Finding Truth (The Searchers Book 3)

by Ripley Proserpina

  Her guys were smart, no doubt, but Dr. Murray had connections they couldn’t fathom. While Apollo had been joking about them acting like Mystery Incorporated and Scooby Doo, there was a warning there. They weren’t equipped to deal with Dr. Murray on their own. Glancing up, she realized she’d already reached the library.

  The public library was all balustrades and garlands, columns, and arched windows. The inside was bright with fluorescent light, blinding compared to outside. Directly in front of her sat the circulation desk and the librarians who gave her distracted smiles before going back to their work. The large first floor reading room was made up of tables and a bank of public computers along one wall. At this time of day, with school in session, only a few computers were taken, allowing Nora to choose one on the farthest end with plenty of space from other people.

  Each computer had a fifteen minute time limit, so she had to move fast. Quickly, she typed Dr. Murray’s name into the search engine.

  “Hey, Nora.”

  “Eek!” Jumping, she banged her knees on the table, causing the computer to rattle.

  “Careful!” a nearby librarian said.

  The chair next to her was vacant, and Detective Vance slid into it. “Sorry about that. I wanted to say hello, see how you’re doing.”

  “I’m in pain, but otherwise okay.” She rubbed the tops of her thighs where she was sure she’d have two matching bruises. She narrowed her eyes. “What are you doing here?”

  “Relax.” He slung an arm across the back of the chair. “I was returning my kids’ library books. I’m not here for you. Well, now I am, but only to say hello.”

  Her eyebrows were probably at her hairline. She hadn’t seen Detective Vance since Tilly’s death, but before that, he’d managed to make her feel lower than dirt. Nothing about the man who sat across from her resembled the cruel, cold detective in her memory. He smiled at her, relaxed.

  “Actually”—as the words left her mouth, she wondered what she was doing, and if she was about to make a huge mistake—“I’m glad to run into you. I could use your help.”

  The man became so still she wondered if he heard her. Eyes narrowing, he nodded. “Why don’t we go for a walk, and you can talk to me?”

  She nodded. It was too quiet here. Anything they said would be overheard by everyone in the reading room. And she didn’t want to share this information with people she didn’t know.

  Vance led the way to the doors. He held one open for her to exit then tilted his chin toward downtown. “What’s going on, Nora?”

  Back when Nora was first shot and Detective Vance suspected her of involvement in the killing spree at the school, he’d been relentless. He was sure there was a deeper reason behind Reed’s action and had been convinced Nora was that reason. Now she, sort of, knew what happened to Reed and what demons had been whispering in his ear, driving him to madness.

  “I think I know what drove Reed crazy.”

  Vance stopped and swung around to face her. “What?”

  “Reed was part of an experiment, the same one I agreed to participate in, and I think the experiment broke him, made him do things he never would have done otherwise.” She studied his face as she spoke, searching for a sign of what he thought, but there was nothing. Not a twitch, not a grimace.

  “Go on.” Nearby was a bench, and with a hand on her elbow, he led her there, waiting for her to sit before lowering himself next to her. “What experiment?”

  “You know Dr. Daniel Murray?” she asked, trying to keep her thoughts in line so she wasn’t babbling.

  “Yes,” he answered simply. “I do.”

  “Dr. Murray is running a study. It’s an amazing thing for someone like me: no job, no family, no money. In exchange for my participation, I got room and board at Brownington College, free credits for college classes, and a stipend. If I agreed to this, I would be able to get a degree, but just as importantly, I’d be able to provide for myself while I did it. You know where I was after the shooting. This was too good an opportunity to pass up.”

  He nodded, but he could have been agreeing to anything—her situation after the shooting or Dr. Murray’s study being a good gig. He was unreadable, and she stopped. With no outward sign of his belief, she hesitated before going on.

  “It sounds too good to be true,” he finally said, and there was a flicker of emotion on his face, a twitch near his left eye.

  “I should have known,” she agreed.

  “Reed worked for Dr. Murray,” Vance stated, and Nora realized he’d learned everything there was to know about Reed.

