A Tracers Trilogy

by Laura Griffin

  “That ski vest’s not gonna cut it.” Ric nodded at her bare arms. “It’s supposed to dip below twenty tonight.”

  He was right. In a T-shirt and jeans, she wasn’t dressed for the weather. But after spending the afternoon with Vivian and Sam, she’d been in a hurry. She’d been in a huge hurry to drive out here and get answers to some of her questions, specifically, how had someone faked the kidnapping of a little boy when two teachers, a principal, and the boy himself claimed he’d been safely inside his school all day long?

  Alex was the only person Mia knew who might be able to answer that. If Mia could just get rid of the detective standing in her office, eyeing her suspiciously.

  He knows I’m guilty. The thought flashed through her brain, but she banished it. How could he know?

  “You’re right.” She managed another smile that was so phony, her cheeks hurt. “I should have checked the weather.” She tried to keep her hands steady as she folded shut her laptop and zipped it into her computer bag. She felt Ric’s gaze on her as she hitched the bag onto her shoulder.

  “You’re headed home?”

  “Actually, I am. I just have to swing by the computer lab and talk to someone for a few minutes.”

  He stepped closer, and his dark brows knitted. “Something wrong?”

  “No. Why?” She made her eyes wide and tried to look clueless while her pulse pounded in her ears. He knows everything. Someone saw me. He’s not here for ballistics—he knows what I did.

  He reached up and brushed a lock of hair out of her face. It took every ounce of her self-control not to burst into tears. Yes, something was very wrong. And if he kept looking at her with those concerned eyes, she was going to break down and tell him everything.

  “I’ll walk you,” he said, and it was all she could do not to heave a sigh of relief.

  She led him out of her office. The computer lab was right down the hall, which meant only a few more seconds of dodging his questions. She remembered what her sister, the lawyer, always said—the best defense is a good offense.

  She turned to look at him. “How was the funeral today?”

  “Okay.”

  At his obvious discomfort, she pressed harder. “Any progress on Frank’s case?”

  “No.”

  And whaddaya know? The conversation fizzled.

  They passed the DNA lab, where a couple of her colleagues were burning the midnight oil. One looked up from his microscope as she passed. Mark. He’d been there earlier, when she’d taken the evidence. Had he noticed her shaking? Did he look suspicious now? Her composure vanished, and her pulse started racing again.

  “Mia?”

  “What?” She glanced up at Ric.

  “I said, how’d it go in court? Did you give Pickerton a run for his money?”

  “Oh. No, not exactly.”

  Her court appearance felt light-years ago. In a way, it was. And in that moment, she realized that her career would be forever divided into two phases: before and after what she’d done that afternoon. That afternoon was pivotal. Irrevocable. And she’d be dealing with the fallout for the rest of her career—if she still had a career, which was highly doubtful. She felt that tightness in her chest again, that gaspy feeling, as if there wasn’t enough air. What was she going to do?

  When they reached Digital Imaging and Cyber Crimes, Alex glanced up from her computer and got up to come open the door. She eyed Ric curiously through the window.

  “Want me to wait?” Ric asked. “We can grab some dinner after?”

  Mia swallowed hard. He was watching her mistrustfully. He knew something was up.

  She forced another smile. “How about a rain check? This could take a while.”

  Alex pushed open the door, and Mia slipped through without a backward glance. She couldn’t handle Ric right now; he was much too observant, and she couldn’t take another cross-examination.

  “What was that about?” Alex asked.

  “Nothing. Should we set up at your desk?” Mia glanced around the room and noticed Ben at the back, clacking away on his keyboard.

  “Works for me.”

  In seconds, Alex had Mia’s laptop open and the e-mail forwarded to herself so that she could manipulate it on her own computer.

  Mia’s stomach tightened as Sam’s smiling face appeared larger than life on Alex’s screen. Guilt swamped her. She couldn’t believe her nephew was caught up in this nightmare.

  “Can you trace the message?” she asked anxiously.

