He opened the archives.
“What day was he approached?” Jamie asked.
“I don’t know. But I’ll go back to a week or so before the ChemEx break-in.” He found the security video of their building for that week and fast-forwarded to times Travis was in the office. He carefully observed everyone who came and went during that time.
They normally didn’t see clients at their office, so there weren’t that many visitors. He fast-forwarded to each person who’d arrived, but he knew and could account for all of them.
Jamie sat down next to him and started typing.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m writing your statement, just as you told me. You can revise it and reword it when I’m done.”
He viewed the video of the next few days, stopping at each arriving visitor. Finally, in the video from a week before the theft, he found someone he didn’t know. It was a man who was possibly in his early twenties, looked about six feet tall, and had dark hair under a baseball cap and brown glasses. Dustin checked the video feed from the parking lot camera and saw that the man drove a white unmarked van. He walked with a slight limp.
“This guy.”
Jamie stopped typing and looked at his screen.
“I don’t know him, and it’s around the right time.”
He backed up the video and played it again as Jamie watched. Dustin found the best angle of the man and snapped a picture of the video with his phone since that was the quickest way to capture the image as a still.
“Were you in the office then?”
“No, I was at a job.” He fast-forwarded as the man and Travis talked. “They talked for thirty minutes.”
“He has a white van,” she said. “Could be the same one that pulled up behind your car at the hospital when they put the boxes in your trunk. Try to see the tag.”
He tried to zoom in on the tag, but the man backed all the way out of the parking lot without turning around, and Dustin couldn’t get it.
“Okay, so what time was that whole visit?”
He read it out to her, and she wrote it down. “Okay, see if he comes back.”
Dustin fast-forwarded through each day’s video after that. “Here he is, days later.”
Jamie leaned in to see. “What’s he carrying?”
“A bag.”
“What could he have brought to Travis?”
“Cash,” Dustin said. “Either that, or he wired the money to Travis.”
They never saw what was in the bag, but this time he was there for over an hour.
“Where were you that day?”
Dustin checked the calendar on his phone. “I was at a meeting for contractors bidding on a new project. Travis knew I’d be there most of the afternoon.”
“The theft at ChemEx was just a couple days later.”
“His face is more visible. No hat.”
“Get some screenshots.”
Dustin did, but also snapped pictures of the screen with his phone.
“Do you know how to do a reverse image search?”
“You bet I do.” Dustin’s adrenaline was pumping now, chasing away the fatigue. As Jamie poured their coffee, he did the reverse image search and uploaded one of the pictures of the man’s face.
Jamie brought him the coffee and sat down next to him as the computer buffered.
A list of website articles loaded, all containing pictures of the same man. “That’s him.”
“Who is he?”
He clicked on one of them. “Samuel Bates, from Gainesville, Georgia.”
“Screenshot him and send it to me. I’m putting him in the statement.” She went back to typing furiously as Dustin took the screenshots and phone snapshots. He wished they had a printer here.
“See what you can find out about this guy.”
He googled Samuel Bates. There were a couple of obituaries of his parents and one of a little sister over the last few years. “He has two brothers—Jack Bates and Anthony Bates.”
He googled them, but didn’t find anything more than those obituaries.
Jamie’s phone chimed, and she answered it quickly. “Hey, Louis.”
Dustin could hear the DA’s voice, but he couldn’t hear what he was saying.
He went back to the obituaries of the Bateses’ parents. They had both died the same year. In the final paragraph of both obits, the family had written, “The family blames Cell Three Therapeutics’s toxic waste, which caused three hundred cases of cancer in the Raven community, including fifty-seven children.”
He touched Jamie’s arm. She kept talking to Louis, but she glanced at the screen. Dustin pointed to the reference to Cell Three. It was Ed Loran’s company. Jamie’s eyes flashed.
“Okay, we’ll be there. See you soon.” She hung up and read the Bateses’ statement. “You did it. You found the motive.”
His heart pounded as he searched for Samuel Bates’s address. When he found it, he snapped that on his phone, too. Jamie went back to her computer. “We have to be there at three thirty. That’s almost an hour and a half. I have to get Avery up. But I’m going to finish this first.”
He gave her Bates’s address and went to the bedroom to change clothes as she typed, putting all the information they knew into his written statement.
48
It was eight in the morning by the time Detective Borden and his partner seemed to be winding down with Dustin and Jamie. Exhaustion was setting in deep in Dustin’s bones, but he couldn’t let himself get lethargic now.
“It’s time to drop the charges against my client, Detectives,” Jamie was saying. “He’s given you all the information he has, and it’s clear he had no part in these crimes.”
“Can’t do it,” Borden said.
“Why not? You don’t have a case against him.”
“We have his word on these things, and that’s all. We haven’t confirmed any of it.”
