Free Pitch Black by Leslie A. Kelly

absolution from the guilt in any way she could—starting by doing anything possible to help solve the boy’s murder.
    By the time Sam returned, holding the steaming cup, the two agents were seated on her sofa, poring over an open folder and flipping through pages made yellow with sticky notes and file tabs. In their excitement, they’d shoved her clean laundry out of the way. It sat on the cushion beside Alec Lambert.
    Perfect. Considering there was a plain, serviceable white bra sticking out of the pile, she couldn’t say that made her day. And she didn’t even want to think about whether either agent had read the front of the pink nightshirt that read, GRADUATE OF THE SCHOOL OF ALL MEN SUCK , a divorce gift from Tricia.
    So stop living like a slob. She would. Starting the minute these two left. Which, judging by their intense conversation, they didn’t seem in any hurry to do.
    “If Jason deposited the check, we’ll be able to find who sent it to him,” Stokes was saying, animated and visibly energized by the idea.
    Sam grunted, and both pairs of eyes shifted in her direction.
    Feeling intrusive, even though they’d made themselves at home on her couch and her laundry, she murmured, “The check would be fake. Fake name, fake account, coming from nowhere, going nowhere.” When they merely stared, she added, “I guess it’s possible he left a fingerprint; you guys would know more about that than I would. But from the sound of it, this guy’s not stupid, so I can’t picture him being so careless.”
    “He’s not,” Agent Lambert muttered, sounding frustrated.
    Almost wishing she’d kept her mouth shut, Sam quickly said, “Look, forget it. Go after the check angle. I could be wrong. Maybe he’s not as good at check fraud as most of these lowlifes are.”
    “It’s that common?” Lambert asked, though, as a cyber crimes guy, he should know.
    Sam laughed bitterly. “You wouldn’t believe how common. I could paper my ex’s house with the fake certified checks passed via Craigslist sales alone. There are warnings everywhere on the site, but people still fall for the ‘My secretary sent you a check for a thousand dollars more than the asking price by mistake. Please cash it and wire me back the difference’ line.”
    “Sure.” Stokes appeared familiar with the scheme. “Then they cash it, send back the money, the check bounces, and the bank comes after them to repay it.”
    “Exactly. If there was a good way to stop the fraud and trace the criminals who perpetrate it, you FBI types would be all over it already and would have a way to catch this murderer.”
    The two FBI types exchanged a quick look, obviously hearing her icy tone. Sam couldn’t help it. The FBI had never been her biggest fan, even though they were on the same side, and, frankly, the feeling was mutual. They’d been no help to her family three years ago, when everything had gone so wrong.
    Maybe she should thank them, though. If not for the callousness of the agents she’d gone to for help when her grandmother had been taken in by some ruthless Internet con men, Sam might not ever have launched her new career. She might not have become an Internet vigilante, the author of a best-selling book. And might not have been able to afford to tell Samuel to shove his alimony money the same place he’d shoved his broken marriage vows.
    Not that she wouldn’t happily trade it all to have her grandmother alive and well today.
    “So how would you suggest the authorities handle it?” Special Agent Lambert asked, sounding more interested than sarcastic.
    “Education,” she replied. “I am not all about lots of government intrusion, but subjecting the online auction and classified sites to some kind of vetting and oversight would be a good thing, rather than leaving them completely unregulated, free to be filled with thieves and, obviously, murderers.”
    She sounded bitter because she was. Even three years after her grandmother’s death,