If he could see the code, he’d know how another hacker had broken into DAVIENS chemical plant without getting caught in Roland’s trap, a hacker who had used—as Justin described—a genius code. Only a few people could have managed it, and Keenan was one of them. He’d also been partnered with a blond woman named Angela last year when he’d kidnapped Blake and Nick, and Justin had described a blond woman as having killed the scientist. It wasn’t much, but it was possible that this was the first solid lead he’d had on Keenan in months. He just wished it hadn’t come after the bastard had apparently stolen hazardous materials.
They that dance must pay the fiddler.
His father’s voice echoed in his head, making him grimace. The old man had said that shit after every job, including the ones that had gotten him arrested. Roland had never quite understood why.
“You’re welcome to stay, Roland, if you’d like to talk to the kid again, but it may take a while.”
Roland realized that Detective Charles was speaking to him, and that it was just the two of them in the observation room—his partner must have already left to hunt down a representative from DAVIENS and question them about the missing materials.
Roland stood and put on his coat, feeling the weight settle onto his shoulders. “That’s all right. I have a few things to take care of this afternoon.” He took a step toward the door and stopped. “I also called an attorney for Justin. He should be here shortly with the paperwork documenting the terms of the boy’s release.”
“Well, we may need to hold him—”
“I’ve arranged for him to stay with a friend of mine. As soon as Detective O’Halloran is finished questioning him, a car will take him there.”
Detective Charles looked around for help, but no one appeared. After one harried swipe through his thinning hair, the detective nodded. “All right. Yeah, I’ll make sure he gets processed out quickly.”
“Thank you, Detective,” Roland said smoothly, and sent one last look through the two-way mirror at Maura’s red hair. He should probably tell her that he suspected there was a connection between this incident and Keenan Shy. He’d wait and see if she kept her promise about the letters. If she helped him, he might—stress the might—tell her what he suspected.
IT WAS LATE afternoon and Maura half expected Roland Chandler to be waiting for her when she finally finished questioning Justin, but instead she found Detective Charles standing with a short black man in a suit.
She let out a long breath and ran her hands over her arms. Disappointed? Surely not. Relieved. She was relieved.
“This is Denton Sharps,” Charles said. “He’s the kid’s attorney.”
Maura knew Sharps—the best defense attorney in Boston. Of course. With a nod, she shook the man’s hand and knocked on the interview room door before opening it to let the man inside.
“Roland sent him,” Detective Charles explained when he saw her frowning after the attorney.
Maura nodded. “What about DAVIENS? You find out anything more from them?”
Charles shook his head. “They’re denying knowledge of any theft, so Noonan is working on a subpoena for their records.”
Maura scowled. “Can’t you just get into their system and find out what was taken?”
He scowled back. “I’d love to. You want to tell me how that’s legal?”
It wasn’t, which Maura knew very well, but she couldn’t help but think that Roland wouldn’t have to wait for a subpoena to find out what had been stolen from that chemical plant.
“We shouldn’t have to wait that long. The possibility that there could be stolen chemicals out there will be enough to have Judge Wall munching down Tums and signing anything we put in front of him.”
Maura hoped so. “What about this other hacker? Did you know anything about that?”
“No.” Charles shook his head. “Kid didn’t mention it until your interview.”
Maura started to walk off, then turned back abruptly. “Did he tell Roland about it?”
“Roland, huh? You know him?”
“Just answer the question.”
“I don’t think so.” Charles shrugged, looking slightly uncomfortable. “But Chandler was interested in your interview. He was listening in the observation room.”
Maura shook her head. Of course they’d let him stay and listen. “Let me know when you get that subpoena. In the meantime, I need someone from DAVIENS to verify that the body we found is their scientist, and see what you can figure out about this other hacker before Roland Chandler gets his hands on Justin.”
“Last I checked, you don’t outrank me, O’Halloran.”
Maura shook her head, irritated. “But it is my case.”
“How do you figure that?”
Maura wasn’t in the mood for dick measuring. She’d caught the dead body, and homicide trumped a fourteen-year-old hacker. But she wasn’t going to argue. She’d let her captain do that.
She walked off without answering, glancing down at her cell phone. Two missed calls and three texts from Maddie, and two missed calls from her father. Worried, she called Maddie back first.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just wanted to know what time you’d be home.”
“Probably not till after dinner. I’m sorry, honey. I caught a case.”
“But I’m skating tonight. You’re supposed to come and watch. You forgot, didn’t you?” Maddie said flatly. She rarely whined, but Maura thought that her flat tone was even worse.
She closed her eyes and paced a little in the hallway. She had forgotten, and Maddie hadn’t reminded her this morning. “I didn’t forget, but this one’s a pretty big case. I’ll be late.”
“Grandpa said that I should get used to being a cop’s daughter.”
Bert—also on his phone—spotted her in the hallway and started walking toward her. Maddie held up a hand and mouthed, “One minute.”
Phone still to his ear, he raised his eyebrows and made a “Hurry up” gesture.
