by Liliana Hart
“Wow,” he said, brows raised. “That’s a hell of a picture. I think I’ll sleep with my curtains closed tonight. Miranda needs a few minutes of alone time to finish her search. I was kidding about the wine cooler, by the way. A beer is fine.”
I nodded, the half-smile on my face somewhat frozen, and I went to the fridge to get everyone’s drinks. I wasn’t sure whether to bring up the flash drives. They’d been in Carver’s possession for weeks.
“Your face is easy to read, you know?” he said. “They train us to be able to do that in the bureau. Just in case you were ever planning to play poker with me.”
“I’ve always been a terrible player,” I told him. “I finally had to marry Jack so he’d stop taking all my money. But it’s nice to know he’s not the only one who can read my every thought.”
He came over to the island and pulled out one of the barstools, taking a seat. I was guessing he had something to say, so I popped the cap on his beer and handed it to him.
“I’ve known Jack a long time,” he said, taking a drink. “Did he ever tell you how we met?”
“Not really,” I said, deciding to switch to water too. The stress of the day had given me a pounding headache. “Just that you were in a task force together.”
“That’s true. It was more than ten years ago. You ever heard of Domingo Garza?” he asked.
“Doesn’t ring a bell.”
“It wouldn’t unless you were familiar with the Colombian drug trade. But the task force was put together to bring down Garza. We knew who worked for him, big players and small players, but we let them do their thing so we could cut off the head. Only we couldn’t figure out how they were organizing their drops. It was a pretty sophisticated code, similar to the cipher systems they had in place during World War II. That’s why they put me on the team,” he said, smiling sheepishly. “I was the code breaker.”
“You get to carry a gun,” I said, trying to be encouraging.
“Yes, but you really don’t want me to shoot it unless I have my glasses on.”
“Good to know.”
“Anyway, things went sideways, as they sometimes do, and they’d piggybacked a tracer on top of the one I’d put on them. All of a sudden I was sitting right in the middle of a shit storm with a gun to my head and a bunch of very pissed off Colombians trying to carve little pieces off my body so I’d spill names of agents working undercover in their organization.”
Carver unbuttoned the top couple of buttons on his shirt and spread it open. A thatch work of raised scars lay across his chest. Then he push up his sleeves and there were similar marks there.
My lungs burned, and I realized I’d been holding my breath as I imagined the horrors he must have gone through. I knew the kinds of tools that would make those marks, and none of them would’ve been pleasant.
“I don’t remember much beyond the pain, except near the end, when I thought I was going to die, I remember the cavalry coming in. A big bruiser of a guy in all black with his weapon held steady was all I could focus on.” He smiled, his eyes in that faraway place as he remembered the details. “And then someone pulled me up from the chair and held me in front of their body, a gun to my head.
“It was a hell of a spot to be in. For both of us. And I never actually expected to make it out of that situation alive. It seemed like we stood there in that standoff for hours, but it was seconds at best.”
“What did Jack do?” I asked.
Carver smiled and finally looked at me. “He shot me.”
“What?” I said, unable to contain my surprise.
“Oh, yeah. Right here,” he said, pointing to his upper arm. “The bullet went right through me and straight into the heart of the guy behind me. Of course, I dropped to the ground like a stone. But I was alive. Hurt like a bitch though.”
“He shot you,” I said. “And now your friends. Men are so weird.”
“Hey, once I was in the hospital and all patched up I completely understood why he made the choice he did. It’s not a choice I would’ve been able to make. That’s why I work behind a computer and not in the field. And I respect Jack all the more for being able to make those choices. I trust him with my life, and I’d never betray him. Not even for the bureau. With all that said, and everything between us, he still hasn’t told me what’s on those flash drives.”
My mouth dropped open in surprise and I hurriedly took a drink of water to cover it.
“But I can guess, because I am brilliant and what I lack in the field I more than make up for in other areas.”
I had a choice to make. If Jack trusted Ben with his life, and he did, then I could trust Ben with my life.
“My father is alive,” I said.
Carver choked on his beer, and tiny droplets splattered onto the countertop. I grabbed a washrag while he pounded on his chest and tried to catch his breath.
“Believe me, that’s exactly how I feel every time he shows up unexpectedly.”
“He’s here? In Bloody Mary?”
“For now. Until he gets what he wants.”
“The flash drives,” he said, knowingly.
“Have you been able to see what’s on the drives?” I asked. “Even a glimpse of what’s past the encryption?”
“It’s a delicate process,” he said, frustration evident. “I’m sure Jack told you I tried downloading the contents onto Miranda. I expected it to maybe have some kind of safeguard on it, but the level of encryption was so advanced that it started infecting Miranda with a virus after twenty seconds. If I hadn’t shut it down it would’ve destroyed her completely. As it was, it took me almost three weeks to get her cleaned up and fully functioning again. I’m working on a few things to get past the encryption. I brought the flash drives with me. We can give it another shot when you guys aren’t neck deep in murders.”
The pounding behind my eyes had increased and I moved to the cabinet to get some Excedrin.
