Worst Date Ever (Scandals #3) (7 page)

“Start a dating website.”  This time Liberty guessed the answer for herself.

“Exactly,” he confirmed.  “I always had a knack for introducing my friends to a person that was perfect for them...just never for myself.  But I figured that maybe I could make a business out of my intuition, so I went all in.  I did consulting to pay the bills and, at the same time, I got people to write code for special sections and website pages without giving anything anyway.  Once it was ready, I had a soft launch by giving away lifetime memberships to every girl I had dated and my fraternity brothers.  I spread the word through the bars in Austin, and it took off.  I personally screened every client and allowed only the best to join.”

“So, you made your site special because it catered only to those professionals that wanted to meet other successful people?” I asked, restating what I had heard from Darius.

“That’s right. They were willing to pay anything to be sure that their prospective dates weren’t losers or liars.”

“So, they were mostly young…like our age?” Liberty guessed.

“Millennials?  Shit, yeah.  We’ve changed the way America dates.  I’ve researched the hell out of this.  Almost half of us think a new date is just ‘hanging out’, and four out of ten think it’s okay to ask someone out on a date with a text message.”

“What’s that have to do with the vetting?” I asked.

“Our generation is all about group dating.  Once I figured out that it’s mostly because we’re afraid of rejection and failure, I decided to reduce the risk.  Knowing someone has been personally selected for you and has been thoroughly checked out took away some of that fear.” 

“I can see that.” I was surprised by the thought that maybe Michael could find someone for me out there.  But I quickly shook that off.  I knew better than to think there was anything to the myth of love other than momentary pleasure followed by intense heartbreak.  I certainly didn’t need that pain in my life.

“And lots of people signed up,” Liberty assumed.

“Yes, they did.  It grew and grew.  Too fast.”  Michael breathed out a whistle and shook his head.  “Those were the days when I was swamped.  So I hired Darius to take over the programming and keep it in-house.”

“And Amanda,” I added.  “We met her yesterday in the lobby as we were leaving.”

He nodded and smiled.  “Yes…Amanda.  She was a big help with the social networking and getting our name out there.”

“Why didn’t she stay?” I asked.

“She already had a job working with an animal rescue service.  Since she lived right here in the building, it was easy for her to give us a few hours, and still keep her real job.  We knew all along that her time with us would be temporary, and she found Chloe to take her place when she left.”

“But you kept vetting every client yourself?”  I couldn’t believe any business owner would put so much of himself into his company.  It was a tremendous commitment.

“I insist on meeting each client either in person or via Skype, but I hired a firm to run the background checks.  I want to make sure no one has a criminal history or is a deadbeat parent.  Relationships have enough challenges without starting off with extra baggage.  I’m upfront with applicants that it takes about thirty days to process.”

“Which also adds to the aura of exclusivity,” I commented.  It sounded like he was doing all the right things.  Why then was someone targeting him?

“Did you and Amanda ever date?”  Liberty scored bonus points for thinking to ask that question.

“We went to dinner a couple times, but it was more business than pleasure.  I gave her a free lifetime membership, and she has dated a few guys in the service.”

Before we could ask anything else, Kimberly knocked on the conference room door and peeked into the room.  “Are you ready for lunch?”

I looked at the clock and was surprised so much time had passed and that it was lunchtime.  The memory of the croissant was long gone.

“Yep,” Michael answered.  “Would you mind bringing it in here?”

“No problem.”  Kimberly entered the room with a loaded tray in her hands, obviously expecting him to want it delivered.  “They had that good artisan bread you like, so here’s an assortment of cold cut sandwiches.  And they had just made fresh potato salad, plus I brought some potato chips in case you’d rather have that.”

“And sweet pickles,” Michael added his approval.

“Of course,” she said as she bustled around the table, placing plates, napkins and silverware in front of us, then carrying the plate of sandwiches to each of us so we could select one.

We spent a few minutes eating and chatting about unimportant things.  Michael was very familiar with the music scene in Austin and was on the advisory board of the massive SXSW conference that attracted tens of thousands of people every March.  It was divided into three sections, one focused on film and television, one focused on music and one that had all the latest games and IT innovations.  It sounded like something I’d be very interested in attending, and Michael told me I could tag along with him at the next one.  After every crumb of the delicious bread and potato salad was gone, Kimberly picked up the tray, refreshed our soft drinks, then left.  We picked up where we left off on our meeting.

