A Trail of Breadcrumbs

by D E Dennis

  She stared back at him. Or more like, in his general direction. Ximena’s glower was turned up to full blast. She was not pleased.

  “He has agreed to send the full instructions on how he found the infected email and traced its source. He’ll give it to your forensic tech guys, so that they can find the evidence themselves and he can be kept out of it.”

  “Mo, if he wants to make a deal, he has to come in and do that himself. Tell us his name.”

  “If I do that, he’ll never work with me again. He’s the best hacker I know. It will be bad for business if we lose him.”

  “It will be bad for business if I—”

  “Mira,” Michael cut in quickly, heading off a rapidly developing argument. “When can we talk to her?”

  “Talk to her?” Samira said. “We’re not letting you into that interview room.”

  “It’s the least you can do,” he replied calmly. “You two stole her from us.”

  Samira heaved a sigh. “Goodness, you Grimms are a special brand of impossible. We did not steal her from you.”

  “We were at her house first thing this morning, ready to talk to her about what we discovered,” Michael said. “Then you both show up with your warrants and haul her off.”

  “Then, you followed us and now here the four of us are.” Samira stepped to him, arms folded. “You know I can’t let you into that interview room. The chief would flip.”

  “That’s why you should have given us twenty minutes with her first. This is your fault.”

  “Jerk.”

  A pop over the head drew a cry from him. “Hey, what was that for?”

  “Now, I understand why your mom and sister are always doing that to you.”

  He chuckled, grinning. “So should I expect a lifetime of head slaps from you too?”

  A tiny smile broke through her irritation. “Do you plan on being a jerk to me for a lifetime?”

  “No,” he said softly. “Eventually, I’ll get past the jerk thing.”

  “That I would like to see.”

  They gazed at each other, for a moment, he forgot they were in a fight. Forgot there was almost a decade worth of hurt between them. Forgot...

  Monica sidled up behind Samira, giving him a knowing look over her shoulder.

  ...they had an audience.

  Michael cleared his throat, looking away. “Seriously, Mira. We tried to beat you to Ximena’s house so we could avoid all this. We need to speak to her.”

  “I can’t let you into that room, Michael. Chief’s orders.”

  “No one has to know,” Monica put forth.

  “You mean except for the three officers that saw the five of us come in, arguing loud enough to wake the town.”

  “Yes, except for them.”

  Samira rolled her eyes, chuckling. “I’m sorry. I—”

  “Look, the answer is no,” Spencer burst out, startling them. “We can’t let you talk to the suspect. If the chief found out we disobeyed her again, we’d be out of a job.” Spencer straightened, peeling himself off the door. “We take our jobs and following procedure seriously, so we’re going to do this the right way.”

  He pointed over his shoulder. “Mira and I are going to start the paperwork for the arrest of Ximena Cordova. We’ll be gone for about twenty minutes and you aren’t to go near the suspect or speak to her at all. You got that. Twenty minutes.”

  Michael nodded slowly. “Got it, Gutiérrez.”

  “Good.”

  He threw open the door and marched out, Samira in his wake.

  Michael lifted a brow at his sister. “That was unexpected.”

  “Well, let’s not waste our twenty minutes wondering over it. Let’s go.”

  He didn’t need to be told twice. They hurried out of the viewing room and pushed through into the interrogation room.

  Ximena’s glare was waiting for them when they arrived.

  “This is ridiculous,” she hissed. “I want a lawyer. Now.”

  “I’m afraid we can’t help you with that,” Monica said lightly as they took the seats across from her.

  She sniffed, pulling her thin sweater closed. “I’m not telling you anything.”

  They had arrived on her doorstep early at eight o’clock on the dot, hoping to beat the only other detectives in town. They surprised Ximena with her hair uncombed and pajamas still on. She only had time to grab a sweater before Spencer got her in the car.

  “I like the purple teddy bears,” Monica said, pointing at her sleeve.

  Dropping her hands to her lap, Ximena’s glare intensified. “Why am I here?”

