by Tina Gower
“A—what?” My throat goes dry. I don’t understand him at all. He wants to take this further? “You just spent the last several minutes explaining how all this was moving too fast. I think your exact words were ‘speeding train without a destination.’ And you think a date is a good idea?”
“Speeding train?” He’s confused expression now matches mine. “I wasn’t talking about us. That was Jaylee.”
My cheeks go hot. I don’t like her getting that description either. Now it sounds like he was more passionate about her than me. I press my sweating palm to my forehead. This isn’t going anywhere. I can’t focus. “I need to interview this suspect. Can this wait? This conversation resembles a snake eating its tail.”
He crosses his arms, shaking his head. Now he’s gazing off at the peaks in the distance. “Fine. I’ll go in with you.”
I motion to his uniform. “You’ll scare away my interview dressed like that. She’ll think she’s being arrested.”
“If it’ll get her to confess faster and we can finish our conversation, then yeah. I should.”
I march to the front door, tossing my next words over my shoulder. “Wait outside. If I need you, I’ll call you in. You can hear up to twelve blocks or something, so outside a door should be a breeze for you.”
He calls something back, but I don’t hear because the front door thumps shut and I’m not a werewolf, so my auditory abilities aren’t advanced. Thank gods.
I’m not ready to deal with this. I’m on the speeding train with no clue if I want to know its destination. Having to deal with Human Resources has brought this issue up sooner than it needs to be. It all feels rushed. If I weren’t fateless we would know if this was a risk to pursue a relationship. We’d know if giving up our positions in our respective departments would be worth it. Better yet, we’d have data to support our success and HR would back down that we’re a risk for a potential lawsuit. Nobody would be forced to be reassigned. If they knew we could work better together than apart, we’d be given a whisper pass. I’d seen other couples get this in the past. Make tremendous progress and gains, you’ get conveniently overlooked by HR.
The lobby is a simple design. Generic pictures of flowers and fields on the walls. A dark leather couch and love seat perpendicular to each other in an L shape. Magazines are spread out like a fan in display on the coffee table. There are two padded wooden chairs off to the side facing each other next to a table with a small delicate metal base and wooden top to match the chairs. There’s a tall curved counter with a computer and office desk set up on the other side. The Fairy male at the desk acknowledges me and points to his ear bud, letting me know he’s got someone on the line and it will be a moment. I wait at the counter.
He’s careful not to look at me, but the hunch in his back and the tension in how he holds his pencil tells me he senses I’m here for something that might cause trouble. Fairies are intuitive. I’m glad I didn’t bring Becker. Sure he’s good at masking his body language, but being accompanied by a police officer isn’t going to fool anyone that I’m merely here on a friendly inquiry.
“Can I help you?”
“I’m here to speak with one of your programmers.” I flash my Accidental Death ID. “Pepper Amore. I believe she may have worked on a project that might relate to one of my cases.”
“Do you have an issued req?”
I don’t want Pepper to be tipped off that she’s a suspect, so I shake my head. “Oh no. It’s not anything major. Just a tertiary cross check of extraneous data. If she’s unavailable I might be able to find another tertiary. My intern is out sick this week.” I sputter the last sentence, pretending to be embarrassed I have to pick up my own exit stats. I want him to believe he’s doing me a favor by letting me get in my last data check on a case so I can close it.
After predictions happen, the department sends out newbs and interns to collect the stat sheets, if all goes as predicted. If it doesn’t, then the actuaries are required to investigate those wrongly predicted stats themselves and file a report on where they went wrong. Either it was an error in math or the raw prediction wasn’t coded correctly. It’s never the oracle. Oh no, never the oracle’s fault.
I flip through my tablet and scratch my chin. “Maybe I could check into this waste collections angle. Gosh, it’s been so long since I’ve done one of these reports.”
Untrue. I had to do my own stats sheets for Traffic. We were short staffed. Most interns begged to be reassigned. High work load and zero glory.
