“Penny for your thoughts?” Victor smiles at me from his perch on the wall.
“I think with inflation that might be a bit cheap.”
“Nah, whatever’s going on in that mind of yours… not worth much.” He smiles, seemingly the earlier confrontation forgotten.
“Feeling better?”
I can see his face fall into an unreadable expression. I know he’s upset about the situation and you always lash out at the one you love most. Trust me, I wrote a book on that one. He pushes off the wall and saunters over to me.
“I sort of am.”
“Drinking?”
“Overdosing of sorts.”
“On what?”
He holds up his hand with a rather large chocolate bar. Most men would go for drugs, liquor, spending sprees but not Victor. He runs for the candy bars. No wonder he and I get along. One of the worst fights we ever had was over a Whatchamacallit. He wanted it. I got it. Never underestimate a woman with her desire for chocolate.
“I remember a time when you would buy some rather expensive items when you needed to deal with the stress.”
“Ah yes, well chocolate is cheaper and since the soon to be ex-wife is trying to bleed me dry… this is all I could afford.”
“Anything I can do?”
“Not hold my little outburst against me?”
“It’s forgotten.”
“So what brings you down to the depths of my own personal hell?”
I stare blankly at him. I want to answer the obvious, but truthfully why the hell would I be here if not to discuss the victim. His eyes search mine for a few seconds, before the synaptic responses in his brain start to connect the dots.
“Oh, Walter Miller, right. Yes, no organ man.”
“Whoever did this, did us a favor. Less man hours needed to convict him. Less tax dollars at work.”
“Well, that is point one. He did have sexual intercourse with Kaley Johnson. No protection was used.”
“Can you tell how long ago? She write in her diary she had paid him for helping her deal with her family issue.”
“Then it had to be more than once. The evidence was dried and located on his underwear and his genitals.”
“What about the obvious missing organs?”
“Before we go there, he had a wound on the back of his head. Leads me to believe blunt force trauma is the cause of death.”
“Considering the condition of the body, one would assume blood loss.”
“If he wasn’t already dead, yes that would most likely be the reason. There is something a bit more disturbing. There’s evidence in the esophagus that Mr. Miller was kept alive.”
“Why?”
“I think that would be obvious. He was to be harvested. I found some bone removed and replaced by cheap PVC pipe.”
“Let me get this straight, someone killed him, kept him alive just to take his bones and organs.”
“Yes, the black market has many buyers for this kind of thing.”
“Okay, so what kind of person would be buying?”
“Someone who is on the transplant list, someone who is ineligible, parents desperate for their children, any number of people really.”
“Ineligible people?”
“Alcoholics, drugs addicts, those who are too sick or not sick enough. There’s a lot of paperwork, politics and money involved.”
“So, people will turn to another source, even if the risks are high.”
“Usually those who are used or harvested are type O blood. The universal donor. Mr. Miller was type A.”
“You lost me.”
“There are several cases of organ harvesting where the individual is stalked, hunted down for their body parts. In most cases, the victim’s medical history is hacked before the abduction. If they are type O, they are missing within a matter of days. Then you promote you have the organs, sell each off at a prime price. Then you dispose of what you can’t sell. All of the organs go quickly when they’re from the universal donor.”
“But he’s type A?”
“Which means the recipient needs to be type A or AB. If not the organ would fail.”
“Leaving the person right back where they started.”
“With a much lighter bank account balance, if they weren’t killed by the rejection first.”
“Traceable?”
“Checking with local hospitals for transplant surgeries would help, but I don’t know if it would help you. These hospitals get a good amount of money for the services. You think they would jeopardize all that with a bad reputation?”
“In other words, unless we get lucky, we have nothing. I’ll have the captain put the word out to the local hospitals. Maybe something will break.”
Victor takes a big bite out of his chocolate bar. I shake my head as he moans in pleasure of the offending candy. I miss bad food. Damn diets, ignoring carbohydrates, cookies, basically anything that tastes good. Frankie and her healthy dinners.
“Stop staring at my chocolate. You are more than capable of buying your own.”
“You have any more?”
“No, did you not hear me about the divorce, ex trying to take me for everything? I can barely afford these two immensely pleasurable treats. So, go upstairs. Talk to the captain and get the hell away from my chocolate.”
His hand waves in my face, but my eyes can only focus on the chocolate. Like a dog staring at a bone, I force myself to back away. Man how I miss chocolate. It’s one of those things that you don’t necessarily think about or want until you see someone else eating it. The power of suggestion is just as bad as being on a diet. Either way it sucks for me.
Chapter Six
Ever have those moments when you are the butt of a very cruel karmic joke? Where you are walking and slip on nothing? Or you think you’re at the top of the stairs but you’re not. So that last giant step makes you look like a fool. I must be having one of those moments because I keep pushing on this damn door and it’s not budging.
“Need some help?” Logan says as I jump away from the door.
“It must be locked or something.”