“So, all was going well until last year…?”  I studied his spreadsheet.

“Actually, it was almost two years ago when it started,” he corrected.  “Look back to day 610 on my spreadsheet.”

I scrolled backward until I saw a notation that an officer from the Austin PD called.  I pointed to it and asked, “What happened here?”

“He called me out of the blue.  He said they got a confidential tip that my dating service was an escort service and they wanted to talk to me.”

“Confidential tip?”  Liberty asked.  “Did they have any evidence?”

“Of course not.  Two cops, a man and a woman came to the office and drilled me.”

“How do you prove you’re not doing something?”  Liberty frowned, totally unfamiliar with the legal process.

“I walked them through the on-line system, then showed them the vetting reports and background checks, member by member…until I came across the twin cousins of the female detective.”

“She didn’t know they were signed up?” I asked.

“She had no idea,” he confirmed.  “She made a quick call to verify they really were members, and the cousins supported the service 100%.  In fact, one of them is engaged and the other is in a serious relationship, both because of Linked.  End of case.”

“So, just a distraction then.”  Liberty was relieved.

“Initially, yes.  But an on-line feedback and review site printed that we were being investigated as an escort service.  I did everything I could to find out who posted it, and I was finally able to get it removed, but that took several months and a lot of my time that could have been better spent on the business.  It’s crazy how one loser with a keyboard can totally screw your business.”

“That brings us to 479 days ago…Pinterest.” I studied the next item.

“Pretty minor but someone managed to find photos of every member of the service at the time and post them on Pinterest as a fake Linked page, along with some reputation-smearing information.”

“The third item, now 355 days ago was a fake Facebook page,” I continued down the list. 

“Somehow they set up a page and populated it with facts, names and stuff from our website.  Did a nice job too,” Michael mused with grudging admiration.

“And what difference did that make?” Liberty asked.

“They only put up the newest members then hacked in and got their email addresses.  To add insult to injury, they started making connections between my members and whoever responded to the fake Facebook page.”

“I take it your new members got pissed?”  I commented.

“Lost nearly a hundred of them in a month before someone told me about the fake page, and I got Facebook to shut it down.”

“What did you do to stop that from happening again?”

“Every time they breached our system, we found a way to plug the hole.  But they seem to always be one step ahead of us.  Darius can give you the details.”

This was confirming my suspicion that it was an inside job. Now I understood why Michael didn’t trust anyone.

I moved on to the next notation.  “285 days ago.  Quarterly pizza party?”

“Yes.  Every quarter we hold a mixer for eligible singles who live here or are visiting Austin…usually at a nice, trendy place downtown.  Bar chow kind of food and an open bar.  Invitation only to keep out the undesirables.  But someone called it in to the police as a pot party and just as everyone was starting to relax and mingle, the cops and dogs showed up.  Virtually shut us down because about half the members did have pot.  You can’t fool the dogs.”

“What kind of dogs?”  Liberty perked up.

“I don’t remember…big ones.  Does it matter?” Michael answered.

“No…I just like dogs.”  Liberty’s smile was innocently appealing.  “Sorry, go on.”

“Then on 230, the first case of stolen identity was reported.”  I highlighted the date on my computer.

Michael nodded.  “It was odd because whoever is behind this targeted only about two dozen members.  Apparently, they had access to the whole list.”

“So the first few shots were shotgun blasts and the identity theft was from a sharpshooter?” I was thinking out loud, wondering why the change in strategy.

“Good analogy,” Michael said.  “They picked the oddest group of people, including my attorney.  He was one of my early seed clients, as I call them, and he dated a few women until he met the right one.”  Michael smiled.  “He was one of my first success stories.  They’ve been married for four years.”  Michael’s expression darkened.  “They hit several of my original clients, including Amanda, Carly, who owns a bakery, and Cody.”

My head snapped up.  “Cody, the fireman?”

“Yes, do you know him?”

“No…not really.  I sort of ran into him yesterday on the sidewalk.”  I didn’t want to make it seem like a bigger deal than it was.

