“What about banks? Did your son have a checking account? Credit cards?”
“Joint checking with me,” Mr. Coleman said. “I told him that when he turned eighteen, we’d set him up on his own. And no credit cards that I’m aware of.”
“Would it be possible to get copies of the statements for the last year or two?”
“I can do that,” he said. “But you’re not going to find anything. I looked at it every day. Wanted to be sure he didn’t overdraw the account.”
“Thanks,” Amara said. “I’m sorry, but there are some difficult questions I need to ask. Did you ever witness Zachary using drugs of any kind? Pills, marijuana, anything? Did he ever act like he might be under the influence of something?”
Both shook their heads.
“Okay. How about visitors at odd hours? Or maybe he’d go out in the middle of the night?”
“No,” Mr. Coleman said. “Like I told you, Zach mostly stayed at home. If anything, we encouraged him to get out more.”
She flipped back a few pages in the notepad. “The three friends I saw last time I was here. Did they come to the house often?”
“Not really,” Ms. Coleman said. “Why? Do you think they had something to do with all this?”
Amara ignored the question. “You said Zachary spent a lot of time on his computer. Did you ever see what he was doing online?”
Wrinkles appeared on Ms. Coleman’s forehead. “Spy on him, you mean? He was practically an adult, Detective. It’s not hard to imagine some of the, uh, things he might have been looking at, but to answer your question, no. We didn’t monitor his online activities.”
Her husband stood, poured a cup of coffee, and handed it to his wife. He held the pot higher. “Detective?”
“No, thank you. Mr. Coleman, the last time I was here you mentioned your son wanted to study computer science.”
He switched off the coffeepot and returned to his seat. “That’s right. I was just glad he picked something that would make him easily employable, you know?”
If Zachary Coleman’s life revolved around his computer, there was a good chance his death did too. The bundles of cash might be tied to something online. “I wonder if it would be okay to bring a couple more people out here this morning? Specialists who could examine Zachary’s room and maybe help clear up a few things. I’d like to check out his car too.”
Ms. Coleman set her untouched coffee on the desk. “They won’t make a mess in his room, will they?”
“They’ll be as careful as possible. I promise.”
She shrugged toward her husband. “All right with me as long as they’re quiet. I’m going back to bed.”
10
Amara searched Zachary’s vehicle while waiting for the crime scene techs to arrive. The Mustang was spotless inside and out. Nothing unusual in the trunk or glove box. No old french fries or straw wrappers stowed away under the seats. No evidence pointing to illegal activity. She’d have the techs do a once-over, but the car was a dead end.
The two crime scene analysts arrived shortly after and got right to work. The first, Barb Freemont, specialized in computers and data recovery. Her focus would be on Zachary’s online activities. The second, Gregory Griffin, would document the discovery in the closet and inspect the bed, the car, and other unexplored areas.
Griffin snapped photos of the opening in the floor from every conceivable angle, then placed a large cardboard carton next to the hole. After lining the box with new plastic sheeting, he began pulling the plastic-wrapped bundles of bills from the cavity and stacking them in the container. The visible cash was of various denominations and all appeared to have been in circulation. “Might need a second box,” he said.
Amara grunted. “Any idea how much we’re looking at?”
“No clue. Lots of tens and twenties showing, but everything inside could be ones. Won’t know until we get it back to the lab and count it.”
“How long will that take?”
He glanced up at her. “To count it? Ten or fifteen minutes. We’ll feed the cash into a bill counter. To get time to do that? Somewhere between a couple of hours and a couple of months. All depends on where the case falls on the list of priorities. Who’s yelling the loudest.”
“So if I—”
“Uh-uh. You don’t matter. Someone over you.”
Rude enough? She smiled. “Understood. Let’s say a few pizzas happen to show up tomorrow around lunchtime. That buy me any favors?”
He turned back to the hole and continued retrieving the money. “Might, but think about it. We’re way behind as it is. If we bump you forward, that means something else gets bumped down. Is knowing the exact amount of cash that important right now?”
“No, probably not. Unless there’s something there that will tell me where it came from.”
“Which is a whole ’nother thing. If you’re wanting the money tested for drugs, we can do that, but not anytime soon. Pizza or no pizza. Tell ya what. When I get to the lab, I’ll open one of these packs. Confirm the bills are legit and nothing unusual about them.”
“Thanks,” she said. “You’ll call me and let me know?”
“Only if something’s not right. Otherwise, assume they’re good.” He placed the last stack of bills in the almost full box, pulled the plastic sheeting over the top of the money, and taped the lid closed. Next, he stuck his head in the hole and shined his flashlight to confirm nothing remained, then popped a new filter into a handheld vacuum and ran it through the space.
“Done here,” he said. “Off to the bedroom.”
She nodded and left to check on the technician responsible for Zachary’s computer. Barb had positioned all the equipment so she could see the serial and model numbers. The woman—midforties, too thin or too tall or both, and brunette hair piled into a bun—glanced her direction.