The fairy inspects me, head to heels, as though he’s deciding if I’m legit. He comes to the decision quickly and taps in a few keys. “Looks like Pepper’s at her desk. I’ll buzz her down.”
I readjust my bag, and fold Becker’s coat over my arm. I’d forgotten I had it on until the scent of donuts wafted up from the fabric. “No need. What’s her office? I’d hate to disturb her. This way she can go right back to work after I get a few questions verified.”
“Suite 308. She’s in the first office to the right.”
I nod and smile as I head for the elevator.
Chapter 17
There’s a large hallway with each employee’s picture with nameplates and titles under each photo. Pepper’s got an unsure smile and sleek brown glasses. Her light brown hair is tied back in a ponytail. She wears an olive green shirt and very nearly blends into the dull medium-tone blue background.
I study her photo for a moment, not really believing she’s capable of carrying out a mass scale digital attack, but we can’t really judge what a person will do when they’re angry at the establishment. I watch the office at the end of the hallway for a moment, getting a feel for the atmosphere. Most of the employees stay behind their glass-windowed doors, or smashed into their cubicles. One guy has dragged a plant in front of his desk, like he’s a savage hiding in the jungle protecting his resources. He crouches behind his desk, computer facing away from the windows so nobody can see his screen.
Another person is dressed in androgynous clothing. Plain jeans and a faded T-shirt, hair short on one side that flops over to longer on the other. S/he is marking their window with alchemy and computer language signs intermixed. The section of programming wraps around two-thirds of her/his office.
I manage to overshoot Pepper’s office, scanning the photos. The first time I go by her office she’s speaking to a coworker. Casually waiting for the coworker to leave, I check out the other photos on the wall as if that’s the reason I’m here.
Yep, critiquing this fine specimen of photography.
If the atmosphere of the office is divided—everyone keeps to themselves and nobody really interacts outside of work—maybe that was one less barrier for Pepper to do what she did.
The other employee finally leaves. I give it a beat and then stroll easily into her office.
She glances up the first time as though she’s expecting someone else. Her gaze migrates behind me and then slingshots back. “Can I help you?” Her tone is a mix of practiced helpfulness and mild annoyance at having to entertain another inquiry.
“Hello, Pepper. I’m with Accidental Death.” I flash my ID, but not too long, so she won’t see I’m an investigative actuary. I don’t want to scare her off just yet. “I’m following up on a case and before I can close it I need to eliminate all the confounding variables, hoping you can offer me some help.”
“All right.” She rubs the side of her leather desk cover. It’s worn along that one edge. “But we don’t usually get a lot of attention from the Death Departments. Especially Accidental. Our client list is mostly private businesses in the food, recreation, and game industry.”
“And one insurance company. Health Predicted United Insurance.”
Her eyelashes twitch. It’s subtle, but it’s there. She looks down at her keyboard. “I’m sure they could offer more help than I could on accidental death policies. If someone made a false claim…” She lifts her shoulders as though she’s lost for what to say next.
“It�
��s not a false claim; it’s more likely some sort of bug in the programming. But a possible security breach and we don’t like holes in the system. Any gap we can close for potential future issues we like to look into.”
“Has there been a prediction of a breach? What’s the probability?” She taps away, pulling up various pages. She slides the interfaces between her two computer screens. “I can tighten the security, mandate a change of passcodes for the company. I’ve been nagging all our clients to adapt two-part authentication for this reason.”
She’s convincing. Lit up with fire for her profession. I take a few steps back until I can reach the door behind me. I discreetly inch it closed so she’s unaware. For a moment I almost leave it at that, continue with the charade, but I can’t get over the twitch.
“How about another client of yours?” I carefully tilt the door handle down and ease it shut without a sound. She continues typing, lost in her code. I swallow. “How about Ever After?”
