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Back Critical Alliance
Chapters (53)
  1. Cover
  2. Endorsements
  3. Half Title Page
  4. Books by Elizabeth Goddard
  5. Title Page
  6. Copyright Page
  7. Dedication
  8. ONE
  9. TWO
  10. THREE
  11. FOUR
  12. FIVE
  13. SIX
  14. SEVEN
  15. EIGHT
  16. NINE
  17. TEN
  18. ELEVEN
  19. TWELVE
  20. THIRTEEN
  21. FOURTEEN
  22. FIFTEEN
  23. SIXTEEN
  24. SEVENTEEN
  25. EIGHTEEN
  26. NINETEEN
  27. TWENTY
  28. TWENTY-ONE
  29. TWENTY-TWO
  30. TWENTY-THREE
  31. TWENTY-FOUR
  32. TWENTY-FIVE
  33. TWENTY-SIX
  34. TWENTY-SEVEN
  35. TWENTY-EIGHT
  36. TWENTY-NINE
  37. THIRTY
  38. THIRTY-ONE
  39. THIRTY-TWO
  40. THIRTY-THREE
  41. THIRTY-FOUR
  42. THIRTY-FIVE
  43. THIRTY-SIX
  44. THIRTY-SEVEN
  45. THIRTY-EIGHT
  46. THIRTY-NINE
  47. Author’s Note
  48. Acknowledgments
  49. Another Thrilling Story from the Author
  50. ONE
  51. About the Author
  52. Back Ads
  53. Back Cover

Though I mentioned Shannon McNear earlier, I’m sending a special dispensation her way. I can’t thank you enough for sharing your brilliant cybersecurity sister, Jessica Boyer, with me. Jessica—you must be the busiest woman on the planet. Thank you for taking the time to explain to this complete novice how the world of cybersecurity and hacking works. I couldn’t have written this book accurately without your help! Obviously, all mistakes are mine alone.

I owe my deepest gratitude to my agent, Steve Laube, and my editor, Rachel McRae, who have believed in my stories! Much appreciation goes to my Revell team: Amy Ballor, Michele Misiak, Karen Steele, and the art design team.

Thank you all for making my dreams come true!

Another Thrilling Story from the Author

ONE

A family tree can wither if nobody tends its roots.

—Unknown

MONDAY, 8:31 P.M., PRESENT DAY
ANDERSON CONSULTING OFFICES
SEATTLE, WASHINGTON

While death was no stranger to her, a courteous knock on the door to give warning this time would have been appreciated.

Willow Anderson had been blindsided. Hadn’t seen it coming. Everyone faced death sooner or later. Reading obituaries and looking at tombstones were a part of her job, after all. Her life. So why had it come as such a surprise? Either way—warning or no warning—she had to face what had been left behind. There was no point in putting things off.

She stood at the edge of a cluttered desk and stared blurry-eyed at the stack of mail piled high. A fluorescent light in the corner of the office that had been converted from a warehouse flickered and buzzed, then dimmed, leaving her with less-than-adequate lighting. But she wouldn’t be deterred and riffled through the envelopes in a daze, dropping each one on JT’s desk as she went. Electricity. Water. Something from the appraisal district? Oh, look, JT won a free Caribbean cruise. Junk mail. More bills.

The next one looked like a check. She ripped it open. Sure enough, a check had been made out to Anderson Consulting for services rendered. Willow hung her head. Wait. Not Anderson Consulting. In her grief-stricken state, she’d read that wrong. The check had been made out to James T. Anderson, her grandfather.

Everyone had called him JT. Anguish gripped her. Had he really been gone two weeks? He’d been the lifeblood of this forensic genealogy business. How could she keep it going without him?

She let the remaining envelopes fall back to the desk, where they fanned out.