Scattered Graves, page 24
part #6 of Diane Fallon Forensic Investigation Series
‘‘Have you heard from the GBI about the bullet?’’ asked Diane.
‘‘That was my second bit of news. The GBI got a hit, and I don’t like it one bit. No, sirree, I don’t like this one bit.’’
‘‘What is it?’’ said Diane.
‘‘The bullet we found in the field is from the same gun that killed Mayor Spence Jefferies. How’s that for a bad day? Now I have to deal with Rosewood. Janice Warrick is the lead detective on this. She’s not too bad,’’ he commented. ‘‘I’m still shaking my head about Delamore trying to kill you. That’s why I hate to deal with Rosewood. You never know when one of them isn’t right in the head.’’
Talk of Delamore made Diane uneasy. The whole event was just starting to sink in. The shock of it had worn off, and what was left was the fear of what might have happened, and the guilt over what did happen.
‘‘Hopefully, he was unique,’’ she said. ‘‘I’m sure Janice will be glad to hear about the bullet. And I know she won’t try to kill you.’’
The sheriff chuckled. ‘‘Don’t count on it. My wife says I make people mad on purpose.’’
‘‘Sounds like one shooter for the two murders,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Chen and Jefferies. How odd.’’
Diane fiddled with the loose rock in the fountain and dropped it on the floor. It rolled under her desk. She bent and picked it up and put it back in its hole in the fountain.
‘‘The bullet doesn’t match the one that killed your-all’s chief of detectives, Edgar Peeks,’’ said Canfield. ‘‘I understand that was from Garnett’s gun, and I have to tell you, I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Garnett and I have never seen quite eye to eye, but I never figured him for a cold-blooded killer. I told my deputies, there has to be some mistake,’’ he said. ‘‘You think this new ME of yours gave them the wrong bullet? Could he be a part of this?’’
‘‘Janice Warrick and Izzy Wallace witnessed the autopsy. They saw him take the bullet out of Peeks’ brain and give it to them. Janice said it was from the gun they took off Garnett at the scene.’’
‘‘I hate hearing that,’’ said Canfield.
‘‘So do I,’’ said Diane. ‘‘He has been very supportive of me since we put the crime unit in, and very protective of the museum.’’
‘‘Before I talk to Janice, I’d like to speak with you more about what’s going on. You can explain to me about this cybergang stuff you were talking about. They don’t like to share information in Rosewood. They expect me to do all the sharing. That’s why I don’t like dealing with them. They act like Rosewood’s a big city and we’re just rubes out here. I don’t live but a mile from the city limits, so I don’t know who they think they are fooling.’’
‘‘I know what you mean about the sharing going only one way,’’ said Diane.
‘‘Oh, one more thing,’’ he said. ‘‘My wife wants to know what you wear to a white-tie function. We’ve never been to one.’’
Diane smiled. ‘‘Andie, my assistant, is putting together a newsletter that gives all the details. I’ll make sure you get a copy,’’ she said.
‘‘I would appreciate that. I told my wife I wouldn’t understand fashion advice even if I wrote it down. Just tell me this, do I have to wear one of them top hats? I told the wife that there are just some things where I draw the line, and that’s one of them.’’
‘‘No. No top hat,’’ said Diane.
‘‘Good.’’ He laughed. ‘‘Can’t you just see me in one of those?’’
Diane seriously couldn’t.
She hung up the phone and went back into her sitting room. Neva was dusting the inside of the computer case for prints. David and Frank were at the computer discussing the decryption procedures. Jin was sitting on the sofa with Izzy, giving him a course in DNA. Someone had cleaned up all the refuse from the pizza dinner and disposed of it. Diane pulled up a chair and sat down beside Frank.
‘‘How are we doing?’’ she asked.
‘‘We’re just starting,’’ said Frank. ‘‘If it’s encrypted using a very long key, then we may not be able to break it before the end of this century.’’
‘‘Well, how do hackers get in?’’ asked Diane. ‘‘How do they break the encryption?’’