The tapping stops. There’s that twitch again. “Do they have a breach as well?” Her voice breaks in the middle of the question.
“It seems there was a breach of both sites.” I take a wild chance. I have no idea if it’s true, but she’s so readable. Her face hides nothing. I know, I know. I promised Yin I wouldn’t drag her company into it, but I’m too close to let the case slide away in obscurity. “There were health claims from Health Predicted United that flooded the Ever After system and created a list of bad matches. I’m sure you’ve heard of the lawsuit?”
She slides her fingers from the keyboard, her skin losing it’s pink coloring. “Is this related to the lawsuit? Because if it is, I’m going to have to decline—”
“No.” I shake my head. Her hands disappear below her desk where I can’t see them. I take a few steps forward to keep them in sight. “This is about the insurance company’s breach. Do you know anyone who would have had access to both? I’d like to rule out clerical error.” I meet her gaze straight on. “Or foul play.”
She doesn’t say anything for a long time. Her mouth curves down, her eyes go dopey like she’s going to vomit, her skin transitions into a translucent sour color—which hints at some dwarf ancestry, if that’s her puke-face.
“We should discuss how this is going to go. Falsifying predictions is a federal crime. A several thousand-dollar fine, and at least a ten-year, minimum, jail sentence. But it’s your lucky day, because I’m not interested in pinning the fault on anyone. I need the facts.”
She blinks. “But I want to confess. I need to confess.”
I double-take, not expecting her to have jumped to this solution. “But I know why you did it. Your match is sick. He needs a heart transplant and you were angry.”
I say the last unsure now. Watching her, I can see she’s almost relieved to be out with it. Did she plant those heart victims to lead back to her? Why would she make it so obvious? There was more to this below the surface.
Pepper takes a deep breath. “I’m not angry and my fiancé is going to be fine.” Her smile wavers at the edges. “Don’t you see? They found a way to make the transplant work.” Pepper’s gaze drops to her fingers. She fiddles with the cuffs of her sleeves.
“Then you did it for your sister?” I glance at the window, wondering if I can crack it a bit and call for Becker. Assuming he stayed where I told him to, which I don’t believe for a minute. Pepper lays her hands on her desk, head bowed in surrender. I’d almost prefer her to put up a little fight. This is too weird. “Someone asked you to set it up to make Ever After look bad for the lawsuit—”
Pepper glances up, catching my words like they’re a mass of important documents flying in the wind. “Of course. I did it for her. My sister.”
Stop. Wait. I cock my head, taking in the way she grasps at an explanation. “Is that it? You did it for your sister? You’re willing to lose your job over something she orchestrated?”
Pepper’s expression flicks from worried to serious. “She didn’t have anything to do with it. She didn’t even know.”
“So all on your own you decide to help out the lawsuit case by overwhelming Ever After’s match system with false data? Even though you have no issue with them yourself?”
“Please,” she begs. “I’d like to get this off my conscience. It was a mistake to play the prank and I’d like to fix it. I didn’t expect it to go so far. I didn’t imagine it would hurt anyone. I thought they’d catch it before the cupid’s notes were mailed out.”
It doesn’t add up. She’s lying, maybe not about being the one to mix the data, but something’s not right. “Who are you protecting?”
“Nobody. I acted alone.”
“You acted alone.” I shake my head. “I could really use you right now, Becker.”
“Becker?” Pepper squints, looking at me like I’m the crazy one. “Who’s Becker?”
“Give it about ten more seconds. Nine, eight—”
The door flings open. The room is suddenly filled with an angry werewolf. “Never close the door when questioning a possible suspect.”
“My department police liaison, Officer Ian Becker.”
Pepper shrugs down into her ergonomic office chair. “I thought if I cooperated…am I under arrest?”
Becker glares. “Yes.”
“No.” I step in front of Becker to keep him from snapping on the handcuffs he swings from his waist. “Tell Officer Becker what you told me. Start from the beginning.”
