The Priority Unit (Maine Justice Book 1)

by Davis, Susan Page

Harvey squeezed her hand, and she turned to face him. “What did they do?”

  She shrugged. “It took a half-hour conference of all the partners, but Mr. Owen came out afterward and gave me Tessa’s drive and put the missing passwords in for me.”

  “So, you saw the whole program.”

  “Well, not in detail. It’s huge, and I only had an hour or so left to work on it. And I had to give everything back at five o’clock, of course. Harvey, I don’t like it. I wanted to talk to John about it some more, but he acted like he didn’t want to discuss it. And then—” She broke off, her eyes wide.

  “And then what, Jenny?” Harvey asked.

  She turned to look at him. “I saw Nick’s icon.”

  “What’s that?” Eddie asked.

  “It’s something in the software that tells you who wrote the program,” Harvey said.

  Eddie laughed. “Oh. I thought for a second she saw Nick’s ghost or something.”

  Jennifer turned her smile on Eddie, and Harvey was sure that his partner was Jennifer’s slave for life.

  “So, what does it mean, that you saw Nick Dunham’s icon in the program?” Sarah asked.

  Jennifer sobered. “I thought about it a lot last night. The only conclusion I can make is that Nick worked on the program before he died.”

  They were all silent for a moment, then Eddie said, “Right before he died?”

  “I don’t know. But I do know that disk Mr. Rainey gave Harvey is one Nick worked on months ago. And the day he disappeared, he told me he was working on something hush-hush.”

  Harvey nodded slowly. “You did tell me the first day we met that Nick was working on a special assignment.”

  “I don’t know why I didn’t realize it until now.” Jennifer pulled a bag of cookies from the lunch box. “The partners told us it was a new contract. They made it sound like John, Tessa, and I were the first ones to work on it. In fact, they told us they had considered putting Nick on it, but since he’d disappeared and they couldn’t wait any longer to start it, they were giving it to us.”

  “You started from scratch?” Harvey asked.

  “Yes, on the security hierarchies. But after I saw Nick’s mark today, I asked John what they gave him to start with. I didn’t mention the icon to John. But he said Mr. Rainey gave him two disks with a basic framework for the program on them. He thought Tessa started out with something, too.”

  “And Nick Dunham wrote that first part of the program?”

  “I think so. Maybe John thinks Mr. Rainey did, I’m not sure.” She passed the cookies to Sarah.

  “You think Jack Rainey could have begun the program?” Harvey asked.

  She shrugged. “He’s quite good. It’s possible. But I definitely saw Nick’s mark.”

  “Would John Macomber have recognized it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “How do you know it was Nick’s?” Eddie asked.

  “A few months ago I had to go through one of his programs and find an error. He’d been troubleshooting it, but he couldn’t find his own mistake, and he was getting really frustrated. Sometimes that happens. So I went to work and stripped it down line by line, and I found this meaningless group of characters. It wasn’t a command. At first I thought that was the error. I pointed it out to Nick, and he said, Oh, you found my mark.”

  “So ordinarily, he would keep it a secret?” Harvey asked slowly.

  “Sure. For security. I mean, if everyone else knows your mark, it’s meaningless. They can remove it. But under ordinary circumstances, no one would notice it. Only a true computer nerd would pick your program apart like that.”

  Harvey looked out over the shore, staring at the waves that broke on the rocks.

  Chapter 20

  When they got back to Jennifer’s house, everyone unpacked their things from the Explorer in the driveway. Eddie and Sarah opted to eat supper at the Burger King. They extended an invitation, and Jennifer looked at Harvey. He shrugged, leaving it up to her. She thought he looked a little droopy, and decided he was ready for some down time, without the two chatterboxes. “Well, I’ve got a steak,” she told him, a little surprised at herself.

  “We’re staying here, Buddy,” he told Eddie decisively.

  Eddie looked under his pickup, and Jennifer knew he was checking for bombs. She shivered a little and wondered how long they would keep doing it. It didn’t seem to bother Sarah. She and Eddie climbed into the cab and left laughing.