“I don’t understand any of this,” Carver said. “Your dad is dead. They found his body. The FBI matched his dental records. Your mom’s too. They don’t make mistakes like that.”
“No, he’s just that much better,” I said. “And I hate him for it.” It felt strange to admit it. How could I wonder if he still loved me and hate him at the same time? None of it made sense. “I’ve tried to put that chapter of my life behind me. The pain and embarrassment. The scrutiny. I’ve had every part of my life picked apart by the FBI. No stone was left unturned. But I endured it because he was dead, and when all the scrutiny was over, I’d be able to go back to rebuilding my life.”
“But he wasn’t dead,” Carver said.
“No, he wasn’t dead. Now he shows up, haunting me whenever he feels like it, yo-yoing back and forth between fatherly concern and threats when I don’t do what he wants.”
“What is it he wants?”
“To save himself,” I said. “I think that’s all he’s ever wanted. And a man who fears death that much must really worry about what his afterlife is going to look like.”
“And your mom?”
I shook my head. “She’s gone. Unless he’s lying about that, but I don’t think he is.”
“I’m not sure if you want my advice, such as it is,” he said. “But you’re a smart woman. You know exactly what your dad is. It’s time to let go of the past and move on.”
“What if the past doesn’t let go of you?”
“It doesn’t matter. He’ll try to put his shackles around you for as long as you let him. But you have the key to that freedom. All you have to do is let go and let God and the law do the rest.”
“What if the law is just as guilty as my father?” I asked him.
“Do you know what’s on those drives?” he countered.
“Not exactly. But what are you going to do if it turns out the law is as corrupt as my father?”
“I’ll do what I’ve always done,” he said. “The right thing.”
I nodded. “You’re a good man, Ben.”
“Don’t tell anyone,” he said, smiling. “I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”
“Holy shit!” Vaughn yelled from the other room.
It was such an unusual sound of alarm from him that Carver and I both got to our feet and ran into the office.
Jack and Vaughn stood facing the wall screen, hands on hips as they read the familiar site that was projected onto the big screen.
“Looks like Miranda found her source of origin,” Carver said, heading back to the computer.
“It can’t be,” Vaughn said, shaking his head. The website was just as I’d described it earlier. It was designed to look like a print newspaper. The words King George Tattler were typed in large Old English font at the top of the page. And just below it was the story Vaughn and I had read, sitting in the kitchen, just the day before.
“I don’t understand,” I said, coming up to stand beside Jack.
“Well, it looks like Rosalyn McGowen was a madam after all. Just not that kind of madam.”
Chapter Seventeen
I think we were all thunderstruck, because no one spoke a word for several minutes.
“No wonder she kept her laptop close,” I said.
“No wonder someone took it,” Jack said. “She’s ruined a lot of lives over the last six months. And she’s poised to ruin more. Whoever killed her has likely been a victim of her reporting.”
“Or they’re going to be a victim,” Carver said. “Maybe someone killed her so she wouldn’t print whatever she caught them doing.”
“Can you do a crosscheck from the people in the neighborhood to the people she’s written about in her column?” Jack asked.
“Sure, Miranda can do anything,” Carver said. “Except sleep with me. My wife put her foot down about that.”
“So much therapy,” I said, shaking my head.
“Crosscheck coming up,” Carver said.
We waited for several minutes while Miranda hummed in the background.
“I just don’t understand how she could’ve pulled something off of this magnitude,” I said. “She’s eighty-five years old. The technology alone should be her downfall. Jack’s mom still has a flip phone because a smart phone stressed her out and made her cry.”
“I’m sure Rosalyn had someone help her set it up,” Jack said. “Certainly the dummy accounts and offshore account. I can circle back with the attorney I got her will from. He’s out of a high-priced firm in D.C. But with as much money as she had, she would’ve been able to hire attorneys or whoever she needed to set things up for her and see to her estate when she was gone. It all adds up though. The timeline, the amount of deposits based on what she charges for her subscription service, and the way she kept that laptop locked up as if it were gold bullion.”
“It was gold bullion,” I said. “Certainly a lot more valuable than recipes.”
“I’ve got no matches,” Carver said. “None of the neighbors are listed in any of her articles.”
“Damn,” Jack said. “But someone knew. These people know everything about each other. They even know about affairs that those involved in think are secret. And they’re all great at keeping secrets for each other, but sooner or later details and inconsistencies come out.
“They knew Rosalyn was leaving at all hours of the day and night. She’s well known all over the county. Think of how many people’s lives she’s influenced. Someone is sick, she brings them a dessert, and then maybe they share something with her about their health. Or she overhears private conversations. She’s welcome everywhere—hospitals, the courthouse, and everywhere in between. Who’s going to notice a little old lady who’s been a fixture in King George for more than sixty years?”
“The camera,” I said, remembering the digital camera we’d taken out of the safe that morning. “What was on the camera?”
“I’d assigned it to Martinez, but he had his hands full doing the backgrounds on everyone. I told him to just email me the file and I’d go through it.”
“I still can’t believe she’d print that about us in the paper,” I said, my brain finally reconciling the fact that Mrs. McGowen had been spying on is in the back of Jack’s unit that night. Of course, she hadn’t known it was me, but she should’ve known better. “It’s creepy. What was she doing? Just sitting in her car watching us?”