Michael said.  “His apartment is on the floor below mine.  He’s pretty cool.”

I couldn’t help but look around at the luxury building and million dollar view.  “Wow…Austin pays their fire department really well.”

Michael shrugged.  “I ran a background search.  It all checked out.”

Hmmm.  I made a mental note to follow up on that clue.  As much as I didn’t want to think that such a gorgeous hunk could have anything to do with this case, it was suspicious that he had so much money on a civil servant’s salary.

I made a few notes on the legal pad I had brought.  “So, except for the identity theft, all the other issues seem like party pranks.”

Michael sat there staring at me.  It seemed like minutes…maybe it was.  “They may have been someone’s idea of harmless fun, but they hit me hard.  The report to the on-line sites cost me at least a thousand clients and ruined I don’t know how many people’s reputations.  Fuck, those reports trashed two weddings that I know of.  Not exactly a party prank.”

“You’re right…I’m sorry.”  I realized my comment might have sounded a little insensitive.  “I need a complete list of all your clients as well as a list of those who were affected…especially the ones who had their identities stolen.  Darius gave me a partial list, but it’s only the active members.  I need everyone who has ever used your service, either paid or complimentary, including the ones who quit or found love.  And if you have them, I’d like the info on everyone you didn’t accept.”

Michael exhaled out with a whistle.  “It’s going to be a big file.”

“That’s okay.  I have a program that can handle it.”

He stood.  “I’ll be back in a few minutes.  There are juices and fruit in the refrigerator in the break room down the hall. Help yourself.”

After he left the room, Liberty and I also stood and stretched.  The time had gone quickly, and I was surprised that it was after two.

“I feel sorry for him,” Liberty stated.  “Sounds like someone’s out to get him.”

I nodded my agreement.  “I think that’s an understatement. They were out for blood.”

“Yes...Tamara’s.”

There was something about that that didn’t fit.  Everything had escalated at a predictable pace…until the murder. Hackers were nerds living in their mother’s basements or foreigners out for easy pickings.  They weren’t usually killers.

CHAPTER SIX

The next morning I dropped Liberty off at the Scandals office.  Last night after dinner we had made a list of items for her to research more thoroughly, not the least of which was how a fireman could afford to live in an expensive downtown high rise.  I had stayed up until almost two, running Michael’s clients through pattern-searching algorithms to see if there were any common threads.  It had still been processing when I fell asleep, so even I didn’t know the answers yet.  I figured it was a good time for the big reveal at his office where I could read everyone’s reactions.

Michael’s condo and Linked’s corporate office took me less than fifteen minutes to reach, even in Austin’s rush hour.  Finding a parking place took almost as long.  Finally, I found a spot, slung my backpack over my shoulder and walked three blocks to the building, then rode the elevator to the penthouse.  The doors opened with the familiar chime.  Greeting me with a smile and a large cup of coffee was Darius.  “You’re going to spoil me.”

He held the freshly brewed cup out and waited for me to take it.  “I like you, Tulsa…just strong coffee with a mug around it and you’re good to go.”

“Exactly.  Where can I set up?”

Michael walked up the hall from his private apartment and joined us.  “What did you find out?”

“We’re going to find out together.  It was a lot of information to sort through, and I haven’t seen the results yet.”  I kept an eye on both of them but didn’t see a hint of nervousness from either. 

“Let’s do it in the meeting room,” Michael offered.  “Can you get it set up, Darius?  I’ll see if I can get Kimberly to bring breakfast.”

“Great.”  I was anxious to see what the algorithms had found…if anything.  At least it should eliminate a large chunk of suspects.

Michael went to his office, and I followed Darius into the conference room.

He lowered the shades.  “There’s a pull-down screen and a projector.  We have an Ethernet connection for your laptop so we can collaborate live on the wall.”

“How did your day with the Dell engineers go?”  I set my backpack on the table and took out my laptop and power cord.  There were plugs conveniently located in the middle of the table, and I plugged it in.  I never really trusted laptop batteries.

