Cold Case

by Susan Sleeman

  Encouraged by Bee bringing up the subject, Eryn pulled out both sketches and turned them to face Bee. She bent over the sketches for a long while.

  She looked up, and pushed up her glasses, her expression wary. “Are you the law?”

  “No,” Eryn said, though technically Trey was, but this had nothing to do with his job.

  “Bill collectors.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  Bee settled her free hand on her hip. “You both have honest faces, but I have to ask if you mean her any harm.”

  “Harm?” Eryn shook her head. “No, definitely not.”

  Bee shifted to look at Trey.

  “Me neither.”

  She gave a curt nod. “In that case, I know her.”

  “You do?” Eryn couldn’t contain her enthusiasm.

  “Well, I don’t really know her, but I know her name.” Bee frowned. “Unfortunately, I know her because she gets her prescriptions filled here, so that means I can’t break confidentiality and share her name or address.”

  Eryn’s enthusiasm evaporated. “There must be some way you can help us find her.”

  “I suppose I could give general directions to her house. Then you could knock on a few doors until you find the right place.”

  Eryn grabbed her notepad and pen. “Okay, go ahead.”

  Bee rested the pot on the counter. “Before I do, I want to make sure my name won’t be mentioned.”

  “We’re glad to leave you out of it,” Trey said.

  She provided directions that would take them out of town and into a remote area. “Now I don’t recommend you go out there in the dark. You might find a shotgun or two in your face.”

  “Do you know if she might be involved with an animal rights group?” Eryn asked.

  Bee shifted and looked up at the ceiling. “I don’t really know. She’s a sweet lady with a kind and generous heart, so I could see her championing animals who are abused.”

  Eryn took a business card and slid it over to Bee. “If you think of anything else that might help, would you please call me?”

  “Doubt that will happen, but I hear a lot of gossip in here so anything’s possible.” Bee scooped up the card.

  Eryn nodded. “Thank you for your help.”

  “Be careful,” Bee said. “People around here like their privacy.”

  She turned and walked away, and Eryn swiveled her stool to face Trey. “You willing to risk going out there tonight?”

  He shook his head. “Are you?”

  “No. Too bad we couldn’t have gotten an earlier start today.” She wouldn’t let that ruin her good mood over the lead. “But we can check into the motel, and then I can keep reviewing the code.”

  “About the motel.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m not going to leave you alone in a room.” His tone was soft, but his intense gaze was locked on hers.

  “But I can’t stay with you.”

  “Then if they don’t have a room with an adjoining door, we’ll have to check out other hotels.” He sat up straight, his neck stiff, his expression unyielding.

  She nodded but didn’t like the fact that his room would be attached to hers. Sure, at the suite they were in the same general area, but his room had been on one side, hers on the other. Not that she thought he would try anything, nor would she. It was just that with him being so close, she would think about him more, and that wasn’t good on any level.

  He took money from his wallet and grabbed the check. Before she could protest, he was up and on his way to the register. A young woman at the end of the counter followed his progress, admiration and interest burning in her eyes.

  Eryn had to wonder if she was looking at him the same way, so she snapped her gaze back to the counter and gathered her things together. They were soon pulling into the quaint motel with a cactus theme that was a bit corny. But Eryn’s room was clean and remodeled like Bee had said. It held a queen-sized bed, small dining table with two chairs, and a plush chair in the corner.

  Trey went to clear the bathroom. She knew there couldn’t be anyone lying in wait for her, but she appreciated his thoroughness.

  He turned the lock on the adjoining door. “I’ll head to my room and open my side.”

  She nodded and set her computer bag on the dining table. “I’m going to get started on the code again, so if you want to watch TV in your room or something, feel free.”

  “I’d rather be in here with you.”

  “But why?”

  “Because being with you beats being alone.”

  “But I’ll have my nose in my computer.”

  “That’s okay,” he said and went out the door.

  She didn’t get him. He wanted to be with her. Was totally into her, and yet, he was giving her space. Well, except for the kiss. Something she was going to make sure they didn’t repeat.

  His room door opened and closed, then the adjoining lock clicked open, and he stepped into the room. She didn’t look up and continued booting up her computer, but she heard him settle in the plush chair. She brought up the files and glanced at him. His gaze was locked on her.

  “You’re not going to watch me all night, are you?” she asked.

  “I wouldn’t mind it, but I won’t.” He held up his phone. “I have email to check and a few calls to make.”

  “Wouldn’t you rather have privacy for those calls?”

  “I will.”

  “What?”

  “By the time I finish my email, you’ll be so lost in your work you won’t hear a word I say.” He grinned at her.

  She wanted to be mad at him but couldn’t resist the crooked grin and smiled back. “You’re infuriating, you know that?”

  “Yeah. You look really mad.” His grin widened.

  “Grr,” she muttered. “We need to go back to you not saying whatever pops into your head.”

  “Oh, but I like this so much more.”

  “I wish I could say the same thing,” she said, but she had to admit she enjoyed the good-natured bantering with him. She wouldn’t let it distract her, though. She turned her attention back to her computer.