Maura nodded and went back to speaking to Maddie. “Your grandpa doesn’t know everything. I’m sorry I’m missing seeing you skate. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
“Is it about my parents?”
Maura stopped pacing. “What?”
“The case you’re on. Is it about the man that killed my parents?”
Maura concentrated hard on the speckled brown tiles of the hallway. They looked almost like the flattened shells of some giant bird—ugly as shit, but staring at them helped keep her voice from wobbling when she answered her niece. Maddie didn’t ask about her parents often, but she was too smart not to be aware of the case, or that Maura had missed an opportunity to catch Keenan last spring. “No, honey. This isn’t about your parents.”
“Okay, will you bring me and my friends to the rink tomorrow to make it up to me?”
Taking a deep breath, Maura let it out on a long sigh. Twelve-year-olds. “I don’t know, baby. Probably. Let me see how this case goes this afternoon.”
“Call me tonight if you’re going to be late.”
Maura met Bert’s eyes. He was looking on in sympathy—he had kids waiting at home as well, but his expression said that she’d better get her ass off the phone.
“All right, baby. Talk to you tonight.”
“Bye,” the girl said abruptly and hung up.
“Bye,” Maura said to the empty line.
“Maddie okay?” Bert asked, already wrapping himself in his coat.
Maura nodded. “Yeah, she’s fine. I’m missing ice-skating.”
“She’ll understand. We have a positive ID on the body. Dr. Franklin Upchurch—a biochemical engineer.” He handed her his phone, which showed a profile of the doctor from the company website. “Get your coat on. We’re going over to that chemical company about missing cylinders.”
Maura studied the photo. “Biochemical engineer. Married. Why didn’t his wife report him missing?”
“She’s apparently on vacation in Saint-T
ropez.”
Maura snorted. “I wish. We keep having to shovel snow off the roof.”
“Us, too,” Bert agreed. “One of these days I’m going to retire and move to Miami.”
He always said that, just as Maura always bitched and moaned about the Boston winters, but neither one of them would move, even if they were offered a fortune to do it. She didn’t know if she would ever even move out of her family house.
I bet Roland Chandler has a house on the beach, she thought for no reason in particular. He probably had six houses on the beach and enough money to never worry about snow piling up on his damn roof. But even he—with all the resources in the world—hadn’t caught Keenan Shy.
“Detective Charles mentioned that Roland was interested in the hacker that the kid mentioned. You know why?” she asked Bert as they stepped out to a cold, gray sky filled with low clouds.
Bert shrugged and drew his coat a little closer. “He’s a computer guy. Wanted to hire the kid. Maybe he wants to hire this other hacker as well.”
Maura didn’t think so. “This other hacker is clearly working with whoever killed the victim and stole the chemicals. Even if this guy is serious shit, I doubt a job offer is what Roland has in mind.”
Bert snorted. “Chandler strikes me as a man who could be real flexible if the occasion called for it.”
Maura nodded. Flexible. It was probably his middle name. But she also thought that Roland knew something he wasn’t telling them about the hacker. She might have to call and meet with him sooner rather than later.
Her heeled boots clicked on the sidewalk as she walked and a vaguely familiar man with some impressive gold chains around his neck whistled at her as he sauntered into the station.
“Looking good, Detective.”
“Get bent.”
He chuckled and continued inside the building—he was probably there to get his girlfriend out of jail. She recognized him now. He came in every few months when she drove drunk and got picked up.
“Love,” she muttered as she yanked open the driver’s-side door of the unmarked sedan she shared with Bert.
“Love you, too,” Bert said mildly, settling himself into the passenger seat and gripping the “oh shit” bar firmly.
“No, fool. I was thinking that love makes people do the stupidest things.” Maura put on her seatbelt and started the car.
Bert snorted. “Ain’t that the truth, but where are you going with this?”
Maura wasn’t sure. Glancing in the rearview to make sure no one was behind them, she answered, “I thought that Roland wanted to catch Keenan because of what he’d done to Blake, but now I’m wondering if there isn’t more to it.”
“I thought you believed he could be working with Keenan.”
Maura thought about Roland’s story, about how he’d been arrested as a kid. How he thought what had happened was his fault. He might have been playing her, but she thought there was at least some nugget of truth there.
“Not anymore.”
“So, what? It’s some kind of love triangle?”
“Maybe. I’ll talk to Roland again. If I can figure out what Keenan wants, maybe I could find him.” She drove slowly out of the parking lot, but as soon as they were clear, she took off down the street in the direction of DAVIENS chemical plant.
Bert shifted nervously in his seat. “You’ve got that look in your eye. What are you thinking?”
“Nothing,” she muttered, feeling herself flush. She was thinking about talking with Roland again, about being bent over a table while he fucked her.
“Never mind,” Bert said, shaking his head. “I don’t want to know what you’re thinking.”
ROLAND WAITED ALL day on Saturday, but Maura never called him. He knew she and Bert had gone over to the crime scene at the chemical company, but he’d expected her to at least drop him a line. He’d considered calling her himself, but decided to be patient instead, especially when Hoover texted him that Maura was at the station until 1:00 a.m. Patience, though, was not his strongest suit.