  Alex’s fingers danced over the keys, but she didn’t say anything as she opened windows and read lines of text that looked to Mia like gibberish.

  “This file was altered before it was sent,” Alex mumbled. “Disguised, you might say. However”— tap-tap-tap—”there are a few things left to work with.”

  More clicking at the keyboard as Mia gnawed her thumbnail. Alex muttered. Mia held her breath. Finally, she couldn’t stand it.

  “I need to know where he got this photo,” Mia said. “I need to know how this happened.”

  She needed to understand how someone had managed to send her this picture of Sam standing in front of his school, in front of a book-fair announcement that had been posted on the school marquee just that morning, when everyone, including Sam, said he hadn’t set foot outdoors all day long.

  “Gimme a minute,” Alex said.

  Mia took a deep breath. Patience. But her nerves were raw, and the adrenaline that had been rushing through her system all day was starting to take its toll.

  After destroying critical evidence in an active murder investigation, Mia had rushed back to her car, only to discover that the caller had hung up. Without a word about Sam. Sick with fear and yet terrified to call the police, Mia had called her sister, launching a frantic search for Sam, who turned out to be sitting safely in his math class at Cedar Hollow Elementary. Despite the assurances of the principal, both Vivian and Mia had shown up at the school anyway to make sure there was no mistake, which there wasn’t. Sam was fine. Maybe a little baffled by all the grown-ups popping their heads into his classroom but fine.

  Mia had spent the next half-hour in the front seat of her sister’s Volvo, spilling her guts. She’d told Viv everything, start to finish, and they’d both shed tears. But then Vivian quickly moved on to practical matters, such as what to do next. They’d come up with a plan—one for Vivian and Sam and another for Mia.

  Mia’s plan involved appearing to follow the caller’s instructions while she figured out what the hell was going on. Her sister’s plan was more complicated, but it should keep her and Sam safe.

  “I think I see what happened here,” Alex said, jerking her back to the present. Mia looked into her friend’s chocolate-brown eyes and felt a wave of trust. Before joining the Delphi Center, Alex had managed what amounted to a civilian-run witness-protection program. She knew how to keep secrets.

  “Are you listening, Mia? You look a little dazed.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Okay, what you’ve got here is a picture within a picture. In other words, it’s a fake.”

  Mia wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, but something in Alex’s tone told her she couldn’t. “There’s a problem, isn’t there?”

  “In terms of Sam’s safety? I’d say yes, there’s a major problem.” Alex pointed at Sam’s face. “The image of your nephew is from an actual photograph. So is the image of the school. The doctored part is these images together. They’ve been overlaid. It’s a pretty good job, too. If it weren’t for this new software I’m test-driving, I might have missed the signs.”

  Mia looked at the screen. She leaned closer to study Sam’s face, his posture, his clothing.

  “Is it possible someone could have lifted this picture from the Internet, like from a Facebook page or something?”

  “It’s possible.”

  Mia studied his smile, zeroing in on the gap where his upper central incisor had been little more than a week ago. This was a recent shot.

/>   “Is it possible someone changed the color of his coat? Maybe with a software program?”

  “Absolutely,” Alex said. “I can do it right now.”

  A few keystrokes, and the red zippered jacket Sam was wearing in the picture turned purple. Dread pooled in Mia’s stomach as she realized how easy this had been and yet how much planning had gone into it.

  “I think this picture was taken Saturday at the zoo,” Mia said. “Sam was wearing green that day, but everything else is the same. He went missing for about half an hour, and it turned out that he was off with some stranger who’d offered him candy.”

  Alex’s expression darkened. Part of her job with the Cyber Crimes Unit involved running down child predators who used the Internet as their playground, and Mia knew she’d seen some devious schemes used to target kids.

  “That could work,” Alex said. “Most cell-phone cams are pretty subtle, so Sam might not have been aware that he was being photographed. And that encounter could explain Sam’s voice on the phone call. This guy could have recorded it.”