“For all you know, she had her face pressed against the window,” Jack said. “We were both a little preoccupied.”
“TMI,” Carver said. “Y’all are making me and Miranda uncomfortable.”
“Can you imagine the things she’s probably seen in this town?” Vaughn asked. “You’ve got to hand it to her. It’s pretty ingenious. Sneaky old lady. And who’s going to question her? Plus, she made a ton of money.”
“Because of the victims of her cruelty,” I said.
“Hey, I’m on your side. Remember how we were meeting here tonight so we could shut her down? It looks like we weren’t the only ones who had that idea. She’s gotten hold of some very sensitive information. She’s affected elections, real estate developments, and broken up marriages.”
“I don’t understand why the neighbor was killed,” Carver said. “Unless he knew who she was and someone was covering all the tracks.”
“I don’t know if he knew her identity,” Jack said. “I doubt it. But he was one of her beneficiaries. Maybe her killer, and his, thought if Carl was close enough to leave a house to then he was close enough to tell her secrets to. Or maybe they were afraid he’d discover something after he inherited the house.”
“Carl was a good guy,” Vaughn said. “I don’t know Robert well, but Carl would come into the shop sometimes if he was rehabbing a house. His business was very profitable. He wouldn’t have needed the added income from Rosalyn’s house.”
“Maybe Robert needed the extra income,” I said. “He’s the homebody type. But he seems to have a lot of varied interests. Maybe gambling is one of them, and he just got in over his head.”
Jack looked at his phone. “Martinez has started sending the in-depth background reports, so if Robert has a money problem, we’ll find it. Carver, I forwarded the picture file from the digital camera to your Dropbox. It’s a pretty big file.”
“Already uploading,” Carver said. “Wow, that’s a lot of pictures. I guess she didn’t know how to erase them once she downloaded them to her computer.”
“Or maybe she didn’t want to,” I said. “Maybe she liked having any image she wanted handy at any time. Like insurance. Her phone and her computer were taken. All we’ve got left is the camera.”
“Good point,” Jack said.
“I don’t mean to be a downer on this parade,” Vaughn said after Carver started scrolling through the pictures, “But unless your murderers are cats, these pictures aren’t doing a lot of good.”
There were a lot of cat pictures.
“Speaking of,” Jack said, “What did you end up doing with her cats?
“I had Tyler collect all their stools and particulates from their hair to send off to the lab. Then I called the vet clinic and they sent someone to get them. I’m assuming they’ve cleaned them up and are looking for new homes for them.”
“Maybe it’s just me, but I wouldn’t be too keen on adopting a cat that ate its previous owner,” Carver said, continuing to scroll through the pictures.
“To be fair, if you die and you have a cat, there’s a good chance it’s going to eat you anyway,” I said.
“Good point.”
“What about the website?” Jack asked Carver. “Does she have an archive? Maybe pictures she didn’t use or articles she hasn’t posted?”
“He’s sexy when he’s in work mode,” Carver said, waggling his eyebrows and making me snort with laughter. “So intense.”
“Shut up, Carver,” Jack said, his mouth quirking in a smile.
Carver stroked several keys on the keyboard and the website we’d been looking at unfolded.
“It’s a basic website, so once I was able to trace the accounts
back to the source, it’s nothing to hack in and see what’s going on behind the scenes. In fact, I have complete control of it. She’s got a hell of a following. She’s getting about half a million views per month from her subscribers.”
“There’s only thirty thousand people in King George County,” Jack said.
“That’s the power of the internet,” Vaughn said. “Now every relative of someone who lives here is subscribed and people who used to live here are reading too. Plus, the people who are just nosy.”
Jack went back to the board he’d created the day before and studied the pictures and the layout.”
“Richard Selby had easy access to the ketamine that was administered to Carl Planter,” Jack said. “That all has to be accounted for and submitted to the DEA when it’s prescribed or used. Are those records digital?” he asked Carver.
“Yes, each doctor has a prescription number, and every narcotic that he signs for is labeled with a correlating number so it’s assigned to a specific doctor.”
“This is where things get fuzzy for me,” I said. “What reason does Richard have to kill Carl? And what about Keith Middleton?” I asked. “He was standing out front when we got the call about Carl. That’s the first time anyone has gotten a statement from him. What does he know, and what has he seen?”
“He’s pretty much a non-issue,” Jack said. “And I think that’s how he feels in real life too. Chen tried to approach the topic delicately, to get a sense of how much he knew about his wife’s relationship with Selby. She asked him a lot of questions about if he knew his wife’s schedule or activities since he was gone so much. Chen said the look on his face was the saddest thing you’ve ever seen.
“He said he knew what Monica was like when they got married. She’d been married before and had cheated on her first husband with Keith. Her first husband was a doctor at the hospital and almost twenty years older than she was. When she started the affair with Keith she said it was because he was enthusiastic and paid attention to her and he still had hopes and dreams. But I guess that wore off pretty quickly when he started working nights and going to school full-time in the day.
