Bad Daddy by Jayda Marx

Chapter Eleven

Westin

 

I looked all around the dark streets, making sure no one was around. Thanks to Martin, I knew that the garage had no security system to record what I was about to do, but I didn’t need any witnesses.

Satisfied that I was alone, I pulled on a pair of gloves, grabbed two small tools out of my pocket and kneeled down in front of the entrance to the office portion of the garage. Okay YouTube, don’t let me down. I’d searched the video site for instructions on how to do this, after which I scrubbed my browser history.

I slid a tension wrench into the bottom of the keyhole in the doorknob and pushed down slightly before inserting a pick into the top of the lock. I’d purchased them both earlier in the day from a hardware store; to go shopping, I wore a ballcap and made sure not to look up to keep my face off of any cameras the store may have. I paid with cash and left quickly; it was surely overkill, but I wasn’t taking any chances.

I rocked the pick back and forth until all of the pins in the lock clicked and set, and I was able to turn the knob. Yes! I quickly entered the office, shutting and locking the door behind me.

I returned the tools to my pocket and pulled out my cell phone; it was dark inside the office, but I didn’t want to turn on the room lights and draw attention to myself. Instead, I turned on the flashlight of my phone and kept it pointed at the floor.

I made my way to the desk where Buck worked before slipping a device from my other pocket; an audio bug. It fit in the palm of my hand and was a little smaller than a Tic-Tac container. I purchased it at a tech shop with all of the same precautions I took at the hardware store.

Since I was skilled and knowledgeable when it came to all things tech, I was able to program the device to begin recording when it detected sound, and it was equipped to record for almost two hundred hours. If Buck let anything slip at work about what really happened to him, I’d have proof.

And if he didn’t speak of the incident at work, there was a second part to my master plan. I may have done a little cyberstalking on the county auditor’s website to find out where Buck lived. Once I was done planting this device, I planned on staking out his place until he left, slipping inside his house, and leaving behind a second recording gadget.

I would collect both audio bugs after a day or two and pray that I caught some incriminating evidence before Colt’s arraignment. If I struck out, I’d have to formulate a new plan. I couldn’t let Daddy down.

I peeled a piece of tape from a dispenser on the desk and used it to secure the bug on the underside of the wood desk. I snapped my fingers next to the device and smiled when a green light illuminated, signaling that it was working perfectly. I poked it a few times to make sure it was steady before standing upright.

I made sure the door was locked and closed as I hustled outside. I peeled off my gloves, throwing them in a dumpster a couple of blocks away. I’d looked up the garbage collection schedule and learned that it would be taken away to the dump in just a few hours.

I climbed into my car which was parked another couple of blocks away; I didn’t want to risk anyone seeing my vehicle near the garage.

I took a deep breath once I was behind the wheel. I couldn’t believe what I just did; I’d never gotten so much as a speeding ticket, yet there I was breaking and entering to plant illegal listening devices. But I would do anything for Colt.

And I was about to do it again. I started my engine and pulled onto the road, headed towards Buck’s house.