Emily Locke 01 - Final Approach

are you trying to do?” I moved closer.
    Craig rose onto his knees and looked from the fabric he was folding toward Marie. He opened his mouth to say something, but Marie spoke first.
    “I bought a RAID card and another hard drive to back up the computer, but I’m doing something wrong. When it boots up, it doesn’t find the second drive.” She stared at the instructions in front of her like she was missing something obvious.
    Rick shoved a stack of papers into an accordion file. “That’s the reason I leave the techno mumbo-jumbo to the little woman. Sure, she’s got brains. But how ‘bout my good looks?”
    He flashed me his cheesy grin.
    For once, I was thankful for Peter Bowman’s anal-retentive micromanagement style. BioTek scientists were responsible for our own data archival and backups, and he routinely audited our files. I knew I could help Marie. A bonus would be getting a glimpse at her computer files in the process.
    “I’m glad you’re backing up,” I said. “One power surge in weather like this…you could be in a world of hurt.”
    I lifted the instructions and looked them over. “What would you say to a free balloon jump Saturday in exchange for this hardware installation?”
    Rick answered before she could. “Sold. To the good looking red head with brains and nice legs.”
    “Good riddance,” Marie said into the open computer case. She crossed the room to a table stacked with several boxes and began pulling out sacks of party supplies. I took her seat and plotted my first theft since high school. Back then, it was a lipstick from the corner drug store. Today, it was files.
    “We’re getting ready for the weekend,” Marie said. “We’ve got plates, cups, and utensils for the barbecue. We’ve got kegs. Cameras and videotapes are handled. Stereo equipment’s handled. There’s extra soap and shampoo for campers—this’ll be our first boogie since we got our indoor plumbing…”
    She sounded like a bride planning reception details. I glanced at Rick. He made gabbing gestures with his fingers pointed toward his ear.
    Craig kneeled over the canopy and arranged its navy and gray cells. He seemed oblivious.
    Installing the new card and hard drive into the Hanes’ computer didn’t take any time. They tracked their finances with Quicken, like I did. But what really popped out at me was an Access database called Clientele. Would I find Casey’s abductor there? Richard could never have foreseen this windfall.
    I opened a web browser and brought up the Weather Channel’s homepage, then minimized it.
    “You a tandem master, Craig?” I aimed for distraction.
    “Tandem and Accelerated Freefall,” Marie bragged. “And a rigger.”
    Craig didn’t seem one for words. He kept on with his work without looking at us. I wondered if he found us just as boring.
    Rick ducked into the rigger’s loft and returned with my repacked equipment.
    “If I’d known you were going to jump yesterday,” Marie said, “I’d have loaned you my one-twenty.” She shot a frown at Rick. In her mind, evidently, he’d been rude to put me under the enormous Manta.
    “Slow ride’s better than no ride.” I tried to give a reassuring smile. But I was nervous. Marie’s financial data was open on my screen. My hands were leaving wet marks on her mouse and keyboard.
    I copied the Quicken data into a webmail application, all the while considering what it would be like to pee with no privacy in jail. I addressed an e-mail to myself from my own webmail account, pasted in the financial files, and pressed Send.
    Craig stood and stretched, then walked toward me.
    I changed to my decoy screen and told him things looked good for the computer, but bad for the forecast, and when he came around to inspect my screen, we looked at cloud coverage on a Weather Channel map of southern Texas.
    He went back to close the tandem rig, and I e-mailed myself the drop zone’s clientele database.
    When I was satisfied with the file transfer, I pronounced Project Free Balloon Jump a success and collected my gear.
    Rick and Marie asked me to come back the next day if the weather broke. Craig only gave a weak wave in my general direction as if to say “don’t let the door hit you in the ass.”
    Yeah, you have a good day too, Prince Charming. I hoisted my gear onto a shoulder and headed back to the rain.

Chapter Ten
    An hour later, Richard tossed a Best Buy bag onto the bed in my hotel room.
    “I can’t believe you stole