“We confirmed it. We practically took you to the door of the man who committed the theft and the bombing. How can you still think Dustin was involved? And Travis Grey . . . You have the evidence at the storage unit. The security video of Bates coming to talk to him. He wasn’t talking to Dustin! You have the video of that same van in the hospital parking lot, and the transfer of boxes into Dustin’s car. You can’t ignore these things!”
“We’re working on all of this as we speak. I have people checking out these claims right now. But the charges still stand.”
Jamie was about to lose it, but Dustin watched her pull herself back in. “Are you at least going to talk to Travis today? Confirm any of this with him? Check the storage unit? Dustin gave you the key.”
“We can’t give you a play-by-play of our investigation, Ms. Powell.”
“I don’t have to tell you how serious this is. The Bates brothers could strike again. You can’t assume that Loran was their only target. Judging by the volume of explosives stolen from ChemEx, they still have material left over. They could do this again.”
“We’re well aware.”
When they finally let them go, Dustin followed Jamie out to her SUV. “So . . . do you think they believe anything at all that we told them?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you think they’re going to take Travis in today?”
She sighed. “I think so. But we have no control over this. Where is your storage unit?”
He told her the name and address. “We can’t go over there.”
“We’re not going in. I just want to know if they’re there.”
He was quiet as Jamie drove through town. When the storage unit sign came into view, Jamie slowed.
“Thank God. They’re here.”
Dustin sat straighter as he took in the sight of the police cars and the crime scene tape around the building. “They listened.”
She nodded. “Travis may be arrested today after all. We might be all right.”
Dustin tried to relax, but the thought that the cops may have swarmed the hospi
tal, too, made his stomach churn.
49
The night had stretched too long for Taylor as she lay awake, scenarios of her coming face-to-face with Dustin Webb playing out like waking dreams in her mind. Before dawn, she got up and made coffee, careful not to wake her sister.
Desiree’s funeral was today, and Taylor still didn’t know what she was going to say. Why had she agreed to this? She got her laptop and tried typing a few sentences to open with. But her heart wasn’t in it.
They would all be staring at her, thinking that she had saved herself. They would all be judging her, hating her. Anything she said would sound inauthentic . . . just words that meant nothing.
She scratched her arm over the bandage she had put on it last night. Now her leg was bloody where it had been itching. And there were other places on her body where a rash was forming. It was as if the guilt festering in her body was pushing its way out. The very idea of her standing in front of Desiree’s parents when she could have saved their daughter made her sick.
She forced herself to type some more. There were stories about Desiree she could tell, anecdotes about funny things she’d done, kindnesses she’d bestowed on others, things she cared about.
But it was still all meaningless.
“You’re up early.”
She looked up at Harper. “Yeah. I had to work on my thoughts for the funeral.”
“Good. I was wondering when you’d get around to that.” Harper poured herself a cup of coffee. “Did you find anything to wear?”
“No. I’ll have to make do with something I have.” Taylor thought of when she and Desiree had gone to Gulf Shores together for a sorority dance. Desiree had found their blind dates on a dating app, but the two guys who showed up were close to their parents’ ages, despite the photos on the app.
“Here, take your medicine.”
Taylor took the pill and washed it down, then kept typing. They had denied being Taylor and Desiree and had managed to ditch the men.
No, that story wasn’t right. It was stupid. People would be sitting there, wondering how she could tell a funny story when she’d let her friends die.
She finally gave up on the speech and forced herself to shower. By the time she got out, her ears were ringing, and her head was beginning to hurt. She took some Tylenol and got dressed. She didn’t have a black skirt, and her raw, rashy leg showed beneath all of her other skirts. She opted for black slacks and a white blouse, with a short, waist-length blazer. She looked like she was going to a marketing conference for work, instead of a funeral to bury her best friend. But she had nothing better to wear.
That ringing in her ears was still there when she met Harper in the living room. It was probably just nerves. Her pulse was racing, and she imagined her blood pressure had shot up. It would all be over soon. She just had to get through it.
“Are you sweating?” Harper asked her as they got their things to go.
“Yeah. It’s hot.”
“I’m not hot. Are you okay?”
She shrugged. “Freaking out a little. I’ll be okay.”
“You know you don’t have to do this.”
“I owe them this. It’s the very least I can do.”
Taylor was quiet as Harper drove her to the church. When they went in, several of Taylor’s friends grabbed her and hugged her tearfully. She slipped away from each of them, not willing to accept the comfort they offered or share in their pain.
Harper sat with her near the front of the crowd, in the seat the family had reserved for her. The visitation went on at the front, before the funeral started, and she watched with dull eyes as Desiree’s parents greeted the visitors next to the closed casket. Behind them, the people in the pews talked quietly, and there was some laughter a few rows back.
“How can people laugh at a funeral?” Taylor muttered.
“I don’t know. Deep depression is a hard place to stay for a long period of time. People need a break in it.”
“No, they just don’t get it,” she said. “They don’t understand what happened.”
Harper looked at her. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Stop asking me that,” Taylor said. “No, I’m not okay. I’m not going to be.”