He smiles as he pulls the door open with ease. He holds it as I enter the domain of uncertainty. Where everything I touch could be a bomb. Okay, maybe not a bomb, but I could delete and entire case file with a flick of my finger across the wrong monitor. It could happen. Trust me. Logan waves his hand and I assume that means I am supposed to follow him to his office. Looking at the other minions as they stare at screens and click away, I realize my karmic smack down had gone unnoticed.
Following Logan into his office, he closes the door behind me and looks rather intense.
“I assume you’re here for the laptop we found at Mr. Miller’s house?” He places his hands on the computer in question, sitting on his desk.
“Just curious if you found anything?”
“We found a lot of interesting information.”
Sitting down in the same chair I had gotten comfortable in during my last visit, I rub my eyes and take a few breaths.
“You okay detective?”
“No, just preparing myself for the migraine the information you are about to drop on me causes.” He laughs at my comment. I wonder if he knows I’m serious. This much information for a computer illiterate individual is like trying to explain an atom bomb explosion to a newborn. The bomb goes off, but they do nothing but drool. I’m the newborn.
“It won’t be that bad, I promise you. I’ll try to…”
“Talk to me like a five year old?”
“Explain it better,” he clarifies. I prefer my self-deprecating humor.
“Okay, hit me.” Bold choice of words considering the situation.
“The computer had encrypted files all over the place. It took some time but our team broke the code.” He clicks a few buttons on the laptop and turns it to face me. A live feed of the girls’ locker rooms, bathrooms and hallways.
“He rigged the whole house with cameras. We figured that out whe
n we found his stash in the basement.”
“Yes, but what you are looking at is live video streaming. He has cameras in the hallway to ensure if he saw he was caught or in trouble, he could plan his escape route depending on where they were.”
“Okay, sick fuck had video cameras, watched women and young girls and made sure he could see where people were in case he needed to run. Got it.”
“He also had access to this remotely.”
“He could watch this anywhere?”
“Yes, there was a specific mobile access code embedded.”
“Can a high school principal design and code something like this?”
“After looking over the profile and his past history, I don’t think he knew how to do that. The thing is, the coding for this type of program is very innocuous on its own. You have to use it in a criminal way. So, legally speaking, the coding company did nothing wrong.”
“That doesn’t mean they didn’t know what it was being used for.”
“No, but it means they are protected under the law. It’s like gun laws. The manufacturer makes the guns, but you have to load and shoot it.”
“Do we have a company?”
“Bridge the Gap, LLC. Owned and operated by Harry Brandt.”
I nod at Logan. This is where my detective work takes over and he gets to sit and watch me work. Unless this Harry guy talks all techno-babble. Then I’ll be right back here begging Logan for techie to Jasmine dictionary. I get up from the chair and stretch my joints. Something about preparing for the worst that actually brings out the worst in your bones. Or I am old. I prefer it to be the former.
“Before you leave, we found that program Kaley had on her computer on Mr. Miller’s as well. He saved his password so we accessed his account. He had been in touch with D.B.M.”
“Acronyms, the new nuisance of the digital world.”
“Actually, they have been used for many years…”
“I get it. I was being a sarcastic bitch. It’s what I do when I don’t get something.”
“Oh, sorry. Mr. Miller hired this individual to kill Mrs. Johnson and her son quietly. He was to torture and kill the father before bringing Kaley to Mr. Miller.”
“Okay, so we had that idea already from the evidence. What makes this different?”
“According to the correspondence, Mr. Miller was supposed to help Kaley get away from the family. He was not supposed to keep her. He broke the contract. Payment or not, that is a huge no no.”
“Wait, if Miller wanted Kaley, why kill the son?”
“According to this, the boy was too young and not sellable.”
“Kaley would never have agreed to that.”
“If she was drugged, she had no concept of what she was doing.”
“What would happen if you broke this kind of contract?”
“These kinds of people take their contracts very seriously. Imagine the mob when you don’t pay. The worst part is, you will never see them coming.”
“They’re everyday people hiding behind computer screens.”
“Exactly. Not everyone is a nerd playing World of Warcraft.”
“Thanks Logan.”
I head to the door and take another look over at Hadley’s movie poster.
“Hadley’s at the convention center today. She should be signing autographs from 4 to about 6 tonight. You should stop by.”
“Thanks, maybe I will.”
Leaving the room, I swear I hear the heads all swoosh back to their computer screens. They might be inhuman with their abilities, but curiosity can kill the cat. Staring the crowd down, I shake my head and laugh at myself. I am afraid of kids behind some flat piece of metal and plastic. What is the world coming to when these kids have my entire life at their fingertips? Why is I feel like I’ve discussed this before? Probably because I have. One way or another I have decided whole heartedly, Chase is never getting a phone or a computer. He can use a typewriter… if I can find one.
