Network of Deceit

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Network of Deceit Page 7

by Tom Threadgill


  And one more thing. If the theft—that’s what it was, right?—of the hard drive was planned, why not replace it with another drive? At least not make it so obvious. No, it had to have been an act of opportunity. The thief, or thieves, had their shot and took it, meaning they were almost certainly involved in whatever Zachary was doing.

  Maybe they planned to come back later and replace the drive. Maybe not. Either way, it was too late now. She stared at the three names.

  Matias Lucero.

  Haley Bricker.

  Liam Walker.

  One of them, or all of them, knew something about Zachary’s death. They might not be aware of that fact, but they did. Maybe the killer was among them.

  As soon as she began asking questions of one, the others would know. If all three were involved, they had their story down by now. They might think they’d gotten away with it. Time to change that notion. She scanned the names again.

  Alphabetically seemed as good as anything else. Haley, then Liam, then Matias. The DMV database provided the girl’s address, but before heading there, Amara reviewed the opening few minutes of the video from the water park again.

  The four were all smiles as they strolled through the security checkpoint. No sign that within hours, one of them would be dead. The boys wore swim trunks, ball caps, and muscle shirts, while Haley had on a cover-up over a bikini. The guys each held a handful of water bottles, no doubt at least one of which was filled with clear alcohol of some sort, and were waved into the park. A security guard performed a cursory check inside Haley’s tote bag and motioned her through.

  Just a group of teenagers ready for a day of fun in the sun. None of them looked like a murderer, whatever that meant. Maybe it was more accurate to say that none of them looked capable of killing someone. No, not that either. Appearances meant nothing. Evil lived inside. Hidden from all but Dios.

  The group paused long enough to stash their belongings in a locker. Same building Amara used. From there, they moved into the park.

  A sudden impact knocked her left arm forward and she spun around. Travis Rutledge. All six foot nothing and two-sixty-plus of him. His omnipresent fedora sat high atop his head, like he’d bought it several sizes too small. Or maybe his head had grown along with his belly. Either way, the look wasn’t doing him any favors.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Guess I need to watch where I’m going. Forgot that some people don’t have a desk here. Like they don’t belong.”

  Her throat tightened. “I guess you bump into a lot of things, considering your gut arrives a couple of seconds before the rest of you.” She stood and forced her hands to remain at her side. “I’d recommend you not make that mistake again.”

  “You’re standing now? Not much different from when you’re sitting, is it?”

  Wonderful. Attacks on each other’s appearance. Be the adult, Amara. “Listen, Travis. I get it. You don’t think I belong here or you don’t like me for some reason or you got tired of picking on someone else. None of that matters. What is important to me is getting my job done. Don’t mess with me at work. Comprende?”

  He poked his finger toward her, stopping an inch from her forehead. “You got lucky on Cotulla. Plenty of people in here deserve the attention more than you.”

  Ah. The overwhelming media blitz that surrounded the return of the missing kids. Amara, at the insistence of Police Chief Ethan Johnson, had been on all the national morning news programs at least once, and the local stations more times than she could count. Her initial enjoyment of the process transitioned to dread after less than a week. The same questions, the constant smiling, and worst of all, always having to be TV-ready. Makeup, hair done, nails manicured . . . ugh. All nice the first time. Even the second. After that, gracias but find someone else, por favor.

  “You’re right,” she said. “There are plenty of others who deserved it, but it wasn’t my choice. I didn’t ask for it and I’m glad it’s over. Now, get your finger out of my face.”

  “Or what?”

  “Or learn to type without it.”

  He laughed and pulled his hand back. “Big words from a little girl.”

  She flattened her palms against her legs. “Have a great day, Travis.”

  “Oh, I will.” He pivoted to leave, paused, and spoke without turning around. “Two months. Probably less. I might even start an office pool.”

  “Yeah? Let me know if you do. I want in on it.”

  He laughed again and drifted off in the direction of his desk. Her jaw ached and her pulse refused to slow.

  Evil lived inside people. Only Dios could see it.

  People were capable of anything, murder included.

  She didn’t want to kill Travis.

  But teaching him a painful lesson was now near the top of her things-to-sign-off-on pile.

  12

  Amara turned right onto the residential street and slowed to look for Haley Bricker’s house number. The neighborhood seemed to consist primarily of rentals. The homes were nice enough and the lawns were mostly cut, but none of the houses had the personalized touch that came from longtime residents. No decor, flags, or flower gardens. A few yards had old furniture by the curb, and a moving truck partially blocked the road farther down.

  A glossy black pickup, its frame elevated high above the tires and chrome mufflers promising to push legal decibel levels, sat parked ahead. The gas mileage on that thing had to be terrible. Amara frowned and gripped the steering wheel. When had she transitioned from thinking “cool truck” to worrying about miles per gallon? She slowed and stopped behind the vehicle. A white decal in the back window proclaimed ownership. Haley. The girl had money. Or knew someone who did.

