by Mary Stone
Winter wasn’t interested in learning the various ways hackers did their work, she just wanted to know what she could do with the information. She wanted to know the hacker’s identification so she could catch his or her insane ass.
As Bree leaned forward, she propped her elbows on the table. “Well, Adrian and Kelsey did an interview with a local news reporter about the shooting. Willa and Mary kept pretty quiet, but their names were mentioned in the Danville city newspaper. They were only mentioned once, but if someone picked up a paper or paid attention to the initial news broadcasts about the Riverside Mall or did enough digging, they could have found them that way.”
Or they could have been at the mall themselves. Winter kept the grim thought locked inside her brain.
Ava dropped her arms back to her sides. “They could have, yes. Whoever our hacker is, he or she would have had to first access a list of the survivors’ names before they went after their addresses, phone numbers, and the like.”
Winter wrinkled her nose. “But the only record of that would’ve been kept with the Danville PD or the FBI.”
Glancing up to the names and then back to the table, Ava nodded again. “Exactly. Our hacker broke into the Danville PD’s records to obtain the names of all the people who were at the mall when the police arrived. Honestly, that sort of thing happens more often than you’d think. Departments tend to store hard copies of their more sensitive data, but every now and then, hackers will break into digital police records to steal identities. Granted, that’s usually just so they can monetize them.”
With a sigh, Winter slumped down in her seat. “How about the forums where the manifesto was posted in the first place? Have you seen anything there that might indicate that Haldane and Strickland have a fan club?”
Ava’s brown eyes flicked to Ryan.
Raising one hand to cover his mouth, Ryan cleared his throat. “Well, yes and no. Obviously, they’ve got followers, but that’s not unusual. Just about every mass murderer or serial killer winds up with some sort of fanbase. I’ve been keeping an eye on these forums for the past two and a half months, though, and I haven’t seen anything that’s really jumped out at me.”
“Shit,” Winter muttered. “So, none of this.” She waved a hand at the whiteboard. “None of these people’s names and addresses were dumped somewhere on the dark web?”
Ryan shook his head. “No, they weren’t. Not that I’ve found, anyway.” He gave them all a solemn look. “Yet.”
A stone had settled in Winter’s stomach. She hadn’t expected the meeting with Ava and Ryan to break their case wide open, but she’d hoped for a piece of information that would make some sense of the mess they’d inherited from the Danville PD.
Bree drummed her fingers against the table. “What if the hacker is the person who killed Sandy and Oliver? We’ve already been working on the theory that each of the victims was killed by a different person, so what if the person who murdered Sandy and Oliver is the hacker?”
“I don’t think so.” Winter shook her head. “If that was true, we’d have seen the list of names somewhere on the dark web. There would be some trace of their activity.”
Bree flashed Winter a curious glance. “You think that the hacker would have wanted to share the information with the rest of the followers?”
Winter considered the question before answering. “Yeah.”
“Followers?” Ava Welford tapped her chin with a slender finger. “You think Haldane and Strickland have a cult, or something like that?”
As Winter’s pulse rushed through her ears, she straightened in her seat. She swore she could hear the pieces click together in her head. Manson, something in her head whispered.
“A cult. Yeah. What if the killers and the hacker are all working together? We’ve been thinking of them as working on their own, but what if they actually know one another?”
The same realization flitted over Bree’s face as she glanced to Ava. “Like you said about police departments keeping their most sensitive information in hard copy form, maybe these people are doing the same thing. They haven’t posted the list of names and addresses online because they’re keeping them written down somewhere.”
Ava and Ryan exchanged looks before Ryan nodded. “Radicalizing someone online is one thing, but the pull is a lot more compelling when they’re face to face.”
Winter barely kept herself from smacking an open palm onto the table. “That’s it. The third person in the manifesto, he’s the one. He’s the one who found these other guys and radicalized them. He’s the common thread between them.”
For the second time, Bree nodded her agreement. “So, we need to double down on our effort to figure out who the third person is. If he’s the ringleader, then the first thing we need to do is take him down.”
Winter’s heart still hammered in her chest from the surge of adrenaline. “This might sound crazy right now, but I think we’re dealing with the next Charles Manson.”
15
As the quiet buzz of the ringtone filled Aiden’s ear, he raised a hand to check the time. Once he’d been briefed on the newest theory in their investigation, he’d worked through his lunch break in an effort to establish a behavioral profile for the ringleader and his followers.
Though he felt the familiar clench of hunger in his stomach, he pushed the pang aside as the other line clicked to life.
“This is Detective Leavens.” The detective’s voice was thick with sleep, but Aiden didn’t pause to contemplate whether or not he’d just roused the man from a midday nap.
“Detective, this is SSA Parrish. I’m calling to follow up on the status of the remaining survivors from the Riverside Mall.”
Leavens cleared his throat, and the haze of sleep vanished when he spoke. “Of course. We’ve gotten ahold of most everyone. Some of them have left town, but there are still thirteen folks who couldn’t leave because of work or school, things like that.”
“Are your people keeping watch over them?”