  “You’re saying he got Sam to yell my name?” Mia sat back, surprised. Sam hadn’t reported anything like that to her. Neither had the social worker. Or the SANE nurse.

  “Maybe he was lurking around while you and Sam were hanging out together. He could have recorded it then.”

  The idea made her cringe. Someone had been right there watching them, and she hadn’t even realized it.

  “And what about tracing this message?” Mia’s temper started to kick in as she gazed at the screen. “I want to know who did this.”

  “I’d like to know, too. This took planning. Whoever this was not only got hold of Sam’s picture but also found out where he attends school and went out there to get this shot. Someone went to a lot of trouble to scare you.” Alex paused. “Any idea why someone might do that?”

  Mia could tell Alex knew she wasn’t getting the full story. But until Mia figured out what was happening, she couldn’t afford to trust anyone besides her sister.

  You speak a word to anyone, Sammy is dead.

  The kidnapping might have been staged, but the threat behind it was very real. And whoever was making the threat had figured out Mia’s Achilles’ heel.

  Alex watched her, waiting for an answer.

  “I’m not sure,” Mia said. “I’d probably understand all of this better if I knew where this e-mail came from. Can you find out?”

  “Probably, but it’s going to take some effort. This doctored photo wasn’t just slapped together. Someone used a sophisticated program.”

  “Not a bad merge. How’d you spot it?”

  Both Mia and Alex turned to see Ben standing behind them, leaning casually against one of the desks. Mia’s nerves jumped. She didn’t want to let yet another person in on this.

  “The shadow,” Alex said.

  Mia’s need for information overcame her apprehension. “What shadow?”

  “Yeah, I’m seeing it now,” Ben said. “Good eye.” He leaned over and pointed to the screen. With his rimless glasses, faded jeans, and sloppy T-shirt, he could have been your average twentysomething computer geek. But after working with him on a few cases, Mia was no longer fooled by his laid-back demeanor. The man was off-the-charts smart and a virtuoso on anything with a microchip. “See this?” He pointed at Sam’s face. “These shadows are sharp. This looks as if it was taken outdoors on a sunny day. The background shadows? More diffuse. Not quite as much contrast.”

  Mia stared at the picture. The difference was very subtle, but it was there.

  “Who did this, anyway?” Ben asked. “It’s really not bad.”

  “That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Alex said. “Someone phonied up a picture of this child and faked a kidnapping.”

  Ben quirked an eyebrow. “Hope his parents didn’t pay a big ransom.” His gaze veered to Mia.

  “We ran down the phone number earlier, but it looks like they used a spoof card,” Alex said.

  “You get this on e-mail?” Ben asked Mia. At her hesitation, he said, “I can tell this kid’s related to you. There’s a strong resemblance.”

  “E-mail,” she told him. Her stomach tightened. She still couldn’t believe this was happening.

  “He used a Yahoo account,” Alex said. “I haven’t had a chance to trace it, but I’m guessing it’s a dead end.”

  He nodded. “Shoot it over to me. I’ll see if I can get an ID through the cell phone.”

  “From the e-mail?” Mia asked, puzzled.

  “No, from the picture. Oh, that’s good, Ben! And damn it, I wish I’d thought of it first.” Alex turned to Mia, obviously energized by some brilliant idea Mia didn’t understand. “If this photo was taken with a camera phone, we might be able to trace the number.”

  “I thought you said he used a throwaway phone?”

  “To call you,” Alex said. “But probably not to take the picture. If this guy took the picture with a cell phone, it was probably his real phone. Then he likely e-mailed it somewhere to doctor it up on a computer, using a software program. Ben’s thinking we might be able to find digital tracks leading back to the phone itself. From that, he can run down an ID.”

  “You can do that?” Mia turned to Ben.

  “I can sure as hell try.”

  Jonah signed the crime-scene log and ducked under the tape. He followed the muddy path, taking care not to step outside the route staked out with orange twine. A couple of guys from the sheriff’s office nodded as he made his way down the soggy slope.