  “Exactly what are you looking for there?” he asked. “In layman’s terms.”

  “Without any physical evidence to find our attacker, I’m trying to find any digital attribution.”

  “Attribution?”

  “Sophisticated actors can cover their digital tracks, but looking closely at files or data left behind as part of the incursion can help me attribute the hack to someone. One of the most common ways to do that is look for comments in the software code, as programmers often leave notes in the code. Notes to others or for future developers.”

  She paused and took a long breath before continuing. “I can also look at metadata, to see if the text has been translated from one language to another. Plus, code customization can reveal clues, such as programming style or even choice of programming language, and if I combine that with other things I find, it can suggest the responsible party.”

  “I don’t get it. How does that point you to a particular hacker?”

  She sat back. “So think of this like you would a police investigation. When a detective doesn’t have a strong lead, they often compare a crime to past crimes in the area or with the same MO. It’s the same with a hack. I can compare what I find in this hack to previous ones and maybe it will reveal links that add pieces to my puzzle.”

  “But how do you know about other attacks?”

  “Hackers usually work alone. Sometimes in small groups. Always in secret. But ethical hackers are different. They partner together all across the world. When a clue is found in an investigation, hackers share that information.”

  “Where?”

  “You can find it publicly on blogs or in scholarly papers. And over the years, I’ve developed a wide list of trusted investigators. I’ve solved many investigations at the FBI by comparing the leads I find with other information.”

  “You’re amazing, you know
that?” He sat without moving, his focus attentive. “I can’t imagine how long it took you learn all of this stuff.”

  “When you love your work, it’s not difficult to become proficient. You know that from being a Beret. Maybe your current job.”

  His expression turned pensive.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure I love my job. I mean, I like it and enjoy going to work every day. And I most definitely don’t like desk duty, but love it?” He shook his head. “Not like I loved being a Beret.”

  She suddenly realized she had no idea why he left the army. “Why did you leave?”

  “I wanted to settle down and have a family. Being a Beret doesn’t lend itself to being the kind of family man I want to be.”

  “That’s quite a sacrifice to make.”

  He shrugged. “From what you’ve said, you’d give up your job for a family, too.”

  “Yeah, I guess I would,” she said, turning around, but she couldn’t think about that now. She had her work cut out for her in this investigation and that was where her focus needed to be tonight. Only there.

  20

  After breakfast at a local diner, Trey pulled into the first driveway on the road where Bee said they’d find the woman’s house. It had taken them fifteen minutes to reach this location, and he hoped for a little conversation along the way, but when he met with Eryn first thing that morning, she said she was on to something in the electronic files, and she continued to work on her computer even through breakfast.

  “Oh my gosh.” She sat back and gaped at the screen.

  “Did you find something?”

  “Yes. The hacker is Russian.”

  “How can you tell that?”

  She looked at him, fire burning in her eyes. “The metadata contains text converted from the Cyrillic characters of the Russian alphabet to the Latin characters of English.”

  He pulled up to the house and parked. “So you’re looking for someone in Russia?”

  “Not necessarily. Just someone whose native language is Russian, and he feels more comfortable using it.”

  “Petrov,” Trey said as he shifted into gear. “He’s American-born, but of Russian descent.”

  “Right. And he fits my attacker’s build. We’ll need to look into him more. Maybe stop in Portland on the way back to Cold Harbor to talk to him again.” She closed her computer. “But now we have a woman to find.”

  They exited the vehicle and stepped toward the single-story adobe home built in a common desert style. Trey scanned the area but didn’t see anything that raised red flags. They approached the door, and a dog started barking from inside. Eryn knocked loudly, and they both stepped to the side out of habit to protect themselves.

  A young woman, maybe thirty, with wavy blond hair and a friendly face answered the door. She was holding a Rottweiler back by the collar. “Don’t mind Rascal here. He’s a real sweetie and is likely to lick you to death before biting you.”

  Eryn introduced herself and held out her hand.

  The woman took it. “Lacey Kramer.”

  “Nice to meet you, Lacey.” Eryn smiled and Trey could see she was putting Lacey at ease. “We’re working on an investigation and are looking for this woman.” Eryn held out one of the sketches. “We were told she lives on this road.”

  “That’s Veronika ‘spelled with a K,’ as she says.” Lacey frowned. “Did something bad happen to her?”

  “Why would you think that?” Trey asked.

  “She went out of town but was supposed to be back yesterday. I’m watching her pets. Three dogs and three cats. She hasn’t come home and isn’t answering her cell.” Lacey patted Rascal’s head, and he settled to the floor. She released his leash.

  Trey had to admit he wasn’t comfortable with the dog looking up at him, but this woman must know her dog and it was safe to release him. “Does Veronika live alone or did her family travel with her?”

  “Lives alone.” Lacey’s eyes narrowed. “Did something happen to her?”

  Trey didn’t want to tell this woman that Veronika had been murdered. Not until they had a positive identification with her driver’s license. “We’re not at liberty to discuss the details of our investigation right now.”