Darius pulled down the screen and secured it on a hook.  “It was fun.  It’s awesome working with a world class team.  We put our heads together, and I think we figured out a solution to the hardware issue.”  Darius took a drink from his mug of coffee and then sat down next to me. “It makes what we do here look like amateur IT.”

“You’ve put together a pretty complex system here.”  I was impressed by everything I had seen so far.

“Yes, but I didn’t work in the fixes until they’d already hacked in.”  His regret was genuine. 

“You and I both know that any system can be hacked.”

The muscle in his jaw tightened.  “Once, maybe twice…but they hit us over and over.”

“It’s a game for them.”

“Fuck that.”  His face reflected his frustration…or was it all an act? 

I still couldn’t be sure, but I thought it would be best to divert his attention.  “Jamaica is a beautiful country.  Do you miss it?”

“I miss my family and the beaches, but not the lifestyle.  My country has had one of the highest murder rates in the world for many years.  Tourists are encouraged to stay on their resorts to be safe, so they don’t see the true Jamaica.  Growing up there was a challenge.  I was lucky and found a job at one of the resorts.  I gave my salary to my mudda, but I kept the tips.  As soon as I saved up enough, I came here and worked my way through school.  Michael came on campus to recruit…and here I am.”

“You’re good at what you do…Michael’s lucky to have you.”  I truly liked Darius and hoped he wasn’t involved.  Until I was sure, it didn’t hurt to try to be his friend.

Darius relaxed and even managed to smile.  “Here’s your lifeline.”

I took the blue Ethernet cord that would connect me to the network and plugged it into my laptop.  “I assume you went through the hacker pyramid process.”

“Yes…the 97% that are bottom feeders never got in and moved on to easier targets. Of the remaining three percent, most are highly skilled and kept trying to find ways in.  I watched them for several weeks, but even they gave up because they were denied access so many times.”

“So you’re sure that we’re down to the one percent that either found a way in or kept changing identities so you wouldn’t notice them?”

“Exactly.”

“After we check out the results of my cross-match, we’ll pop up your firewall logs, then check them against the router log files.  With only three machines on the network and the network being hard wired, we should be able to find out who did this.”

Michael returned, followed by Kimberly who was carrying a tray of her amazing croissants, some cinnamon rolls and other assorted breakfast breads, along with a carafe of coffee, cups and plates.

“Just leave the tray.  We’ll serve ourselves,” Michael told her.  He picked up a cherry Danish with a napkin and put it on a plate.  “Would you give this to Chloe?  It’s her favorite.”

Kimberly nodded and took the plate.

“It looks delicious,” I told her, my mouth already watering in anticipation.  John’s cooking was excellent, but he bought most of his baked goods.  These breads were still warm and fragrant, fresh from the oven.  I selected a croissant and took a big bite out of it.  Pastries were a delight I never had until I was grown up and could buy them for myself.  One of my foster families occasionally brought home a box of donuts, but I was lucky to get a half of one for myself.  It wasn’t that they were being mean.  With three other foster kids and four of their own, it was a lot of mouths to feed.  Throughout my childhood, I was always made very aware that I had a roof over my head more because of the income my care brought in rather than compassion for a poor orphan.

I finished the croissant, took a cinnamon roll and hoped there would be a Danish left over after my presentation.  Michael and Darius pretended not to notice, but I knew they were watching.  I forced myself to keep from wolfing down the roll and placed the half-eaten pastry on my plate. 

“Some people do drugs…I can’t resist a sweet roll,” I tried to make my explanation sound like a joke.

“Nobody can resist Kimberly’s baking,” Michael commented, kindly overlooking my embarrassment.  “So, show me what you’ve found.”

“Let’s hope there’s something to see.  My professor and I had just completed this program last semester.  We tried it out on several sample cases, and with a few tweaks, it worked great.”  I knew I was just killing time because I didn’t want to start it up and not have it be successful.  I sucked in a deep breath and clicked the program to start it. 

On the screen, dozens of names popped up, scattered in a loose circle.  Colored lines started to appear, connecting one name to another name.  The algorithms worked their way through the files, and if a name got more than one connecting line, it would move closer to the center.  Names that had no lines touching them would move to the outer edges of the circle.  The lines continued to connect names until the program abruptly stopped.

