Helpless

by Daniel James Palmer

  Jill seemed to disappear into thought, and when she returned, she did so with a worried look on her face. “The evidence is gone. I’m sure of it,” Jill said. “Mitchell wouldn’t leave stuff lying around. It’ll be my word against his.”

  “And being that you’re the daughter of the guy with a motive, your word isn’t going to be all that credible.”

  “Not very credible at all,” Jill agreed.

  “I’ll call Marvin and brace him. Lindsey’s mother should call the police.”

  “What about Mitchell?” Jill protested. “If they keep looking at you, they’re going to miss something that will lead them to Lin. I just know it.”

  “I don’t know anything about computers, Jill. I can work high-tech weapons blindfolded, but I can’t even get on the Internet without your help.”

  “Wait here,” Jill said.

  Tom watched her storm down the hallway and disappear into her bedroom. She emerged holding something white in her hand. Only when she got closer could Tom see that it was a business card.

  Jill handed the card to Tom, then took a step back to wait for a reaction.

  “The FBI?” Tom said. “I know this lady. How do you know her?”

  “She gave a talk at our school about sexting and stuff.”

  “Why’d she give you a card?”

  “Lindsey and I went to see her after. We wanted to find out how somebody could have made it look like Lindsey was the one who wrote those blog posts.”

  “And?”

  Jill gave a quick, nearly imperceptible shrug. “She’s just really smart about this stuff. If there’s anybody who’d know how to recover evidence that Mitchell destroyed, it’s Special Agent Loraine Miles.”

  Chapter 62

  The room smelled of wet earth.

  Lindsey cowered in the corner of a square, windowless space, twelve by twelve, if her measurements were right, with walls made of concrete bricks. She could stand if she wanted; only her wrists were bound. But she preferred to keep huddled in her makeshift nest. The smooth concrete floor slanted toward a drain in her corner of the room. Lindsey sat on top of that drain, imagining it could suck her through its tiny holes and spit her back outside. She could hear the trickle of a fast-moving stream beyond her prison walls, but only from that corner of the room. The darkness around her, enveloping and impenetrable, clung to her body and weighed her down with fear. The only door in, she knew, stayed locked from the outside.

  She’d tried opening it with her feet but ended up scraping her back.

  The cold earth seeped through the thin fabric of her clothes and chilled her skin. To keep warm, Lindsey sat on a nappy gray wool blanket that strangely reeked of fried grease.

  She felt better now than before. She no longer believed her heart would keep beating faster and faster until it burst. She could breathe without hyperventilating. But she couldn’t speak or scream, not with the thick cloth gag in her mouth. Her throat still ached where she’d been choked. Her hips and knees were sore now, too, probably because she’d slept with her body all folded up. Her headache, throbbing and persistent before, had finally subsided some. But she could feel it starting to return. Her stomach rumbled, and the first pang of real hunger forced her onto her side.

  Sounds came from outside the room, or was that her ears playing tricks?

  Lindsey worked herself into a kneeling position, using her lateral muscles to lift herself off the floor. She listened, wondering now if the sound had just been her racing heart. She became disoriented, no longer sure of the location of the door. In the dark, the room became a seamless black void.

  She heard the distinct sound of a padlock’s shackle being released. She shivered and turned her head in that direction, flinching when the latch was lifted.

  A crack of sunlight soon appeared, painting the outline of a door. She stood, though worried her shaky legs would give out beneath her, and took a few steps toward the open door. In her mind this was a rescue. Her father would be standing in the doorway, arms outstretched, feeling about the darkness for his missing daughter. A lump formed in her throat. But the door opened slowly, without any urgency, allowing the rusted hinges to creak and groan. A fresh grip of fear kept Lindsey frozen to her spot on the floor.

  The door opened some more.

  Please be Daddy… please….