‘‘The best way is to not,’’ said David.
‘‘Is this Yoda talking?’’ said Diane.
David smiled. ‘‘No, it’s me. One of the drawbacks with encryption is that it doesn’t work before the information is encrypted.’’
‘‘No,’’ agreed Diane. ‘‘I can see how it wouldn’t.’’
‘‘That’s the power of recruiting computer-savvy people to work in businesses the way Jefferies did,’’ said Frank.
‘‘They have access to the information before it is encrypted. They can install their own software that steals and reroutes the information to a place of their choosing.’’
David nodded. ‘‘According to Sutton’s research, Jefferies placed people in banking, insurance, and government agencies. It boggles the mind the amount of information he had access to. At this point I don’t know which would be more useful, a list of bank account numbers or a list of people he had in place.’’
‘‘One of the things the heads of these gangs do,’’ said Frank, ‘‘is recruit someone from a technical field that is not computer science, like, say, engineering. Give him advanced computer training and get him a job, for example, in the aerospace industry. Install him as a sleeper in a company, doing work not directly connected with sensitive information. Put him someplace where he would never be suspected. Give him time to work his way up to a spot where he can use those advanced computer skills you gave him to steal company secrets, financial data, personal data—a whole range of possibilities. A high-placed sleeper can rob the company’s databases and cover his tracks so no one knows he’s the thief. I use him as an example. It could just as easily be a Mata Hari.’’
‘‘It sounds very cold war,’’ said Diane.
‘‘It’s like that exactly,’’ said Frank. ‘‘They’ve adopted old KGB tactics, and it works quite well.’’
Diane was letting everything David and Frank were telling her sink in. Suddenly, a red light on the wall began flashing and issuing a low but penetrating sound. They all looked at Diane.
‘‘Someone’s trying to break into the crime lab,’’ she said.
36
Diane looked at the computer. Neva was frozen over the case with a fingerprint card in her hand. Frank and David made eye contact with her, their faces creased in frowns. Izzy stood up behind her, ready to go.
‘‘The computer. I’ll bet someone’s after the computer,’’ said Diane. ‘‘They don’t know it’s here. In case they figure it out, all of you stay here.’’
She started for the door.
‘‘Don’t you need backup?’’ said Izzy.
‘‘I have backup. My entire security department should be on their way. I need all of you to stay here and protect the computer.’’
Diane dashed out the doors, locking each one in turn behind her—her sitting room door, her office, Andie’s office. When she got to the hallway she could see her security personnel hurrying out of the security office.
‘‘What’s going on?’’ she asked when she met up with Chanell, her chief of security.
‘‘The guards on the museum side of the crime lab don’t know anything. I haven’t been able to get Mickey, the outside guard, to answer,’’ she said.
There were two ways to get to the crime lab—from the museum side on the third floor, and from an elevator on the outside of the building. When she installed the crime lab, Diane had an elevator built on the outside of the museum that went directly to the third floor and opened into the crime lab. At ground level was a small room with an outside door that provided access to the elevator. That room always had a receptionist and a guard on duty in the daytime and a guard at night. It was that room that apparently was compromised.
Chanell sent two guards up to the third floor to reinforce the ones that were already there. Diane, Chanell, and two guards left the museum by the main front door and walked around the outside of the building toward the west wing. It was already dark. The parking lot lights were on and the entire front lot was illuminated. Diane could see that some of the lights were out just ahead toward the west wing. Not good.
They had to thread through a stream of people entering and leaving through the door to the museum restaurant. Diane and the security personnel went at a fast walk, and Diane hoped they weren’t attracting the attention of the diners.
It was cold. Diane hadn’t thought to bring a coat. She walked faster.
Just ahead two security guards came out of the double doors of the main entrance to the west wing of the building. The ropes were up that blocked people from parking on the west end after museum hours. They ducked under the ropes and proceeded to the end of the building.
This was taking too long. It was a flaw in the arrangement. They needed a quicker way to get to the outside entrance to the crime lab elevator. They stopped just as they got to the corner of the building.