There was only one name in the middle of the circle and almost all of the lines touched it.  We all leaned forward to read the name.  I swallowed back a gasp as I read it aloud.

Cody Daniels.

After a long moment of stunned silence, Michael spoke first.  “What does that mean?”

“The lines represent connections between every person whose identity was stolen,” I explained, my voice flat and emotionless.  “Apparently, all but two of the victims had some sort of relationship with Cody.”

“You mean, he’s our ground zero?”  Darius was as dumbfounded as I was.

“I don’t believe it.”  Michael’s words were adamant, but his tone wavered.

I studied the image on the wall.  There were about twenty names touched by the lines…and all except the lawyer were female.  “Did Cody, by any chance, date all of these women?”  I had to ask, but I was surprised at the pang of disappointment that I felt.

“Yes, Cody has been very active in the system.  He gets a lot of hits from women who are interested in contacting him,” Michael answered.

Great.  The first man I had been attracted to was a serial dater.  Just my luck.

Worse, he might be a criminal…or even a murderer.

I pushed the plate with the remainder of the cinnamon roll away.  I had suddenly lost my appetite.

Michael had a meeting in the afternoon, so he left Darius and me alone to run checks on the computers.  Even though Michael defended Cody, it was clear that the possibility of the hunky fireman being the one who had caused such havoc shook Michael more than he wanted to admit.  Apparently, they were good friends.  After my program basically drew arrows pointing to Cody’s name and big block neon letters that flashed GUILTY…GUILTY…GUILTY, I disconnected the projector and promised to double check the code on the program.  Surely, there was an error that had skewed the results.

There were so many reasons that Cody couldn’t have been the hacker.  Number one, he was a fireman, a respected protector of humanity…not a criminal.  Number two, it would take a highly experienced computer geek to break through all of Linked’s firewalls and safeguards…and Cody didn’t look like a geek.  Number three, he didn’t have a motive…why would he want to ruin his BFF’s business?  Number four, okay, this really had nothing to do with his guilt or innocence…but he was smoking hot.

Darius and I spent a couple of hours going through the router logs and going over the list of firewall attacks, but we didn’t discover anything he hadn’t already documented.  We ran scans on all three office computers and found they weren’t harboring any malware or viruses and that the re-enforced firewall was active and strong.  I even ran my TCP/IP attack simulator just to be sure it couldn’t be breached.

We cross-checked the existence of unauthorized start-up files, added password files, new accounts, looked for hidden areas, slack space and the existence of temporary caches.  I was about to give up when I noticed something unexpected.

“What are all these small files here?”  I pointed to the specific files with the cursor.

Darius pulled the screen closer and began to roll it up and down.  He shook his head.  “Don’t know.”

“Let’s look at that,” I pointed toward one and Darius opened the file.

I quickly scanned the code.  “There…see that list of files?”

“Yes.”

Copy them into a safe work space and then find those files on the server and paste them into it.”

It took him just a few minutes to transfer all the files into the protected sector on the hard drive.

I grabbed the mouse, found the trigger and lines of code scrolled down the screen.  It went on for several pages, then stopped.  The hidden routine had attempted to send a file to an off-network IP address.  Had we not run the routine in a separate sector, the targeted file would have been consumed.

“Bingo!”  I said.

“What just happened?”  Darius stared at the screen in confusion.  In all his experience, he had obviously never seen anything like that.

“It’s a Trojan Horse.”

“No,” he breathed in disbelief.  “Why didn’t I find it before?”

“It wasn’t a complete Trojan Horse.  It was in pieces so small that they were unrecognizable to your virus protection programs. Then, on command, it re-assembled itself, grabbed a file…that I’m guessing contained personal identity information…and would have sent it to an external IP address if we hadn’t it boxed in.”

“No shit!”

“When it didn’t succeed, it disassembled itself and put all the parts back on the shelves so it couldn’t be detected.”

“Now what?”

“Now we dig and drill and find out where the horse parts came from and where it was trying to send the files.  Hopefully, it will lead us to the sender and the intended recipient.”

“Wouldn’t they be the same person?” Darius asked.

“Probably, but we’ve got to consider the possibility that several people are involved.”  I examined the code more closely, trying to find something…anything that would lead me to an IP address.