  Bright light flooded the room and shone on Lindsey’s face, blinding her completely. She heard the door slam shut and the fast shuffle of footsteps come toward her. Rough hands (a man’s, Lindsey thought) grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her back to the floor. She felt a cloth being wrapped around her head, covering her eyes, secured in place by a tight knot tied by capable hands.

  Something sharp, pointed, pressed against her neck.

  A knife.

  Instinctively, she knew the blindfold was a good sign. It meant her captor didn’t want to be seen. Maybe because he planned to let her live.

  “If you scream, I’ll cut your throat,” said a man. He spoke in a deep voice that would have been threatening even without the knife. She didn’t recognize his voice. The man undid her gag.

  Lindsey sucked down her fear, working it into her stomach like something unpleasant she’d been forced to swallow. She managed to speak despite her quivering lips and fast-fluttering heart. “Please… please just let me go…. I won’t say anything about the pictures…. Please…”

  “Are you hungry?”

  Lindsey’s empty stomach grumbled and churned, as though answering for her. “How long have I been here? Why are you doing this to me?”

  “I brought you some food.”

  “Please, I just want to go home.”

  “Do you have to use the bathroom?”

  “What?”

  “Do you have to use the bathroom?” the man repeated.

  Lindsey realized that she did, the intense pressure building up. It would only get worse, until eventually she’d soil herself. “Yes,” Lindsey said in a shaky voice.

  She heard the man set something down beside her. He grabbed her bound wrists and pulled her down, forcing her fingers to feel around the edges of the object he placed by her feet. Lindsey could tell by touch alone that it was a plastic bucket, the kind she once used to make sand castles at the beach.

  “You can pee in this bucket. I’ll help you.”

  Lindsey’s mind started to race. In a panic, she tried to back away, but the man grabbed hold and pressed the knife harder to her throat.

  “Please. My parents will pay you money. They’ll pay to have me back. Please, mister, I just want to go home.”

  Lindsey sensed something pulling on the front of her denim jeans, a single hand working to free the button from its hole. She shook with fear, hearing every single tooth of her zipper as they pulled apart. She felt the man’s hand exploring the contours of her slender waist. He maneuvered himself behind her. That same hand pulled the fabric down, moving from one side of her waist to the other, until he shimmied her jeans down around her ankles.

  “Don’t worry,” said the man. “I won’t look.”

  Chapter 63

  For the past few hours Rainy and Carter had tried without success to make sense of the disparate hash values of the images Mann had given them. They were examining four of Mann’s pictures. The girl Rainy had officially ID’d was Gretchen Stiller.

  “Same composition,” Rainy said to Carter.

  “Exact same.”

  “So why don’t these images generate the same hash value?”

  “The pixels aren’t the exact same, that’s why.”

  “How so?” Rainy asked.

  “Take a look at the color composition of the images when compared side to side. I’ve arranged them on my monitor screen to run from lightest to darkest.”

  Rainy could see that each image was progressively darker than the previous one.

  “So the colors aren’t the same. What do you know about color depth in computer graphics?” asked Carter.

  “About as m
uch as I know about caring for houseplants,” Rainy said. Her spider plants were almost ready for their last rites.

  “Maybe if you used your home for something more than a glorified storage locker, they might be thriving,” Carter said.

  “Back to the color depth,” Rainy said.

  “The job is never going to end, Rainy. There’s always going to be bad guys out there. We can’t get them all.”

  “As you were saying—”

  “These images are moments in time that’ll last forever. You can’t say the same thing about your life.”

  “The color depth, please, Cart,” Rainy said, more irritated this time.

  “Right. Color depth in computer graphics describes the number of bits used to create the color of a single pixel. The higher the color depth, the greater the range of distinct colors that can be used.”

  “And the connection to these four?”

  “The precision to which color can be represented gets pretty technical. At the pixel level there are slight variations to color that aren’t visible to the naked eye, but that would change the hash values.”

  “Where did Mann get these images?”

  “Four different sources,” Carter said.

  “So each source altered the pixel colors slightly?”

