Dark Justice

by Brandilyn Collins

A half-hour later I turned west onto Highway 152.

  Once again I warred with myself. To call my daughter or not? If I didn’t, she’d worry. Plus I had no doubt she’d end up at the Eddington’s house anyway. As long as we were both headed there, we should coordinate our efforts.

  Talking on a cell phone while driving was illegal in California. I checked for police once more, then picked up Aunt Margie’s phone and keyed in the number. Emily answered immediately. “Mom! You okay?”

  “We’re fine. In the car.”

  “I was worried. It took you a long time to call back.”

  “I had to get Mom up. And I wanted to get off 99. Not as many cars now.”

  “How far away from San Carlos are you?”

  “Maybe two and a half hours. How about you?”

  “About three. You get the address?”

  I told her the address already branded into my mind. “You know where the street is?”

  “Yeah. Don’t do anything until I get there.”

  “Okay.”

  “What are you planning?” Emily asked.

  “I have no idea.”

  “Well, do you think you’re just going to ring the doorbell?”

  “Maybe, who knows?”

  “Mom, what if cops are there?”

  “Emily, I don’t know. Besides, I doubt if they are. If anything, family has gathered.” Family who would be ultra protective of Ashley Eddington and just as suspicious of me. “We won’t know how to do this until we get there.”

  “Kinda like flying blind.”

  Yeah. Kinda like that.

  My eyes flicked again to the rearview mirror. One car behind us in the distance. “Look, I better go. I’ll call you when we arrive.”

  “Okay. Love you.”

  “Love you too.” I ended the call and set down the phone.

  For the next two and a half hours I drove. Part of the time I was numb. Then my brain would fly around in circles, no place to land. Other times I fought to keep my eyes open. And still others I begged God to help me. Help our nation. And keep Mom and Emily safe. Because of me they’d been dragged into this. Whatever it took, I had to protect them both.

  And, please, Lord, help me trust in You like Mom does. Like I should.

  Mom slept the entire trip. No having to stop for bathroom breaks. In the silence, questions crowded my mind. What condition would Mom be in when we reached San Carlos? Rested and willing to do what I told her—or volatile?

  And what about Aunt Margie? Had the police been to her home by now? Twice I started to call, then stopped myself. What if they were there when the phone rang? What if they saw the ID with my aunt’s own name? They’d know I had her cell phone.

  What about that man I shot? Could he possibly be alive in some hospital? I’d seen nothing on the news about him. If he was dead, was a wife mourning for him? Maybe children. How could I ever face them, tell them how sorry I was? It wasn’t their fault, what their loved one had done.

  We drew closer to San Carlos. With every mile I felt more like a refugee. I’d be in my town but couldn’t go to my home. Couldn’t show my face to friends or coworkers. To anyone.

  What would it be like tonight if the electricity went out—and stayed that way? Then more blackouts in the next two days—until the whole country was hit? How would we live?

  For the first time, I took a serious look at that dismal scenario. How to make a cup of coffee? Fry an egg? Think of the cold, especially in Washington, D.C. People would die from no heat. No computers, televisions, ovens, microwaves. So many jobs could not be done without electricity. What about the transportation systems? Food and other goods would fail to reach their destinations. With higher unemployment, lack of food and heat, even law-abiding citizens in the blacked-out areas could rise up in anger. What kind of lawlessness would ensue?

  What would I do in such a world? How would I take care of my mother? I’d still be sought by police.

  I turned onto I-280. And before long I passed the Woodside and Farmhill exits. The Edgewood exit—mine—was next. What to do when I reached it?

  With a final glance around for police, I picked up the phone to call Emily.

  Chapter 43

  While Stone was on his cell phone, a beep sounded in his ear. He checked the ID and cut the first call to switch over. It was the fourth call in two hours from his man in Fresno. “Yeah, Mack.”

  “She’s almost to San Carlos.”

