously. "You should come."
"He's a slow learner," Trent said. "You should come."
"Well…sure, I guess," she answered. "Do I need to bring anything special?"
"Nah," Trent brushed aside her comment, "Just wear clothes you can move in; I've got lunch covered."