  “Detective Gutiérrez told you that already. You’re under arrest for the murder of Harper Rowe.”

  Ximena’s expression didn’t change. “I didn’t kill her.”

  “No? Great. Then give us an alibi for last Thursday night and we’ll be on our way.”

  “It’s none of your business where I was.”

  Monica hummed, nodding her head. “Cordova, we don’t have a lot of time, so let’s jump right in it. Someone sent Harper Rowe a computer virus that wiped everything she had found in connection to the victims of the Siren Woods Killer.

  “We believe this was done because Harper found something that someone was willing to kill to keep quiet. A secret like... what your mother’s connection to Liam Antarr was and why did you get so jumpy when we brought it up?”

  Ximena’s glare faded. “Wait. Hold on—”

  “Harper’s computers were useless, but she had a flash drive. One you admitted you knew about. You went to a lot of trouble to silence Harper. You hired the only other decent hacker in town and had them email Harper two separate emails. One appeared to be from her boss, the other from a source, but both contained the virus. She opened virus number one at home. Then she goes to work and falls for the same trick.

  “Genius, really. Except for transferring the payment through a BuddyPay account linked to your bank account. Should have gone with cash or we may have never connected it to you.”

  “But I—”

  “So the computers are taken care of,” Monica plowed on, “but there’s a problem. What’s the problem, brother dear?” She suddenly turned to him.

  Ximena’s eyes ping-ponged to Michael.

  Michael shrugged, seemingly nonchalant. “The problem is wiping a computer doesn’t help you if the information is already in Harper’s mind. No, the only way to keep whatever you’ve got bottled up truly hidden... is to silence Harper Rowe. Permanently.”

  “No!” She lurched forward. Her haughty indignation had fled, in its place was panic. “You’ve got it all wrong.”

  “Really?” Michael said, cocking his head. “Because it all fits. You wipe the computers, kill Harper, and your secret never gets out. That’s the end of it, until we show back up looking for the flash drive. You must have been terrified that we would get to it before you did.

  “What happened, Ximena? Did you see Harper address the letter and decided to lie in wait until she took it out of the PO box? All you would have to do then was follow her back to her home and—”

  “No! I didn’t have anything to do with Presley’s death! I didn’t know she had the flash drive! I don’t know about any of this!”

  “The killer sent the virus,” Monica said, voice hard. “The virus was sent by you. Therefore, the killer is you.”

  “No, no, no.” She waved her hands through the air. Her oversized sweater slipped off her shoulder, putting the purple teddy bears back on display. Michael was suddenly struck by how young she was. Only twenty-four years old, and about to go to prison for double homicide.

  “I didn’t kill anyone. You have to believe me.” She took a deep breath. “Okay, yes. It was me who had her computers infected, but it was just to—”

  “Protect your secret,” Michael said placidly. “We know that. Tell us what it is.”

  “There is no secret. It wasn’t about that. It... was jealousy.” She bobbed her head. “I was jealous of Harper getting
all the best stories so I got back at her.”

  Monica snorted. “If you wanted to get to her, you could have spilled soda on the keyboard or something. At least that option would have saved you money.”

  “You don’t drop two thousand dollars over petty professional jealousies,” Michael echoed. “Woodworking by Antarr and Cordova. Why do you flinch every time you hear that phrase?”

  Ximena schooled her face. “I don’t,” she insisted. “I’m telling you. It was just a stupid prank and you’re blowing all this—”

  Monica scooted her chair back. “Michael, let’s go. She’s refusing to give us an alibi and lying to our faces. She obviously wants to go to prison, so let’s leave her to it.”

  Michael was half out of his seat.

  “Wait, no! I do have an alibi.”

  “What is it?” Monica demanded.

  Her face crumpled. “I-I can’t tell you,” she sobbed.

  “What are you hiding from us? Why don’t you want us to know that your mother worked part-time for Antarr?”

  Her tears came faster. “P-please, I didn’t k-kill anybody.”

