You can find me on Twitter, @MaggieKBlack, or at www.maggiekblack.com.
Thank you all for sharing this journey with me,
Maggie
He hath made every thing beautiful in his time: also he hath set the world in their heart, so that no man can find out the work that God maketh from the beginning to the end.
—Ecclesiastes 3:11
With thanks to my wonderful agent, Melissa Jeglinski, for her enthusiasm and support, and to my editor, Emily Rodmell, for entrusting me with this story and always pushing me to become a better author. Thanks also to Debby Giusti and Dana R. Lynn, who are writing the next two books in this series. I can’t wait to read them.
Finally, thank you to the friend who recently told me off for ignoring who I was with and texting at the dinner table. You were right. Thanks for helping me think about my relationships and how I use my phone in a new way.
Contents
Time was running out for Celeste Alexander. Her sneakered feet tapped on the floor beneath the desk. Her fingers flew over the keyboard so quickly it seemed more like a rapid dance than typing, knowing each keystroke could be her last before US Marshal Jonathan Mast arrived to escort her to her new life in the witness protection program. The early-morning sky lay dark over wintery Pennsylvania farmland outside the safe house window. She knew she should sleep. After all, she had no idea how long the journey ahead would be until she finally reached the small apartment in Pittsburgh that would be her new home for the months until she testified at Dexter Thomes’s trial.
It had been almost two weeks since an evil but genius computer hacker, who went by the online handle “Poindexter,” had stolen tens of millions of dollars out of the bank accounts of thousands of ordinary Americans in one of the largest bank heists in history, without even leaving his chair. But she’d found him and now he sat in a jail cell, thanks to a single curious thread that Celeste had started following online. When she’d gathered all the evidence she could, she’d tipped off the feds, and Dexter had been arrested. News had quickly spread through the online community that a self-employed computer programmer—a blonde, twenty-six-year-old woman, no less—had uncovered the true identity of the criminal the feds’ best minds hadn’t been able to find.
But the stolen money still hadn’t been recovered. The thought of letting a single one of those people wake up one more day with an empty bank account was unthinkable. Not while there was something she could do about it. She frowned. The battery was down to less than 10 percent and she’d forgotten the charging cable in the room upstairs where she’d slept last night.
“You gave her a laptop?” The voice of US Marshal Stacy Preston came sharply from somewhere behind her. “Please tell me you didn’t let her go online. The last thing we need is another misguided Poindexter fan trying to come after her and keep her from testif—”
“Really? You think I joined the service yesterday?” US Marshal Karl Adams shot back even before Stacy had finished her sentence. From what Celeste had seen, those two didn’t talk so much as volley sentences back and forth like some kind of verbal tennis match. “Of course not! She had a basic tablet with the internet capability disabled, and after scanning it for bugs, I let her borrow a keyboard.”
“And you didn’t think to check with me?”
“You were asleep!” Karl said. “Do you check every decision you make with me while