“Alert Welch.” Welch needs to make sure Hyde’s not back home.
“Sure will. I’m also going to scan the city CCTV and see if I can track his movements.”
“Check what vehicle he owns.”
“Sir.”
“Barney can do all this?” Ana whispers, clearly impressed.
I nod, feeling a little smug that he works for me.
“What was on his hard drive?” she asks.
I shake my head. “Nothing much.”
“Tell me.”
“No.”
“Was it about you, or me?”
She is not going to drop this.
“Me.” I sigh.
“What sort of things? About your lifestyle?”
No. I shake my head and place my index finger on her lips.
We are not alone, Ana.
She scowls at me but keeps quiet.
“It’s a 2006 Camaro,” Barney pipes up, excited. “I’ll send the license details to Welch, too.”
I’m sure he has them, but it doesn’t hurt to be sure. “Good. Let me know where else that fucker has been in my building. And check this image against the one from his SIP personnel file. I want to be sure we have a match.”
“Already done, sir, and Mrs. Grey is correct. This is Jack Hyde.”
Ana grins, practically preening, she’s so pleased with herself.
As she should be.
I run my hand down her back, proud of her. “Well done, Mrs. Grey.” To Barney, I add, “Let me know when you’ve tracked all his movements at HQ. Also check out any other GEH property he may have had access to, and let the security teams know so they can make another sweep of all those buildings.”
“Sir.”
“Thanks, Barney.” I hang up the phone. “Well, Mrs. Grey, it seems that you are not only decorative, but useful, too,” I tease.
“Decorative?”
“Very.” I press a soft kiss to her lips.
“You’re much more decorative than I am, Mr. Grey.”
I wind her braid around my wrist and hold her, pouring my gratitude into a deep and tender kiss. She’s done so much today. And identified our perpetrator!
She pulls away.
“Hungry?” I ask.
“No.”
“I am,” I confess.
“What for?” She eyes me warily.
“Well—food, actually.”
She giggles. “I’ll make you something.”
“I love that sound.”
“Of me offering you food?”
“Your giggling.” I kiss her head, and she eases herself off my lap.
“So, what would you like to eat, Sir?” she asks with faux sweetness.
She’s making fun of me. Again.
I narrow my eyes. “Are you being cute, Mrs. Grey?”
“Always, Mr. Grey, Sir.”
I see how it is.
“I can still put you over my knee,” I whisper. Frankly, not much would give me greater pleasure.
“I know.” Ana grins and places her hands on the arms of my office chair. She bends down and kisses me. “That’s one of the things I love about you. But stow your twitching palm, you’re hungry.”
“Oh, Mrs. Grey, what am I going to do with you?”
“You’re going to answer my question. What would you like to eat?”
“Something light. Surprise me.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” She turns and struts out of my office, like she owns the place, which, of course, as my wife, she does.
I call Welch to interrogate him about what Barney and Ana have uncovered.
“Hyde?” While usually gruff, his voice is high-pitched with incredulity.
“Yes. In my fucking server room.”
“We tracked his cell phone to Orlando. It’s been there ever since. We assumed he’d been staying with his mother, as the phone was tracked to her condominium in Orlando. There are no records of him traveling elsewhere.”
“Well. He’s here.” I take a deep breath, trying to keep a lid on my frustration.
He sighs, obviously annoyed. “So it would seem. I’ll put the team straight on this. I don’t know how he slipped through our fingers. I’ll make inquiries and find out how and where we messed up.”
“You do that. I want to know.”
“It’s a damned shame there are no prints from the server room,” he says.
“None?
“No.”
“Hell. He was probably wearing gloves, though it’s difficult to tell from the footage,” I speculate. “Perhaps Hyde’s prints are on file somewhere.”
“Interesting thought. In fact, the FBI recovered a partial print but has no match.”
“From Charlie Tango?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you let me know?”
“They didn’t have a match, and it’s only a partial print,” Welch explains.
“Could Hyde be behind the sabotage of my EC135?”
“In the absence of any other suspects, I think it’s a possibility,” Welch’s gravelly voice echoes over the phone.
“We had him on our list of suspects and he was right there this whole time.”
I can’t believe it.
“We dismissed him for three reasons,” Welch clarifies. “First, we thought he was in Florida. He’d not been in his apartment in Seattle for some time, but we’ll check on that now. Second, he’s not withdrawn any cash from an ATM in the Seattle area. And third, his misdeeds seemed limited to harassing female colleagues.”
“You should let the FBI know about all this,” I say.
“I’ll brief them,” he says, and then changes tack. “Sawyer’s informed me about the chase.”
“He thinks my parents’ house was being watched.”
“It’s a possibility. We’ll need to track this Dodge down to be sure.”