  Stone planted a fist on his hip. What was she doing there? She couldn’t be going home. Nothing but danger for her in the area. Unless some friend had offered to shelter her.

  Or maybe she was on to something.

  Stone ran through the options in his mind. He wanted Hannah Shire before the police got to her. Police would just make things more complicated. But he also wanted to know where she was headed.

  “All right. Stick with her. If she stops somewhere, call me.”

  He smacked off the line and called Tex. “You set to go?”

  “Anytime.”

  “Good. Got a job for you.”

  Chapter 44

  SPECIAL HOUSE SELECT COMMITTEE INVESTIGATION INTO FREENOW TERRORIST ACTIVITY OF FEBRUARY 25, 2013

  SEPTEMBER 16, 2013

  TRANSCRIPT

  Representative ELKIN MORSE (Chairman, Homeland Security Committee): When you failed to find the flash drive anywhere in the substation, what did you think had happened to it?

  Sergeant CHARLES WADE (Sheriff’s Department Coastside): I had no idea. It was an absolute mystery to me. But not one I could think about for long. There was too much to do.

  MORSE: It never occurred to you that someone in the substation had taken that flash drive?

  WADE: I had no reason to suspect such a thing.

  MORSE: And, just to press the point—the disappearance of this crucial flash drive was a surprise to you.

  WADE: A complete surprise.

  MORSE: Again, you must understand how convenient this appears. First you ignore the video. Then, when you have to look at it due to the calls from Homeland Security, the flash drive is gone.

  WADE: I cannot control how the truth appears to you, Chairman Morse.

  MORSE. Well. I could hammer the point, but we will move on. What did you do upon learning that the flash drive was missing?

  WADE: Turns out we did have a backup. Remember, when Arthur Rozland’s body was discovered in his car, Hannah Shire’s computer was also found. That computer was logged into evidence by the California Highway Patrol. What if Mrs. Shire hadn’t erased the copy of the video she’d made? It was our one hope at that point. So I contacted Highway Patrol and asked if someone there could check the computer for that file. They did—and found the video.

  MORSE: You had not asked to see the contents of Mrs. Shire’s computer before this time?

  WADE: No. I’d been busy investigating multiple homicides. I knew California Highway Patrol would be looking at it.

  MORSE: And I’ll ask again—did it not occur to you that Arthur Rozland had stolen Mrs. Shire’s computer because of that video?

  WADE: I may have entertained that thought briefly. But it didn’t seem likely at the time.

  MORSE: Once again, I am amazed at your answer, Sergeant Wade. Hannah Shire had reported being harassed by two men posing as FBI agents, demanding to know what Morton Leringer had told her before his death. She gave them a copy of the video. Why wouldn’t these same men return to her house for her computer if they thought that computer might contain the video as well? They were clearly trying to recover any and all copies.

  WADE: We know all these details now. A lot of the dots have been connected, and hindsight makes everything seem obvious. It’s this way in many cases, Chairman Morse. I’ve investigated a lot of homicides, and often it takes weeks, months, even years to solve a case. When it
’s all done, how easy it is for someone outside the investigation to armchair quarterback. “Why didn’t you do this? Why didn’t you see that sooner?” But I have to keep reminding you how complex the events of that day were, and how fast one twist came upon another. Do you realize how few hours had gone by since I’d first even heard Hannah Shire’s name? So let me state this clearly: at the time I didn’t know the men posing as FBI agents were aware Mrs. Shire had retained a copy of the video. And let me also remind you—when Harcroft and I heard she’d made that copy, we told her to erase it.

  MORSE: Erasing that copy would certainly be in the best interest of FreeNow, wouldn’t it?

  WADE: I resent any insinuation that I would share in FreeNow’s “best interest.” As for Mrs. Shire’s computer—if you’d like to get back to that topic—upon hearing it contained the video, I asked that a copy be made at once and hand-delivered to me at the San Mateo County Sheriff’s station, where we could use better technology to look at it.

