Total pages in book: 148
Estimated words: 142939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 715(@200wpm)___ 572(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 715(@200wpm)___ 572(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
“No one is dead.” She glances around my bedroom. It’s clean but also what others might call chaotic. Duffy picks a picture up from my dresser. It’s one of my mother. “You look like her.”
“I know.”
Duffy puts the picture down.
I walk over and shift the frame back to its correct spot at the perfect angle. My mother was my age in the picture. My memories of her have faded over the years. I was young when she died. Sometimes I don’t know if they’re my memories or the stories my father tells me.
“Duffy.” Her name crackles over a radio.
“That thing from the '90s?”
Duffy ignores me. No wonder we didn’t see them coming.
“Yes,” she replies.
“There is a drone,” the voice over the radio responds.
Oh, crap. Ocean will be so pissed if they shoot down her drone.
“Leave it,” Duffy orders. “I’m sure Ocean, as you call her, will know all about this.”
She’s not wrong.
“Get on with it.” My father’s patience can grow thin when it comes to people being in his space. He’s not a people person.
“We need your help.” Another set of words I hate hearing coming from the FBI.
“Why should I help you?”
“Because we turn a blind eye to your little Robin Hood games.”
“You’re really going to bother me over that?”
“No, the truth is while I think your little games are silly, they are also very telling of your character.”
Is that an insult? I’ll have to ask Ocean later. I might be good at reading between the lines when it comes to network systems but not so much with people. “Besides, aren't you up to a challenge?” She leans on my desk, her gaze devious. “Parks got us nowhere with this.”
“Really?” Now my curiosity is piqued. Damn it. She’s playing me. I know it, and still I can’t stop myself when she holds out a picture for me to take.
“Owen Caddel.” I stare at the man in the picture. Something about him is familiar, but I can’t place it. I’m not great with faces or names. I can recall every detail of a project, but everything on the outskirts often gets lost to me.
“Is he famous or something?” The man is handsome enough. The strange thought fires through my mind.
“Owen tries to keep himself off the radar.”
“No one is off the radar.”
“No.” Duffy smirks, and I know I played into her hand again. “They aren’t, but he somehow has been able to elude us. We want you to find out whatever you can about him.”
“That’s all you’re giving me? A name and a picture? Shouldn't I know why I’m doing this?” I mean, name and pic are all I need, but a why might be nice. I should at least know what type of person I’m dealing with.
“We both know why you’re doing this.”
I hate that she has my number on this. “I know I'm better than Parks.”
“Prove it.” Duffy turns to leave.
“Hey! You’re paying for all this. I have to replace everything.” A small growl rumbles from me, making my dad chuckle. He always finds the stupid sound funny.
“Send an account number.” Her heels click loudly on the floor. I should get carpet, but there’s the whole germs thing.
“Crypto.”
“Of course.”
As quickly as they arrived, they’re gone, leaving me only with a picture. One I can’t help but keep glancing down at.
“Can you really get my unsaved game back?” Dad asks. I try to glare at him, but he’s smiling, making it impossible for me to hold the expression.
“I’ll make dinner.” It’s Tuesday. On Tuesday nights, I eat tacos.
I place the picture down on my desk, forgetting about dinner. My fascination is already piqued.
Who are you, Owen?
2
OWEN
Power sparks back to life in my compound as I finish the repair on the solar panel array. As soon as everything is running, I close the panel and sit up. That’s when I hear my servers begin to hum and run through all their fail-safe programming in the event of a power outage.
Pulling out my list from my back pocket, I add a squirrel trap to it. The little jerks run the forest around my place. Not content with all the feed I put out for them, they’ve decided to move on to chewing through electrical wire.
I sigh and stand, stretching as I walk out of the shed and onto the courtyard by the pool.
My garden is already coming along for the spring, the hydroponics towers pumping out winter lettuce and other greens while the weather slowly warms.
The main house is glowing in the early evening light, and the outbuildings shine at intervals. The stables are the brightest, my spoiled horses getting heat lamps even when the temperatures are high enough for them to be more than comfortable.
Something bumps against my leg, and I lean down to pet Alfie. He gives me a sweet meow, his tail twitching as he winds between my ankles.