Patrick Bowers 08 - Every Crooked Path

by Steven James

  “Now’s not the best time to get into all that.”

  “No, no, listen. I mean it. She needs someone. She needs you. She would never admit it, not in so many words, because she would think it’d be pressuring you, manipulating you, but she loves you, okay? I haven’t quite figured out why yet, I mean, no offense.”

  “None taken. She loves me?”

  “Um. Yeah.” She looked at me disbelievingly. “Hello. It’s obvious. You don’t read women very well, do you?”

  “Well, I guess, I . . .”

  “Didn’t think so. Listen, I want someone to take care of my mom. She deserves someone, and for whatever reason she’s settled on you. I guess she could do worse.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I want her to be happy, okay? She wouldn’t be happy living there if you were here. So what is it? Will you come with us?”

  “I need to think about it.”

  “How much of a puzzle would I have to make up to get you to move out to Omaha? Because I swear to God, even if it took me a year to write it, I’d do it if it’d make you come along.”

  “She means that much to you?”

  “She means everything to me.”

  So what would happen if you moved to Nebraska and things didn’t work out with Christie?

  Life would move on.

  Just like it always does.

  Just like it would do if you both stayed here and things didn’t work out.

  If people are meant to be together, if there’s a bigger plan at work, they will be. Right?

  So maybe you should tell her yes . . .

  Claire Nolan from the ICSC was on her way toward me with a man in tow. I had the sense that I’d seen his face before, but I didn’t think we’d ever met.

  “We’ll figure something out,” I told Tessa. “Okay?”

  “Sure.” She sounded disappointed. “I need a drink.”

  “Soda.”

  “Right. Soda.”

  She walked off and a moment later Claire greeted me. “Agent Bowers, I’m thrilled you could make it.”

  “It’s good to see you, Ms. Nolan.”

  “Have you met Dr. Perrior? I believe he consults with the NYPD. He’s one of the counselors whom some of our . . .” She backpedaled as she must have realized she was about to reveal more than she should have about who was seeing a therapist. “Some of our colleagues highly recommend.”

  I shook Dr. Perrior’s hand.

  “Oh!” Claire’s eyes leapt around the room. “I see someone I need to talk to.” She squeezed his elbow, then mine. “You two can get to know each other.” And then she was gone.

  “She’s an enthusiastic woman,” he said to me.

  “Yes, she is.”

  “So you’re an agent?”

  “I’m with the FBI.” I decided to take advantage of the moment alone with him. “Forgive me for bringing up work at a party like this, but I read the transcript of the interview you did with D’Nesh Mujeeb Agarwai on Saturday.”

  “Yes.” He nodded. “He went through quite a devastating experience, but his parents are supportive. He’s actually blocked out much of what happened to him.” Dr. Perrior tapped the side of his head. “Our minds, they’re amazing things. Sometimes forgetting is a blessing. It protects us from suffering.”

  “And sometimes remembering is a blessing,” I replied.

  “How’s that?”

  “Because it heals us from the lies we tell ourselves. I’ve always believed that finding out the truth is worth the pain of remembering it.”

  He chuckled. “If everyone was as astute as you are, I’d be without a job.”

  “A world as broken as ours will always need people like you.”

  He raised his glass in a small toast to what I’d said.

  I excused myself and met up with Christie again.

  “Pat,” she whispered to me. “I have to say, I don’t feel like I belong here.”

  “Just because these other women can’t even hold a candle to you, I don’t want you to feel too out of place.”

  She eyed me flirtatiously. “You keep talking like that and you never know where things might lead.”

  “I could come up with a few ideas.”

  “I’m sure you could.”

  Tessa rejoined us, carrying a glass of cola, and I was glad to have them both close by where we could stick together, especially since Tobin wasn’t going to make it tonight.

  +++

  Shane heard from the Piper that the file the Russians had come up with hadn’t been downloaded yet.

  He tried to contact Skylar, but she didn’t pick up, so he called Ivan Romanoff. “Francis Edlemore hasn’t opened the file.”

  “Hmm. Well, I might know a way to convince him.”

  “This needs to happen tonight or there won’t be a hole deep enough for either of us to hide in.”

  “Where is Edlemore?”

  “From what I understand, he’s at his office.”

  “Okay, leave it to me. I’ll get that file downloaded for you.”

  +++

  The Piper discreetly watched the video that Blake had posted, realized the person changing in the girl’s bedroom was not Tessa Ellis, and contacted Shane to see if he could figure out who it really was and take care of things.

  +++

  Jodie was coming toward me, picking her way through the crowd. After a quick greeting, she pulled me aside for a moment.

  “I just got word,” she said. “That boy, Derek, he’s fine. Tobin assigned a couple of officers to watch his room until this is over.”

  “Any sign of Skylar Shapiro?”

