Catalyst

by Steve Winshel

  “He’s headed home. Where are we with the theory of some guy behind all this?”

  Crevins continued what he had been telling the Captain. He took Rigas’ interruption in stride. “We haven’t got anything to suggest it goes beyond the pair we’ve got.”

  Rigas scowled at him. “Except what Barnes says the woman told him.”

  The Captain tented his fingers and looked at Rigas. “Detective, we’ve got two bodies – one of which might have provided us some information if her face hadn’t been shot off,” he paused, letting his dissatisfaction with Rigas settle for a moment, “and second-hand hints from a witness who may be a victim and who may be wrapped up in this somehow. That’s not evidence of a mastermind pulling strings.”

  Rigas opened her mouth to object, though not as gruffly with her boss as she had done with Crevins, when he held up a hand.

  “Your job is to see if the dead man ties to the murders and suicide last year. We’ll get the Feds in here to work on the extortion angle. I’m going home. We’ll pick it up Monday morning. Go.”

  Rigas bit the inside of her cheek. She had a lot of respect for her boss, but always thought he treated her like a female cop, not just a cop. She nodded.

  That was it; they were done. Rigas didn’t like the feel of it. It meant squeezing Barnes to make sure his story didn’t have any holes, but it also meant they were going to hand over the bigger picture to the Feds. Unless there was imminent danger, that would take a while. Barnes clearly thought he and his sister were still in danger. She turned to Crevins.

  “Anything on the computer in the woman’s house? Barnes seemed to think it was important.”

  Crevins looked at Freddie, whom Rigas hadn’t noticed in the corner behind her. His eyes were downtrodden and his shoulders slumped. He looked like a puppy that had failed to bring the newspaper to his master.

  “It automatically erased the hard drive when one of the techs tried to log in.” Dejected, but then he whined “they should have let me handle it. Morons.” He glanced quickly at the Captain. “I’ll try to see if I can get anything off it, but she set up pretty good in case anyone tried to hack in.”

  Rigas had her hands on her hips and lips pursed. Freddie was thinking she looked kind of good, kind of tough, but then remembered the look was directed at him. He looked down.

  “Right. Let’s go,” Rigas hooked a thumb at Crevins. Rigas left and the rest of the crew filed out. Crevins walked with her to the coffee room where they silently filled Styrofoam cups with surprisingly good Argentinean blends from Starbucks kept in a row of black lacquered dispensers with the green and white logo. They both blew and sipped for a moment. Crevins knew his partner had something stuck in her mind. He also knew she wouldn’t let it go.

  “You stay on the connection between the murders last year and the two bodies in the morgue. I’ll be on Barnes.” Crevins still said nothing. She looked at him. “What?”

  “Nothing. Just that I know that look. You’re not going to let go of it. You want in on the extortion angle, whoever’s behind it.”

  “You don’t know shit.” But Rigas leaned back against the counter and crossed her ankles. “You think Barnes is wrong? About what the woman said, having a boss?”

  “I don’t know. But it’d be pretty interesting stuff if he isn’t.” Crevins may have been junior, but he’d had a career before becoming a cop. Three years as a public defender, which meant law school before that and some experience dealing with people. He could read Rigas pretty well and probably Barnes too. His opinion counted with her.

  “Yeah.” She tossed the cup, still mostly full, into the bin for recyclables. “We’ll compare notes later. I’ll be on the radio.” She left Crevins still sipping coffee, smiling slightly to himself. He liked Rigas when she had the scent.

  Rigas walked out to her car. It was simple in her mind. Catch the big guy and accelerate her career. The Feds would find the guy behind all this but they would be slow. If she got there first, her career would take an even sharper trajectory. No more of this yes sir, no sir bullshit to people she was smarter than. And Barnes knew some stuff that could make it happen faster.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Josh needed some rest. He had gotten even less sleep in the past two days than his usual handful of hours. Undressing just as the neighbor’s gardeners fired up their leaf-blowers, he dropped into bed. Five minutes later he’d managed to work himself into a state of agitation as he thought about whether the police and FBI would work fast enough to catch Helen’s boss. He worried about Allison. A picture went through his mind of George standing in the doorway of a cabin holding a shotgun and Allison wearing an old-time corseted petticoat and bonnet, shucking peas. Little home on the prairie. Four hours later, Josh woke from the deepest sleep he could remember in years, a pounding on the front door and incessant ringing of the bell jarring him to consciousness. His lower lip felt number and his right arm didn’t want to hold his weight as he pushed off the bed; he hadn’t moved an inch from the position he’d fallen into earlier and various parts of his body had fallen asleep from the pressure. Fog barely described his state of mind. Josh stumbled toward the front door, pulling his thoughts together and remembering who he was and what had happened in the last forty-eight hours. That worked better than splashing cold water on his face and by the time Josh got to the front door he knew enough not to open it.

  “Who is it!” as he stood against the wall, away from the glass panel on the other side of the door.

  “Rigas. Open the goddamned door, Barnes.”

  Josh felt relieved even though there was still the possibility she would try to slap or shoot him. She pushed the door open as soon as he turned the handle.

