Privilege (Special Tactical Units Division 2)

The law might not see that as evidence, Chay thought grimly, but there were different ways to mete out justice.

“I’ll be back in half an hour,” he said.

Bianca looked at him. “Don’t…”

Don’t leave me.

He could almost hear her unspoken words.

He’d phoned a friend, the CEO of a highly reputable lab. They’d been in the SEALs together until the guy was wounded, wounded badly enough that he’d had to take early retirement. His friend already had a degree in science; he’d added another in biomed, and that had led him to starting a lab often used by the military and the police.

“Sure,” he’d said, after Chay clued him in. “Bring me the sample. I’ll run a DNA check ASAP and then I’ll put the rest in storage.”

Chay hadn’t intended to mention any of that to Bianca. She didn’t need to be reminded of what they’d found in that dresser drawer.

But one look at her now and he knew he couldn’t leave her. Besides, this was about her. She deserved to know what was happening.

He held out his hand.

“We’ll be back in half an hour,” he said, and the look on her face made his heart swell.

• • •

They were back in exactly that.

The baggie was safely stored—Bianca had been fine with that. They’d made another quick stop, and they were each carrying a big paper bag.

“Sustenance for tonight,” Chay joked as they entered the kitchen.

“And excellent timing,” Sanchez said.

Dec had both his laptops going. As Bianca emptied the bags and put things away, he motioned for Chay to sit in front of the computer he wasn’t using.

“I have a laptop,” Chay said. “You didn’t have to bring one for me.”

Sanchez grinned. “You have something that probably says Hey, look at me! wherever it goes.” His fingers flew across his keyboard. Sites flashed by on his screen and on Chay’s. “Also, this pair is synched. What I see, you see. Plus they’re superfast and totally discreet. No kiss-and-tell here, my man. Nobody will ever know we’ve been wherever we end up being. Got it?”

Chay laughed. Yeah. He got it.

“Okay,” Sanchez said. “We’re each gonna take a list. I’m gonna call up search engines. You check the names on your list. I’ll check the names on mine. You come up with anything, anything at all, tell me.”

They got to work.

At first, the sites were recognizable. Google. Bing. Nexis. Spokeo. Names on Bianca’s lists turned up on almost all of them, but none of the information was anything unusual. Addresses. Phone numbers. DOBs. Places of work.

Dull. And useless.

Then the search engine names, the names of sites, grew less familiar.

Government names. Cryptic names. Some names that were obvious acronyms. People on the lists began turning up.

Chay and Declan kept hitting the Print buttons.

There was lots of information. Medical data. Divorce data. Financial stuff. Things most reasonable people would consider private.

It got worse.

Sites appeared that were recognizable enough, secretive enough, that Bianca’s whispered “Mannaggia!” pretty much summed things up.