  MORSE: Why not send it electronically? Hand-delivery took more time. Another delay.

  WADE: I wanted to keep that video secure. Sending it through cyberspace did not meet that standard.

  MORSE: Were you informing Homeland Security as these events occurred?

  WADE: Yes.

  MORSE: And what did you discover when you finally watched the video?

  WADE: As it turned out, the technology available at the San Mateo County Sheriff’s station was not advanced enough. We were able to see something at the beginning and end of the video, but we couldn’t distinguish any letters. Remember that up to this point I had serious doubts that Hannah Shire was telling the truth. Now that it was clear the video did indeed contain some sort of message, I couldn’t take any chances. I took the flash drive to the FBI’s San Francisco Joint Terrorism Task Force. It took time for me to reach that destination. After some work at that office I and a number of agents were able to watch the video frame by frame. We discovered the “Phase” text at the beginning. And we saw the encrypted message at the end, proceeded by the word “Abort.”

  MORSE: In other words, Sergeant Wade—Hannah Shire was right.

  Chapter 45

  Monday, February 25, 2013

  The car ride seemed to take forever. Emily longed for her computer in the backseat. With her built-in Wi-Fi, she could be looking up information, checking the news, learning more about cyber terrorism—as if that would do them any good at this point. But what if the cops could somehow track her computer like they could a cell phone? She asked Dave if that was possible.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Never heard of it.” He picked up his phone. “I’m going to check the office again.”

  Dave had called once already and talked to Ronnie. Had the FBI agent been back? Was anyone else asking about Emily? Or Dave?

  No and no, Ronnie told him. She pestered him to tell her what was going on.

  “If that agent shows up again,” Dave had said, “don’t tell him anything.”

  Now Dave’s second call found nothing new. No one else had come around looking for Emily. Dave set down the phone, his shoulders sagging in relief.

  “I keep thinking about my computer, sitting there at the office,” he said. “With that video on it.”

  “I told you to erase it.”

  He threw her a hard glance. “You want me to turn around and take you back home?”

  “No. Sorry. I’m just . . . nervous. And scared.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  Emily fidgeted in her seat, every nerve itching to do something. Finally she couldn’t stand it any more. “Okay, here goes.” She twisted around in her seat to get her computer.

  On the Internet she first went to Bay Area news and watched the segment of Cheryl Stein and Ashley Eddington that her mother had seen. Those two women looked so angry at her mother. How in the world would she and her mom get past that?

  The sadness on the little girl’s face was heartbreaking. Emily found herself tearing up again. Then at the end was the stuffed dog. RAWLY.

  Dave’s cell rang. He picked it up and winced at the ID. He showed it to Emily: his wife. “Hello.”

  “Where are you?”

  Emily could hear Tania’s voice through the phone. “I called the office and they said you hurried out hours ago.”

  Dave glanced at Emily. “I had to take a sudden road trip.”

  “Road trip. Where?”

  “I’ll tell you all about it when I get home.”

  “Why not now? What’s going on?”

  “Tania, are you at work?”

  “Of course, where else would I be?”

  “Look, after work, don’t go home. Go to your parents’ and wait ’til I get there. I won’t be home until about 9:30 or 10.”

  “What? What are you doing?”

  “Just tell me you’ll go.”

  “I . . . okay. But you need to—”

  “And make sure you have candles and flashlights.”

  “Dave. You’re starting to scare me.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  Emily shut her eyes. She should never have gotten Dave into this. But if she hadn’t, Rutger would have caught her for sure.

  “Look, Tania, I need to go now. Don’t want to stay on the phone for long.”

  “Tell me you’re all right.”

  “I am. I’m fine. Just helping out a friend. Talk to you again when I can.” Dave ended the call.

  Emily shook her head. “That went well.”

  “Could have gone a lot worse.”

  True.