  “Did I interrupt your beauty sleep?” She said it like a friendly greeting and was through the door and in the living room before he could decide how to take it. Josh followed her into the kitchen and realized he was wearing only shorts. She didn’t seem impressed one way or the other, so he didn’t apologize. He’d have been shocked if he could have read Rigas’ mind, which had her feeling uncharacteristically embarrassed seeing him in just his skivvies. With the sleep still in his eyes and hair tousled like a little kid’s, Josh had unwittingly created a bit of a blush in Rigas. She still had her back to him as she pulled open some cabinets looking for a glass. She was relieved when he said “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Josh went to the bedroom and pulled on a sweatshirt, not bothering with shoes. When he got back to the living room, Rigas was holding a glass of lemonade. She hadn’t poured one for him.

  “Can I get you a sandwich, Detective?” She waved him off as though he had been serious. He wasn’t, but then realized he was hungry and they might as well eat. He went to the kitchen and started to pull out the makings for a sandwich. She followed him in.

  “Where’s the sister?”

  Josh spread mustard on the bread before laying the avocado down. “It’s not safe yet. As soon as you catch whoever did this, I’ll bring her back.” He looked at her expectantly, avocado in one hand, knife in the other. He still wasn’t sure exactly what she wanted, or expected of him.

  She returned his stare. She finished off her lemonade and put the glass down on the counter – not in the sink – and wiped her mouth. “We’re following up on some leads with the woman and her partner. The Captain thinks there are other murders tied to these two. We’re gonna track it down, put it all together. Cops are smart, Barnes. Maybe even smart as you, some of us.”

  “What about the FBI? You said they’d get involved because of the extortion.”

  She didn’t answer right away. “Yeah, maybe I will take a sandwich. But don’t put any of that fancy Grey Poupon crap on it. You have any baloney?” She went to the fridge and started rooting around, eventually finding the package of processed meat Allison insisted on having around for the occasional craving, despite her otherwise vegetarian habits. Rigas made a cone out of a slice of bologna and started chewing, still reading the refrig
erator. When she was done, Josh asked again about the FBI.

  Mouth still full of luncheon meat, Rigas shook her head. Swallowing, “they’ll be on it. Give ‘em a chance to get up to speed. They always get their man, you know? It may just take a little while.”

  She’d already shown she could read Josh’s mind but he wasn’t as good at it as she was. He had to ask direct questions. “Detective, why are you here telling me this?”

  “I just had a few questions. Some follow-up.”

  “I don’t believe you. You questioned me for four hours earlier. I didn’t leave anything out. Why are you here?”

  Then she surprised the hell out of Josh. She punched him in the shoulder. It hurt, but she smiled as she did it. “C’mon, Barnes. It’s Sunday, play along a little. Go with the repartee.”

  Josh watched her scout the pantry for something else to eat. She had made herself totally at home. If he didn’t know she was a cop, he would have thought she was a woman he’d met and become pals with – that was the kind of interaction he felt. That was strange enough, given the circumstances. But there was something else, too. Seeing her pull out a box of crackers and head to the fridge to look for some cheese, he caught himself noticing how fluidly she moved. Confident, sure of her movements, but very feminine. His eyes lingered on her slim waist offsetting the strong legs outlined by the thin wool pants as she crouched in front of the refrigerator. She put on the cop attitude earlier, at the station and when she was running things that night after Crawford’s death. But now she just looked…well, really good. Josh thought about her compared to Helen. Maybe he wasn’t a very good judge of character right now, he concluded.

  Josh finished making his own sandwich, plus one for her. She drifted down the hall toward the office. Josh wanted to call her back so there wouldn’t be any more snooping, but she’d already seen everything when they’d searched the house two nights earlier. Also, it seemed smart to show her some trust. She had done that by showing up to tell him, in so many words, the cops were focusing on Helen and Crawford and the FBI would need some time to get whoever was behind this. She was back in the kitchen by the time he’d poured them both some more lemonade. They ate standing, but it was comfortable.

  “So what would you do if you were the FeeBIes? How would you track this guy down? And save your breath trying to play T.V. G-man…they’ll have forensics, access to all kinds of databases, and experienced agents looking at it all. I’m talking about stuff they might not think of, like what you did to find Helen.”

  “Don’t you have a guy? The kid who was in the room with us?”

  She shook her head and said “Freddie can’t work on this, since the Captain gave it over to the Feds. Besides, I don’t think he’s as good as you.”

  As thick as he seemed to be lately, Josh figured out Rigas wanted his help. But what good would that do if her boss had her working on the murders, not the extortion? She’d already told Josh once not to play vigilante. But here she was, following up on her own. He hadn’t even figured out for himself what to do next. Josh was planning on letting the cops do what they needed to and keeping Allison out of sight until then. But now it felt like she was pressing him to do something.

  “Why do you think I can do anything to help?”

  “You did okay during all this, Barnes. Here in the house a couple nights ago, at the woman’s house, even under some heavy questioning at the station. No bullshit. Just straight up. Except, of course, for lying to me and committing a few felonies.”