“Anything interesting?” Amara asked.
“Pretty nice setup. The monitor and modem are newer models. Odd that there’s no Wi-Fi though, either from an external router or the modem.”
Amara checked her phone. “I’m showing a Wi-Fi network. It’s locked, but it’s there.”
“Homeowner said he’s got two separate internet accounts through the cable company. The Wi-Fi’s coming off the second modem in their living room. The kid wanted a dedicated line, probably for his gaming.”
“That unusual?”
“Little bit. The hubs and I do some online gaming and even at the connection’s slower speeds, it should be plenty fast for most uses unless someone else is hogging your bandwidth by streaming high-quality video, downloading stuff, or worse, uploading huge files, anything that might take up a chunk of your pipeline.”
“So if his folks were watching Netflix, that could affect him when he played a game?”
“Lag is the enemy, my friend. If he could talk his parents into a dedicated line for himself, why not? Then use the Wi-Fi from his parents’ modem to surf or download while gaming on the direct line so they didn’t interfere with each other. That would mean his computer had to be connected to two different networks at the same time. Not hard to do with the right equipment and software.”
Amara crossed her arms. “Could his computer handle that?”
“Haven’t dug into it yet, but it’s custom built. Entirely possible he designed it to cope with both networks.”
“Custom built? Is that relevant?”
Barb shook her head. “Means he didn’t want a stock unit off the shelf. I wouldn’t read anything into that. Building your own PC isn’t hard. Lots of folks do it.”
“Including you?”
“Yep. I figure why buy a preconfigured machine when it’s easier to do it myself and get exactly what I want? Plus, not have to deal with all the bloatware they shove on them.”
“Bloatware?”
“Programs you don’t want or need. Can’t even uninstall some of them without reformatting your drive.”
Amara pointed to the figurines scattered about the desk. Bright
ly colored humanoids holding an array of futuristic weapons. Mythical characters wielding giant axes and swords. Wizards and orcs and barbarians. Flying horses and robots and werewolves. “Those mean anything? There are more in his dresser.”
“Collectibles from the games. Not limited-edition stuff, but cool to have.”
“To each his own, I guess.”
Barb glanced at her. “I’ve got several of these at home.”
Amara winced and heat flooded her ears. “Sorry. Didn’t mean . . .”
“No problem.”
“Any idea what games these are from?”
“Those are Planetary Orcs, these over here are Warrior Clans and Tango Murked. There are some from Two Weeks at War, Worlds of Wrath, a few others. If you want a full list, I’ll have it all documented in the next, oh, decade or two.”
“Thanks. Would it be safe to assume the figures in the dresser are from games he didn’t play anymore?”
Barb nodded. “Probably. That’s what I’d do.” She grinned. “They’re old friends. Can’t throw them away, right?”
“Sure. You turn on his computer yet?”
“About to. If it’s password protected, I’ll have to take it back to the lab. You get permission from the parents?”
“Not yet. We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it.”
Barb pressed the power button and waited as the computer went through the boot process. “My guess is he’s got SSDs in there. Solid state drives. A whole lot faster than traditional hard drives.” She stared at the monitor, blank except for a single line of text. “Huh.”
“‘Boot device not found,’” Amara said. “What does that mean?”
“Hold on.” She hit a key to restart the process, then punched the F12 repeatedly until a different screen came up. “Boot order looks fine. If he was starting the PC through the network or a flash drive, he’d most likely have rearranged things here.”
“And he didn’t, so that means what?”
“Standard operating system startup. The computer would get the information it needs off the internal drive. For whatever reason, that’s not happening. Could be corrupted files, damage, any of a dozen other things.” She pulled a small screwdriver from her pocket and worked her way around the back of the case, removing the tiny screws. “Let’s see what we’ve got inside here.”
She lifted the case, peered at the components, and snapped several photos. “Hmm.” She held one end of a cable out so Amara could see it.
“I take it that’s supposed to be attached to something?”
“The drive, or drives if he had more than one, are gone.”
Amara frowned. “Is it possible there were never any in there?”
“Sure, but like I said, he’d have to boot another way. Most logical manner would be through a flash drive, but honestly, what’s the point? If he’s playing games, he’s going to want the SSDs. And if he’s downloading a lot of files, he’d want enough hard drive space to store everything. A flash drive won’t do much for him, other than maybe add a layer of protection to the start process. But once you’re logged on, it’s more of a pain than it’s worth.”
“So what are you thinking?” Amara asked.
Barb pulled a penlight from her pocket and shined it inside the computer. “Take a look here. That’s the slot where the drive would normally sit. Along those ridges.”
Amara bent forward and squinted. “Yeah?”
“Now look at the empty slot under it. Notice any difference?” She moved the light between the two areas several times.
“Dust,” Amara said. “There’s dust on the ridges of the bottom slot, but none on the top.”
“Precisely. He had a drive there at some point.”
