“If you’re done here, I’ll take the body back to my lab.”
“Call me if you find anything.” He walks over to his team and I watch as they move Kaley from the tree. Several officers stand by me, as if waiting for some instruction on what to do. Time to be a hard-assed cop with no emotions.
“Canvas the area, find out if anyone here saw something, don’t talk to the press and find me something to go on!”
My stern voice causes them to scatter quickly. Some out of fear of me, others because they would rather be walking in a park than dealing with my ego. I can’t blame them. Looking around the park, you can see the satellite poles for news vans. The vultures are here waiting to pick apart the story. Put it everywhere. Sometimes the idea of the people needing to know makes me fucking sick. I wish I didn’t know half of what I did and knowing Chase is exposed to all of this at a young age angers me.
You can only block out so much as a parent before your kid goes to school and some other child with assholes for parents shows him everything you wanted hidden. It’s wrong. It’s despicable. It’s inevitable. How can you teach right from wrong when you commit rape in a video game for points? Seeing all the families in the park just reminds me how outnumbered we are. One out of five of those girls will be sexually assaulted in their lifetime. No video game, movie or television show will change that, but the reporting goes down. Kids get desensitized to what they see daily. No outrage, more scrutiny of victims and what they did - less chance of a conviction. It’s a cycle that no one can break.
“Detective?”
A young man stands in front of me with a cell phone in his extended hand.
“I’m sorry to bother you detective, but the tech lab wants to speak with you.”
“Why didn’t they call my phone?”
“Umm, they did ma’am, but you weren’t answering.”
“So they called you Officer…” what the hell was his name?
“Pevy, ma’am. My brother works in the lab and asked I come find you.”
“Right, well thank you.”
Grabbing the phone out of his hand, he steps a few paces back to give me space. “Steele,” I say into the receiver while my eyes focus on the officer in front of me. His eyes finding the grass fascinating.
“Detective, this is Logan from the tech lab. I found some interesting things on Kaley Johnson’s laptop. I think you ought to come down here.”
“On my way.”
Disconnecting the call I hand the cell phone back to the waiting officer. Patting him on the back I walk away and hear him exhale loudly. Trying not to let him hear me, I stifle a laugh. Even in these situations laughter is always the best medicine. It might be horrible of me, but damn I love how the newbies are afraid of anyone in power. Kind of like my grandmother to me. Didn’t matter that she had osteoporosis, one swift kick to my shin and she had access to smack me in the head. Good times.
***
Walking into the technology lab is like walking into another world. Wall to wall monitors, dimmed lights, room temperature at a chilly degree and rows of desks. The constant clicking on keyboards and mice, the mumbling to themselves or one another is what hits my ears first. The movements, rushed, you can feel the tension here. The low hum of the ventilation unit catches my ears as I wonder what my brother would think of all this. He was a technology geek, if it was new he had it. You name the Apple device, he had it, broke it and found a way to fix it again. Me, I wish I could type on my reports on my old typewriter with corrective tape. It was my dad’s and it was old as shit, but it never got infected. Well it did once, but that was due to the tiny human currently in my care.
“Detective Steele?”
Turning around I come face to face with a well dressed, muscled man. His glasses gently hug his nose as his arms fight against the fabric of his button-downed shirt. His hand outstretched for me to take.
“You must be Mr. Pevy.” I shake his hand and am surprised by the firm, yet gentle handshake. My father, for all of his faults, told me that a man’s handshake was his bond. It showed his character. Weak or fake handshakes, poor human being. Strong but gentle, like Will and Mr. Levy here, they tend to be good men. Too strong, controlling bastard. Same goes for hugs. I wish I paid attention to this when I was younger.
“Please, call me Logan. I’m sorry for having my brother bother you. I know how rookies can be annoying as hell when they first start.”
“Not a problem. I never had a reason to come down here before.”
“Most detectives don’t want to come down here. It’s against everything you’re trained to look for.”
He motions with his hands for us to start walking. I fall in line with him as we weave through the desks of space aliens. They have to be some kind of aliens to be able to figure out that code or whatever it is.
“I think my training has treated me well.”
“Of course, detective, I mean nothing hurtful by it. It’s just this is not what you’re used to. Sure, we track bank statements, cell phones and what not, but that doesn’t warrant a trip here. What you have, you’re gonna need us. Me specifically.”
He pushes open his office door and I walk in to what could be a replica of Chase’s bedroom walls. Every shelving unit has some kind of action figure on it, let alone the logos of Batman and Superman hanging on the wall. Behind his desk, a full length autographed poster of Hadley leaning up against a wall, knife behind her back.
“You a Hadley Moreno fan?”
“You could say that.”
“I met her at a convention in Boston about eight months ago. She’s great.”
Sitting in a chair opposite his desk, I smile to myself. Leave it to Hadley to make an amazing impression on someone. Logan’s smile was authentic reaching his eyes. That being said, he keeps playing with his hands, and that makes me nervous. What is he hiding from me?
“So, why am I going to need you on this case?”
He leans back in his desk, his smile suddenly gone and his eyes serious.
