by Elle Gray
“That’s Veronica’s laptop, right?” she asks.
I nod. “Yeah, but we didn’t see anything on it. Most of the files are just duplicates of what’s sitting on the table right now and what I pulled out of the safe deposit box she rented,” I explain. “She believed in redundant copies just in case one set was lost or stolen.”
Marcy opens the laptop and starts typing away at the keyboard. She’s going to see what I mean about the redundancies in the paperwork, but sometimes we have to see for ourselves.
“Did you guys run a search for hidden files?” Marcy asks. “I’ve found that some people will hide sensitive files in a black hole so nobody will find them.”
Brody slaps his forehead and looks pissed at himself. “I didn’t even think about it. I am such an idiot.”
“I think we both are since it never occurred to me either,” I add.
“Yeah, but you’re an idiot about computers. I should have known better.”
“Yeah, you certainly should have,” Marcy ribs him. “Good thing I’m here though, because I found one.”
I shake my head. In ten minutes, Marcy has been more productive than we’ve been all day. At the same time, I feel that electric charge of excitement that we are getting another clue to the puzzle. Marcy’s lips move as she’s reading something, then a curious look crosses her face. She turns the computer around so I can see the screen.
“Looks like it’s a note for you,” she says.
She’d opened a Word document—a note from Veronica. It seems so strange to me to be getting new notes from her years after her death. It’s like she’s talking to me from beyond the grave and it sends a fresh wave of grief rippling through my heart.
“Paxton, if you’re reading this, then things have gone terribly wrong. I hope you never see these words, but if you do, just know that I love you. With everything in me.
The story I’m working on involves Lomtin Laboratories. I don’t want to go too far down the rabbit hole here because it gets technical. But I left something for you. Something you’ll need. It’s in the place we had our second date. More precisely, it’s in the place I was most excited about on our second date. When I saw you were just as excited about it, I took it as a sign that we were meant to be. I know you don’t believe in signs, but I hope you’ll believe in this one.
If you’re reading this, just know how much I hate that you are. And I hate that I’m not by your side anymore. Just know I love you now and I’ll wait for you over here on the other side--and I hope I’m waiting a very long time. ~ Veronica
Reading those words makes the emotion in me swell to the point I think I might drown. I take a few deep, shuddering breaths. It’s all I can do to keep myself from breaking down and bursting into tears right now. But I manage to fight off the waves of emotion battering me.
A new emotion fills me. It’s not grief, or sadness, but bold determination. This goes beyond the feeling of momentum when I’m building a case. I have a job to do, and Veronica was depending on me to do it. She is calling to me from beyond the grave to get justice for her and I intend to do just that.
I study the letter again, this time keeping my emotions under control.
“Our second date…” I whisper.
“So, it’s obviously a code of some sort,” Marcy comments. “Something only you would understand.”
I nod and a small grin touches my lips. “I don’t need your codebreaking programs this time,” I say. “I know exactly what she’s talking about.”
Twenty
Woodland Park Zoo; Seattle, WA
I walk through the park, dodging the gleeful children running all willy-nilly and the harried adults barreling after them. The day is warm, but not uncomfortably so. The sky is a brilliant shade of blue and clouds that look unnaturally white drift through the endless ocean above us. The sun rains down on the world, casting it all in a glowing, golden light. It’s one of those perfectly beautiful days that seem all too rare.
I take a deliberately circuitous route through the park, not daring to go near my ultimate destination until I’m certain that I’m not being followed. I stop at a cart and grab a bottle of water and a churro, using the time I’m standing here to surreptitiously glance around, looking for anybody who sets off my internal warning bells. Nobody does, but I’m not quite satisfied just yet. I figure I’ll take another casual lap around the park just to be sure.
The people we’re up against are good. Really good. I know for certain it’s not in-house security at Lomtin and that the goons we’ve dealt with so far belong to an outside security company. I’m desperate to figure out who they belong to, because finding out who hired them will be another nail in their coffin. Based on what we know so far, my money is on Rogers, but I can’t rule out Sjoberg either. There’s a possibility it could also be some as-of-yet unknown third party. We just don’t know enough yet to make any determinations one way or the other.
Veronica obviously stumbled onto something big. Something somebody at Lomtin is so desperate to keep quiet, they’re willing to kill for it. I have to think that because she took the precautions she did, Veronica knew just how hot things were getting. I’m sure she knew her life was in danger. It upsets me that she didn’t come to me with this and chose to keep it to herself. If she knew there was a chance she could be killed, she absolutely should have talked to me about it. Together, we could have come up with something to keep her safe.
But I know that wasn’t her way. Veronica was fearless. The hotter a story got, the more she pushed because she knew she was closing in on something huge. It’s one of the things I loved most about her, but also one of the things that drove me the craziest about her. She could be reckless sometimes and seemed to care more about getting the story out than protecting herself. She believed that getting the truth out to the people was bigger than anything—including her own life, which was a principle she lived and died for.
I respect her dedication to her work. I respect that she was so dedicated to pulling back the curtains and exposing the corruption and evil at work in society. Her fearlessness was inspiring, and her passion was moving. I truly admire her for all she did. She helped a lot of people through her work. A lot. Selfishly, though, I want her back. I would give anything for her to not have done what she did if it meant her being here with me right now.