  “Reed worked with Dr. Murray,” she corrected. “He was in the study, too. Deeper than I ever made it.”

  “Made it?” he asked.

  “I quit.” She swallowed hard, thinking about all the debt she’d probably collected. “The first time, I got a bill for ten thousand dollars.”

  “You quit twice?”

  “Yeah. The first time I quit, it was weird. Do you want to hear this?” she asked, wondering if she was going into too much detail. Had she told him things that weren’t important and wouldn’t help her case?

  “Yes,” he said simply.

  “I was meeting his team, and they took me for coffee.”

  “Who’s on his team?” he asked.

  “Depends on what the test is, but the core team is Dr. Murray, Jessica Chase, Grant Peretti, and Nils Gundersson. They’re all doctors, I think. Jessica Chase is a medical doctor.”

  Vance’s fingers tapped his knee, and he nodded. “Go on.”

  Nora summarized the story about her ride through town with the study team. “It was terrifying, and the guys wanted me to quit. So I did.”

  “Ryan Valore and his roommates?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re still living there?” he asked.

  Nora nodded. “Yes. I got a job, on the weekends, but it’s not enough to support myself. So I live there.”

  “But you went back,” Vance prompted.

  “I did. I got a bill for ten thousand dollars from the school. I had planned on living in the dorms. And there were all these fees—”

  “I’ve got a son at Brownington,” he interrupted. “Believe me. I know about fees.”

  The wind blew, and she shivered. She liked hearing about Vance’s life. Kids who had books needing to be returned to the library and a son in college who racked up his own school fees. It transformed him from scary lawman to slightly less-scary lawman, slash, father.

  “It was too much, and the opportunities I was giving up. I went back. Dumb, I know.”

  “I don’t know.” He brushed the back of his fingers against his stubble. “If you don’t have any options, and I know you didn’t, it makes sense. And besides the obvious law-breaking car ride, I don’t see what this has to do with Reed or how a college experiment could turn someone into a killer.”

  Nora sighed. She wasn’t doing a good job at this. “Can I see your phone?” she asked. “I want to search for something on the Internet.”

  “Okay.” He reached into his coat pocket for his phone, and after entering his password and opening the browser, gave it to her.

  She typed in Dr. Murray’s name and “research,” and waited for the journal articles to come up before handing it back to Vance.

  He scanned the titles, eyes narrowing and mouth tightening into a bloodless line as he scrolled down the list. “I see.”

  “Do you?”

  “Yeah.” Carefully balancing his phone on his knee, he rubbed his hands down his face. “I do.” He let his hands drop into his lap and stared silently at the traffic. Stomach in knots, Nora watched him. She’d done this without any forethought, and what if she was wrong? What if he didn’t believe her and then he arrested her for, she didn’t know, misleading police. “You’ve given me a lot to think about, Nora,” he said.

  “Do you believe me?” She had to ask.

  “These articles are interesting, and I’m going to read them. Thank you for telling me.”
His response wasn’t what she expected, though she wasn’t sure what she’d expected. Maybe gasps of shock, followed quickly by anger and promises justice would be served. He gave her none of those things, and it unsettled her. More than she already was. Not only did she worry about what Dr. Murray would do, now she worried about what Vance would do.

  “Was this a mistake? Telling you?” Her voice came out quiet, but steady. She really wanted to know.

  “No,” he answered decisively. “No, it wasn’t a mistake. I’m glad you told me. I can’t tell you anything more, but this is important information for me to have.”

  A weight lifted off her shoulders. Her entire body relaxed. “Thank God. It was kind of spur of the moment. I was thinking, this is more than I know what to do with, and then you appeared.”

  “You did the right thing.” He held her gaze, and though he continued to look grim, he was being honest. A sudden vibration knocked his phone off his knee, and he winced when it landed face down on the pavement. He picked it up and let out a relieved sigh when it appeared undamaged. “I gotta go.” He didn’t glance away from the screen as he stood. “Thanks, Nora. Good to see you.”

  “Thanks, Detective Vance,” she replied, but he was already walking away then jogging toward an unmarked car parked in front of the library. In a matter of seconds, he was gone and she was left alone with her thoughts. Again.

