Page 70 of Critical Strike
“You’re lying.” He lowered the gun but charged at her anyway, shoving her aside and bending over the laptop. “What have you done?”
“What I came here to do.” She eyed the tablet, willing somebody to come. Quickly.
“Which was?”
“You knew I recorded Julia’s murder.” She spat the last word. “You knew somebody was watching from another terminal. I bet you tried to find the file, too. But even you couldn’t manage that. But little old me...? I hid it where you’d never think to look—and even if you did, you’d never recognize it after encryption or know how to decrypt it yourself. Always using other people to make up for your inadequacies.”
This was almost fun, and it might’ve been if the question of whether the Pattersons had survived didn’t hang over her.
Whether Luke had survived.
“No. No! What have you done to it?” He pocketed the gun. His hands flew in a blur over the keys while curses poured from his mouth.
“What have I done to you, you mean?” Yes, she had strength now, the strength she’d always possessed. Only it was a lot easier to let it show while the monster in front of her fell apart.
She watched as he floundered. Nobody could ever have explained how satisfying it would be to watch him panic this way.
“I should thank you for coming up here to see me, since that was what gave me the time I needed to finish running the program. I knew once I started asking questions, you wouldn’t be able to help yourself. You would have to grandstand.”
“Quiet,” he growled, still working and breathing hard.
“What are you trying to do? Delete the file? Destroy it? What about the external drive hooked up to the machine? It has all the files Julia sent me. All the proof of what you planned to do with our app. You should try to destroy that, too, before the information falls into the wrong hands.”
He swore again. “You’ll pay for this, Claire Wallace.”
“You first.”
He stood upright, taking a step back from the machine when the display changed.
There were now only four words on an otherwise black screen.
“What does that mean?” His eyes were wide and oh so panicked when his head snapped around. “What did you do?”
“You did it.” She jerked her chin toward the laptop. “You tripped the program I created. All you had to do was keep your hands off and there wouldn’t be anything but files on that machine. Just there, nowhere else.”
“And now?” he bellowed, his face red and sweat rolling down his neck.
“Now you’ve sent the files to the entire San Antonio Police Department.”
Panic turned to horror. “No...you’re bluffing.”
“Julia’s murder. The files she sent me with your intentions to steal data from your clients. It’s all there, and now they have it.”
“Lies!”
“Wait and see. I expect they’ll be opening their email anytime now. It won’t take long for the police to come knocking.” When he only stared at her in slack-jawed surprise, she shrugged. “I know you, too, Mr. Ballard. I knew you wouldn’t be able to leave well enough alone. You’re the one who delivered your own death blow, you monster. I hope it was all worth it.”
He shook his head as his body began to tremble. “Lying,” he murmured. “Buying time.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“Just wait and see.”
They stood that way for what felt like forever but might have lasted no longer than moments. Eye-to-eye. She would never forget the thrill of knowing she’d taken him down. Of watching realization begin to dawn when she didn’t flinch, didn’t falter.