“I can tell her parents that you’d rather not do this.”
“I’m doing it,” she said again. The ringing in her ears got louder, as if someone had turned up the volume, and she wanted to get up and run out of here, and leave her sister and all these laughing people behind her. Surely there was something more important she could be doing. Something that actually helped.
The family took their seats when the music began, and Taylor felt dizzy as the funeral started. She was so hot that her body felt muggy and damp under her clothes. She wanted to take her jacket off, but she needed to keep it on.
The preacher stepped to the podium and started to speak, but the ringing in Taylor’s ears muffled his words. Her turn would come after he was finished, and after Desiree’s little sister read a passage from the Bible.
Panic pounded through her, and she wiped the sweat on her forehead. Her bangs were wet. She glanced behind her and tried to gauge how fast she could get to the door. It would create drama if she got up and ran out. She didn’t want to do that.
An itch started on her ribs, and she scratched through her clothes. From the corner of her eye, she noticed someone across the aisle watching her.
They hate me. They were all watching her, waiting to see if she would snap. Why had she come here?
“You’re up,” Harper whispered. “Go.”
Taylor looked up at the podium. She had completely missed Desiree’s sister reading the verses. She forced herself to her feet. The ringing blared in her ears.
She went up the steps to the church stage and stood behind the podium. She didn’t look out into the crowd. She couldn’t.
“I’ve known Desiree since our freshman year of college. We were pledging the same sorority . . .”
Sorority? Really? She didn’t want to talk about their sorority. Tears filled her eyes. Her mind raced for the right thing to say.
“We had dates one time to a dance in Gulf Shores . . .” No, that was wrong, too. She ventured a look at Desiree’s family on the front row. Her mother had tears on her face, and she looked hopefully up at her, as if she expected comfort.
“I left her.” The words were out of her mouth before she could pull them back. “Both of them. I was with them when it happened, and . . . the reason they probably kept the casket closed is that they couldn’t find—” Desiree’s father stiffened and looked at the pastor, seated on the stage behind Taylor. She cleared her throat. “I didn’t even see her. I didn’t look back. It was just smoke and screaming and . . . I didn’t go back for them. I didn’t even think about them.”
Suddenly, Harper was next to her, and the preacher was on the other side, and they were walking her off the stage. She wanted to finish, but what would she say? It was mortifying. Harper got her back to her seat, but Taylor pulled away from her and kept walking, faster and faster, until she was running from the building. She got to her car and pulled away before anyone could come after her.
She had ruined the funeral. She probably wouldn’t even be invited to Mara’s. How could she have been so unprepared? How could she have said those things?
She had to make it up to them.
She drove until she was far enough from the church, until she was on the same side of town as Dustin Webb’s business. She would park in front and wait to see if she could spot him. It was the only way she could make it right.
50
Dustin lay on the bed next to Dude for a while after Jamie left to go back to her office, but sleep wouldn’t come. Visions of Travis being arrested and taken from his dying wife played over and over in his mind. There was nothing he could do to prevent it.
Were they searching the GreyWebb office yet? Had they confiscated their computers? Restless and wanting to know how seriously the police had taken
his interview, he drove to his office. Thankfully, there were no media here, and the parking lot was empty.
He parked in front of the door, but before getting out, he saw the new locks that had been drilled into the door. So the police had been here and had locked him out.
He sat there for a minute, trying to decide what to do. Had they also gotten warrants for the Bates brothers? Were they searching their houses, too? Maybe this meant the Bateses’ scheme was beginning to crumble.
From down the street, Taylor saw Dustin pulling into the office parking lot. Her heart hammered at this opportunity. She thought of driving over there right now, going into that building, and ending this, once and for all.
But she hesitated, and hated herself for it. She was a coward. She was selfish. She was self-centered. She had saved herself and left her friends behind. Now she couldn’t even do this.
But if the police were watching him, and they likely were, they would see her entering the building. They would learn that she had a gun, and they would conclude that she intended to kill him. She would be arrested immediately. How would that solve anything?
She sat there waiting for the combat to resolve in her brain, knowing that her friends’ murderer was just yards away.
Dustin flipped through the notes and pictures on his phone and found Samuel Bates’s address in Gainesville. He could drive up there, since he had nothing else to do today. He could see if the police had acted on his tip, and if they hadn’t, maybe he could find more information to give them.
His fatigue did nothing to slow his racing thoughts as he drove north to Gainesville.
He had to see who this man was, figure out where he worked, who his friends were, who might have been involved in this thing he was being accused of.
The hour-long drive did nothing to calm him. Instead, with each mile he drove, he felt his chest tightening more, and anxiety over what was happening to his friend rising. He needed to pray for Travis, for Crystal, for the police . . . He pulled into a Walmart parking lot and rested his head against the steering wheel. “Lord, everything going on today is horrendous. Layers of devastation. Crystal is already fighting the battle of her life, and now this.”
Aftermath Page 18