  He said she’d done the right thing by telling him about Dr. Murray. Someone outside of their circle now knew about him and what Matisse had learned. It seemed important—like a failsafe.

  She stood, walking back to the library but paused outside the building. Coming down here was merely an opportunity to clear her head. She needed space from the guys to make sense of what everyone knew and what had happened in the space of twenty-four hours.

  Confiding in Vance had set her mind at ease, and now she was anxious to get back home. Seok needed her help, and Matisse would be staring at the black screen of death and worrying about someone getting past his firewalls or whatever they were called.

  Head down, she picked up the pace and hurried home, ready for whatever came next.

  33

  Matisse

  Matisse was pissed, except in his head, he said it more like, piiiiiissed—really drawing out that first vowel. He’d gotten his computer running after endless program reboots, but like he suspected, the evidence he’d taken from Dr. Murray was gone. He searched for the origin of the remote hacker, diving into programs to see where the link was, but he found nothing. There were no emails, and no malware that he, or his programs, could detect.

  His email sat open, inbox with three thousand plus messages staring at him while he stared back. How the hell had they gotten onto his computer? Rarely did he come across problems he couldn’t solve, and he was disquieted. And annoyed.

  Mostly annoyed.

  He clicked on the “M” in the corner of the screen to log out of his email and stopped.

  There was his answer. When he signed out, every person who’d logged into their email appeared on the screen as an option. There was his email, and there was Nora’s.

  Without a doubt, the hacker was associated with Dr. Murray, who most likely infected his computer with a virus he’d sent through email. Probably to Nora.

  All Nora would have to do was open an attachment from the doctor, and boom. Done.

  Matisse hated not being able to prove his suspicion, though. He wanted the proof, like he had about the doctor’s study. Nora had been through enough. After the shooting, when she’d been a suspect, no one had believed her when she’d proclaimed her innocence, and he refused to let her be in that situation again.

  He was wary of putting anything back onto his computer, and twirled the USB between his fingers as he scrolled through programs. Just because he couldn’t find the virus, and his detection software couldn’t find the virus, didn’t mean it wasn’t there. What he held in his hand was the only proof Dr. Murray had engaged in something, if not towing the line of illegal, definitely unethical.

  Questions swirled around his head. In this day and age, how did a program and study like this exist? After he shut the computer, he stood, stretched, and slid the USB into his back pocket. This computer was garbage as far as he was concerned. Any computer in their house Nora had used to access her email was compromised.

  “Fuck,” he whispered, kicking the chair when it rolled away from his desk. Grabbing his keys and jacket, he stormed out of his room.

  “Hey,” Seok called as Matisse placed a foot out the door.

  “What?”

  Seok narrowed his eyes. “What’s your problem?”

  “All our shit has viruses, and I need a new computer. I don’t get paid until a week from Friday, but this can’t fucking wait.” He tossed the words like grenades, not caring what damage they did when they exploded.

  “Hold on.” Seok’s hand shot out when Matisse would have left. His fingers dug into Matisse’s skin, and held him tight when he would have shrugged Seok off.

  “I don’t have time, Seok. I need to get this done.”

  With a booted foot, Seok kicked at the door at the same time he dragged Matisse backward. “Make time.”

  Matisse’s eyes landed everywhere but on Seok—the stairs, the hallway, the sheetrock still waiting to be hung in the dining room.

  “Why do you need a computer right this moment?” Seok asked. “Explain it to me.”

  “There’s a virus on my computer, but I can’t find it. My software can’t find it, but most likely it came from Nora’s email. Was she on your computer?” He peered over at Seok before he glanced away again. It took too much effort to hold his gaze right now, it only served to increase his anxiety. He needed to get things done, and this was a waste of his time.

  “Probably. I don’t know. She may have used it when we were hanging out.” Seok tipped his head, tore the kerchief from his hair and tucked it into his pocket.

  “So your computer has the virus, too. Whatever it was that let Dr. Murray remotely hack my desktop and erase all the files I’d saved there is probably on your computer. The last thing I want is Dr. Murray knowing what it is any of us are looking at on our computers.”