  “All you’ve done is lie and hide things from us,” Monica said in a much gentler tone. “How can we believe you, Ximena? We want to help you.” She stepped away from the table. “But we can’t.”

  They were halfway to the door when four little words stopped them in their tracks. Fours words that Michael never expected to hear.

  “He is my father!” Ximena cried. “Liam Antarr is my father!”

  The Grimms spun on their heels, jaws on the floor. Their calm and collected interrogation routine blown to bits.

  “He’s your father?” Michael blurted. “How?!”

  “What do you mean how?” Ximena snarled, face twisting. “How do you think? My mom didn’t just work with Antarr. She had an affair with him. That monster was my father and...”

  “...and Harper found out,” Michael breathed.

  She nodded, face red and streaked with tears. “She was digging the past up, looking through old photos, and she found an old picture of Antarr’s workshop with his name and Cordova on full display. She asked me about it and I told her to shove off, but she wouldn’t let it go.”

  Ximena let out a short, humorless laugh. “You want to know how Harper always got the inside scoop. She had a source right here in the CRPD, and they let her read the old case files. Mom admitted to the affair; it was right there on the transcript. But she didn’t know what he was, and since she quit working with him when she got pregnant with me, she had only seen him the times she brought me to see him.

  “After she read that, Harper was in my face with all these questions. Pumping me for information on Antarr even though I was four when he went to jail. I demanded to know why she cared. I told her to just leave it alone, but she couldn’t. Andrea Taylor was her sister and she had been investigating Antarr since she graduated and joined the paper. She had a special file on him on those computers.”

  Swiping her hand over her face, she said, “I got it, okay. Why she wouldn’t let it go, but the thought of me and my business in that file drove me crazy. I was Ximena Cordova, daughter of Elena and Diego Cordova. I didn’t want anyone connecting me to that monster and I told Harper to leave me out of it, but she wouldn’t agree. ‘People deserve the truth, Ximena.’” Her voice took on a high-pitched, mocking tone. “She said she would keep it to herself for now, but if she had to reveal it, she would.

  “Then she announced to the office that she was going to do an article for the twentieth anniversary on the children who suffered because of Antarr. She looked right at me and I knew. My secret wouldn’t stay secret for long.

  “I infected her computers to send her a message. To keep me out of her crusade or I would strike back, but that’s it, I swear. I didn’t kill her or anyone else. I have an alibi.”

  “You need to tell us what it is,” Monica said. “This looks bad for you.”

  Ximena leaned back, cleaning her face with the sleeve of her pajamas. When she was done, her tears had dried up. “I don’t care,” she said clearly, voice even. “I didn’t kill her and those computer viruses don’t prove that I did. You claim you’re great detectives, find the real killer and get me out of here, because I’m not saying another word.”

  Monica tried a few more tactics, but Ximena didn’t utter a syllable. Arms crossed, she resumed glaring at them.

  Glancing at his watch, Michael bumped Monica’s shoulder. “Let’s go. Time’s up.”

  They stepped out into the hallway just as Spencer and Samira turned the corner.

  “You guys need to get going,” Samira said. “The chief will be in soon.”

  “We’re on our way out.”

  They said their goodbyes and left quickly. Michael wasn’t too eager to run into the chief either.

  “So what do we do now?” Monica asked after they climbed into her car. “She’s right that we don’t have proof she committed murder. We assumed that the viruses had to be connected to the murder, but an assumption was all it was.” She lashed out, hitting the dash. “This case! It seems like we’re just running in circles, tiring ourselves out but getting nowhere.”

  “Mo.” Michael squeezed her shoulder. “It seems impossible now, but we always get our guy. This time won’t be any different.”

  “Which guy? Is Antarr still our main suspect?”

  “One of them. Yes.”

  “How can we be sure after the last twenty-four hours?”

  “Because of what Finley said. Harper was shouting about Elias Rowe and her doing what he should have. She must have been going out to confront Antarr and either she did and it went horribly wrong, or she was intercepted by suspect number two: Kaiden Rowe.”