‘‘Send a couple of guards back through the dino room, out the back entrance. Have them come around the building from that way,’’ said Diane.
‘‘Good idea,’’ said Chanell.
‘‘Let’s not have any shooting unless it’s life or death. I don’t want to alarm the restaurant visitors,’’ said Diane. Two security guards went back into the building. Another two went around the corner ahead of Diane and Chanell, who followed when they saw the guards gesture that it was clear.
There was no one outside the entrance to the small room at the base of the elevator. They couldn’t see behind the room, but the two guards who went around the building should be there soon.
Diane listened for the sound of the elevator. She looked at the shaft on the side of the building that housed the elevator car—not that she could see anything. She supposed she looked because that’s where the sound would come from if the elevator was in use. But there was no noise of any kind except the background noise of people entering and leaving the restaurant.
It was cold enough to produce puffs of fog with each breath. Diane’s fingers were starting to ache. What was she thinking, not grabbing a coat and gloves? She blew into her hands.
She heard the noise first, for she was the first one to turn her head in the direction of the door. The door opened slowly, then stopped after a couple of inches. Her security staff trained their guns in that direction. Chanell motioned for Diane to get behind them.
Her heart thumped in her chest and made a lump in her throat. Suddenly and violently the door burst open. A figure dressed from head to foot in black came out of the door holding a young woman in front of him. He had one arm around her throat and was holding a gun to her head with the other hand. She was lightly dressed in jeans and a T-shirt.
Who is she? thought Diane.
There was silence for a moment: the figure holding a hostage confronting Diane’s security guards. A face-off. The male voice of the perp broke the silence.
‘‘Leave us or I’ll kill her.’’
So common. But Diane hadn’t expected creativity.
‘‘That’s Mickey’s wife,’’ Chanell whispered to Diane.
Mickey was the security guard for this end of the building. That must be how the perp got Mickey to open the door—he used Mickey’s wife. The problem for the perp, though, was that Mickey didn’t know the key code to the crime lab door once the elevator got up there. Bad planning.
Mickey’s wife coughed. The perp pushed the muzzle of the gun against her temple and told her to shut up.
‘‘Let her go,’’ said Diane in a calmer voice than she felt.
‘‘I’ll kill her,’’ he said again.
He wasn’t large. That was good. Not much body mass.
‘‘You do that,’’ said Diane, ‘‘and you lose your shield. These people are friends of Mickey. You kill his wife; they kill you.’’ She hoped she sounded cold and menacing enough.
The woman’s body trembled as she coughed again, and he squeezed her tighter and told her again to shut up.
‘‘You’re making her cough. You’re holding her throat too tight. Ease up a little,’’ said Diane.
He backed with his hostage in the direction of the woods bordering the museum. The access road that ran through the woods wasn’t far away. Diane guessed that was where his getaway vehicle was parked.
‘‘I have an offer,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Exchange me for your hostage.’’
‘‘No,’’ whispered Chanell. ‘‘Not a good idea.’’
Diane ignored her. ‘‘In a show of good faith, I’ll get the guards to back away,’’ said Diane.
She told Chanell to back her people up. It was obvious Chanell didn’t want to do it.
‘‘Reduce the tension,’’ said Diane. ‘‘Give him fifty feet of space so he will calm down.’’
‘‘No tricks,’’ he said. ‘‘No tricks, damn you.’’
‘‘No tricks,’’ said Diane.
Chanell and her guards backed off, leaving Diane facing the perp holding Mickey’s wife.
‘‘Listen to me,’’ said Diane. ‘‘I think you are after the computer, aren’t you?’’
He said nothing.
‘‘It’s not in the crime lab. Even if you could get in there, you wouldn’t find what you want. I have it somewhere else. The advantage to exchanging the young woman for me is that I know where the computer is. She doesn’t.’’
He was quiet for several moments.
Where are the other two guards we sent through the building? Didn’t they get the instructions right?