He’d made sure Justin was taken to a safe place, one he’d arranged with his security team, but he’d also made sure that he and only he had the backup information the kid had kept on the other hacker. A team of analysts whom he trusted was going through the data now, digging for something to identify the hacker and confirm Roland’s suspicion that it was Keenan.
He hadn’t mentioned those suspicions to anyone except Milton and Nick, who would’ve figured it out anyway. Had Maura realized that the hacker Justin had described could possibly be Keenan? That the cases were connected? He didn’t think so, but she would investigate the hacker. She had to, as part of the murder investigation.
Thinking about what Keenan could do with a chemical weapon had kept him up all night. He’d fallen into a doze at dawn and had only gotten out of bed because he had lunch scheduled with his stepfather and mother.
Checking his phone again, he headed down to the garage. Thirty minutes later, around a quarter to noon, he was sitting across from his parents in the posh surroundings of Brennan’s steak house in Boston, a place where the politicians and socialites came to see and be seen, its deep green walls covered in images from Boston’s past—particularly baseball photographs and signed pictures of famous Bostonians.
Roland cut his steak methodically, taking no time to notice the warm pink center or the rich, buttery sauce that poured over the sides of the sizzling beef.
“I’m really proud of you, Roland.”
Roland looked up to meet his stepfather’s gaze. Former representative Jack Chandler didn’t hand out praise lightly, especially not to Roland.
“Of course we are.” Roland’s mother, perfectly coiffed as always, laid a hand on her husband’s arm in a display of support.
“Thank you,” Roland said automatically, and waited for his stepfather to explain. One thing Jack had in common with every other politician, former or current: he liked to hear himself talk.
“Dick Chumply was bragging about that software you created, MOMENT, last week at a breakfast for that returning ambassador.” He sipped his water, his classic good looks emphasized by the timeless cut of his salt-and-pepper hair and the square jaw that had yet to soften.
“Ahh,” Roland replied, and took a large bite of his steak.
“Aren’t you proud?” his stepfather prodded.
Roland hadn’t thought about pride. He’d come up with the idea after the Boston bombing because deep down he’d always been afraid that Keenan would attempt something similar or even more horrible, on par with the Oklahoma City bombing or the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center. Since he had yet to catch Keenan, he couldn’t take pride in the would-be mass murderers the software had helped to catch.
“I’ll be proud when I catch Keenan,” Roland said simply.
Shaking his head gravely, Jack leaned back from the table. “You have to stop holding yourself responsible for everything Keenan does in the world, Roland. It’s not your fault.”
“Are we having dinner next weekend?”
“That wasn’t even a subtle change of subject.”
“Drop it, Jack.” Roland set his utensils down on his plate.
“Stubborn. Just like your mother.”
“Hey,” his mom replied playfully, but without any real protest. She took a sip of her wine, the enormous diamond on her hand flashing in the dim light of the restaurant.
Since it was true, Roland raised his eyebrows at his stepfather in a “What are you gonna do?” expression and wiped his mouth with his napkin. He looked discreetly for their waiter, hoping to cut the lunch a little short. He was betting that Maura would be headed to the station today because of the theft at the chemical plant. He wanted to catch her.
“Have you even considered yet what I mentioned? Running for office?”
That was his stepfather’s latest kick, getting him into politics. Roland preferred to work behind the scenes, influencing where he could, trying to avoid becoming a clic
hé—the billionaire who rides a desk and doesn’t give two shits about anyone.
“You know that’s impossible,” he said instead. It wasn’t. Difficult, yes, but not impossible.
His stepfather set his silverware down and clasped his hands together. “Those records are sealed, and you more than served your time.”
Roland knew that Jack was probably right. He’d personally made sure that all electronic records of his juvenile crimes were gone, and the paper copies had been destroyed in a flood when a pipe had broken inside a wall at the county records room. The only people who knew that he’d been arrested were his mother and father, his stepfather, and Keenan. Blake didn’t even know. She thought he’d gone to college abroad. He had, in a way, just not by choice. Still, it hadn’t been all bad. At least the CIA had trained him well; he’d learned most of his skills from the other hackers.
Keenan had been arrested as well, but he hadn’t had a stepfather armed with a great deal of influence and money. He’d gone to juvie for a couple years, and when he came out, Blake said that it only took him a matter of weeks to take over the Watertown neighborhood where they’d grown up.
“He was so charming,” she’d explained at the time. “Even more than when he’d been a kid.”
I should have been there, Roland thought, not for the first time. He should have looked after Blake and the others.
“Jack,” his mother interrupted. “Leave him alone. If he wants to follow in your footsteps, he will.”
Roland looked at her, at the smooth skin and perfect makeup. She wasn’t quite the showpiece that she presented herself to be; anyone who’d been married to Roland’s father had to have a core of toughness to deal with all the bullshit.
“Thanks, Mom.”
Lie in the Moment Page 9
