Take the Fourth

by Jeffrey Walton

  “Greg, Jorja, give me a buzz as soon as you can.”

  She dialed his cell and received a similar response. He was not answering. This was a rarity for Greg, even if he was on the john, that boy answered. She decided to take a crack at it herself

  83683, 123794, 174001, 234318, 304741

  Each number was greater than the last. Each number alternated between odd and even and she was almost sure the next one would be even. She plugged in all the numbers both separately and as a complete string into Google and did a search. She was hoping they were a sequence within pi or the mathematical constant e or something along those lines. No such luck. When she did them separately she found all sorts of hits ranging from gene sequence numbers to Amazon product codes but nothing was consistent across the board. Off the top of her head she did some quick calculations and found the next number increased by a factor of ten thousand each time. The second number was approximately forty thousand more than the first, the third was approximately fifty thousand more than the second, so on and so forth. She did the actual difference between each number and found the exact increase from one number to the next.

  40111, 50207, 60317, 70423

  Nothing stood out except each one of these numbers was five digits long. “Maybe zip codes,” and she went back to the web. 40111, Cloverport, Kentucky, 50207, New Sharon, Indiana, 60317, didn’t exist, and neither did 70423. “That wasn’t it.” She then searched for these numbers within Google and received the same results as before; there was no string tying them together. She looked at the numbers again and noticed each of these numbers was odd and smiled when she remembered Doug’s earlier comment. “Odd, number, odd numbers,” she kept repeating to herself, “odd but how about prime, prime being a number only divisible by 1 and itself.” She remembered one of her college proofs in one of her mathematics class stating 2 can be the only even prime number. She entered 40111 and the word “prime” into her favorite search engine. About the fourth or fifth hit within the page was a reference to 40111 and a list of prime numbers between 2 and 100,000. She opened the list. She searched for 50207. She found it. She searched for 60317. She found it. She searched for 70432. She did not find it. Then she noticed she transposed the numbers and then found 70423 was also on the list and thus a prime number. “Each one of these numbers was prime, coincidence, I think not.” She assumed the next number in the sequence was going to be prime as well, “but just what was the next prime number?” She examined them even more. Each of these prime numbers was roughly ten thousand more than the first, well closer to ten thousand one hundred. If she were to add ten thousand one hundred to the next number she needed a prime number close to 80523. She looked at the list—there were two, 80513 and 80527. 80513 wasn’t closer but without going over like as in bidders row on The Price is Right she thought. Then in her head she heard, “80513 come on down you are the next contestant on the number is right.” She added this number to the last email and came up with the new email address of 385254sc@hotmail.com. “But what if I’m wrong?” Before she did anything with the email address, she deduced that she had a fifty-fifty chance in picking the right prime given the fact adding ten thousand one hundred, give or take, gives the next prime number in the sequence. “Ah, hell, send both, what’s it gonna hurt.” So Jorja now had two email addresses, the other one being 385268sc@htomail.com.

  She came this far, now the only thing left to do was construct the email to the person who murdered her aunt. Her phone rang.

  “Hey Greg, never mind.”

  “What?”

  “I had a little problem on my hands but my math skills solved them.”

  “Do you care to share?”

  “Nah, too long to explain, maybe later.”

  “Alright, call me if you need me”

  She was going to ask him where he was but left it to her imagination, besides if she really wanted to know she had god’s eyes for that. After her brief conversation she noticed her gmail account said, ‘1 new message.” Her heart was pounding in her chest as she saw an incoming message from 304741sc@hotmail.com.

  From: 304741sc@hotmail.com

  To: jreynolds@thebetagroupdc.com

  Subject: great teams have character

  The boys are back at home but still have not scored in front of their fans in their last three outings here. When it comes down to winning, digging in deep along the boards is essential to scoring goals in front of the net. Pucks, sticks, and pads, are all the same it’s the players that determine the outcome of each game. So it really does not matter which location these professional players skate, it comes down to heart. Both the captain and the team’s coach need to communicate both on the ice and on the bench. Remember each and every team can call time only once per game so it is critical to use it wisely. If this game goes into overtime, they cannot call another timeout if they already used one, thus forcing a penalty and be down a man. We had to ask the coach “Please explain why you called time in the first period,” when the game was still tied at one. “Old and young hockey players must play through pain of losing” was his reply, which did not answer the question. There is a specific conduct or strict code to adhere by when you adorn the jersey and following it to the letter will help a team rise to the top a coach must also follow these rules.

  She circled every eighth word and came up with

  still in same location need time cannot explain through code

  .

  So back to work she went and kept her fingers crossed that her bible talk was on par with jreynolds@thebetagroupdc.com. After an hour or so she came up with her email.

