Page 70 of Accidental Murder
Good question. Anybody could be using her identity. Even a cop. If Jacob was the killer, he should be cautious.
Jacob added:my computer has been hacked are you the hacker? who r u????
Kayla chewed on her lip, doubt eating at her. The additional question marks made it look like Jacob was freaking out. Had he truly been hacked? Was she wrong about him? She had to find out what he knew. In person. Did she dare reveal herself to him?
She had to. She needed answers. She recollected her conversation with him in the parking lot at GLU before Baker had joined him, and typed:my rossignols are waxed are yours? you know where i’ll be. Revealing herself a tad more, she added:you stanford geeks are all alike . . . one hour.
Before logging off the computer, she decided while Jacob remained active on his computer, she could delve into it. In the web search bar, she typed his numerical IPS address and hit Enter. His internal file system came into view. “You never should’ve let me fix your stuff, pal,” she whispered. On numerous occasions, she’d tried to explain memory and capacity to him using analogies.Memory is to capacity like a wallet is to a bank or books are to library shelves.But Jacob, the genius, hadn’t grasped the concept. He’d presumed whatever he’d wanted to put on his computer he could. A few months ago, thanks to a cumbersome download of movie trailers, his computer crashed. Kayla remedied the situation by transferring the files to an external hard drive. Ever since, she had been his hero.
Or had she?
Speedily, she navigated through his computer and located a folder namedBrain Juice. The files within were catalogued by date. Sheopened the most recent, which revealed the ingredients for his wonder product. The vitamin was composed of ginseng and echinacea, as Eve had ascertained, plus five other harmless ingredients. She skimmed previous files and compared the formulas. All were pretty much the same. She abandoned that angle and did a global search for files with the wordsbrain freezein the title. The hunt came up empty.
Why had the term surfaced in her dream? Had she heard Jacob mention it? Had he changed the product name and erased all records from his computer? No, he didn’t have the time or expertise.
Frustrated, she logged off the Internet, paid for her coffee, and exited the café. Hopefully, in person, Jacob would be more forthcoming. If he showed.
Putting the hatchback into reverse, she caught a glimpse of a silver Mercedes entering the café’s parking lot. At the wheelwas Blond Guy. Her adrenaline kicked into high gear. How had he located her? When she’d removed the tracking device Norton had planted on the car, she hadn’t spied another one. Had this guy pinpointed her location when she was on the Internet? Was he working with Jacob? Had Jacob’s S.O.S. been a ruse to lure her out?
“I know this city better then you, pal.” She cranked the car into forward and turned left onto Geary Boulevard.
Near an intersection, she glanced over her shoulder. The Mercedes was gaining on her. She slued across two lanes and turned left onto Divisadero. And right on Bush Street.
Approaching Van Ness Avenue, she stole a look in the rearview mirror. The Mercedes continued to dog her. She couldn’t risk merging into the clogged right-hand lane, even though it would have been the easiest route to the freeway. If she did, the Mercedes could come up on her left. She proceeded on Bush, weaving in and out of traffic.
At Montgomery Street, she made a quick right. Bad decision. New Montgomery Street was closed off. She made a sharp right onto Market and back onto Geary. Even at this early hour, traffic was thick because of Christmas shoppers. With the holiday five days away, many stores were open early.
Near Geary and Stockton Street, she ran into another snag. A group of crooning carolers, flanked by uniformed cops, stood in the center of the street. Kayla slammed on the brakes. She stole a look in the rearview mirror. No sign of the Mercedes.
Breathing easier, she swung onto Stockton. The street was teeming with people, many carrying to-go cups. Kayla flinched, stunned by how such a small thing could remind her of her sister. For the past five years, she’d met Ashley weekly for coffee.
She pounded the steering wheel as a memory of Ashley teasing her about her simple black coffee order distracted her. Her despair nearly made her plow into the two-legged reindeerthat was dancing in the street waving a shoe store sale sign. She slammed on the brakes and blasted the horn. The reindeer retreated to the curb and flipped her off.
Pressing the accelerator, Kayla sped ahead, peeved because the delay had allowed the Mercedes to regain surveillance. To her delight, however, the reindeer trotted back into the street, forcing her pursuer to screech to a halt.
“Ho-ho-ho!” Kayla crooned.
A minute later, she was soaring down 4thStreet with the 280 Freeway straight ahead.
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
Tension grippedKayla as she drew close to the Cow Palace, the letters on its hangar-like structure looming. The building had been constructed in 1941 for cattle expositions. Decades later, it became the prime arena for large-scale conventions and concerts. The ski show proved to be one of the most popular annual events. Thousands of people would be in attendance. Cars jammed the parking lots, and potential buyers streamed into the arena through the gateways. Would Jacob risk killing her in such a public place? Doubtful.
She parked the Honda Civic, crossed the parking lot, and entered the cavernous hall through the South Gate. High-wattage fluorescent lights illuminated the building’s interior. A raucous version of “Jingle Bell Rock” was being piped through speakers. Hundreds of merchandisers had rented space. Attendees crammed the aisles.
Kayla navigated her way through the venues. The most popular ones, like K-2, Lange, and Nordica, teemed with people of all ages. A popular female downhill skier was chatting up buyers at one stall. A group of scruffy teenagers lurked by the extreme sport stalls. If Kayla hadn’t been running for her life,she would’ve stopped to meet the motocross champion who was signing at his sponsor’s venue.
Near a two-story mountain blanketed with fake snow, she halted. A handful of snowboarders in baggy shorts and T-shirts were testing equipment on the hill. At the base, a buxomGear Girlin a bikini posed with eager teenaged boys. Kayla searched for Jacob. He had to be nearby. He couldn’t resist a photo op with a beautiful woman.
After a minute and no sign of him, she hastened in the direction of the Rossignol booth with its distinctive black-and-yellow banner. Had Jacob understood her coded message?
Out of nowhere, a thickset woman barreled into her and propelled her to the ground. Kayla heaved the apologetic woman to the side, bounded to her feet, and resumed her search.
Racks of ski equipment filled the center of the Rossignol exhibit. Buyers crowded the narrow aisles. An animated saleswoman in jeans and turtleneck approached Kayla, but she held up her hand signaling she wasn’t buying. The woman huffed and pivoted.
Kayla glimpsed the time. An hour had passed since she’d messaged Jacob. Where was he?
Five more minutes elapsed with no sign of him, forcing her to abandon her quest. She’d set the trap, but he hadn’t taken the bait.