***
I pull up to the front of the obscene building in the middle of the city and park in the loading zone. I look over at the security guard as he begins to waddle over to me. I love these rent-a-cops. They act like they have all the power in the world, but compared to my badge they have nothing. In this case, my phallic symbol is bigger than his. I laugh to myself as the guard knocks on the hood of my truck. Okay, you can tap on the glass, wait for me to get out… but touch my family, my car or my game room stuff-it’s that step too far. I crack my neck, prepare for confrontation and hop out of the car like a boxer for a fight.
“You can’t park here.”
“Maybe not, but I have the park anywhere in the city pass. So, I am.”
I flash my badge and try to pass the man, but he holds his hand up. I can see he wants to push me back, show his manly dominance, but he’s holding back.
“I’m here on office police business. You want to tell my captain that you denied me access to information on the murder and rape of a young girl? I would appreciate it if you let me go inside. Otherwise, you will force me to look for parking and waste precious time.”
“Or you could follow the law you swore to uphold and move your car.”
“Sir, I’m sorry for my partner here. We just want to go in and talk to a few people. We won’t be long, so it shouldn’t be that much of an issue.”
I look at Will and if my eyes could burn him they would. He gently handles the security guard while I stew. I dislike when someone comes in and tries to save the day. Well, usually. When it saves my life, by all means try your best to intervene.
“Not too long.”
Will grabs my elbow and pulls me toward the high-rise’s doors.
“And keep her away from me!”
The doors open automatically and I pull against Will hard. I have a short fuse. Like really short when it comes to stupidity, especially people who think they are real officers of the law or know the law better than I do. No matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to break Will’s grasp. Before I know what’s hitting me, I’m pulled in an elevator and Will’s hitting the button to move the tin can up.
“Let it go.”
“Why the hell do people think because they have a toy store badge they’re a real cop?”
“You were parking illegally.”
“I have the city pass.”
“Doesn’t mean you should abuse it.”
“Investigating a crime is not an abuse. You saw how bad parking was.”
“Well, yes, but you could have used the pass two blocks down, like I did.”
“That was so far away though.” I pout.
The door opens and walking out I notice the full wall of windows. It’s a stunning view of the city, or your death as you fall. You can feel the building sway as it creaks away. I hate being up this high. Looking around the area, my eyes land on several vertical cracks along the wall.
“Blame the latest hurricane.” The receptionist looks at me. The block on the counter says Kiernan Jones. Interesting name for a girl.
“Fixing it soon I hope?”
“That was three years ago. Nothing gets fixed if it costs money.” She stands up and walks towards the main doors. Pulling them open she waves someone over. I reach into my pocket, but Kiernan stops me with her perfectly manicured nails.
“We know who you are detectives. We’ve been made aware of the situation. Mr. Brandt thought you would be here sooner, but better late than never.”
“Thank you Kiernan,” I mutter as I walk past her.
She nods, walks back to her desk and sits down. Her attention no longer on me but on her cell phone social media profile. I bet you she has enough information online to give away her identity and have a stalker. What you don’t know, won’t hurt you-I guess. Until you’re on Victor’s table. Then it did.
The intern struggles against the weight of a heavy glass door. Holding it open for Will and myself to walk in, he fights to close the door silently. His thin arms struggling to hold it. Beads of sweat
form on his forehead as he ensures the closure is complete. Looking up to me, his eyes widen and he rushes away.
“Detective Everts, Detective Steele, how can I help you today?”
Harry Brandt stands to his full height of holy crap and taller than the six foot Marine next to me. I’d say he was six feet three or five inches. Not to be outdone, his muscles stretch his shirt to the ripping point. He’s not wrestler huge, but you can see every cut. His perfectly trimmed beard, manicured nails and styled hair screams to me a man who needs to be in control. He waves his uncalloused hands to the chairs in front of his desk.
“Please, have a seat.”
Will shakes Harry’s hand and then sits down calmly. I’m too busy walking around looking at the frames with various pictures in it.
“We’re just here regarding some information about a program developed here. It was used in accessing the Dark Web. Those two individuals were found dead later on.”
“That’s terrible, but what does this have to do with me and my company?”
“We were hoping there was a listing of purchases, clients who have used it? Maybe you were hacked and the program was stolen?”
“We develop many programs here, I truthfully can’t say for sure until I know what we’re looking for.”
Will reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small flash drive, handing it to Harry. The larger man plugs it into his laptop and I can hear the drive booting up. The view is more stunning in his office. I wonder if the glass is body proof. I’m sure it would take a couple of hits, but eventually even epoxy has to give. Then it’s a one way trip to hell. People who hurt children deserve to be there.
“This is something we developed a long time ago.”
“Does it have a name?” I ask. This way I can call it something other than ‘the program’. That sounds too much like an eighties movie title.
“The wonders of an open source program is that it can be anything you want it to be. All it takes is download and a dream.” He smirks at me and I see Will’s shoulders tense. Even he’s getting the sleazy vibe off this guy. I’m sure this type of guy has been around forever from mobsters to modern day hackers. Narcissism doesn’t die just as technology changes. My phone beeps. Unlocking it, I read a text from Logan and my blood pressure begins to rise.
Melting Steele Page 9