Some of the coworkers walk by and peek into the office, glance around and then continue moving. A few seconds later they casually walk by again. We have about two minutes before a supervisor or the CEO comes in and questions us. He’ll gag order Pepper and we’ll have company lawyers complicating the case.
Pepper looks from me to Becker. “I mixed the data on the Ever After database with data from Health Predicted United Insurance.”
Becker nods. Truth.
“Why?”
“Are they pressing charges?”
“No,” I answer. “As long as you write a statement. And make the lawsuit obsolete.”
“Lawsuit? I thought this was about Health Predicted?”
Shit. I showed my cards too soon.
Becker leans in over her desk. His expression softening and going all good cop. “Come on, Pepper, why did you do it?”
“For my sister.”
He sniffs the air. “You’re leaving something out.” He crouches to her level, but slightly above, leaning into her. I’ve seen this stance on the wilderness channel. Right before the wild animal ripped a deer’s throat out.
Pepper’s body shakes. She scoots in her chair as though she’s trying to get comfortable. It’s a lot like the deer in the show prancing around looking for an escape, but realizing there’s none. “They’ll take the money back,” she stammers as though she might explain, but doesn’t. “Daniel needs this surgery.” She stops herself, closes her eyes and presses her fingers to her forehead.
“Who will take the money back?” I ask, keeping my voice quiet and concerned. I don’t want to spook her.
“Nobody.” She looks us both firmly up and down. “I want to talk to my boss. There are obvious legal matters that will involve our company.”
Like magic, maybe because her boss wears an alchemy symbol around his neck that marks him a practicing wizard, the CEO appears. “Excuse me? May I assist? Pepper will you please guide our guests to the south view conference room. It must be rather crowded in your office for this meeting.”
Pepper stands.
“We won’t be staying long.” Becker plants his feet, hands on his belt. Authority stance. “Pepper will be joining us at the station to answer some questions.”
Of course this maneuver completely takes the case out of my hands. I can’t make guarantees to Yin or Pepper from this point on if it gets into the system. Handling it all quietly so certain details don’t become public would become impossible.
Pepper’s boss remains with his hands clasped in front of hi
m, his voice as pleasant as a butler informing us all of tea in the library. “I’m afraid we’ll insist Ms. Amore is accompanied by a representative of this company.”
To cover their own butts, by either forcing Pepper to remain quiet or be sure that all fault is solely laid on her. Everyone had an angle. I was only interested in the person who asked Pepper to mix the data. As the conversation increased I was sure there was more I’d missed. If I hadn’t been distracted by the issue with Becker I’d have followed the breadcrumbs outside of the forest. I now understood that forest for the trees metaphor. Pepper was my tree.
In Pepper’s online thank you she’d mentioned a foundation. According to the dates she would have been in touch with them and shortly after she would have mixed the data. There was a connection there. If Pepper had done this for someone else it might show on her financials. Or who paid her future husband’s medical bills.
Becker clears the path for Pepper and I to follow him out of the office and into the hallway. “They can meet us there.”
“Do you have proof? A warrant? You can’t just come in and accuse a citizen of a possible crime and demand she turn over all her access codes. We have a number of clients who have trusted us with their sensitive information.”
Becker steps in closer to the wizard. “She confessed. I have probable cause.”
A woman in a suit shows up and we’re at full capacity. She attempts to peek into the room on tiptoes, weaving her body to get a better view. Now there are spectators hanging out in the periphery, doing a terrible job of pretending to have a task within viewing and hearing distance.
“I must insist to speak with my client immediately,” she calls from the hallway.
Becker and her do the usual cop-lawyer chicken dance. Becker doesn’t want to leave the suspect, but since she’s coming in voluntarily and we have no real proof, not even a prediction to back up our claim, she has a right to come in on her own with representation.
“That’s fine. We’ll meet you at the station.” I grab Becker’s arm and guide him out of the office.
