“Stop,” Anna told him. “Don’t even go there.”
“It’s just one theory of many, and I have to try them all. Are you sure Owen didn’t give you something? Something to keep for him?”
“I already told you. No.”
“A gift, maybe. Something you’ve forgotten about.”
“How many times do I have to say this, Frank?
He didn’t give me anything. He didn’t share any dark secrets, and I have no idea why he was killed. That’s why I came to you. And that’s why Brody’s here.”
The mention of Brody’s name didn’t make Frank happy. She could see that. While she was grateful that he was reopening Owen’s case, she got the feeling that he was doing it grudgingly. That he wasn’t completely convinced that Owen had been murdered. He was going through the motions because he’d been ordered to.
She had intended to tell him about the disk Brody found in the garment factory, but now she wondered if she should even bother. Frank would only insist that Brody give it to him, and she had a feeling that’s the last they’d hear of it. That it would go into a plastic bag and be stuck in a box somewhere, never to be seen again.
Before dinner last night, Brody had called an electronics guy he knew who had offered to see if he could help them figure out if the disk had any significance.
Would Frank do the same if it were in his pos session?
Somehow she doubted it.
So basically what he was offering her was lip service and nothing more. Something he had always excelled at.
“Tell me what happened tonight,” he said. “Start from the beginning.”
She thought about it then told him, skipping over Brody’s visit to her bed and picking up the story again at the point where Brody woke her up and told her to get Adam and her mother into the closet.
“Did he explain what was going on?”
“He just said someone was here. In the house.”
“And how did he know this?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t say. I guess he heard a sound and reacted.”
“Did you hear it, too?”
She shook her head. “I was fast asleep.”
“So then you don’t actually know if someone was in the house. You just took his word for it.”
Anna looked at him, puzzled. She didn’t like this line of questioning. “What are you getting at, Frank?”
He ignored her. “Where were you when the shots were fired?”
“Upstairs, in my closet, along with Mom and Adam.”
“So nobody actually saw these so-called intruders fire at Brody.”
“So-called?”
She just stared at him, not quite believing her ears. Was he serious about this? Did he think Brody had staged the whole thing?
Frank sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Look, Anna, I know you care about this guy, but I don’t like what’s shaping up here.”
“Quit being cryptic, Frank. Get to the point.”
“All right,” he said. “When Joe and I had our little chat with Brody at the mall, Brody showed me a note he said he got from Owen.”
“Right,” Anna said. “So?”
“So if Owen managed somehow to locate Brody out in the middle of nowhere, who’s to say they weren’t in contact earlier?”
“Owen would have told me.”
“Maybe, maybe not.” Frank got to his feet and crossed to the stove. Grabbing the kettle, he went to the sink and filled it with water.
Although he was quite familiar with this kitchen, Anna thought he was being a bit presumptuous just helping himself like that.
He put the kettle on the burner and lit it. “What if I’m right? What if they were in contact earlier? What if Brody knows more than he’s letting on? Maybe Owen told him all about this button thing and he came here looking for it himself.”
Anna was speechless. Even if she’d known how to react to this ridiculous notion, she wouldn’t dignify it with a response.
Frank seemed to sense her frame of mind. He pulled the chair out again and sat.
“Just think about it,” he said. “Brody shows up in town all of a sudden, just happens to be in the right place at the right time when you’re attacked. So then he insinuates himself into your life, tries to get close to you again, because he’s thinking the same thing those guys in the van were thinking. That you know where the button is.”
“You’re really stretching it, Frank. I know you don’t like Brody, but do you even hear what you’re saying?”
Frank shrugged. “He knows how to play you, babe. He always did. He gets you all gooey-eyed, you’ll do just about anything for him.”
Anna shook her head in disgust. “You’re jealous. You always were.”
He leaned toward her. “This doesn’t have anything to do with me. I’m looking at this thing purely as a cop, and I don’t like what I see. I thought the guy was clean back when the big storm came down, but may be I was wrong. Maybe he was dirty then and he’s dirty—”
Anna swung out, slapping Frank across the face.
Frank recoiled, bringing a hand to his cheek, anger filling his eyes.
“You just assaulted a sheriff’s deputy,” he said, barely able to control his fury.
No one else in the house seemed to notice what she’d done. Anna glanced at Brody, but he’d left the dining table and was talking to his deputy friend, Brett.
“I just slapped my idiot ex-husband who seems to think he’s king of the world,” she said. “And if you try even one more time to tell me that Brody had some thing to do with Owen’s murder, it’ll be a lot more than a slap.”
“He’s really got you snowed, doesn’t he? What did he do? Tell you he loves you? That he’s always loved you?” Frank shook his head. “He’s just trying to get close to you again, so you’ll give him what he wants.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Frank was about to bark a response when he paused, looking into Anna’s eyes, seeing something there.
She had no idea what.
Then he said, “You slept with him, didn’t you?”