  She finished her sandwich, then chewed on her lip for a minute. “I believe you. I don’t think you’re safe until the guy who hired Bonnie and Clyde is caught. Neither is your sister. Besides,” she hesitated for just a moment, “it’s an interesting case.”

  She had said interesting, but Josh got the sense she meant it was a big case. Maybe she thought it would be good for her to be the one to break it. She read his thoughts.

  “Yeah, getting the guy behind this would be a coup. Conspiracy to commit murder – that’s pretty big stuff. Plus whatever white-collar mumbo jumbo bullshit is part of it, stealing high-tech secrets, that’ll help too.”

  “And you think I can help you.”

  She smiled. “Yeah, maybe give me a little edge. Big step in the right direction. Save me a couple years on my long-term plan – first female Captain in the Valley. Not bad for a chick who used to be a cheerleader at Van Nuys High.”

  It was the first time he’d heard her laugh out loud. It was a clear, gentle laugh, and it lit up her face. Josh had trouble picturing her as a cheerleader, but no problem imagining her beating them up after class. You just never knew about people.

  “And stop calling me Detective, for chrissakes. It’s Rigas.”

  Since leaving the police station, Josh had had been working on something in the back of his mind. He had the email address of the person he thought was her boss. He also had information on a couple of off-shore bank accounts. Almost subconsciously Josh had been chewing on this. Rigas showing up and pushing him brought the ideas to the surface. But he was still hesitant to step over the line.

  “I don’t know. I almost got killed trying to do something about Helen. My sister’s safe now; maybe I need to just let you guys and the FBI do their jobs. Stay out of the way.”

  Rigas shook her head. Then she looked at Josh for a long time, like she was deciding something. “You think she’s safe. Maybe she is for now. But I don’t think the guy pulling the strings likes to let things go.” She told him about Bernard Mills. The death of his wife, his girlfriend, the suicide, and the company he worked for. She laid it out like the plot of a made-for-TV movie. Someone had hired Helen and Crawford to intimidate, extort, and murder key people at companies with valuable information. She couldn’t prove the connection, but she was sure whoever manipulated Mills was doing the same thing to Josh. And there was no reason to think the Feds were going to catch him in time to protect either Allison or Josh.

  As she told him, something inside of Josh went cold. Before, he had been dealing with threats he could see and touch. It was unfamiliar, terrifying, but it was real. Now Rigas was describing something murky and unclear, but equally dangerous. Josh could give in to the terror and uncertainty gnawing at him. Or he could put the fear aside and do what he had to. He thought of Allison in the woods with George, only now there was a shadow over them and she didn’t seem so safe.

  Rigas could see he was making a decision. Josh wasn’t any more confident now than before that he could do anything, but there was no more questioning whether he should try everything possible. “Okay. I have an idea. But what happens if we find him? Will you bring in the cops, or the FBI? If I find him, we need a plan.”

  “We find him, we draw him out, and we nail his ass. Period. Connect him to Helen and Crawford, show he hired them, and we get him for conspiracy to commit murder. Any of the other stuff is a bonus.” Rigas was getting excited. Josh was less sure; whoever was behind this was going to be hard to find, harder to get evidence against.

  “So, what’ve you got?”

  “I’ve got his email address.” He explained what he’d found on Helen’s computer.

  “So you can trace it back, like you did with her.”

  “Maybe, I’m not sure. It’s a place to start.”

  They went back to Josh’s home office and he logged in to the computer. He thought about how to handle this. If he sent another virus-infected email, that might work. But he had a feeling whoever was behind this wouldn’t fall for that trick. Helen had been smart, but her boss had to be a lot more careful, a lot more protected. If Josh tried and he or she picked up on it, that would tell them Josh was trying to find them. Even though he didn’t know for sure they were in immediate danger after the deaths of Crawford and Helen, Josh didn’t want to send up a flare. He tapped a pencil on the desk, forgetting that Rigas was looking over his shoulder.

  “What’re you waiting for? Trace him!”

  “I don’t think that’ll work.
I’ll have to try something else.”

  She didn’t look thrilled. Somehow Josh had created the impression he could hit a few keys and find anything or anyone. He explained the problem. She still didn’t seem impressed. While Josh mulled over what to do next, a small image of an envelope appeared in the lower right corner of the screen. He had new email. Out of habit, Josh clicked on the envelope and saw a list of a dozen messages. He absently scanned names of the senders, not really concentrating and just acting from force of habit. The third one down was from Helen. He felt a jolt of shock. Rigas saw him tense and followed his eyes to the screen.

  “What is it?”

  It took Josh just a second to realize that before the cops had confiscated Helen’s computer, the illegal program he had installed on it had sent him a log of everything she had typed before she was killed. He explained this to Rigas.

  “Well, open the goddamn thing.”

  Josh double-clicked on the email from Helen. It had an attachment. Opening it, he saw a couple hundred lines of text. He recognized the spot where Helen had sent an email to her boss, which Josh had seen at her house. What caught his eye were the lines just before that. Helen had logged in to her own email account first, sending an email from there. Now Josh knew her username and password. Rigas saw him stop reading. He was zoning out, an idea beginning to form. She didn’t interrupt this time. Josh got up and walked around the office. Pacing helped him think.