  Amara snapped a photo of the truck’s license plate and strode to the front door. A straw mat, its best days long past, lay on the concrete porch and invited guests to Wipe your paws. Dog lovers. Nothing wrong with dogs, certainly better than cats, but Larry was more her speed. Not so needy. Plenty moody though. She knocked and stepped away from the door. A nanosecond later, the high-pitched yips of a small dog—please don’t let it be a Jack Russell—echoed. That was another thing about Larry. No noise.

  “Dexter! Hush!” The voice from inside was loud but did nothing to slow the barking. “Who is it?”

  “SAPD,” Amara said. She held up her identification so it could be seen through the peephole.

  The door cracked open and a girl’s face appeared in the narrow opening. “Yes?”

  “Haley Bricker?”

  “That’s me. What’s going on?”

  The dog’s yipping reached new levels of annoying. Amara slipped her ID into her pocket. “Is there someplace quiet we can talk?”

  “About what?”

  “I’m trying to close the file on Zachary Coleman’s death. His father mentioned you were one of his best friends and I—”

  “Best friend?” She eased the door open a bit more, turned sideways, and used her foot to keep the dog at bay while she stepped onto the porch. “A few of us hung out together, but it was more of a group thing, you know?”

  Amara studied the girl. A little on the thin side, blondish hair pulled back in a ponytail, and no makeup. Her oversize T-shirt had a Longhorns logo and almost hid the skimpy denim shorts she wore. A pair of neon green flip-flops completed her outfit. “Your parents home?”

  “Last I heard, my mom was down in Corpus, either in jail or high somewhere. Never knew my dad. This is all legal, okay? I’m eighteen. I can live by myself. Want me to get my driver’s license?”

  “Nah,” Amara said. “I’ve seen it. Could we talk in my car? I’ll turn the air on. More comfortable and quieter.”

  “I guess so. How long will it take?”

  “Not long.” Amara walked to her vehicle, glancing back once to be sure Haley was following. After settling in, she pulled out her notepad and laid her phone on the center console. “You mind if I record this? It’ll make things go a lot faster.”

  Haley shrugged. “Whatever.
Why are the cops involved? I thought Zach had heatstroke.”

  “We think the same thing. Just waiting on the tests to come back. In the meantime, we wanted to clear up a few questions. You went with Zachary to the Cannonball Water Park the day he died, correct?”

  “Me and a couple of other guys.”

  “That would be . . .” Amara flipped the page in her notebook and scanned it for a second. The names were embedded in her memory, but Haley didn’t need to know that. “Ah. Here we go. Liam Walker and Matias Lucero, right?”

  Haley shifted her position and leaned against the car door. “How’d you know that?”

  “Zachary’s father. He said you four went there together. He also said you’re into online video games. Are you guys some sort of team?”

  The girl rolled her eyes. “Yeah. Some sort of team.”

  “What I meant was, do you compete against each other or do you work together?”

  “Mostly co-op MMORPGs, MOBAs, or FPSs.”

  Amara clicked her pen a few times. “Um, MMO what?”

  “Massively multiplayer online role-playing games or multiplayer online battle arenas or first-person shooters.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” She scribbled a note to do more research on them. “Is that how you met Zachary?”

  She shrugged. “I guess. We’ve all been doing MMOs for a long time and sort of found each other that way. You can tell a lot about a person by how they act online.”

  “How so?”

  “You’re anonymous. Makes it easier to be a sleaze.” She stared toward her house. “Zach wasn’t a creep. Liam or Matias neither.”

  “Did the four of you go to the water park often?”

  “Not really. This was our first time this year.”

  “Any particular reason you went that day?”

  She crossed her arms. “Yeah. It was gonna be hot.”

  Attitude. Nice. “So nothing special? Whose idea was it to go?”

  “I dunno. We just kind of decided, I guess. Not much else going on.”

  “Got it.” She turned the air conditioner down a notch. “The report said that none of you were with Zachary when he died. Is that accurate?”

  “I wasn’t with him. You’d have to ask Liam and Matias.”

  “Okay.” She paused as an old truck pulling a trailer full of lawn-mowing equipment sputtered past. “If you weren’t with Zachary, where were you?”

  Haley’s eyes widened. “You mean, like, what’s my alibi? You think someone killed him? Why? Who would hurt Zach?”

  “Like I said, I’m tying up loose ends is all.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t remember where I was. Somewhere in the park. Sometimes we’d be together and sometimes not.”

  “No problem. How did you find out Zachary had died?”

  The girl’s forehead wrinkled. “I remember hearing people yelling and running and I followed them.”

  “Did you or any of your friends carry drugs or alcohol into the park?”

  “Seriously?” She turned her palms up. “Like I’d narc on anyone?”

  “I’d call that a yes,” Amara said.

  Haley leaned closer to the phone on the console. “No. I did not see anyone with drugs. There might have been some vodka smuggled in, but I don’t know by who.”

  Uh-huh. Sure. Doesn’t make any difference. “Thank you. Based on your knowledge of Zachary, would it surprise you if we found drugs in his system?”

  “Not really.”

  Amara frowned. “You know for a fact he was a user?”

  “Nope. You asked if I’d be surprised and I said no. How would I know something like that?” She smirked. “Ask me if I’d be surprised if we found drugs in your system. I’d give the same answer.”