  She shook her head. “Angela and Lacey are still working to identify the virus that was sent to Edlemore, trying to figure out what it would do if it were downloaded. Descartes is analyzing Madera’s mailing list. And something a bit out of the blue: remember how some officers were looking into tattoo studios that might have done the work on Randy McReynolds’s hand?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, Hinchcliffe decided to call some studios in West Virginia near where Randy was living. Turns out one of them had a record of giving that tat to him eighteen months ago.”

  “Eighteen months?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hmm.”

  “What is it? I can see a light going on.”

  “At the morgue, Billy mentioned that he hadn’t seen his brother in two years, yet he knew about the tattoo.”

  “Maybe he was just off on his dates.”

  “Yeah. Maybe.”

  Or maybe not.

  “Tell Tobin to prioritize that LeBange footage,” I said. “And look for either of the McReynolds brothers.”

  “Either of them?”

  “Humor me.”

  As seven o’clock approached, the servers ushered us outside to the lawn, where a sea of round tables and folding chairs had been set up. A line of tables along one side held an array of chafing dishes and hot plates containing different entrées for people to help themselves to.

  I kept an eye on Billy McReynolds and tried to decide if I should ask him about the tattoo.

  I could think of good reasons to do so and good reasons not to.

  For now, I stuck with Christie and Tessa.

  People began moving down the food line.

  The three of us went over to join them.

  89

  7:00 p.m.

  2 hours left

  As we got our plates, Tessa asked one of the servers which options were vegan.

  He looked a couple of years older than her. He was a handsome enough guy, and her eyes weren’t exactly on the food as he pointed out the options that would be safe for her to eat.

  While we were getting our food, Maria Aguirre approached me. “Patrick, could I have a mom
ent?”

  After quick introductions, I told Christie that I would be right back, then, carrying my plate, I followed Maria to the balcony overlooking the lawn and the wide, sweeping garden filled with flowers that were in full bloom.

  With the gentle glow of the city in the background, and the tiki torches lit along a path that led through the garden, it looked serene and somewhat surreal.

  A light breeze brought the scent of the flowers and the distinctive oily burning odor of the tiki torches circling around us.

  Ms. Aguirre produced a cigarette and a lighter from her clutch purse. “I don’t know how many times I’ve quit.”

  “Some habits are hard to break.”

  “Habits, addictions, it’s not always easy to tell them apart.”

  From this vantage point I could see Christie and Tessa leaving the food line and searching for a table. “What did you need to talk to me about, Maria?”

  “Two things. First, this request from Agent Fleming. You had her look into the task force members’ backgrounds and firing range qualification scores.”

  “Yes.”

  “And that was because you suspect one of them of working with Blake?”

  “I don’t suspect anyone of anything until there’s a reason to. We’re just looking for any sign of those reasons.”

  “And you wanted to know their days off—that was part of the inquiry too?”

  “I wanted to see who might have been able to get down to D.C. and kill Wooford.”

  “I only have access to the Bureau’s files, not the NYPD’s. None of the agents on this case were off that day.”

  Hmm.

  “What’s the second thing?” I asked.

  “Detective Cavanaugh.”

  “What about him?”

  “When I was looking into all this, I spoke with a counterpart of mine in the NYPD Internal Affairs Bureau. Perhaps you already know this, but there’s an ongoing investigation concerning him.”

  Internal Affairs investigations are highly confidential, so I was shocked she would even share this with me. “I was not aware of that.”

  “Do you have any idea what that might be concerning?”

  “No. And I’m not even sure I should be discussing this with you.”

  “Are you aware of his extracurricular activities?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “It seems he’s conducting his own investigation.” She puffed on her cigarette. “Off the books.”

  I thought of the room in his basement where he had the case files of the children who’d been killed over the last decade. “You’d have to ask him about that.”

  “Would you say Tobin has a strong interest in sexual predators and missing children?”

  “I’d say he has a strong interest in finding them both. What is this about?”

  “How well do you know him?”

  “Maria, what is this regarding?”

  “Here’s a man who has no family, hardly any close friendships. He lost his daughter eight years ago. The killer was never found.”

  “Yes. I know.”

  “He slips off for days at a time.”

  “He has reason to believe someone on the task force is dirty. He needs to be discreet.”

  “Do you know the circumstances regarding Adrienne’s abduction and subsequent murder?”

  “Look, cut to the chase here, Maria. What are you saying? That Tobin killed his daughter?”

  She was quiet.

  “That’s insane.”

  “Over the years, he has shown—according to my source—an inordinate curiosity about certain cases involving the deaths of children in neighboring states.”

  “So now he’s a serial killer too? He’s just trying to find the people who’re behind his daughter’s death. If he hadn’t been looking into things, we wouldn’t be this close to the Final Territory.”

  She took another drag from her cigarette but said nothing.

