Free Gina Cresse - Devonie Lace 03 - A Deadly Change of Heart by Gina Cresse

wonder how his kids can stand to be on the same planet with him,” I said.
    Garrett nodded.  “I don’t think his kids see him as the demon everyone else sees.  Oh, they know he’s no saint, but think about it.  Could you get out of bed every morning if you thought for an instant that your father threw your mother off a cliff?  You’d convince yourself it wasn’t so, for your own sanity.”
    With that, I slid into the driver’s seat and pulled the door closed.  The drive back to the marina seemed longer than it should have.  I hit every red light in San Diego, or at least it felt that way.
    I left a message on Spencer’s voice mail to call me as soon as he could.  Within ten minutes, my phone rang.
    “Devonie?  It’s Spencer.  What’s up?”
    “Hey, Spence.  I need you to run another name for me,” I requested, wasting no time.
    “Sorry.  No can do.”
    “What?”
    Spencer cleared his throat and spoke quietly into the phone.  “I’ve got a new boss and he watches me like a hawk.”
    I frowned.  “What about from your house?” I asked.
    “He’s got electronic eyes.  The guy raises paranoid to a whole new level.  I don’t think he has an ulcer, but he’s definitely a carrier,” Spencer joked.
    “Why is he on your case?”
    Spencer chuckled.  “He knows about my track record.  Figures once a hacker, always a hacker.”
    “He’s right, you know,” I admitted.
    “Yeah.  I wouldn’t give his kind a second thought, but if he catches me, it’s not a warning and a little slap on the wrist — it’s a trip to the big house.  I don’t think I’d do well in jail,” Spencer said.
    “No.  Jail wouldn’t suit you.  Guess I’ll have to think of some other way to find out about Bradley Parker.”
    “What’s the name, again?” Spencer asked.
    “ Bradley Parker,” I repeated.
    “Why does that name sound familiar?” he said.  I could hear Spencer fumbling with something on the other end of the phone.
    “He owns a software consulting firm here in San Diego.  Maybe you’ve heard of him through his company.  It’s called Business Solutions,” I offered.
    “Yeah.  Here it is.  I have his card.  Bradley Parker.  Met him last month at that big computer show over at Cal Expo.  Tried to hire me.  Said he was desperate for an experienced network technician.”
    “You met him?” I asked.
    “Yeah.  He found out I knew something about networks and he latched onto me like a tick.  Thought I was gonna have to douse him with kerosene.”
    “What was he like?  Did he seem like someone who could be a killer?” I asked.
    “He’s a Killer?” Spencer marveled. 
    “I don’t know for sure.  I do know he’s a womanizing skirt chaser.  What makes a man chase after women he has no intention of marrying?”
    “I suppose it’s the same urge that makes dogs chase cars they have no intention of driving,” Spencer answered.
    I laughed out loud, then remembered why I’d called.  “How am I going to find out more about this guy?”
    “Why don’t you go to work for him?  What better way to get the dirt on someone than to spend thirty percent of your time with him?”
    I laughed.  “You forgot about my work ethic.  It’s more like fifty percent.”
    “Only if he has the same work ethic,” Spencer reminded me.
     
    After looking up the address for Business Solutions, Inc. in the phone book , I hurried around the cabin of the Plan C , searching for my navy-blue pumps and a pair of pantyhose that didn’t have a run or a hole in the toe.  The printer sitting on a small table in the cabin I’d designated as an office spit out a copy of my resume.  I buttoned my blazer and straitened the hem of my skirt.  As I inspected my image in the mirror, I had a flashback to my days as a database administrator at San Tel.  It must have been something similar to the experien ces war veterans call post traumatic stress .  The vision of me in a navy-blue business suit, matching