Page 42 of Silent Stalker
“Interesting,” Emerick replied, and he made another thoughtful noise in his throat. “That’s concerning for certain. If it has happened to you, it can happen to us as well. And that this hacker—or preternatural magic user—was able to so thoroughly infiltrate your property is problematic for everyone. You are absolutely correct to assume if it can be done once, it can be done again.”
“I am concerned, as outside of rival business entities, I cannot imagine who or what might want to kidnap my wife.”
I could think of at least twenty reasons without breaking a sweat, and my love for my mother topped the list. Then again, did my father understand the concept of such a love? I would do far more than bust through a security system and kidnap her if it meant giving her a chance at a happier life.
I wouldn’t have forced her to become a vampire, though, and I wondered how she would handle the changes to her life.
“It’s much easier to justify and understanding someone kidnapping your heir,” Emerick agreed. “While I’m certain she is a lovely woman, your wife does not have close ties with your business, correct?”
“She has no interest in the daily operation of my business,” my father stated. “She spends most of her time handling household matters, our personal finances, and so on. Even if she was kidnapped for her knowledge, they will not learn much from her, unless they needed someone who has mastered the art of making blankets.”
I scowled at the scorn in my father’s voice. Somehow, I kept from making a comment. My mother’s blankets would always be far more beautiful than anything made by my father’s hands.
Emerick shifted beneath me, wrapped an arm around me, worked his hand beneath my blanket, and rubbed my arm. “While making a good blanket is quite the art, showcasing great dedication and patience, you are probably right that nobody would kidnap your wife to make them a blanket, unless she has some sort of power involving her art.”
“Not that I’m aware of. Don’t misunderstand me. She’s very skilled at her craft, but not to the point of magic.”
I loathed his view of the world, where only things of applicable value might be of importance—and how crushing it could be for someone to discount the hard work and effort invested in learning a craft, be it painting, crocheting, or carving wood.
Maybe my stakes could work some form of magic, but my first ones had been carved with a novice’s unsteady hand, and I could tell how I’d improved with practice.
I also wondered if he had the wrong idea about my mother completely, and her crafts were some form of magic.
Mine was.
“If you can provide me with the details, I can look into the matter and see if we can deduce what method might have been used, but I suspect it was a mix of magic and technology. The magic would mask where, when, and how the kidnapper accessed your security systems. A competent hacker may be able to erase all trace they were there, assuming a little magic prevented them from being caught in the process. I don’t know how much it would cost to work such a thing or how it would be done. This is not a tactic I would use. I have other and more satisfying ways to toy with an opponent. A fairly won game is a satisfying game. If I have to cheat to win, I didn’t win. And when I win when someone else cheats—that is a true victory.”
“I understand that completely. I’ll send over what I know about the situation. I’d appreciate any help.”
I bet he would appreciate any help, and the future would be an entertaining place. I foresaw one true winner of the growing battle between men, vampires, and a woman: my mother.
For whatever reason, probably foolishness, I trusted Clarke to do what my father could not, taking care of my mother and giving her a chance at a happy life.
Then again, I judged the vampire from Emerick. If Clarke showed my mother even a hint of the treatment Emerick showed me, she would be all right.
No, she’d be better than all right. She would become the mistress of Clarke’s brood, able to pursue her nurturing nature without shame or belittlement.
“We’ll look into it,” I promised, wondering how we’d balance knowing precisely where my mother had gone and why versus acting like potential allies.
“Thank you.” My father hung up.
I eyed my phone as though it were a shark poised to take a chunk out of me. “I gave him my number, didn’t I?”
“You approved me giving him the number, but you were quite tired at the time I’d asked. You still struggle at sunset and sunrise, and I expect you will for quite a while. You are improving, which is good.” Emerick sighed and tossed his book onto the coffee table. “He likely tried to determine if we held any responsibility before contacting us.”
“He must not have looked all that hard,” I muttered. “I may as well be holding up a neon sign declaring motive for the crime.”
“Ah, but he determined nobody within our brood could have done it, which is true. We were all occupied elsewhere, and he surely had members of his staff keeping an eye on us.”
Great. The last thing I needed was to worry about my father spying on us. “I am going to make myself some hot chocolate before bed, and I expect to be tucked in and consoled over this whole damned mess.”
“Can I talk you into making a mug for me, too?”
“After that phone call, it would be cruel not to. What are we going to tell him?”
“The truth, of course. I have no idea how such a kidnapping could be pulled off. My brood does not specialize in such things.”
“Does your maker’s?”