  “Over here.”

  Jonah recognized Ric’s voice and turned to see him silhouetted in the headlights of a crime-scene van. So much for his visit with Mia. Jonah walked over, and it took him a moment to realize that the bulky man standing beside Ric was the medical examiner. In a zip-up camo hunting suit, Froehler looked like the Michelin Man.

  “Park ranger found her,” Ric said.

  Jonah looked at the tall portable light that had been set up near the body. Several crime-scene techs were crouched beneath it.

  “Age?” Jonah asked.

  “Hard to tell,” Froehler said. “I’d say twenty? Maybe older? I’ll have a better estimate sometime tomorrow. And I know your next question. Yes, she was beaten. Was she dead beforehand? We’ll find out at autopsy.”

  “What do you think happened?” Ric asked.

  “As I told the sheriff, read the report.” He glanced in the direction of the body, and something in his eyes changed. “But if you want my first guess, blunt-force trauma. Someone smashed that girl’s skull in. Repeatedly. But if you quote me on that, I’ll flat-out deny it.”

  Froehler picked up his bag of gear and trudged off to his car.

  “He’s done already?”

  “Until the autopsy,” Ric said. “He got here an hour ago. We got a late invitation.”

  “From who?”

  “The sheriff. He knows about the Meyer case, gave the chief a heads up.”

  They started walking toward the lake, and Jonah tried to ignore the bitter wind. The temperature had dropped again, and Froehler’s hunting getup wasn’t looking like such a bad idea now. Jonah scanned the area, but it was tough to see much. Only a small patch near the lake had

  been spotlighted.

  “Same MO?” Jonah asked.

  “No.”

  “Knife wounds? Duct tape?”

  “Didn’t see any.”

  Their boots made a slurping noise as they neared the water’s edge. They stopped near a huddle of investigators in white jumpsuits.

  Jonah looked at Ric. “So, why are we here?”

  “See for yourself.”

  The bloated corpse lay facedown in the mud. Her arms were spread out on either side of her, but her ankles had been bound with rope and fastened to a cinder block. Jonah pictured someone tying her up like that and was struck by the utter coldness of it.

  “Notice anything?” Ric asked him.

  “Besides the hair?”

&nbs
p; “Yeah.”

  The victim had long blond hair, like Ashley Meyer’s, but so did a lot of women. He kept looking. One of the crime-scene guys stood up, obscuring their view, and Jonah was left with the grotesque afterimage of the swollen body.

  “Well …” It was the first thing he’d noticed, so he tossed it out there. “She doesn’t look that bad, considering.”

  “Considering she’s been in the water? Yeah. That’s what I noticed, too.”

  They were standing on a slope covered with mud and plants. “They just drain the lake?” Jonah asked.

  “River authority opened the flood gates Sunday, lowered it about six feet. We’ve had below-freezing temperatures since then. Helps narrow the timeline.”

  “How long’s Froehler think she was underwater?”

  “Wouldn’t commit. But he said probably not more than a day. Two, tops.”

  “Santos.” A deputy waved them closer, and they stepped into the halo of light.

  Jonah noted the gray skin, the slimy debris tangled in the hair. A weight settled over him. Every victim he saw made him think of someone’s parents. Ric looked on with a stony expression, maybe thinking about his own daughter.

  “You were asking about knife wounds?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Nothing on the torso,” the deputy said.

  The body-removal team rolled the victim over and onto a sheet. Jonah clenched his teeth and forced himself to look at her face, her body. His gaze stopped on her hands, which had already been bagged for transport in order to preserve whatever evidence might be trapped under her fingernails.

  “What about the hands?” Ric asked, following the same train of thought. “Any cuts? Defensive wounds?”

  “That’s what I was going to tell you,” the deputy said. “Her hands were sliced up good.”

  After just a few hours of sleep, Ric went in early to work on the only solid lead he had in Frank’s murder investigation: a scrap of brass no bigger than a kid’s thumb.

  But the shell casing got him nowhere.