  Harvey followed Jennifer inside, and she once again felt self-conscious, wondering if she should have voted in favor of Burger King and company. She started supper and put away the picnic things. Harvey brought in her books and the plate and leaned against the counter, watching her as she moved about the kitchen.

  “You shouldn’t have bought me that plate,” she said.

  “Don’t you like it?”

  “I love it.” She smiled. “Thank you. Did you have fun today?”

  “It was good, considering my original vision of a double date with Eddie.”

  “Eddie’s a good friend for you.”

  “Oh, yes, I’d do anything for him. But I don’t want to double date with him all my life.”

  She chuckled and began setting the table.

  “Are we going to church tomorrow?” Harvey asked.

  “I hope so.” She adjusted the fork at his plate.

  He smiled. This is the way it’s supposed to be, she thought as they sat down together. Her plain cooking wasn’t fabulous, but he told her it was great and ate heartily.

  When they had finished their meal, he said, “I suppose I’d better get going. Mrs. Jenkins has my laundry.”

  He stood up, and Jennifer did too.

  “Harvey, wait.”

  He looked at her expectantly. She wanted to erase any awkwardness that lingered between them since her unexpected reaction that morning, but she couldn’t make herself bring it up directly.

  “What, Jenny?” He stepped closer.

  “Would you feel differently about me if I cut my hair?”

  He shrugged. “No. Nothing external like that is going to change the way I feel about you.”

  “Thanks. I needed to hear that.”

  He caught her hand and drew her closer. “It doesn’t matter to me what you do with your hair. Grace Kelly, Rapunzel, Jeanie, or Pocahontas.”

  She frowned. “Who’s Jeanie?”

  “Jeanie in the bottle.” He laughed. “It doesn’t matter. You can frizz it like Einstein, or stick it out on coat hangers like Pippi Longstocking. I don’t care. Get it?”

  She nodded, smiling, and was very aware that the distance between them was closing. He pulled her nearer and slid his free arm around her. She rested her cheek against his shoulder, warm and solid, as he held her.

  “So, are you going to cut it?” His whisper was hoarse.

  She thought hard for a moment about what it would be like to have short hair. It would look different, feel different. She would gain at least two hours a week, from the time she now spent caring for it. Maybe the occasional moments of panic would end.

  “You like it this way, don’t you?”

  “I love it this way.” His held her against his chest, and she leaned against him, loving how warm and solid he was.

  “What would you call it if I just left my hair loose?”

  “I don’t know. I’d have to see it to answer that one. Mona Lisa, maybe.”

  “Harvey, I think God is more important than anything else in our relationship.”

  He pulled away and looked down at her, his brow furrowed. “You may be right. Have you reached a conclusion?”

  Jennifer pulled in a deep breath. She was almost afraid to discuss the results of their experiment. “I want to, but…I’m trying not to decide a certain way, just because I think that’s what you think.” She bit her lip as the anxiety surged. “I’m sorry. I want so much to just follow you, wherever you go on this.”

  He nodded and pulled her against him again, resting
his chin on the top of her head. Jennifer felt she was stealing comfort and contentment she didn’t deserve, as she stood with her head against his T-shirt, feeling him breathe.

  “You have to believe for yourself,” he said.

  “I know,” she choked, “but, Harvey, I’m afraid.”

  “You don’t need to be.”

  “But what if—” she leaned back to where she could see his clear blue eyes. “What if I put all my trust in God, and then I find I’ve lost you?” She couldn’t stop her tears from spilling over, and a look of pain and regret crossed his face.

  He cradled her face in his hands and dashed the tears away with both thumbs. “Jenny, baby, this is the one time I’ll tell you, don’t trust me for this. Don’t follow me. Don’t believe in me.”

  “It’s too hard.”

  He shook his head, and she saw that there were tears in his eyes, too. “Sweetheart, if you’re just clinging to me, you’ll be disappointed. I’m not infallible. I know that for certain.”

