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Daemon spent five hours making sure that her equipment was fully scrubbed of any data and then buried five feet under the Oklahoma sod. Then she bleached the apartment.
At sunrise, she drove south from her place close by Tinker Air Force Base in a nondescript Ford F-150 pickup. It was old enough that it couldn’t be hacked.
She left the Tesla Model S in the garage just in case she came back this way someday. The truck she could dump and would never care.
It was registered to a bloodsucking televangelist named Steph Right—properly named herself that because she’d stepped right into the money. SR’s credit cards had also paid for Daemon’s Tesla, which was not registered in Steph’s name, as well as several other toys. If Steph stole from her followers in the name of God, Daemon had no pr
