Free In Hot Pursuit by Karen Sue Burns Page A

wasn’t listed on the record for her home address.
    Quinn pulled a jackpot with the value of Scooter’s home, almost a million dollars. The value topped what she suspected he could afford based on his salary. He’d worked at HCU for years so she doubted he’d received a windfall from a corporate severance package. Maybe his wife came from money or maybe they spent beyond their means. Hopefully, Roddy would know the answer.
    $ $ $
    A few minutes after ten, Quinn slid between the sheets on her bed and clicked on the television. She hadn’t heard the news since that morning. Nothing was new, same old stories on bad weather, bad politicians, and bad criminals. She dozed off for a few minutes then woke up to a story on internet viruses carried by emails.
    Turning up the volume, she concentrated on the newscaster’s words.
    â€œThe Blaster Worm has again made its way through corporate America. Email servers have been shut down across the country, stifling electronic communication and frustrating IT professionals. It’s expected that more than 500,000 computers will be impacted before the worm runs its course. In other news — ”
    A worm? Bingo. She jumped out of bed and began pacing in front of the television.
    A worm … of course. An article she’d read a couple of weeks ago described these nasty things as a computer virus triggered when an attachment to an email message opened. Usually the virus screwed up the client computer it was received on, along with any servers the computer was networked with. It spread like a spider web crack in a car’s windshield.
    Quinn conjectured that a worm developed for the HCU theft would have a different purpose. When the attachment opened, a virus could have been sent through the server to the system managing wire transfers. The sole purpose would have been to alter the instructions and change the destination of the funds.
    She stopped pacing, clenched her fists, felt a shiver along her spine. My god, a message could have been sent several days before the actual transfer. Then waited for the Bridge Foundation’s wire instructions to enter the system.
    Holy shit.
    She sat on the edge of the bed. This was what Ruthie had been talking about. A mole, she said. Quinn looked at the bedside clock; too late to call anyone. First thing in the morning she’d contact Lynne at First National and ask her about recent emails from HCU employees.
    She needed evidence, not a hunch or a great idea, before she’d talk to Roddy about this. She’d already played the hunch card with her suspicions about Bill and Rebecca. Her first step was talking to Ruthie about her theory and whether there was the remotest chance it could be true.
    Quinn knew she was close to discovering the “how” part of the theft equation. However, the “who” part remained open and would require the full extent of her detective skills. Scratch that, the “who” would require the full extent of her skills to be nosy and a obstinate pain in the ass. Somehow those skills would lead to an answer. That was the number one goal, regardless of where it might take her.

SIX
    Wednesday, 8:05 A.M.
    First thing on Wednesday morning, waiting for the coffee to finish, Quinn checked her HCU email, hoping for a follow-up message from Rebecca. Nothing. Time to increase the pressure. She sent another message referring to the previous one, and advising Rebecca’s input was critical to the ongoing police investigation. Bill and Scooter were copied for good measure. If she didn’t respond by the end of the day, then a third message would be sent to Dr. Arnold and most likely, the Pope.
    The phone rang as Quinn headed back to the kitchen.
    â€œMom, I forgot to ask you something last night.”
    â€œSure, Jane, what is it?”
    â€œAre you free for dinner on Friday?” She hesitated a fraction of a second. “There’s someone I’d like you to