  From: reynolds [mailto:jreynolds@thebetagroupdc.com]

  To:

  Subject: feeling alive is a gift

  It is god’s eyes we feel and not inner guilt when wrongful judgments are made. He knows all we need is proper guidance and knowledge in order to appreciate our gift of life. The gift is given to all but his everlasting love will only be embraced by those who follow. Faith is the key, talk to those who love you, talk to those who don’t but forgive those who do not listen. Only then can the one who has given everything will soak in the warmth of his love and feel eternal peace. The road to faith on which you stand may fill with treachery and hate but wither not for the final destination is near and just reward given. Only then can the one who has traveled this road help others along their way. Breathe in new life, tell his people to cherish all they have even if they have nothing. He says never fear me, place faith in his divine truth and there will be nothing to fear. The pure heart is where pure love is found, love for all, love for him, love for love. Drink from the chalice to become one with him, eat from plate to be nourished by him. In time you will meet all the loving souls who you yourself loved along the way and it will be a time that lasts forever and ever.

  It took some time, it was more difficult than she had originally planned but all-in-all she was content as it offered a nice segway from Reynolds’ previous emails. She entered in her two prime generated sequence emails addresses and fired away. Now she would play the waiting game not knowing if she would ever receive a reply. She was pretty sure she nailed the decoding and encoding of the messages but she couldn’t help but think that there might be another hidden message embedded within the emails.

  . . .

  Chapter 63

  He went upstairs to his kitchen that hadn’t seen a coat of paint since its established date. It was a dull yellow thanks to his chimney of a mother. At one time the yellow metal cabinets were state of the art. He opened one of the cabinets and pulled out a plate and opened the drawer and pulled out two butter knives. From the bread box he pulled out a loaf of fresh white and took out two slices. From another cabinet he removed a jar of creamy Jif and the traditional Smuckers grape jelly and proceeded to build the perfect pb and j. He used two knives as to not cross contaminate; the one thing he hated was peanut butter on his toast in the morning. Once even amounts of spreads were in place, he placed the two halves together. He then r
emoved a bread knife from the drawer and removed the crust. He remembered from long ago she did not like the hard part of the bread. He wasn’t happy with his result. He picked it up and simply discarded into the trash bin and pulled out two more slices of bread. It took him a good twenty five minutes, almost all of his jars, and ten slices of bread to construct just the right sandwich, he was out of practice. It had to be perfect for her. Finally, it was perfect. Once the construction was done he licked both butter knives, washed them, and placed them back in their proper place. He returned the bread knife as well. He next grabbed his favorite, a small bag of cheese doodles, opened it, and placed a small amount as an accompaniment to the sandwich.

  With plate in hand he descended the stairs one step at a time. He placed the plate outside the steel door on a cheap plastic patio table. He then went to his watching room, hoping this was the last time he would need it. She was asleep on the bed, with panda bear tucked under her arm. That brought a smile to his face, she loved that bear, she always did. She had the faintest of smiles on her face, and he watched as her chest rose and collapsed with each breath she took. It was rhythmical in his mind. Unknowingly, he matched her breath for breath. They were becoming one again. His mind slowly focused on the feelings, the tingly feelings from deep inside of him. They brought along memories upon memories which flooded his mind. He took the trip they provided. The faintest of smiles appeared as it parted his lips just so.

  He had butterflies in his stomach. Once again he approached the steel door with apprehension. He took a deep breath. He finally had her back in his life, it had been so long. Would she even remember him, he wondered.

  It was time.

  With his free hand he undid each lock as quietly as he could. He took another deep breath when the final lock released itself back into the door. Another deep breath when he turned the handle. He slowly opened the door and took a quick glance before he proceeded any farther. Another deep breath. He walked in and closed the door behind him ever so quietly. She was still asleep. He moved towards the bed ever so slowly. Calculating and planning every step. He had finally made it to his destination. Another deep breath. She was still asleep. She was just as beautiful as he had remembered. He loved her so. He climbed into the bed ever so gently as not to wake her. He didn’t. He was now next to the one he loved. So close, just like he remembered. He was full of delight, joy, and glee. He stroked her pretty blonde hair the way he used to. She loved that. So did he. She did not wake. He kissed her forehead. She did not wake. His life had meaning again. He loved her so. Even more memories surfaced and a sense of euphoria took control of his body. His imagination took control of his mind. He was back in a world of love, unconditional love. He was happy again. She was awake now.

  . . .

  Chapter 64

  Scott was going to have to circumnavigate a potentially very messy situation with Jorja and at the same time offer an olive branch for support. He assured himself that they both wanted the same thing, and that was to find Grace’s killer, he just had to hide the fact he was the one who instantiated the plan that went awry. The sooner he called the sooner he could come clean and look like the good guy.

  “Jorja, it’s Scott Norwood calling, listen I have to be upfront and apologize immediately for my actions this morning.”

  “You mean for defiling my email server.”

  ‘Pun intended I hope?”

  “Not on purpose I assure you.”

  “Again I’m sorry, sorry for not going through the proper channels, I realize I should have gone to you first, but with all that’s been happening I didn’t know how you would react. See, I have some leads regarding your aunt’s death.”

  “What are they?”