“Kaley left an obvious trail in her search history. Normally kids purge it after every search, but you can tell she was in a hurry. She hadn’t run a test on her computer for a long time.”
“Forgive my ignorance, but what does her testing have to do with her searches?”
“Kaley ran a test every month to ensure her computer was running at peak performance. Her chat logs, video chats, everything was always purged so things weren’t as traceable. Every kid does it, yet the last month she had no care. The computer was sluggish and her search history was available for anyone to see.”
“Okay, so what was she searching?”
“A hit person.”
“Murder for hires? Where the hell so you search for that?”
“Well her initial searches were through Google, no single human specifically shows up. However, one person recommended a program and explanations on how to access one.”
“You lost me. Someone contacted her to tell her to download a program that could kill someone?”
“Sort of. She posted on a support forum for abused teens asking for help in getting away from her parents. Someone private messaged her with the name of a program. She was to install it and use the specific code he provided. It gave her access to the Dark Web.”
“And what is that?”
“Basically, an untraceable area of the Internet where you can buy everything from drugs to young children to hiring a hit-person.”
“The government has no way to track any of this?”
“We do and we don’t. We have Kaley’s laptop and she saved the password so I can access it until her account is closed.”
“Who would close it?”
“Whoever gave her access in the first place. This is the most difficult type of crime in the word to track and prove.”
“Can you search for someone on there?”
“No, everything is through anonymous names. Money changes hands after it’s bounced through a ridiculous number of IP ad
dresses. So far all I have found is that she was in constant contact with a D.B.M. His IP is pretty much hidden.”
“Was she hidden?”
“Once she downloaded that program, with that specific access code, it creates a unique and untraceable IP. The whole idea of the Dark Web is to ensure anonymity.”
“So no one from that world could come here and kill her.”
“I didn’t say that. I just know they couldn’t trace her through this. It’s extremely difficult.”
“This makes me even more paranoid about Chase having his own computer.”
“My niece wanted an iPhone. She’s eight, I gave her one recoded to only allow emergency calls and previously programmed games.”
“She must love you,” I laugh.
“She said she wanted an iPhone, she didn’t say anything about the full use of one.”
“Let me know if you find anything else. I promise to answer this time.”
“You know, Hadley is at the convention center this week. If you’re a fan of hers, maybe stop by and say hi.”
“Maybe I will, thanks.”
I shake his hand once more before heading out the door. If I knew half of what he did, my kid would be locked in a panic room, taking classes online with tunnels to a park with his friends. Hell, maybe I’d just build an underground fortress and hide all the kids I know there. My mother never dealt with this shit, razors in candy sure. Villains in an untraceable space where no one can find or catch you, fuck no.
***
Walking down into the pit of the precinct with a bottle and two plastic cups I feel the weight of everything bearing down on me. My body finds its way to Victor’s office, dropping into chair furthest from the door. Always have to keep my back to a wall. Some things never change. Filling one of the plastic cups to the top, I lean back in the chair.
Drinking the harsh fluid I feel it burn all the way to my stomach. Means I’m still here. I can still feel things. Still haven’t touched the Garrison angle in this whole case. I want to, God do I want to, but there’s not enough to get the captain to loosen his grip. He won’t let anyone go near Irving and his company without ample piles of paper. I’m so tired of this fight.
“Come here to apologize?”
Victor stands at the door, his arms folded - defensive. I simply pour him a plastic cup full of liquid fuel. He sits back and takes a sip, his eyes wide when he realizes it’s Johnny Walker Blue Label. Smiling, he sits back and slowly sips the scotch. The bottle sits on his desk, half empty from our two lone pours. Last time I had this was with my brother after mom died. We finished the whole bottle. It’s only for special occasions and not of the fun variety.
“What’s going on Jazz? You’re on edge, your eyes look like hell and you pull out the Blue card? What is going on?” He drawls out and I just lean back, put my feet up on the corner of his desk and drink.
“Is it because Frankie wants a bigger family?” My eyes catch his and he nods in understanding. He knows I don’t want a repeat of the Chase fiasco as we’ve called it in the past. He also knows I think about everything from stress to money to college. Hell, I even plan ahead to Chase’s wedding. I plan everything I can whenever I can. Kids, Frankie and I can plan when to have one - but the rest… I have to give up control - again.
“I’m just not ready for that and I don’t know how to tell her.”
“Have you tried ‘Frankie, I’m just not ready yet.’”
“She pulled the ‘we’re not getting any younger card’.”
“You aren’t, but there are always going to be kids in foster care who need a good home.”
“Maybe.”
“Jasmine, you are wonderful with kids. You and Frankie are great parents to Chase. You both know that, so please drop the act and talk to me about what’s really going on.”
Okay, how to start the conversation I don’t want to have.
“Tell me about the body.”
Just don’t start at all then.
“Sexual trauma, lots of it. She was bound and gagged, probably for the majority of her time being missing.”
“Cause of death?”
“Asphyxiation.”
“Weapon of choice?”
“Based on the feathers in her throat, down pillow would be my guess.”
“Anything else? DNA?”
“No, but we got a good print from her thigh. Got a hit on the first try.”
“Walter Miller.” It was a fact, no question in my voice. I knew he had taken her, the diary told me. The bigger question is why kill Daniel.