Surprised by the question, Anna averted her gaze, felt her head prickle. She knew she was blushing. As wonderful as it was to be in Brody’s arms again, she didn’t quite know how she felt about it. Hadn’t had time to evaluate and reflect.
The one thing she did know, however, was that Brody had nothing to do with these attacks, or with Owen’s murder. That made about as much sense as the suicide.
“Well?” Frank asked. “You did, didn’t you? You slept with him.”
“That’s none of your business,” she said tersely then got to her feet. “You’re way off base here, Frank, and I think you know that, but you’re just trying to get a rise out of me. Your little bit of revenge for not wanting to get back with you.”
“I just want to get to the truth.”
“You want the truth?” Anna said. “I think it’s you who’s trying to take advantage of this situation. Which is nothing new. You came to me after Brody left, when I was vulnerable and needed someone, and you took advantage of that situation to fulfill some fantasy you’d had since high school.”
“Now wait just a minute…”
“The truth is, Frank, you were a terrible husband, a terrible father to Adam, and as hard as I tried, I just never loved you.” She could feel her legs trembling and her chest felt constricted. “If you think that’s going to change now, you’re crazy. So why don’t you do us all a huge favor and just leave me alone.”
She left him there and headed for the doorway, hearing the sharp, high whistle of the tea kettle behind her.
Chapter Thirteen
The guy’s name was Coffey.
Brody had met him in a criminology class at Cedarwood Community College, back when he was studying up for the detective’s exam that would finally put him in the homicide division—the job Brody had been aiming for ever since he joined the department.
This was just a few mon
ths before Brody’s entire career took a nosedive, and he hadn’t really known Coffey all that well, but they’d bonded pretty fast and had even caught a few cold ones together after class.
When the accusations about bribes had started flying, Coffey had called Brody up and offered him his support. Said if Brody ever needed someone to vouch for him, he’d be all too happy to do it.
“You’re a stand-up, guy,” he’d said over the phone. “And the only way I can figure this is that somebody set you up. So watch your back, amigo.”
Coffey wasn’t a sheriff’s deputy, but he was a true genius when it came to anything involving transistors and wired or wireless components. He’d spent time working for the Cedarwood district attorney’s office in their electronic surveillance department.
Brody didn’t know what Coffey was up to these days, but when he’d tried the old cell number, his friend answered and seemed genuinely pleased to hear from him after all these years.
“Hey, hey, amigo. There’s a voice I never thought I’d hear again.”
“I don’t think you’re alone on that count. How you been, man?”
“Life is good, ever since I quit doing government work. I came into some money, so I opened up a chain of electronics stores that pretty much run themselves.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“Yeah, I can’t complain. You in town long? Want to catch a beer or two?”
Brody cleared his throat. “Actually,” he said, “I’m hoping you can help me with something. Your area of expertise.”
“Oh? What’s up?”
Brody told him about the RFID tag he’d found in the garment factory and asked if Coffey would be willing to take a look at it.
Coffey didn’t hesitate. “For you? No problem.”
“Thanks, man.”
They made arrangements to meet the next afternoon at Coffey’s place, and when Brody and Anna got there—feeling a little worn out after their ordeal with the thugs and the investigation that followed—they found a place that looked very much like a cleaner, neater version of the garment factory workshop.
A row of shelves and a long workbench dominated one side of the room, parts and equipment crowding most of the real estate. Coffey sat on a rollaway stool, hovering over a swing-arm magnifying lamp, staring intently at the minuscule speck of an electronic chip he’d caught between a pair of tweezers.
“I think it’s blown,” he said to Brody as they stepped inside the room. “Things are too darn fragile.”
He stood up then and went to Brody, pulling him into a bear hug. “Good to see you, amigo. You’re bigger than I remember. You been working out?”
Brody smiled. “I guess you could say that.”
He introduced Anna and as they shook hands, Anna said, “I think we may’ve met briefly at a party a couple years ago. You were still working for the D.A., then.”
Coffey studied her, then he grinned and nodded as the memory came back to him. “That’s right. You’re Frank Matson’s wife.”
“That was then, this is now,” she said, and Coffey gave them a look that said he understood.
He gestured to Brody. “So where’s this RFID tag you want to show me?”
Brody pulled the disk out of his pocket and handed it to him. Coffey held it up, giving it the once-over.
“Looks generic,” he said. “Where’d you find it?”
“Place that looks a lot like this one, only in a much rougher neighborhood and with hacked electricity. I’m pretty sure he was working off the grid.”
“You find any more?”
“No, but there was a drawer marked ‘tags’, and I have a feeling it once held a bunch of them.”
Coffey nodded. “They’re blanks. Ten to one this guy was making clones.”
“Clones?” Anna asked. “Clones of what?”
“Radio-controlled security tags.”
Anna frowned. “Brody mentioned that before. Security for what?”
Coffey went to his workbench and started rifling through the clutter.