  “It looks that way to me,” Carter said.

  “Why would somebody do that?” Rainy asked.

  “That’s the question we need to answer.”

  Rainy’s cell phone rang. She answered it.

  “It’s the coach,” Rainy said, covering the phone. Rainy felt a little pulse of excitement, which took her by surprise. She couldn’t believe how happy she was to hear from him.

  What is wrong with you, Miles? Rainy scolded herself. He’s good looking and probably innocent, that’s what’s wrong. Bad combination.

  Rainy listened to Tom talk for several minutes without saying a word. “Of course I will,” she eventually said into the phone. She ended the call and turned to Carter. “Lindsey Wells is missing,” she said.

  “Missing? As of when?”

  “Sometime between last night and this morning.”

  “Why is Hawkins calling you?” asked Carter.

  “His daughter, Jill, may have found the sext image collection on Mitchell Boyd’s computer.”

  “What now?” Carter asked.

  “You’re going to try to figure out why people would make slight alterations to the same image composition.”

  “And you?”

  “I’m going to check out a new lead for our James Mann investigation,” Rainy answered him. “And maybe, just maybe, help find a missing girl in the process.”

  Chapter 64

  On the drive to Shilo, Rainy thought about Lindsey Wells. Her mind painted the gruesome image of a dead girl in the woods, and so she tried to think of something, anything else. Then she’d think about Tom Hawkins.

  Rainy parked her sedan on the side of the road. She exited the car and followed a brick walkway to the front door. She rang the bell and waited. Through the sidelight window, Rainy watched Tom Hawkins descend the staircase. He extended his hand to her as he opened the door.

  “Thanks for taking the time to come all the way up here,” Tom said.

  Again Rainy felt that flash of attraction. Was she not seeing the case right? Was that attraction clouding her judgment? She pushed those thoughts aside. She needed to reestablish the divide between the law and the rest. “Are you sure it’s okay for me to come inside?” she asked.

  That’s what I’d say to a suspect, Rainy thought. What was Tom really to her? Suspect? Victim? Or something else? Rainy wanted to trust him. To believe in his innocence. But the girl linked to him had gone missing. Trust was something she wasn’t fully ready to give.

  “Of course,” Tom said. “We’re glad you’re here.”

  “We?”

  “Marvin, my attorney. And Jill.”

  Rainy followed Tom into the home. Jill was waiting for them at the top of the stairs. She waved as soon as she saw Rainy. When Rainy reached the top of the landing, the two shook hands. Rainy glanced into the living room and next down the hallway but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

  “Jill, I’m so sorry we’re meeting again under these circumstances,” Rainy said.

  Jill nodded quickly, several times, which Rainy took to mean “Thanks, but I can’t talk about it yet.”

  Marvin, who was dressed in a tracksuit, shook Rainy’s hand as well. “Sorry about the attire,” Marvin said. “Tom’s got me on a new workout program. Five pounds in two weeks. Not bad.”

  “No. Very impressive,” said Rainy.

  “I really appreciate the tip you gave me about the computer battery,” Marvin said. “It’s going to make a difference.”

  “D.A. isn’t going to drop the charges,” Rainy said. “They told me that several times.”

  “Me as well,” Marvin said. “But the jury is going to see it as a huge hole. Big enough to dump in truckloads of reasonable doubt.”

  “As long as we’re on the same page,” Rainy heard herself say. She sounded cold. Detached. Was she just being protective of herself? Was she afraid of getting close to them—to Tom and Jill? He was going to be tried for the very crimes she’d dedicated her life to preventing. She worried it was a trial they couldn’t win. Unless she could prove otherwise, Tom Hawkins might be going to jail for a very long time.

  “Agent Miles, this case is not what it seems,” Marvin said. “I’m glad you’re here to help.”

  I don’t know what to believe, Rainy thought.

  “Why don’t we sit at the kitchen table,” Tom suggested.