“As best as we can. We started reaching out to them all this morning. There are some we haven’t had a chance to talk to yet. We’re doing regular wellness checks and having the beat cops drive by their houses during their patrol. We told them to break away from their usual routines, and to be alert for anything unusual in their surroundings.”
When the detective paused, Aiden could tell there was more he wanted to add. “And...?” he prodded.
“The bureau is still planning that press conference for tomorrow, right?” Though slight, there was hesitancy in Doug’s voice.
“Tomorrow, later in the afternoon, yes. We’re doing everything we can to get ahead of it and collect as much information as we can before this goes public. We know it’s going to be a media shit storm. Why?”
Doug heaved a quiet sigh. “What if the announcement sends the killer into hiding? As long as they don’t know that we’re onto the pattern, they don’t know that we’re onto them too. Is there any way we can keep this under wraps until we’ve found a suspect?”
Aiden pursed his lips. He’d mulled over the idea himself, but the ethics of withholding such a volatile piece of information from the majority of the public were questionable at best. “We’ve already told twenty something people about what we think is happening. If one of them doesn’t leak something to the press, either accidentally or on purpose, I’d be dumbfounded. If word gets out to the public that way, they’ll lose what little faith they’ve got in the authorities to handle this case.”
Another sigh. “You’re right. I know you’re right, but it just seems like a good opportunity to take this bastard by surprise, you know?”
Aiden nodded to himself. “You’re not wrong. But at the same time, once we go to the press about it, we’ve got the potential for tips to come in from the public. It’ll be easier to spread the word across the whole damn country, and we’ll be able to look for evidence in some places that might’ve been off limits to us before.”
“Huh, yeah.�
� The trepidation had dissipated from Doug’s tone. “You’re right. We’ll open up a tip line here in Danville, and we’ll see what we can do about getting the sheriff’s office involved too. I know this is Federal jurisdiction now, but I’ll be damned if the city of Danville isn’t going to do something to help. These are our people who were killed.”
“We appreciate it, Detective. The more we look into this, the bigger the whole thing seems to become. I’ll keep you posted on any updates we run into, and I’ll make sure to let you know before we do that press conference tomorrow. It’s scheduled for three, but we might move it up.”
“Roger that, Parrish. I appreciate you keeping me in the loop. I’ll talk to you soon.”
Pulling the phone away from his face, Aiden let it drop into his lap. Damn, he was tired. With a heavy sigh, he tilted his head back to fix his vacant stare on the dimpled drop ceiling of his office.
The theory Winter had proposed made sense, but just because it made sense didn’t mean it made the investigation easier.
Charles Manson’s case had been intricate and complex, and the trial to convict him was mired in legal speedbumps. Though the law had evolved since the early 1970s, cult leaders were still difficult to track down and prosecute. Their followers were notoriously loyal and closemouthed. Even the mob could take notes on the unyielding devotion of cult leaders and their so-called flocks.
Aiden had kept the sentiment to himself so far, but he couldn’t help but wonder if the Charles Manson-type character they sought now had been the motivator behind Kent Strickland and Tyler Haldane’s massacre.
Had Strickland and Haldane been coerced and controlled by a charismatic man with a seemingly revolutionary message? Had law enforcement merely put away the tools only to leave the mastermind free to commit more atrocities in the name of his twisted agenda?
If they were looking for someone like Charles Manson, Aiden thought he knew the answer. And if the mastermind was still free, then their investigation had a new, unprecedented level of urgency.
Unless they found him soon, more people would die. In Aiden’s mind, there was no doubt. There were no ifs, ands, or buts. The only question was how many.
16
After another fifteen minutes in the cab of the white work van, Will finally managed to calm his racing heartbeat. He and Jaime had gone over his task at least ten times, and by now, Will had a clear mental picture of how his reconnaissance would play out.
A police cruiser had driven through the quiet neighborhood not long after Will parked. At the sight of the black and white vehicle, his heart leapt into his throat, and he’d been convinced that the cops were onto them. He was still paranoid, even though the officer hardly cast a second glance in Will’s direction. The front windows of the van were lightly tinted, but they weren’t so dark that an outside observer’s view of the cab was hindered.
As the cop had driven by, Will made a show of leaning back in his seat to scroll through his smartphone. With the security systems uniform Jaime had stolen, as well as the removable decals they’d plastered to the side of the white van, Will looked like just another repairman. Jaime had even pilfered the technician’s ID badge. After pasting Will’s picture over the face of the other man, Jaime was certain that no casual onlooker would be able to spot the forgery.
Scratching the side of his bearded cheek, Will glanced back to the house—to the target. The residence was an unassuming two-story family home with a modest driveway and a two-car garage. Beige siding blended in with the other neutral colors that dotted the block, and a chain-link fence surrounded the grassy lawn. A tall oak took up the far corner of the lawn, its branches spread over the roof like a protective hand.
After almost three months under Jaime’s wing, Will could hardly believe his time had come. Finally, after all the lessons about security alarms—knowledge that was passed to Jaime by his grandfather—Will was about to embark on his first real mission for their cause.
