Page 19 of Deep Fake

Seemed like this hacker’s heart was not hard after all.

Chapter Fifteen

Malone

I went home, and for the first time in a long time could breathe. Riglan or Sketch was on the job, finding out things and getting to the root of the problem.

The only technology left in my house was my burner phone, and I made sure to tuck it into my Faraday bag so that no cameras could see it. I didn’t know how someone would hack into a burner phone, but I now knew that those who wished others harm had few limitations when it came to the internet and wireless systems.

Taking my sweet time because there was nothing pressing on my mind, I made a good meal. A hot roast beef-and-Swiss sandwich and a simple side salad. It seemed like a luxury, sitting in my apartment without the hovering shadow of what was to come.

Sure, I thought about it. What if Riglan couldn’t fix it or catch the person? What if he or she stalked me for the rest of my life or, worse, if it escalated?

But I had a feeling Riglan wouldn’t stop until he figured things out and put a stop to it.

It was weird how easily I fell in to trusting him but I did. Fully.

I wasn’t sleepy after the nap I had. Best nap of my life, in fact. Instead of watching TV or doing something mind-numbing, I did a few loads of laundry and cleaned up my apartment. Sometimes the simple things were the best medicine for the mind.

Sweeping by the front door, I heard a noise outside and despite the calm I experienced that night, I was instantly on alert. My whole body tensed at the sound of someone coming up the stairs. Not moving any other part of my body, I turned my head to see it was only a few minutes past three.

Who was climbing the apartment stairs at three in the morning?

I swallowed against the swelling boulder in my throat. The hairs on the back of my neck rose and a sense of dread washed over me.

What did I do?

Call the police?

The footsteps stopped right outside my door and I couldn’t have moved if I wanted to. I covered my mouth to stop any involuntary terror reactions from escaping.

Then the person knocked on the door. Rattled the doorknob. I reached out and with shaking hands, tried to still the knob and simultaneously threw the chain in place.

More knocking.

Aggressive knocking. It occurred to me that it might be the police or someone in trouble, but certainly they would call out if it was either of those.

The cops made themselves known.

A person who needed help would cry out.

It went on for so long. Seemed like forever. And then it stopped. Nothing. The steps retreated and echoed down the stairs.

My phone rang, and I nearly came out of my skin.

“Hello?” I answered.

“It’s me, Rig. I came over. I’m here. At your apartment. I had a feeling.”

“At the door?” I asked.

“Yes. Open up. I…what’s wrong?”

I opened up the door and there he was. Hoodie up. Glasses in place. Out of breath as though he’d run here instead of taking his car.

“There was someone here. Knocking. Banging down the damned door.”

“Are you okay?” He stepped inside the apartment and I shut the door behind him, putting the security chain in even though Rig looked like he could handle anyone that tried to get me.