  “Sounds good,” Rainy said. She followed Tom into the spacious, bright kitchen and took a seat at the rectangular table. Her seat faced the windows, and she could see out into the backyard, with its spacious, well-kept lawn. There were no tents or tarps out back that could conceal a hostage or a body. No storage shed, either, at least from what she could see.

  The battery. James Mann. A collection of sexts. Different pixel colors used for the same image composition. A missing girl. Rainy wanted the delineation between guilt and innocence to be as clear as the bright and cloudless Shilo sky.

  “Can I get you something to drink, Agent Miles?” Tom asked.

  “No, thank you,” Rainy said. She would never accept a drink from a suspect, but of course, she wouldn’t tell him that.

  Tom sat across from Rainy, Jill in the seat to her right, and Marvin next to Jill.

  “Are you sure you want to talk to me?” Rainy asked.

  Tom nodded, though he now appeared confused. “Of course we want to talk to you. We invited you here.”

  “Of course,” Rainy said. She knew to overdo the questions, to plug any holes Marvin might use to try to demonstrate entrapment. Marvin and Tom seemed to think Rainy was on their side, but she wasn’t sure whose side she was on.

  “Let’s start with Lindsey,” Rainy continued. “You said on the phone that she’s missing. Have there been any new developments?”

  Tom took hold of Jill’s hand. Jill didn’t pull away. Did she no longer believe Lindsey and her father were having an affair? Rainy wondered if she was partly responsible for that turnaround.

  “Nothing has changed,” Tom said. “Lindsey’s mother has filed a missing persons report. I guess notices have been sent to all the New England and New York police departments. If she doesn’t turn up in twenty-four hours, they’ll organize a search.”

  “Have the police questioned you in connection to Lindsey’s disappearance?” Rainy asked.

  “Not yet,” Marvin answered. “But I’m sure they will.”

  “At this point, people usually tell me they didn’t have anything to do with a disappearance,” Rainy replied.

  “I didn’t think I had to,” Tom replied.

  “Why don’t you tell me how you think this is connected to sexting.”

  It took Jill several minutes to tell Rainy everything she knew.

&
nbsp; “So, Lindsey told you that she sent pictures of herself to Tanner Farnsworth?”

  Jill nodded.

  “You found topless pictures of yourself on Mitchell Boyd’s computer?”

  Again, Jill nodded. “There were other girls on Mitchell’s computer, too,” Jill added. “Some I knew. Some I didn’t.”

  Marvin brought Rainy up to date on Tom’s car accident, careful not to reveal too much privileged information. Tom recounted how he rescued his daughter from Mitchell’s bedroom.

  “I’m worried the police are going to focus on my dad,” Jill said. “What if Mitchell Boyd had something to do with Lindsey’s disappearance?”

  “Well, I can speak with the Shilo PD and make sure they have all this information,” Rainy said.

  “That would be a big help,” said Marvin. “I don’t think anything we have to say will carry much weight with them.”

  “Did you tell the police what you told me?” asked Rainy.

  “No,” Tom said. “But when you talk to them, you can’t mention that I broke into the house. They can’t know.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Roland Boyd could use that to press charges against me. If he starts to feel any heat on Mitchell, he could say that he wasn’t aware I’d broken into his home. It would get my bail revoked. Jill would be left vulnerable.”

  “I see,” Rainy said. “Well, I can tell them Jill’s side of the story. They need to know where to start looking.”

  “I think that’s a good idea,” said Tom.

  Marvin appeared satisfied, but Jill looked worried.

  “Mitchell won’t do anything with your pictures, Jill,” Tom said. “Not with people watching him now.”

  “After I talk to the Shilo PD, I think I’ll take a trip over to Roland Boyd’s house myself,” said Rainy.

  “Why?” Tom asked.

  “I’d like to see just how cooperative Roland Boyd and his son feel like being with me.”

  “That sounds great,” Marvin said. “I’ve got a trip planned for the afternoon myself.”