But I know she never could have lived with herself if she gave up fighting the good fight to live a staid and quiet life with me. She was a crusader. That’s just who she was, and it was that side of her that changed who I am. That passion and drive in her forced me to examine my life, ultimately leading me to decide I didn’t like what I saw. Led me to make the change from a life of selfishness to service. For that, I’m going to be eternally grateful to her. It was that drive that got her killed that also changed my life for the better. So yeah, you could say my feelings are a mixed bag.
“So, are you going to walk around the park all day?” Brody’s voice crackles through my earpiece. “If so, I’m going to come in myself and hang out with the orangutans.”
I laugh softly. “You’d fit right in.”
“Yeah, and you’d fit right with the tortoises. What’s the hold-up?”
“Just making sure I don’t have company.”
“There’s nothing in the air. No drone surveillance,” he replies. “And I don’t see anybody physically tailing you.”
Brody and I came out to the zoo this morning to grab whatever it was that Veronica left for me. Hopefully, it’s the key to answering the riddles that are plaguing me. He’s out in the van controlling a drone he has overhead. He’s my eye in the sky, keeping a view from up top with the hope he can see anything I can’t from ground level.
“That’s good,” I acknowledge. “All right, stay alert. I’m heading into Tropical Asia.”
“Copy that.”
As I walk through the park and find the signage pointing me toward the Tropical Asia enclosures, I smile to myself. Veronica’s resourcefulness an
d cleverness never fail to amaze me. She knew she might have to get me some information if things went bad, so she went low-tech to get it to me. Something that I, with my near eidetic memory, would remember, but nobody else could ever possibly know. If she’d been a CIA spook, they’d say it was an impressive bit of tradecraft, and I’d have to agree. As an investigative reporter who specialized in the insane, she’d picked up a lot of slick tricks along the way.
Way back before we were even dating, I remember her mentioning something about how much she loved the zoo. It stuck with me, and on our second date, I planned a romantic night out under the stars—at the zoo. Seeing how brightly she lit up as we wandered through the park was what gave me the idea of someday renting out the park just for us. The day we went was packed; we didn’t get to see some of the exhibits we’d wanted to see. She was disappointed about that, but we still had an amazing time.
The exhibit we did get to see that she was most excited about was the Malayan tiger. We stood at the enclosure for nearly half an hour just watching this big cat move around so gracefully. Veronica was enchanted by it, and even years later, she had the fantasy of opening our own tiger rescue center and habitat. The tiger spawned an idea for a story, and her work helped the authorities crack down on smugglers who were illegally importing big cats into the country for collectors. Veronica said a high percentage of those animals died from neglect and it had lit a fire under her to do something about it—and she had.
After her story hit, it, in turn, lit a fire under the proper authorities in the Seattle area who started busting illegal animal smugglers. All told, they seized twelve tigers, four lions, a boatload of different species of monkeys, half a dozen giant snake breeds, and a host of other smaller creatures. They were all then turned over to zoos or other natural habitat and preservation centers to live better lives than they would have in Joe Six-Pack’s backyard.
Other states followed suit and eventually, legislation was passed that supplemented laws already on the books against the importation of exotic animals. Veronica was never given credit for getting that ball rolling, but she didn’t care about that. She wanted to make true, positive change in the world, and she saw she had a gift and a talent that could help do just that.
She was so proud of herself for her piece about the animals and all the good it spawned. As she should have been. I think that was the first time she saw, in concrete terms, the power of what she was doing, and that only fueled her drive. It led her to hunt for big stories that would shine a light on Seattle’s dark underbelly. It also made her take some crazy risks in pursuit of stories that would have that sort of impact.
And it all started with the trip to the Malayan tiger enclosure. That’s where she would have left whatever she left for me.
“Brody, how are we looking?” I ask quietly as I stand at a paddock, watching a Sloth Bear sloppily feast on a termite-infested log.
“Looking good. You look clear, boss.”
I cut a glance around and don’t see any faces I recognize, which is good. Unless, of course, they are on a rotating tail. But I can’t worry about that now. I need to get what I came for and get out of there. Keeping my eyes moving, I stroll down the walk to the Malayan tiger exhibit and stand beside one of the three signs that announce the exhibit and give some facts about the animals.
Moving as casually as I can, I look behind the first two and come up empty. Knowing how long ago Veronica had to have put it there, I worry it might have been lost. Perhaps one of the grounds crew found and took it. Maybe it fell off and got swept away. Or maybe some kid discovered it and pulled it off. A thousand scenarios passed through my mind, each one worse than the last as I step to the third sign, which is mounted on a small railing off to the side of the enclosure.
The sign gives the name of the tigers inside: Ariff and Batari. They’re a juvenile male and female that the zoo is probably hoping will mate. I pause for a moment to admire the powerful but elegant cats as they move around their paddock. Ariff, the male, lets out a throaty growl that echoes around its enclosure, to the delight of the half-dozen kids who stand at the railing enthralled by the big cats.