  “What’s Veronika’s last name?” Eryn asked, quickly jumping in, likely to defect a follow-up question from Lacey.

  “You know, I don’t know.” Lacey shook her head. “I didn’t realize that until right now. She moved in about six months ago, and we’ve only talked a few times.”

  “But you’re sure she’s the woman in my sketch?” Eryn asked.

  “Positive. I mean the one without the bangs.”

  “Is she Russian?” Trey asked, as using a “k” in a name was common in Russian spelling.

  “Not that I know of.”

  “How about part of an animal rights group?” Eryn asked.

  Lacey shrugged. “She loves animals but that’s all I can tell you.”

  “Did she ever mention a kit fox?”

  Lacey cocked an eyebrow. “Did she have something to do with that stolen fox?”

  “We have reason to believe she’s fond of foxes.”

  “If she is, she never mentioned them to me. But like I said—I haven’t known her all that long.”

  Trey tipped his head at the street. “Which house is hers?”

  Lacey frowned. “I should probably have asked what you want with Veronika before giving you all of this information.”

  “I wish we could explain,” Eryn said sincerely. “But know we mean her no harm.”

  Lacey nodded, but her frown lingered. “It’s the last house on the right before the intersection.”

  “Thank you.” Trey smiled at her.

  They departed, and Lacey stood—hand over her eyes to block the sun—watching them. Trey didn’t want her to overhear anything he might say, so he held off speaking until they were settled in the Jeep. “I hated not telling her about Veronika.”

  “Me, too.” Eryn sighed. “But we owe it to Veronika to look for her next of kin first.”

  “So what’s your plan now? We can’t very well break into her house and look for more information.”

  “No, but we can take a peek in the mailbox to get her last name then call Blake so he can move forward in the investigation.”

  “But you’re not going to drop it, are you?” He eyed her.

  “Are you kidding? No way.”

  “I didn’t think so.” Trey didn’t like the answer, but he expected it.

  He started the Jeep and took them down the road to the old farm-style house with peeling white paint. He pulled onto the shoulder short of the rusty blue mailbox.

  “She didn’t buy the nicest of places, did she?” Eryn asked.

  He shook his head. “I assume you want to be the one to look at the mail.”

  She nodded and stepped out. She opened the mailbox and laid out five pieces of mail on the hood of the car. Phone in hand, she snapped a picture of the envelopes and put them back before sliding into the vehicle.

  “Well?” he asked.

  “Abram. Veronika Abram.”

  “Is that Russian?”

  Eryn shrugged and settled her computer on her lap. “I’ll check it and any connection to Petrov while you get us back to the helo.”

  He made a U-turn and drove straight to the airfield. She didn’t look up until he pulled up near the aircraft.

  She closed her computer. “I found a Veronika Abram in an animal rights forum. Looks like she’s an activist as suspected, but I don’t see any group affiliation.”

  “So maybe she does this on her own.” He turned the key, stilling the engine, and the absolute quiet of the country settled around them.

  “Could be,” Eryn said. “The posts I see aren’t related to wild animals like the kit fox, but abused dogs.”

  He removed the keys. “Still, if she loved animals she could’ve read about the fox and decided to do something about it. Or she could be
part of an underground group that you haven’t located yet.”

  “True. I don’t have access to all the tools I need since leaving law enforcement. Hopefully, Blake will be able to find information that will help.”

  Trey tucked the keys under the mat. “Did you check social media?”

  She nodded. “First thing I looked at. Nothing.”

  “What about the name Abram? Is it Russian?”

  “Not according to my research, but there are Russian surnames like Abramov, so it could’ve been shortened over the years, I suppose.”

  “I really think we need to talk to Petrov,” Trey said. “So I hope you’re planning to stop in Portland.”

  “Absolutely.” A grin lit up her face. “We not only need to interview him, but it’s also time to call him out on lying to us.”

  Eryn had been to the Portland Police Bureau’s downtown precinct many times when she worked at the Portland FBI office, but she was always impressed with the modern and clean lobby. Not that it compared to the new FBI building opened about six years ago, but it was still nice for a police department.

  Detective Petrov met them in the lobby and escorted them up to the detective’s division. Eryn spotted Detective Rudd sitting at her desk, but she didn’t want Petrov to know that they’d talked, so she didn’t acknowledge Rudd. He led them into a conference room. Based on the podium and posters on the wall, she suspected this was their roll call room where they disseminated needed information to patrol officers before their shifts.

  Eryn wanted to see Petrov’s face when she questioned him, so she took a seat across from him. Trey sat next to her. They’d decided on the drive over that since Petrov was a detective and would be difficult to interview, she would handle the questioning and Trey would sit back and observe.

  Today, Petrov wore a long-sleeved white dress shirt with black slacks, and his gun was stowed in a shoulder holster. He sat forward and planted his hands on the table. “What can I do for you?”

  Eryn sat up straight, ready for anything he might throw at her. “As I said on the phone, we have a few follow up questions from the resort.”