  They drove in silence.

  The familiar roads and landmarks whipped by, Emily giving Dave directions. Soon they were in San Jose. Then merging onto 280. Seeing the exits close to the area in which she’d grown up had always raised a lump in Emily’s throat. Those streets stood for good memories, a happy childhood. Now they just looked menacing and dark, even in the daylight.

  Dave’s cell phone rang again, Aunt Margie’s number in the ID. Emily snatched it up. “Mom?”

  “I’m here. Almost to Edgewood exit.”

  “We’re not far behind. Must have driven faster than you.”

  “Where are we?” Grand’s distant voice trickled over the line. “Isn’t this close to home?”

  “Just a minute, Mom,” Emily’s mother told her.

  “I want to go home!”

  “Just . . . I’m trying to talk to Emily.”

  Emily winced. Her grandmother sounded so confused. “So what—”

  “Hannah, I have to go to the bathroom.” Grand’s voice again.

  “Okay, in a minute. Let me talk to Emily.”

  “I have to go now!”

  “All ri—”

  “Right now!”

  “Mom,” Emily said, “you’d better take her.”

  “I know, but where? I can’t go into any store in this area.”

  “Hannah!” Grand was downright wailing.

  Emily gritted her teeth. This was never going to work with Grand along. She should have stayed with Aunt Margie. “Let’s meet up somewhere. I can take her inside.”

  “Okay.” Emily’s mother sounded so tired. Like she’d never be able to make decisions. “Where can we go?”

  “How about Sequoia Hospital?” No one would take a second look at a confused, elderly woman there.

  “Okay.”

  “Hannah!” Grand yelled.

  “I know, I know.” Mom’s voice shook. “We’re going to take care of you right away.”

  The tension between them flowed over the phone. Just hearing it pulled Emily’s muscles into knots. They still had much to get through, and Grand could be so . . . crazy.

  “Okay,” Emily said, “here’s where we meet.” She chose an area in the hospital parking lot. “What kind
of car are you in?”

  “A light blue Camry.”

  “We’re in a black Nissan. See you soon.”

  They ended the call.

  Emily let her head fall back against the seat. This would never work.

  “Where are we going?” Dave asked.

  She told him the way. “Just drop me off and leave. Get home to Tania. Some day I’ll make this up to you, Dave. Some day.”

  When would she even see him again? What if she and her mother failed, and the electricity went off for a long time? Did their building even have a backup generator? If so, how long would it last? And meanwhile they still wouldn’t have Internet, right? So what would be the point of going to work?

  Dave shot her a look. “Will you be okay?”

  No. “Sure.”

  A few minutes later they pulled into Sequoia Hospital parking. Mom and Grand were already there. Emily’s throat tightened when she saw them. She grabbed her laptop bag, gave Dave a hug and final thank-you, and jumped out of his car.

  Ow. That hurt her knee.

  Emily flung open the backseat of the Camry and threw her bag inside. Her mom slid out of the car. She looked terrible, old makeup smeared and clothes a mess, her hair uncombed and fear in her eyes. She looked down at Emily’s knee and gasped. “What happened to you?”

  “That fake FBI agent, that’s what.”

  Her mom’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. Emily could see the guilt on her face. “Mom, I’m fine. It’s not your fault.”

  Her mother’s eyes teared up. Emily hugged her hard. For a moment they just stood there, feeling each other shake.

  “Emily!” Grand called.

  “Coming.” Emily broke away from her mom and helped Grand out of the car. Her grandmother’s hair was smashed on one side, the lines in her face deeper. She wore crazy clothes, mismatched blue and green, all wrinkled.

  “Oh, it’s so good to see you!” Grand reached out her arms.

  “Good to see you too.” Emily hugged her, feeling the boney back, the slight frame. Had her grandmother ever felt so frail? “Let’s take you inside to a bathroom.” She clasped Grand’s fingers and pulled her toward the building.