Moving slowly, I slip my hand behind the sign, doing my best to not be too obvious, and my heart drops into my stomach when I feel nothing behind it. I move my hand around underneath, where a little opening in the wood has been carved out. It’s so subtle and invisible that I doubt the keepers would have noticed it—though it is covered in spiderwebs and dust. I carefully snake my fingers through, and when my fingers touch tape, I almost let out a shout of triumph. I manage to hold in though and glance around. Nobody seems to be paying any attention to me, so I grab hold of the tape and give it a hard yank. It comes loose with a sharp tearing sound. A couple of kids glance at me, their eyes wide, looking at me and the taped bundle in my hand like I’d just committed a federal offense. If they wanted to get tough, they’d charge me with vandalism, but that’s barely even a misdemeanor. It’s probably only grounds for expulsion from the park.
I give the kids a wink and stuff the package into my pocket, then turn and head off. I weave my way through the crowd, heading for the gates, my stomach churning as I feel the momentum, we’re building on this case skyrocketing.
“I got it, Brody,” I whisper into my earpiece. “I’m heading back to you now.”
“We have a problem,” he says. “I’m seeing three men in hot pursuit. I picked them up when you came out of Tiger Land or whatever you call it.”
“Oh, well that’s fun,” I remark.
“They’re at your six o’clock, thirty yards. One is in a red shirt, the other two in blue. All three are wearing ballcaps,” he says through my earpiece.
I’m at least a hundred yards out from the gate. They’ll be on me well before I get there, and I have little doubt they’re armed. I don’t want to get any innocents shot, which means if they catch me, I have to let them take me—and I’m not about to let that happen.
“Can you see the quickest way to lose them?” I ask.
“Negative. There might be more of them out there and I don’t want to steer you into them.”
I nod to myself, knowing he’s right. They work in teams of two, so the fact that he’s only picking up three means there’s at least one unaccounted for. There might be more, though. My mind spinning, I duck into the reptile house and try to lose myself in the crowd. I find a position and hunker down to watch. It’s not long before I see them come in, their ballcaps helping me pick them out from the crowd.
I slip down a hallway, hopefully unseen, and pass a couple of crew members coming out of an employees-only area. They’re engaged in an animated conversation, so they don’t seem to notice when I grab the door before it closes, when it would undoubtedly lock, and slip inside. I find myself in a small breakroom of sorts. But I instantly see my way out of here. Hanging on the wall is a pair of coveralls, a ballcap, and an apron.
“Perfect,” I mutter.
“You doin’ all right in there?” Brody asks.
“Yeah, I just found my way out.”
“Copy that. I’m pulling the drone in.”
“Have the engine running.”
“Will do,” he says.
I slip into the coveralls. They’re a little big for me. There’s a sweatshirt hanging up that bears the name of the park, so I grab that and stuff it into the front of the coveralls, making me look like I have a belly. It’s not super convincing, but it will hopefully pass a cursory glance. I put the ballcap on and pull it low, down just above my eyes. Lastly, I tie the apron on and look at myself in the mirror with a cringe. I’m sure my super-spy wife could have completely transformed her appearance with what I had to work with. My effort is about as far from perfect as you can get, but it’s going to have to do.
I open the door and walk out, hunching my shoulders and walking a little stooped over. I keep my head down but my eyes moving and spot the three men. They’re standing together, talking to each other and gesturing wildly, confus
ed looks on all their faces. I stifle the laugh that’s sitting in my throat since I’m far from out of the woods. I keep walking and exit the reptile house, doing my best to blend in with the crowd.
I head for the gate, walking briskly, and spot the fourth man. He’s near the gates, leaning casually against a tree. He’s looking down at his phone, then starts banging out a text message, a look of frustration on his face. I see him look up and start to scan the crowd, desperately searching for me. Hunched down and stooped, I watch him in my peripheral vision as I pass him by then step out of the gates. Once I’m out, I sprint for the parking lot, not stopping until I get to the van. I yank the door open and jump in.
“Go, go, go,” I cry. “Let’s go!”
Brody drops the van into gear, and we shoot out of the parking lot, heading for home. I watch the road behind us in the mirrors but don’t see anybody tailing us.
“I think we’re in the clear,” I say. “That was close.”
“I really hope whatever she left you is worth it.”
“It will be,” I re[;y, smiling to myself. “I know it will be.”
As we head for home, I silently thank Veronica. It’s because of her we’re going to be able to solve this case after all these years.
I only wish she could be here with us to celebrate.
Twenty-One
Archton Media Corporate Tower, Subfloor 1, Room 3; Downtown Seattle
“Not to be too dramatic, but if you’re watching this, then everything went sideways and I’m dead,” Veronica says on the screen with a small laugh. “Brian Takahashi is somebody I trust. He’s done some work for me because I didn’t want to pull you or Brody into this. I knew what the stakes were and how dangerous this was going to be.”
I look down at my hands, trying to stem the tide of emotions rising within me. Seeing her face and hearing her voice is breaking the mooring of my self-control and it’s all I can do to keep from sobbing. The package she’d left taped to the back of the sign turned out to be a flash drive tucked inside a waterproof bag. That’s my girl—clever and resourceful as ever.