‘‘Come over here slowly,’’ he said. ‘‘Don’t try anything, or I’ll take out you and the woman before I go down.’’
‘‘No one has to die,’’ said Diane. ‘‘We all want to get out of this alive.’’
Diane stepped forward slowly. When she was directly in front of him, he told her to turn around, facing away from him. She did what he said. He shoved the girl to the ground and grabbed Diane from behind.
Okay, thought Diane, so far the plan is working beautifully. She was suddenly knocked off her feet as the man yelled and fell down, kicking at something.
‘‘What the—?’’ said Diane; then she saw that Mickey’s wife had him by the leg and was biting him. Diane was lying on his gun arm. She wrestled him for the weapon, and was joined in the effort by Mickey’s wife, who held his hand down and bit his thumb. He screamed and released the gun, and Mickey’s wife picked it up. The man pushed himself unsteadily to his feet and backed up wildly, with Diane close after him. Mickey’s wife stood aiming the gun at the man. Unfortunately, the way she was aiming, she could just as easily hit Diane, who stood between them, and it didn’t appear that she was skilled with firearms.
Chanell and the guards were running toward them, and Chanell deflected the gun before Mickey’s wife could shoot the wrong person. The man took advantage of the fact that Diane was standing in the line of fire and started running toward the woods. Diane ran after him, followed closely by Chanell.
His truck was parked on the access road, just as Diane had suspected. The driver’s door was open. Ready for a fast getaway, thought Diane. She was just a few feet from him, but he jumped in the truck and slammed the door before she could tackle him. Diane ran up and grabbed at him through the open window, trying to rip his mask off. He held on to her and started the truck’s engine.
Oh, hell, thought Diane.
37
The man held her wrist tight with his left hand as he turned the key in the ignition. Diane grabbed his thumb in a panic and pulled. He yelled and tried to tighten his grip. Diane felt the nails of his fingers digging into her flesh. The truck didn’t start immediately, but on the second turn of the key, the engine came to life and the truck started forward.
Diane pulled harder on his thumb. She ran alongside the truck, struggling to wrestle her arm from his grasp as the truck gained speed. He yelped as she broke his thumb back. She fell backward into the ditch on the side of the road, rolling, and scraping her face on the gravel.
She lay there for a second, too stunned to get up. She suddenly realized that the sound of the truck wasn’t fading, but getting louder. She rose to her hands and knees and looked in the direction of the sound. The truck was backing up toward her. She leaped into the nearby bushes just before the truck’s left rear tire hit the ditch where she had lain. The truck bounced and the rear slammed into the embankment; then, its tires spinning, it sped off, spraying gravel over Diane.
Diane stood and watched the truck fishtail down the access road and out of sight. She noted that it didn’t have a tag. It was hard to see the color in the dark, but she thought it was either black, or navy blue, or perhaps dark green. She also noted that it was a Ford Ranger, around the year 2000, give or take.
Chanell came running up the road along with one of the security guards.
‘‘Are you all right?’’ she said. ‘‘Dr. Fallon, you don’t have enough excitement hanging off the side of a cliff; you have to go off trying to run down a maniac in a truck?’’
‘‘Apparently not,’’ muttered Diane, dusting herself off. She shook out her hair, running her hands through it. She put a hand to her face and came away with blood on her fingers. Chanell gave her a tissue.
‘‘How’s Mickey?’’ said Diane. ‘‘Is he all right?’’
‘‘I don’t know,’’ said Chanell. ‘‘I hurried after you when we got the gun away from Shara—Mickey’s wife.’’
‘‘Did his wife say why she tried to shoot me?’’ said Diane.
Chanell gave a short, mirthless laugh. ‘‘She was scared and angry,’’ said Chanell. ‘‘The woman has a temper. She was fighting us trying to get the gun out of her hand. I think she just panicked. You know how some people go all crazy when they’re scared.’’
They hurried back to the museum. The other two security guards, the ones who were supposed to go through the building and out the back, were there looking sheepish.