  Amara made a mental note to thank her own mother for not killing her during her teenage years. She flicked the notepad closed and forced a smile. “Is there anything else you can think of that might be helpful?”

  “Not really. Can I go now?”

  “Of course.” She handed over a business card. “If you do think of anything, will you call me?”

  “Whatever.” She pushed the car door open and stepped outside.

  “Oh,” Amara said. “Would you mind texting me addresses and phone numbers for Liam and Matias?”

  “Yeah, I’m not gonna do that. I wouldn’t want anyone sharing my info.”

  “Fair enough.” She pointed out the windshield. “That your truck?”

  The girl gave an exaggerated sigh of frustration. “The one that says Haley in real big letters across the back? Ya think?”

  “I like it. Do you have a job?”

  “What difference does that make?”

  “None. Curious is all. Gas mileage can’t be good. Insurance rates sky high too. No way I could afford something like that at your age.” Or my current age.

  The girl shoved the door closed and hurried inside her house. Amara turned off the recording app and checked her photo gallery to ensure the truck’s license plate was clear. Time to head back to the office and do more digging. Get addresses for Liam and Matias, though their interviews weren’t likely to provide much information. Haley was probably on the phone with them now.

  But the truck might be useful. The thing had to be expensive. Shouldn’t take much research to get the details on the purchase and registration. See whose name was on the paperwork. Whether her insurance was current. Other things, like sources of income the girl had, would have to wait until later. After everyone else had been interviewed.

  The girl remained a suspect. So were Liam and Matias and the thousands of other people at the water park that day.

  Amara took a last look at the house before easing past the monster truck and toward the station. Nice place for an eighteen-year-old, at least from the outside. Couldn’t be a cheap rental. Throw in cell phone bills, utilities, internet, pizzas. Tough for a single adult to afford all that, job or not.

  Maybe Haley Bricker had bundles of cash under her floor too.

  13

  Research into Haley’s truck and the other two friends would have to wait. Eduardo Sanchez had phoned and said the software vendor was on-site at the water park and working on the camera system. Sanchez said she was welcome to come out and talk to the guy if she wanted. She agreed and he told her to park near the administration building. Security personnel would wave her through.

  It took forty-five minutes to get there, and by the time she made it to Sanchez’s office, the July heat index was well into triple digits. She gratefully accepted the bottled water he offered.

  “Cooker out there today,” he said. “We’ll be near capacity.”

  “Never understood that,” she said. “I’d rather stay in the air-conditioning when it’s this hot.”

  He grinned. “Fortunately for us, there are plenty of people who do not agree with you. If I may ask, have you made any progress in your investigation?”

  “Nothing much. You said the software vendor was here?”

  “Yes. Steve Marshall. Good name for someone in the security business, right? He’s in the computer room. I can take you there when you’re ready.”

  She downed the last of the water and dropped the bottle in his garbage can. “Good to go.”

  “It’s just down the hall. Would you prefer to speak to him alone or . . . ?”

  Sanchez wanted to know where he stood in the investigation. “Alone would be great.”

  He cocked his head to the side. “Of course. Right this way.”

  The computer room was a short walk down the hall, behind a locked door. Sanchez let her in, introduced the vendor to her, and asked her to stop by his office before leaving. She thanked him and agreed.

  Computer room was a bit of a misnomer. Half of the space contained all manner of electronic equipment, while the rest of the area held old office furniture and cardboard boxes filled with who knew what. “Thanks for taking the time to speak with me, Mr. Marshall.”

  “Steve, please. No problem
. Eduardo said you wanted some information on the camera system?”

  “Nothing too detailed. I understand you’re updating the software that controls everything? Is that because of the issues the park has been having with sporadic outages?”

  He nodded. “A new version was coming out soon anyway, so we asked the vendor to bump it forward a bit to get it in here.”

  “A different company handles the software?”

  “Yeah. That’s the way the business works. Everyone does their own thing. We make recommendations to our customers, then design and install the system using products from other companies. Software is a commodity, same as a camera or monitor.”

  “And you’re confident a software bug caused the problem?”

  “Not at all.” He leaned back against a stack of boxes. “But we’re giving it a shot. We’ve run tests on the system and didn’t identify any hardware concerns. No wiring glitches. Because of the inconsistency of the outages, a camera here and a camera there, it’s hard to pinpoint what’s causing the trouble. The easiest thing to do is swap out the software and see if that solves anything.”

  “And if it doesn’t?”

  “Back to square one, I guess.”

  “Are there other companies using a similar system? Have they had the same issues?”

  “Yes to your first question, no to your second.” He crossed his arms and paused. “Our software vendor wasn’t aware of any issues, but it’s possible others have had the same problems and just don’t know it. Most people don’t spend a lot of time checking their systems.”

  “Doesn’t the software sound some sort of alarm when a camera’s not working?”

  “If you mean an audible alarm, no. I suppose it would be simple enough to set that up, but unless you’re in a high-security situation, say a prison or something, most people wouldn’t want it. However, the system does send an email to the customer and to us. We’ve been tracking Cannonball’s for almost a month.”

  Amara shifted on her feet. “When was the last outage?”

  “Been about a week if I remember correctly.”

 

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