“Exactly. How many times have you volunteered to fix anything around here without a cost to the people in this room?” Joe yelled next.
Glances were exchanged between faces, and someone even giggled in the back of the room. Josh became red-faced, searching the room for an ally to back him up.
“From a legal standpoint, you don’t have any actual reason to stop my project, and we need this in Hamby. I don’t want a tourist trap, just to be clear, but I want to have a building that more people would like to visit. And secure my eventual retirement,” Mr. Spence responded.
“Fine. You want him to have control of your business; that’s up to you. But I thought everyone here wanted the Capshaws out. That was the purpose of this meeting.”
“I for one wouldn’t miss them,” James Whitehall yelled out.
“And what have they ever done to you? I seem to remember the Capshaws giving your son a scholarship to attend any out-of-state college he wanted. It’s not their fault he didn’t graduate,” Joseph retorted.
“You’re just all over them because they re-did the diner.AfterKayden trashed it to begin with,” he spat heatedly.
“Yeah, he crashed into it, but that didn’t stop you from eating there the entire time it was being fixed, did it? He made it better. Sometimes you get roses from ashes,” he replied, grabbing hold of Aunt Mae’s hand.
All James could muster was a snort and then sat back down. Lieutenant Bryan Watson stood now in his civilian clothing, his handlebar mustache more prominent than ever against his pale skin, his hands on his hips.
“I for one don’t want ‘em around, but it ain’t any of our call. What’s done is done, and all we can do is continue to be good citizens and uphold the way of life we have here in Hamby.”
Mrs. Arnold spoke next, “Plus, he’s building that ten-million-dollar mansion up the road with plans to stick around, and there isn’t a damn thing any of us can do about it,” she said scowling.
Aunt Mae rolled her eyes. Bryan started walking out of the meeting now, his leather shoes creaking in his wake. With that, everyone began to shuffle and slowly disperse, making their way out of the room. Joshua didn’t bother adjourning the meeting—it was over. Mission failed. Aunt Mae smiled as Joshua stomped out of the library and out into the cold, much like the temperature of his heart.
KIM PACEDHER smallliving room, occasionally looking out the tattered drapes for Clint. He was supposed to be there an hour ago and had stopped answering his cell phone.Where is he,she thought. She sat back down on the dirty, battered couch and rubbed the skin around her ankle bracelet.
The device was really irritating her now, and her nerves were shot, being caged inside like she was. A small burst of knocks on the front door snapped her head towards it, and she ran overand investigated through the rusty peephole. Peering through it, she could see Clint in his hoodie, looking around nervously. She opened the door, and he pushed himself inside, fast, closing the door behind him.
He can’t be more than nineteen, she thought. His strawberry blonde hair peeked out from under the hoodie, with dark glasses on his face.
“Why didn’t you answer your phone?” she whined.
“I left it at home. What I’m doing isn’t exactly legal, and I don’t want my cell pinging off any towers around here,” he replied.
He flopped down on the couch, dropping his backpack on the coffee table. She wasn’t sure what any of that meant and didn’t care, really. What she cared about was what he brought with him. Kim sat next to him, and her heart raced in anticipation. An old friend of hers had gotten her the money needed to pay for his services since she was tapped out financially.
She was grateful for the helping hand and surprised that not everyone back home had completely turned their back on her. She needed a real hacker, and her old connect didn’t have the skills necessary to pull this off—either that or he was scared.
“Put your leg on the table,” Clint instructed as he dug inside the Jansport bag.
He pulled out an identical ankle bracelet device like the one she was wearing.
“Um, what’s that?” she asked, confused.
“It’s the cloned bracelet,” he hissed.
“What, you mean I have to wear something still? What’s the damned point?”
“The damned point is, you can’t tinker or breathe on these without the cops being alerted. I’m not taking the risk.” He pulled out a small remote that looked like a key fob.
“So, wait…what?”
He sighed, “So, I won’t touch it at all,” he responded.
He held it over her ankle and pressed a button while holding it over the ankle monitor she wore.
“Keep in mind nothing is foolproof, but this comes pretty damned close.”
“How does it work?”
