He grimaced. “That’s worse.”
She rubbed her temple as she stared at her tablet. “They’re reactive instead of predictive. They’ll catch breaches eventually, but not fast enough if someone knows where to poke, and by then, the damage is already done.”
“No one ever wants to spend money on ‘eventually,’” Roman muttered. “It’s too expensive.”
She nodded, knowing no system failed all at once. It failed in inches. “They’re behind in a few of their updates. We need to tell Raymond that.”
She needed to interview every member of Raymond’s team, test their knowledge, and confirm that they knew what to do when something went sideways. A few quick conversations had already revealed uneven training and a casualness to procedures. A dangerous combination.
She looked through the compliance reviews last, cross-checking the director’s practices against industry standards. He met most requirements, but most wasn’t enough, not for her anyway.
When she finally compiled her preliminary findings, she already knew what the final report would say.
Too many assumptions.
Not enough redundancy.
Weak internal oversight.
And a dangerous belief that perimeter security alone could keep the chaos out.
She blew out a slow breath and saved her notes. All it would take was one really determined individual to get past the man at the entrance or in through the back door.
She knew the director would not appreciate what she wrote, but her job wasn’t to make the man comfortable. Her job was to tell him exactly where his defenses would break.
Roman stretched. “You know, some people collect stamps to relax. You collect vulnerabilities.”
She packed away her tablet. “Everyone needs a hobby.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “Remind me never to lie to you.”
She hesitated, then answered with a whisper. “Smart man.”
He studied her for a moment longer than necessary, and she already knew what he was about to say. “You ever notice,” he said, lowering his voice, even though it was just the two of them in that section of the room, “that I’ve worked with you for three years and I know absolutely nothing about your childhood? Today just proved it. Why is that?”
She didn’t look up as she finished packing away her things. “That’s because I was born fully formed in an Oregon server room. It was all very dramatic. Very sci-fi.”
Roman snorted. “Nice try. But seriously. You would think over the years something would have come up, some funny memory of a family trip, your school years and what type of student you were, a story about how you and your sister raised a zombie. Something should have come out, don’t you think?”
She paused, then leaned back in her chair. “What do you want to know?”
He shrugged. “Anything. Where you grew up. I know you have a younger sister, but were you a band kid or a choir brat? Cheerleader? Mathlete? Just anything. It’s just funny you’ve shared nothing over the years.”
She felt the muscles in her jaw tighten just a fraction as she took in a slow breath. She had learned to block out her growing up years for fear of slipping up somewhere. “It wasn’t… exciting. I lived in a small town here in Mississippi, raised by parents who worked too much. Mom stayed lost in her work, and Dad fixed weird shit he found on the side of the road.”
Roman waited, simply staring at her, an expectant look on his face.
She sighed, knowing he would never give this up.
“I liked books and always had one with me.”
“Still do,” he said.”
She nodded, a soft smile creasing her face as she thought of the romance tucked away in her purse. “I hated gym class and considered it torture against future crimes. I was painfully awkward until I wasn’t.”
“Ah,” Roman said with a slow bob of his head. “Your glow-up era.”
“Something like that.”
