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software consulting. That ended abruptly after two years, She moved back east to Hudson, Ohio to open a software consulting business, serving mid-sized companies in the Cleveland area. She also did programming for several Ohio State departments, edited two technical journals and even occasionally taught undergraduate classes at Ohio University in Zanesville. She had everything going for her. Her plate was full, but her life was about to take a perilous twist.
    * * *
    Mark left the building and set off for his office. The feeling of dread reappeared.
What on earth is the problem? I have a very lucrative assignment with a client that could be a major revenue producer in the future.
What could possibly go wrong?

CHAPTER 3
    Mark returned to his office around two. He occupied two thousand square feet at the Copperthwaite Square office complex on Main Street in downtown Centerville, Ohio. His office was at the end of a long hall adjacent to the emergency exit. “MARK MATTHEWS” was in gold letters on the smoked glass. He had deliberately left “Private Investigator” off the glass to deter any unwanted visitors. Anyone visiting Mark there was already well screened. His office was divided into two sections separated by a six-paneled door. The first section acted as a reception area and an office for his part-time secretary, Brenda. It uses about a third of the total space and holds a secretarial desk and chair, as well as three waiting chairs. His area was tastefully decorated by Office Depot, including an oversized desk, a high-backed executive chair and two side chairs. Part of the back wall has a large floor to ceiling window. On the left wall hangs a copy of his P.I. License, proudly displayed in a thick gold frame. On the opposite wall hangs his Masters in Criminology diploma from Indiana State University, with matching frame. Mark kept his undergraduate diploma from the University of Dayton at his home. He needed something to decorate his basement office. His dad was very proud of it, since he taught at the school, so Mark really kept it at home for him. A wooden credenza behind his desk held a fax machine, a Canon printer, a telephone console with a message machine and a photo of his parents.
    He sat at his desk for a minute to reflect on the stark difference between his office and that of Peter Thurston. Not wanting to get too depressed, he turned to the stack of letters that Brenda had left for his signature, finishing them in five minutes. His desk surface held a Gateway Laptop that Brenda shared for correspondence and billing when he’s away from the office. Mark also had a large desk blotter that belonged to his father, and an “IN” and an “OUT” box. That’s all, nothing fancy. He didn’t spend a lot of time there, preferring to use his home office whenever he was doing serious computer work; mostly for the privacy and more comfortable surroundings. It was also quieter there, so he can think better (over the sounds of a favorite CD). He could have a brew or two if so inclined, which invariably happened.
    Mark didn’t usually spend much time prepping Brenda to set up a client file. Normally it was so routine that he only had to note a few specifics on a pad and leave it for her. She always knew what to do from there. Peter Thurston’s insistence on anonymity and special reporting procedures was already causing Mark to modify the way he did business. He left a message on Brenda’s answering machine to set up Thurston’s records in the computer program when she came in to do the monthly invoicing. He carefully laid out the specifics for her to follow. He checked the answering machine and was glad to find only three messages. They were all from telemarketers. Erasing them was always a pleasure. He was anxious to return home and make a pass at the NRBA system on his home computer. If it was as tough to crack as Thurston had led him to believe, it promised to be an