  She nodded along. “True, very true. The guy did lie about his alibi and he owns a shotgun that he claims vanished.”

  “And we can’t forget that Ximena hasn’t been forthcoming during this entire investigation and is still holding back now. She could be trying to throw us off with this secret alibi, while she figures a way out of this mess.”

  “That’s a very good point.” Monica squared her shoulders. “Three suspects. No alibi. No evidence.” She sighed, putting the key in the ignition. “Easy.”

  “HEY, GUYS,” ELLA SAID as they trudged in. “Did you beat the cops to Ximena’s place?”

  “Yes, but only by five minutes. Mira’s quick.”

  Michael handed her a bagel they had picked up on the way back, then plopped into his chair.

  “Did you get to speak to her?” Ella asked.

  Monica nodded. “She admits to sending the virus, but not to the murders.”

  “I still can’t believe Rowan Presley is dead. After all she’s been through. Are you sure she was killed?”

  “Someone took that drive,” Monica said gravely, looking up from her computer. “It looks like she took some pills to relax, then put her head in the oven, but that could be what the killer wants it to look like.”

  “Poor woman,” said Ella softly.

  Monica gave her a small smile. “Look, guys, why don’t we shift our focus to something else for a while. The case is at a standstill while we wait for Presley’s autopsy, Ximena’s alibi, Kaiden’s gun, and the search for Liam Antarr to root him out. Tomorrow is your big night, Ella, and we want to give you all the support you deserve.”

  She waved at her screen. “And there’s good news. Lyle has finally emailed me all the photos, scanned, organized, and ready to be turned into the loving tribute Harper wanted. So for this weekend, we put the investigation on hold. What do you say?”

  “Yeah,” Michael said, smiling. “I agree. So far, I’m the last one to hear this magnificent speech, Ella. So lay it on me.”

  “Really? Because I would like to run through it one more time.”

  “Let’s do it. I’ll meet you in the breakroom.”

  Michael stopped at his sister’s desk on the way. “The offer to help you put the video together still stand
s.”

  She laughed, getting to her feet. “Very sweet, bro, but you have no clue what you’re doing. I’ll handle it.”

  “Hey, I told you before, I’m not as helpless as you think.”

  “I’ve yet to see you prove that.”

  He grabbed for her, trying to snag her in a headlock, but she danced away. “Oh, and he’s slow too,” she taunted, cackling away.

  “That’s it.”

  She shrieked, running away as he gave chase. She darted behind his desk, using his chair to block his path.

  “Truce!”

  “No such thing,” he said, crouching down. “You’ll pay for—”

  The chime of the doorbell brought their hijinks to an abrupt end. Michael shot up, he smoothed down his suit as he spun to face the door.

  Hazel Antarr beamed at him. In her hands, she was weighed down with shopping bags. “Hey, Michael.”

  “Hey. What are you doing here?”

  Monica slipped out from behind the chair and went into the breakroom, leaving them alone.

  She held up her hands. “I was in town getting some supplies and I thought I would stop by. See if you were free? We could get brunch?”

  “Um, that would be great.” He closed the distance between them and lowered his voice. “But I can’t get away right now.”

  She looked around, a smile playing at her lips. “I can see you’re super busy.”

  Chuckling, he replied, “How about lunch? We can go to my favorite café.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Hmm? I guess I could let you take me to lunch, but you set the bar pretty high with the last date. I hope you can top it.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  She leaned forward, dropped a feather-light kiss on his cheek, then turned to go. “See you later, Grimm.”

  “What’s up?” Monica asked when he joined her on the couch. “Everything okay?”

  “Yep. She just wanted to invite me to brunch.”

  She bumped his shoulder. “What are you still doing here? Go with her.”

  “I can’t,” he protested. “We have work and—”

  “Oh, please.” She shoved him, popping him off the couch. “We just talked about easing off the case while we wait for Mira to turn something up. Go catch up to her.”