  Jennifer swallowed down a sob. “The God question is important to me. More important than I realized at first. But I don’t know yet how important it is to you.”

  “And what if I told you I’ve decided I don’t believe it?”

  She jerked her head back, staring at him through her tears. The bitter disappointment inside her was sharp and painful.

  “You mean that?”

  His face was unreadable. “I’m just asking a hypothetical question.”

  “I guess…I’d need some more time to think about my own conclusion. Because…Harvey, I think a lot of your judgment. I rely on your opinions, and…” She shook her head helplessly.

  He kissed her forehead softly. “Take all the time you need, Jenny. Just remember what I said. Don’t trust me for this.”

  He went to the door and opened it. The temperature outside had dropped about ten degrees. Jennifer stood in the doorway with her arms folded around herself. She watched as he took his flashlight and looked underneath his Explorer, then opened the door cautiously and checked inside the passenger compartment. He looked back at the house and waved. Jennifer lifted her hand then turned and closed the door.

  *****

  She sat tense and brooding beside him all through the morning service. Harvey regretted his iron stance on the issue, but couldn’t help feeling he had done what was necessary. She needed to have her own faith.

  Lisa Dunham brought the children to church that morning, and many people paused to speak to her after the service. She was gracious to Jennifer, and Harvey was thankful for that, knowing how splintery Jennifer’s emotions were. He made a point of introducing her to Jackie Wyman, and when he turned around from greeting Rick Bradley, he saw Jennifer and Jackie standing between two pews, talking earnestly.

  “Rick, would you pray for Jennifer and me today?”

  “Of course.”

  Harvey felt very self-conscious, but Rick seemed to take it as a natural interchange. They stood talking for a few more minutes about jobs and baseball, until Jennifer came silently up beside him. He reached for her hand, and she clutched his.

  He took her to lunch, then to the park near the bay, where they could walk along the shore. It was warm, and she left her jacket in his vehicle. The sun gleamed on her hair. She had a new updo that day, braids intricately pinned on top. He appraised it carefully when they sat down on a bench together.

  “What are you thinking?” she asked.

  He couldn’t answer that directly, couldn’t tell her he’d been imagining pulling all the pins out of her hair and dumping them in the bay. The little braids mocked him, like the knots of mental anguish she was putting herself through.

  He brought his hand up to rest lightly on the back of her neck. “They’re having visiting hours for the Dunham family this afternoon at the funeral home. Do you want to go?”

  She nodded. “Jackie told me. I’d like to. I wish I could do something for them, Harvey.”

  “You don’t know it, but you have.”

  “Me?” Her gray eyes widened.

  “We’re going to catch Nick’s killer, and you’ve helped.”

  “Good.” Her expression was fierce, but he felt that she might dissolve into tears at any second. For a long time she was quiet, gazing out over the water. “Harvey, Nick’s death has something to do with the program.”

  He took a deep breath. “Yes.”

  “And Mr. Rainey knows about it. At least, he gave you that other disk, so you wouldn’t find out what Nick was really working on. He has to know something.”

  “Mike and Eddie and I have talked about it.”

  “You have?” She swiveled on the bench to look at him directly. “When?”

  “We put in a couple of hours last night.”

  “You got Mike out, after you left my house?”

  “Yes. I decided I had to. He’s very good at putting things in perspective.”

  “So, what did you all decide to do?”

  Harvey caressed her shoulder gently. “We don’t have enough information yet.”

  “But you can question Mr. Rainey again.”

  He hesitated. “We don’t want to spook him, Jenny. He’s probably not in this alone. But don’t worry—we’ll keep at it until we find something solid.”

  She blinked and turned away. For long minutes, the only sound was the waves beating the shore.

  She gasped and brought one hand up to her lips, turning to stare at him. “I’m so stupid. It’s Massal’s program.”

  “What?”

  “Massal. Mr. Owen said it Friday, when I asked for the other parts of the program.”

  Harvey felt a stir of excitement. He sat forward and pulled her around to face him. “Mr. Owen said what? Tell me exactly.”