The modest house across the street wasn’t home to just any other family. God had chosen the Young family. The mother, Dana, and her daughter, Sadie, had been at the Riverside Mall for a reason. They had walked away, and there was a balance that had to be restored to the world, and Will was the lucky one who had been chosen to complete the task.
Jaime had warned him not to trust the image portrayed by the Young family. Even if they claimed otherwise, they were sinners, and they needed to be punished in accordance with God’s will. Tyler and Kent had tried, but their effort had been unsuccessful.
Now, Will was here to take up their mantle.
With a deep, steadying breath, Will straightened to check his reflection in the rearview mirror. The gray button-down shirt was embroidered with the logo of a well-known security alarm business in Danville. Anderson’s Alarms was partnered with a nationally regarded security company—a competitor of the company that provided the Young household with their alarm system.
In the interest of gathering more information about the family’s habits, Will would pretend to be keen on selling them a new alarm system. He’d worked in sales during high school, and he assumed the principle of selling alarms was largely the same used as the method to sell televisions.
Readjusting the lanyard around his neck, he nodded slightly to his reflection.
The time had come for him to prove his worth to Jaime, and he intended to pass this test with flying colors.
Clipboard in hand, he pulled on the metal handle and shoved the driver’s side door open. Glancing up and down the street, he leapt to the asphalt. As Will approached the house, he went over Jaime’s suggestions one last time. If the person to whom he spoke became suspicious, he’d been instructed by Jaime merely to hand them a business card and suggest they verify his identity with their corporate office. Since Will’s name today was Jared Gainfort, their call would indeed confirm that Will was an authorized salesperson for Anderson’s Alarms.
However, Jaime doubted he would receive much pushback from the homeowners. After all, he wasn’t there to interrogate them—he only wanted to get a better feel for the layout of their house and an approximate picture of their nightly routine.
Swallowing any lingering anxiety, Will forced a smile to his lips as he rapped his knuckles against the wooden door. A couple muffled voices sounded out from inside, but he couldn’t make out their words.
As the door swung inward, he almost lost his convincing façade. Brown eyes wide, a young girl—Mariah, not Sadie, he realized—regarded him with unabashed curiosity. She was pretty, with a sweet smile that made her face light up. In response, he smiled back.
For a split-second, he’d almost forgotten why he was here. He couldn’t forget.
Later tonight, he would be back, and he would be required to carry out the Lord’s orders. The Young family, this little girl included, had been sentenced to die by God himself.
They’re sinners, he reminded himself.
Swallowing against the sudden tightness in his throat, he forced the smile back to his lips. “Hello. Are your parents home?”
The girl nodded. “Yeah. Just a sec.” As she disappeared around the corner, her muffled shout followed. “Mom! There’s some repair guy at the door.”
“What? I told you not to open…” The woman’s voice grew quiet, but he could still hear some mutterings going on. Kid was going to get a lecture after he left, he thought with a smile.
Shifting from one foot to another, Will glanced around the covered porch while he waited. There were a couple potted plants beside a lawn chair, and a planter hung from the banister beside the set of steps that led to the door.
As a tall, willowy woman appeared at the edge of the foyer, Will snapped his attention back to the house.
With a slight smile, he offered a nod of greeting to the woman who stepped into the doorway. Her chestnut brown hair was cut just above her shoulders, and her blouse and khaki slacks indicated she’d only just arrived home from work.
“Hello, ma’am,” Will greeted.
His voice sounded confident, even chipper.
There’s a reason God brought us together, he heard Jaime say. At the thought, his smile only grew wider.
The woman glanced over her shoulder before she returned Will’s pleasant expression with a wary smile of her own. “Hello. Um, may I ask who you are? Or why you’re here?”
Will flashed her a grin as he held up his ID badge. “Of course. My name’s Jared Gainfort, and I’m with Anderson’s Alarms. We know that crime rates here in Danville have been on the rise for the past few years, so I’m here to check in with you to see if you and your family have considered looking into an alarm system for your home.”
Understanding and relief flashed across the woman’s face as she nodded. “Oh, okay, I see. No, um, I mean yes. Yes, we already have a security system. We’ve only had it for about a year now, but it’s working great.”
Will spread his hands. “Our systems come with twenty-four-seven support from an on-call team of professionals, many of whom have law enforcement experience. We also give you the option to install motion sensor cameras in or outside of your home.”
The woman’s smile was a little less strained as she shook her head. “No, that’s okay. Thank you, though.”
The hairs on the back of Will’s neck stood on end as the cadence of his heartbeat picked up. He’d disguised himself as a security salesman to glean more information about the family’s home alarm system. So far, he’d collected nothing. Not the location of all the cameras, the manufacturer of the alarm, their chosen method of monitoring the home, nothing.
A real salesman wouldn’t give up so easily, though. Will’d had his fair share of run-ins with door to door salespeople, and those men and women were nothing if not persistent. He wouldn’t pique Dana Young’s suspicion by pressing the issue, but he would pique her interest if he threw in the towel so quickly.
He had to think like a salesman.