  “What do you have?” I asked her. “A man preoccupied with finding the people who molested and murdered his daughter and drove his wife to suicide—that’s it. Is he obsessed with seeing justice done? Absolutely. Do I blame him for it? Not one bit.”

  “How much I blame him all depends.” She dropped her cigarette butt and smothered it out beneath the toe of her high-heeled shoe.

  “On what?”

  “On what that Internal Affairs investigation turns up.”

  “I think we’re done with this conversation.”

  “Just be careful,” she said. “He might’ve been right that someone on the task force is behind all this.”

  “Him?”

  “Yes. Him.”

  90

  I took a seat between Christie and Jodie.

  Tessa was also at the table.

  Christie, who was eating dessert first, asked me if everything was okay.

  “Yeah.” But my thoughts were somewhere else, circling around the unsettling conversation I’d just had with Maria Aguirre.

  Tobin is an expert on how child pornographers get away with their crimes. He knows the laws. He had the highest scores on his shooting range qualifications. He could have made the shot that killed Higgs.

  No.

  I couldn’t believe what I was even thinking.

  He was conveniently gone when Lily Keating was abducted. He lied to you about where he was.

  He knows you’re staying at Christie’s place. He could have sent you the mask and hood this morning, and he—

  “Did you solve my puzzle yet?” Tessa asked me.

  “I’m sorry.” I tried to redirect my thoughts. “What?”

  “The logic problem. The Goomians.”

  “Oh. No. Not yet.”

  She must have been able to tell I was deep in thought, because she dropped it and started talking with her mom. While they carried on their discussion beside me—something about summer and Tessa’s plans and how she wanted to get a job so she could help out with money—my mind was somewhere else entirely: Tobin and his possible involvement.

  He was so interested in your approach, in the geospatial techniques.

  What did he say while you were at the pool table? Everything depends on how you wrap up the game. It’s all about planning your next shot before you take your current one.

  Is that what he’s been doing?

  That room in his basement. All those files. Those pictures. That might not be his research.

  That might be his scrapbook.

  No!

  Well, possibly, yes.

  It didn’t make sense that Tobin could be guilty.

  Send Lily Keating his picture. See if she can identify him as Shane.

  No. I couldn’t do it. It’d be a betrayal of his trust.

  It’s not a betrayal, it’s prudence. Send it. It’ll settle this once and for all.

  But what if he found out? I couldn’t even imagine how that would affect our friendship.

  Think big-picture here. He’ll understand.

  Drawing out my phone as unobtrusively as I could, I sent Tobin’s photo to Lily Keating’s email address.

  +++

  Francis was on the line with Angela Knight.

  He hadn’t had time to finish looking up who might have sent him the threatening email signed graciousgirl4 earlier, and now he wondered if it might be okay to ask Angela about it.

  “What if a person was pretending to be someone else online and he threatened another user in a chat room?” he asked. “Would that be legal?”

  “Well, it would depend on the nature of the threat.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  “Why? Did someone threaten you, Mr. Edlemore?”

  “It was . . . Well . . .” Then he told her what he had done and what’d happened when he found the man
behind graciousgirl4’s screen name. “If I forward his email to you, can you find out who sent it to me?”

  “I’d need a good reason to.”

  “I’ll send you his message. You can decide.”

  “Hang on, I think Lacey might have something for us.”

  +++

  I didn’t hear back from Lily.

  But I did hear from Angela.

  Her text informed me that she’d figured out what the file that’d been sent to Francis Edlemore would do:

  The algorithm in it is designed to disrupt hash values. It could affect all the files in the ICSC database. It’d be catastrophic.

  I processed that.

  The other day Mr. Edlemore had told me that the ICSC had categorized seven hundred million files of child pornography. Every digital photo and video file has, basically, a unique fingerprint. If you could change those, you could hide a file. So if someone disrupted those files it could set the ICSC back years in identifying and rescuing exploited children, making it that much more difficult for law enforcement to track down them or their molesters.

  Sitting just to my left, Jodie checked her phone, then whispered to me, “Pat, something’s up. Can we talk? It’s sensitive.”

  This was getting to be my new routine.

  “Go on,” Christie told me, even before I could excuse myself.

  “I just—”

  “It’s okay, Pat. Go do this.”

  Jodie left first. I waited a few moments before following so it wouldn’t look suspicious.

  When I met up with her outside the house, she said, “Okay, a couple things. DeYoung was able to get that warrant to pull Hearre Construction’s files. They did a remodel on the home of one of the previous victims a month before the boy disappeared. We already know Wooford worked for them. Well, Higgs did too.”

  If they both worked in a seasonal construction job, then their home base would have shifted as their work location moved while they were traveling north or south with the construction jobs they were working.

  The link is in the open houses and that construction company. Where they intersect we’ll find what we’re looking for. Maybe people doing home improvements before they’re going to sell their homes? Could that be how the Final Territory finds out about the upcoming open houses?