“You ever have a job where the only way to get inside was through an electronically controlled door? There’s no key, but there’s a small box on the wall that you wave a card in front of?” He found what he was looking for and held it up. It was a blank credit card. No identifying marks. “One of these,” he said.
Anna nodded. “I have one in my purse. I use it to get into the mall after hours.”
Coffey held up the disk now. “This is essentially the same thing. A radio frequency identity tag—or but ton as it’s called in the biz. They’re usually inserted inside key chains, so that all you have to do is wave your keys in front of the lock to gain entry.”
“It’s not just limited to key chains,” Brody said.
“Wristwatches, cell phones, compacts, you name it.”
“So I assume it has some kind of special code in it?” Anna asked.
“Right,” Coffey said. “They’re coded with a unique ID that not only corresponds with the lock but stores the identity of the user and records the date and time of his or her entry.” He held up the disk again. “Now, since you say this came out of a drawer that was probably full of these things, I’m guessing it’s blank. But since you say this guy in the lab was working off the grid, I’ve got a feeling he was making clones, which is a very lucrative business.”
“So he was making clones of existing ID cards?” Coffey nodded. “He’d have to spoof the ID itself, but it can be done. And if one of these things falls into the wrong hands, you’ve got the potential for some major larceny. Whatever lock it corresponds to has just been rendered useless.”
Brody gestured to the disk. “Can you check that thing, see if there’s anything on it?”
“I can try.”
He moved to his bench, played around for a moment with some of the gear there then waved the button under it and shook his head. “Like I said—blank.”
So it obviously wasn’t the button they were looking for. Brody had hoped they’d get lucky, but he hadn’t really been counting on it.
“If I wanted one of these clones made, how much would it cost me?”
Coffey frowned at him. “Sorry, amigo. You got the wrong guy. I’m not interested in going to prison.”
“Relax, man, it’s a hypothetical.”
Coffey thought about it a moment, then said, “I guess if you want a sure thing—somebody who really knows what he’s doing—you’d probably have to pay a few grand to get one.”
Brody considered the withdrawal Owen had made shortly before visiting the garment factory. Five thousand dollars.
Had he been buying a clone?
And if so, why?
What lock was he trying to circumvent and how did Santa Claus and the other thugs figure into the equation?
Brody knew the clone must exist, otherwise people wouldn’t be getting killed over it.
So where was it?
Somewhere in Anna’s house?
In Owen’s apartment?
Finding something so small in either place could be tough, if not impossible.
Unless you had assistance.
Brody thought back to the two thugs he’d tangled with that morning. Before he’d approached the one heading for the stairs, he’d noticed that the guy was carrying something that, at the time, he’d thought might be a weapon.
But what if it wasn’t a weapon at all?
“If one of these tags was lost somewhere in my house,” he said to Coffey, “is there a device I could use to home in on it? Make the search a little easier?”
“Sure,” Coffey said. He crossed to a metal cabinet and opened the doors, revealing even more electronic gear stashed on its shelves. He rifled around for a moment and came back with a gray, rectangular device that was slightly larger than your average cell phone.
“This is a modified RFID reader,” Coffey told them. “It’s set to pick up any transmitter frequency within a three-foot range.”
“How does it work?” Anna asked.
“You get close enough to your target and you’ll know it.” He flipped a switch on the side of the unit and extended his arm, moving toward the credit card tag on his workbench. As he got close, the device emitted a steady, high-pitched beep.
“Nice,” Brody said. “You think we could borrow that?”
Coffey tossed the unit to Brody and it stopped beeping. “Be my guest, amigo. Just make sure you turn it off when you’re not using it. I don’t know how long the battery will last.” Then he grinned. “Oh, and don’t get me in trouble.”
Brody flicked the unit off and dropped it into his coat pocket.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said.
Chapter Fourteen
When they got to Owen’s place, they discovered that Frank hadn’t been lying about reopening the case. The crime scene unit was parked out front, and several deputies were going in and out of the building.
“Bad timing,” Brody told Anna. “They’ll never let us into that apartment.”
“So what do we do now?”
“Wait them out.” He shifted his gaze to the sky. It was gray with clouds and threatening to burst. “It looks like a storm is coming, and I sure don’t feel like waiting out here. I could use something hot to drink.”
“We could go to the mall. Trudy’s covering for me, but it wouldn’t hurt to check in.”
“Right before Christmas Eve? No thanks. I’ve had enough chaos for one day.”
“Then where?”
Brody thought about it a moment. “How about Marlene’s? Are they still in business?”
Anna’s heart stuttered.
In the old days, Marlene’s Diner had been one of their favorite haunts. They’d had their first date there, when, after months of endless flirting, Brody had finally mustered up the courage to ask her out.
The food at Marlene’s was only passable and the Cokes were watered down, but none of this had registered that first awkward night, when all Anna could do was stare across the table at Brody while trying hard to pretend she wasn’t madly in love with him. Admitting something like that was far too risky for a girl her age, especially when she wasn’t sure how Brody had felt.
She knew by the end of the night.
Body Armor Page 9