“Will was sitting on the house waiting for him to come home.”
“Didn’t tell me.”
“You’re sitting in my office drinking. I doubt you paid attention to your phone.”
“Right.”
“You’re off your game.”
I’m not just off my game, my piece has fallen off the chess board. I’ve got nothing to add to that. I just nod and drink. It’s easier. I don’t trust my voice.
“Case hits close to home doesn’t it?”
“Just reminds me of Dennis. The things…” I take a big gulp of the liquor and cough a little. One wrong phasing and I know the tears will pour out of my eyes. I don’t want to be weak but lack of sleep and this case are causing raw emotions to come to the surface.
“What things, Jazz? He was a dick and luckily you ditched him before going to college.”
“My brother made him break up with me.”
“Henry? Why would he do that?”
Gulping down the rest of the scotch, I can hear Henry screaming at me in my head. ‘Sip it. Don’t chug!’ Taking a few breaths, I focus on my hands. There more entertaining when you’re about to bare your soul.
“Dennis didn’t like who I was. All during high school, and especially our last year together, I was his girlfriend. I wasn’t Jasmine Steele, I was Dennis Frank’s girlfriend. I was branded with jewelry, keychains, held onto tightly every time we went to one of his frat parties.”
Pouring more liquor into my cup, I know I’m well on my way to getting drunk. There are so many emotions swirling and I don’t want to feel any of them. Victor just watches me, pity etched on his face. I hate that.
“He said he accepted me as I was though. Told me that he didn’t care about my bisexuality, as long as I was faithful to him. I never cheated on him. Never even thought about it, but our third year of our relationship, things changed. I enjoyed being out, playing on a baseball team. Hell, I remember hitting the ball further and it irritated him so much. Here was his girlfriend showing him up, living her life and not catering to him. His parents hated me and despised the fact that I didn’t bend over backwards for him. I was a freshman in college, trying to find my way in the world and they wanted me to be a wife. I loved him, I did, but I wasn’t ready for that. I wasn’t ready for everything being a wife entailed.”
“I’m not understanding why Henry would get involved if these issues were the problem. I know all of this and that’s why he’s a dick to pretty much everyone who met him.”
“I hadn’t slept with him.”
“Jazz, we both were there for the drunk truth or dare. We know your first was some hot ass blonde guy with an accent in your twenties.” He chuckles as he drinks. It’s obvious the alcohol is hitting him. Sadly, this conversation is sobering me up.
“I let him have it, Victor. I was terrified he was going to leave. He was getting forceful and I just stopped fighting. It was easier to let your mind wander. Hurt like a bitch, but the bruises would fade with time. He was the first person I ever loved, my self-worth was wrapped up into him ya know?”
He nods in response, but the look of pity breaks me. The tears slowly fall, the alcohol helping my defenses fall.
“I wish I had more strength to push him off, continue to scream no, whatever I could. We don’t get that ability. No one believes us. It’s what a girlfriend is supposed to do. It depends on what I was wearing and what not. So, I get why Kaley was strug
gling. I was desperate for help, but I felt responsible for the whole thing. My mother had no idea, but Henry-he knew. He went with me to the doctor. You are willing to do dark things when pushed to that point.”
“Does Frankie know?”
“Yeah. It’s funny that she was the only one to make the nightmares stop. She helps when I wake up crying, she made me feel human again. Then I go and almost lose her anyway when Henry dies and leaves Chase with me. Everything leads back to the kids huh?”
Victor laughs as he grabs the bottle and pours more in his cup. He taps on his phone for a few seconds and then turns his attention back to me. The pity seems to have faded and a slight brightness fills them.
“See, this is what makes you a good cop. You think of the victims and the perps. You remember what it was like to go through something similar, you have a connection to it all. Yet, you can disconnect when you have to. You can be calculating and cold if it’s called for. That makes you who you are. Kids ain’t gonna change that.”
“Need to deal with some things first.”
“Stop obsessing about the connections to Garrison and focus on the little things. If the case is there, it’ll be there. Don’t lose yourself trying to force things, Jazz. If he fucks up, he fucks up. You can’t make it happen.”
“I could, but then I’d be sleeping on the couch for the rest of my life. Frankie doesn’t like meanies.”
“Because mean people do mean things to innocent people. May I ask what brought this on?”
Looking at the door I see Frankie in all her beauty. Smiling wildly, I know I am three sheets beyond the wind. Victor looks no better than I and before I can control it, I’m in a fit of giggles. Looking over at Victor, he’s struggling and I know it. Within seconds, he’s lost as well. The two of us giggling idiots, while Frankie looks on confused as hell.
It’s then that it hits me like a freight train-life can be good. Right now it is.
Chapter Five
My wall of wonders teases me as I’m not closer to understanding anything. The strings feel pointless, like I’ve created a web for creations sake. Pulling out a copy of Johnson’s identification badge and Miller’s photo, I hang them on the board. Well, stabbing them with thumbtacks to an already crowded miscellaneous section of my walls. They’re connected but I don’t know how and I’m beginning to lose my edge.
Melting Steele Page 7