  “What?” Seok pushed away from where he was leaning against the entryway to the living room and strode toward Matisse until they were almost nose-to-nose. “He can do that?”

  “You can buy some remote access tool, the software that lets you do this, online for forty bucks. I’m sure Murray has better software than this. I want to get in there again, but I don’t want him seeing me.” Distracted by what he needed to do, he started to the door only to be stopped by Seok again.

  “You don’t need to get in there again, we know what he’s doing. We let the cops know, and we do damage control with Nora and Tyler. That’s what we do.”

  He’d started shaking his head as soon as he heard, “you don’t…” “I do,” Matisse said. “We need proof. Tyler’s not the only person in that study. No way.”

  “Tisse.” Wearily, Seok scraped his hands through his hair and walked away, studying the molding and walls and dragging his fingers along the surfaces. At last, he faced Matisse and sighed. “Don’t get in trouble. Not for—”

  “Not for Nora?” he said, voice louder, echoing through the empty house. “Not for Tyler? They didn’t do anything to deserve the shit Murray put them through. He’s the one who should go to jail. He’s the one who’s doing something illegal.”

  “You’re putting words in my mouth.” It irritated Matisse when Seok could stay calm while he felt like his skin was crawling.

  “I don’t have time for this, Seok. What if Cai calls and needs proof to get Tyler out? What if Dr. Murray makes some wild accusation against Nora and we need this to show he was fucking with her head?”

  “You’re spinning, Tisse—”

  “Fuck, yeah, I’m spinning. Every worst-case scenario is slamming into my brain a mile a minute! Don’t ask me to slow down, Seok. I can’t.”
He’d begun to pace as he spoke and finally, unable to wait any more, he opened the door and barreled right into Nora.

  “Whoa!” she cried. Off balance, her arms pinwheeled back.

  In a flash, he grabbed her elbows and pulled her into him. He flew back and landed on his ass, hard, with Nora tumbling onto his lap.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, crawling off him.

  He’d hit his tailbone on the wood floor, and it had taken his breath away, so he nodded. No way was he copping to pain when he’d hurt himself throwing a temper tantrum.

  She stood, offering her hand, and he smirked.

  “What?” she asked.

  “You’re going to lift me?”

  “Oh, shut up.” She rolled her eyes at him and grabbed his hand. Tugging hard, she left him no choice. He had to push himself up quickly or have his arm yanked out of the socket.

  “Not very nice after you knock your boyfriend down.” Staring at Nora’s smiling face drained away his tension. It slowed him down enough to reconsider racing out the door to buy a computer. Internally, he winced at the way he’d barreled over Seok. He hadn’t even allowed his friend a second to explain himself.

  Guilty, he shot Seok a look, and Nora peered carefully at each of them. “What’s going on?” When Seok didn’t answer, she faced him. “Matisse?”

  “My computer’s shot,” he said. “I need to buy another one.”

  “Oh no.” She laced her fingers together. “And you were worried about money, and you need it for work. Can you use mine?”

  “All our computers have viruses I don’t know how to get rid of.” Not being able to solve the problem wound him up again. Going from zero to one hundred was exhausting and made him snap uncontrollably. “I need to go.”

  “Wait!” she called after him. “Hold on. This might be a dumb question, and I’m sorry, but could you do a factory restore? Would that work? You’d lose everything on there, but you wouldn’t have to search for the virus and it would be a clean slate. Or am I way off?”

  “Holy shit.” He felt his lips split into a grin, and he had to kiss her. Sweeping her into his arms, he lifted her up and kissed her loudly, laying wet, smacking kisses across cheeks and nose. This was his problem sometimes. He couldn’t see the forest for the trees. Convinced he had to find the specific program, he never considered the simplest solution. Wipe the whole thing. He’d been restoring his computer bit-by-bit when he should have erased it all. “My girlfriend is a genius,” he said proudly and kissed her again, this time on her mouth where he lingered. He didn’t care that Seok was watching them. Yet again, when he needed her, Nora had come through. “Thank you,” he whispered against her lips. “Thank you.”