  She frowned. “He said they would have to ask Massal if I could see the whole thing, and Mr. Rainey jumped on him, like he’d said too much.”

  “Who’s Massal?”

  “The Arabic client. Jane and I have speculated about why he was there so much lately. She thought he was applying for a job at first. Lately I’d decided he was a consultant. But it’s his program. He’s the client.”

  “And he’s Arabic.”

  She shrugged. “Sorry. I know we shouldn’t profile, but I’m not really sure of his nationality. He has the Middle-Eastern look. I’ve never spoken to him.”

  “Could you identify him?”

  “Sure, if I saw him.”

  “How about from a mug book?”

  “With a thousand other Semitic men? I’m not sure. Jane might.”

  “Jane Morrow?”

  “She thinks he’s nice looking. But she thinks every man is nice looking.”

  “She notices things about men, though.”

  Jennifer chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully. “She doesn’t miss much in the office.”

  Harvey pulled his notebook from his pocket. “Spell the name for me, gorgeous.”

  “Massal? I never saw it written.”

  “Okay, but you’re sure that’s the name.”

  She shrugged. “We were calling him the Arabic guy, but then I heard it somewhere.” Her face brightened. “Mr. Owen took a phone call when I was in there one day. I think it was Mr. Channing on the other end. Yes, I’m sure. He said something like, All right, Ron. Massal’s coming in this afternoon. And then, after lunch, I saw the Arabic guy go in. So I figured it was him.”

  Harvey gritted his teeth. It was pretty thin. “That’s it? Is there anything else you can think of?”

  “Not until Friday. I just I told you. Mr. Rainey said they would ask the client, and then Mr. Owen said if Massal gave his approval, they’d give me the rest of it.”

  “You’re positive? This is important, sweetheart.”

  She nodded slowly. “There’s no one else it could be. And he’s been there a lot this past month. I saw him in the parking lot one day…” She broke off and looked at him with clear eyes. “He was with another man, younger than him. I’m sure it’s him. H
e’s the one who commissioned this nightmare of a program.”

  “Okay. I’ll see if I can find out anything about him.”

  “It’s Sunday,” she said doubtfully. “You’re not going to work now, are you?”

  “No, I’m going to take you to the funeral home.”

  “Thank you.”

  He gathered her into his arms and pulled her close for a moment. If only they could stay on the bench in the bright sunlight forever, and forget about reality. But even as the thought came, he rejected it. The puzzle pieces were coming together, and an eagerness filled him. He knew he would be up most of the night. The sun would be rising in Baghdad when he took Jennifer home this evening. There was plenty the Priority Unit could do. He was already cataloguing the federal and international agencies he would contact.

  *****

  He left her on her doorstep at eight-thirty, without even a hint of going in, despite the longing inside him.

  One glance up at the crescent moon reminded him of his most pressing duty.

  “Jenny, I want to tell you something,” he said after he had unlocked her door. “I know you’re still struggling with things.”

  She nodded, and he felt the consuming ache that had been with him for days now. He stood with his hands on her shoulders, drinking in her sweet, forlorn features. “Sweetheart, we haven’t spoken about it all day—believing or not believing.”

  “I know.”

  “We think so much alike, Jenny. Ask yourself, could we really not agree on something this important?”

  A spark lit her woeful eyes, and he could see that she was hovering, trying to fit that with his harsh disclaimer of the night before. Dear God, he found himself pleading inwardly, Let her settle this. I don’t know how much more we can stand.

  He backed away from her, and her shoulders drooped. His hopes plummeted. If I held out my arms, she would come to me right now. And if I told her now…It was tempting. Very tempting. He could end her agony in seconds. For the moment. But for the rest of her life? Someday she might be in Lisa Dunham’s shoes. It wasn’t unthinkable, with his job the way it was. And he needed to know that, if that happened, she would have someone stronger than him to hold her up.

  He took his notebook from his pocket and scribbled “Psalm 91.” He is my refuge and my fortress, my God; in him will I trust… She would find some comfort there, he thought, as he tore out the sheet.