  “Not over the phone, hold on a sec,” as she heard him speak to someone who entered the room, “no, that won’t do, what time does he go? Okay then 7:30 is the earliest I can do, take about fifteen minutes. Sorry about that Jorja, as I was saying, I have leads, I don’t think the senator was involved but I have to…”

  “Send them over to me and I’ll take a look.”

  “I do want us to work together on this but I have to verify the authenticity of my findings first.”

  “May I ask, just why are you involved in this in the first place?”

  “Sure you can ask and I’ll tell you, just not over the phone, it will have to be in person.”

  “When?”

  “Today . .wait, . . . how about tonight… I have a jam-packed scheduled until almost eight.”

  “You can’t do it now?’

  ‘No, I’m sure you understand I can’t leave my boss high and dry but later I have some rare free time. Does after eight this evening work for you?”

  “Now works for me but I understand… . where?”

  “Good question… . how about, how about Tosca’s, on F Street?”

  “For dinner?”

  “We can have dinner if you want, I’ll have someone make the res . .”

  “No, no, just . .”

  “Listen it will be late, they have good food, sort of kill two birds with one stone.”

  Jorja thought there are a bunch of insensitive assholes of late, “Fine,” saying in disgust as he didn’t even realize his foot was in his mouth.

  “I’ll have a car pick you up. Do you want it from the office or home?”

  “I can drive.”

  “I don’t want you to go to any trouble, I’ll take care of it, I’ve done enough already so let me make it up to you.”

  “Office then.”

  “If you need anything in the meantime, text, call, email, I’ll see you around eight.”

  “This should be very interesting,” once again saying aloud, “having dinner with one of the elite members of GOD’s inner circle, should be very interesting indeed.”

  Just as Greg was walking in the door, a preview of an email popped up on her screen informing her that she received a reply from 385254sc@hotmail.com. It quickly vanished as Greg took a seat in front of her desk. Her mind was now elsewhere and Greg saw she was a little agitated.

  From: 385254sc@hotmail.com

  To: jreynolds@thebetagroupdc.com

  Subject: never too late

  Saying nay or no or even can’t were terms of failure and winners strive for the complete opposite. The lure of being a dynasty was our ultimate goal not just one or two championships and a nice footnote in the pages of history. The road was long, filled with cracks, bumps, potholes, but the path remained straight and never wavered. Not last, not this time, oh no, it was first, first for a long long time. To shelter the storm of our slow and methodical start we bonded together to repel the negative energy both the press and our fans laid upon us. The next time we truly bonded was our first win in a stretch of what we knew would be many. Next to winning it all, our first win was special to us as a team, it meant we could do anything and everything as a team. The kiss of death many thought was having our leader on every cover of every sports magazine in the country, again we proved them wrong. Second and third, fourth and fifth, we never wanted to be like them, nobody ever remembers those people, those teams, we wanted it all. The ride to the top was more enjoyable to ourselves then partaking in the view from the top, we knew we would be there again and again. All eleven players on the field gave it their all one hundred percent of the time. In tonight’s victory the cream will once again rise to the top and we’ll be forever known as a dynasty of greatness, a dynasty of remembrance, a dynasty of legends.

  Decoding the message was brief.

  . . .

  Chapter 65

  His first obvious thought came long after his initial thoughts, long after he first saw Ripley’s innocent face on the news, long after calling Mrs. Polaski, but shortly after his discovery of his treasure chest, that being of Kyle Kraner’s medical records. His obvious thought was to place Kyle Kraner on the national registry for sex offenders. It was simple to do and he kicked himself for not thinking of it sooner. With that highly visible warning f
lag in place it was onto the next task at hand. He had to carefully place breadcrumbs for all the Hansels and Gretels working the case yet make it difficult for them to follow. Too many crumbs could lead them onto the wrong path, one where a quizzical mind starts to question not the end point but the starting point of his directions.

  Tick… tick… tick… tick… he knew time was of the essence, he also knew Ripley was still alive but he also knew Kyle was home. If he would have stopped to think about it he would have driven himself insane. He didn’t. He continued. Armed with his recently excavated data he proceeded to map out a weave of deception backed by facts, his facts and not necessarily the true facts. He knew what the feds brought to the table; he knew their tools, their methodology, their skill set, he had seen them in action first hand. He saw their queries into their database; he saw them trying to find that impossible needle with improbable cause. He was there to help.

  He had piles of data and just needed a place to put it but first he had to organize it. He had to think like a pedophile which wasn’t easy for him. He did a bit of online research to help with this mindset.

  He knew the feds had a list of supplies that one might need to support this addiction. He circled the ones that were of interest and decided to go shopping on Kyle’s behalf. He grouped the supplies into three categories. The first was lure. What exactly was needed to entice his victims? Items such as candy, toys, and even pets fell into this niche. The next was sustain. What exactly was needed to support the victims over time? Items such as food, clothing, and again, toys made an appearance on this list. His final category was called closure.