Either Zachary removed it or someone else did. If Zachary, why? What was on that drive? Did he know his life was in danger? And if not Zachary, who? His three friends had been here last week, but so had untold others, any of whom could’ve come in here. But Ms. Coleman had been in and out of the room multiple times too. Was she or her husband involved?
“I think there’s enough here to get a warrant,” Amara said. “After that, you can take it to the lab and see what else you can find. Make sure it gets dusted for prints too, okay?”
“Not a problem,” Barb said. “But I can already say that without the drive, there’s not a lot more I’ll be able to tell you. I suppose you could backtrack and try to figure out where the kid got all his parts and see what’s missing, but that won’t provide any useful info for us. And if he was using an SSD, chances are it’s sanitized anyway. No way to recover data.”
Wonderful. More circumstantial evidence that piled suspicions on Zachary’s death. The money, the missing computer drive, the possibility he was dead when he went in the water.
She didn’t know why the boy was killed. Didn’t know how he was killed either. She couldn’t even pinpoint the spot where he was killed.
But he was killed.
Even if there wasn’t enough evidence to convince anyone else yet, she knew someone had murdered Zachary Coleman.
She flexed her fingers as energy surged through her body. Three days since the boy had been buried. A week since he’d died. She was just getting started but already way behind. She grunted and moved toward the front door. Her first case wouldn’t be easy.
Bueno. Muy bueno.
Best way to prove herself.
11
Amara knocked on Lieutenant Segura’s open door and waited for him to motion her in. Interrupting his morning ritual of muttering profanities while signing the stack of paperwork from the prior day would not be a good idea. Not unless she wanted to be kicked back to a training detail for the next couple of weeks.
It had taken the rest of Monday to get Segura’s approval for the warrant, finish searching Zachary’s bedroom, and watch as the crime scene techs logged everything into the system. The box of cash, all the computer equipment, the boy’s cell, a few items of clothing with tiny stains that may or may not be blood, and the sheets off his bed. The money, the PC, and the cell were good. The rest of it probably wouldn’t add up to anything. Mr. Coleman had promised to go online and print out all calls to and from Zachary’s phone for the last six months. Said he’d do it soon. If he didn’t, she’d have to subpoena the records from the phone company, a process that would take considerably longer.
The LT glanced up. “You need something, Alvarez?”
“I can wait until you finish, sir.”
He clicked his pen and dropped it on the desk. “Apparently not. You’re still standing there.”
Her heart palpitated and her left eye thought about twitching. “I was wondering if you—”
“Alvarez, get to the point.”
A tiny bead of sweat trickled down her upper lip. “Yes, sir. I’d like the cash we found yesterday prioritized in the lab. How much money, any drug residue, anything useful.”
He frowned and nodded. “That all?”
“Yes, sir.”
“No.”
“Sir?”
He plopped his head on the back of the chair and stared at the ceiling. “No, I will not move your evidence to the front of the line. Clear enough?”
She wrinkled her forehead. “I understand there are other urgent cases, but this won’t take long and—”
“Let me explain something to you. See this stack of papers I have to sign?”
“Yes, sir.”
“It’s the least enjoyable part of my job. Hate it. That’s why I do them first thing. I sign until I start to get irritated. Don’t want to ruin my day, right? This morning, I got annoyed earlier than usual. Why do you think that is?”
“Uh, me, sir?”
He sat straight. “What a detective. Every day when I stop signing, I figure I can come back and finish it later. But I never do. The next morning, the pile is higher. And then one day, oh, I dunno, once a month or so, I’ll get a call from a senior officer wanting to know when I’m getting this or that piece of paper turned in. Th
at’s when I close my door and sign everything. The following morning, the process starts all over again.”
She remained silent, but in her peripheral vision caught sight of Starsky sitting on his desk, his arms crossed and smiling from ear to ear.
“Now then, Detective, where do you suppose the requisition for your desk is in this stack?”
“No idea, sir.”
He shook his head and lifted the top page. “It’s right here. But I’ll bet you’re clever enough to know where it’s going now?”
“The bottom, sir.”
He lifted the stack and slid the paper under it. “Will there be anything else, Alvarez?”
“Have a good day, sir.”
Amara reviewed her notes from the prior two hours. No hits in the criminal databases for any of Zachary Coleman’s three friends. Matias Lucero, Haley Bricker, and Liam Walker were all in their late teens, all in different high schools, and all about as ordinary as kids that age could be.
With one exception. None of them had accounts on social media. At least none she could find. She hadn’t found any for Zachary either. She checked Facebook, Snapchat, Instagram, and several she’d never heard of before. Of course, they may well have been on those or any others under false names. But four teenagers who weren’t active online was beyond interesting.
Especially when one of those kids had bundles of cash and missing computer drives. Too early for any theories, but not for suspicions. People didn’t get cash like that by doing legal things. The three friends had the means and opportunity to take the hard drives, but so did Zachary’s parents. Problem was, if either Paul or Lori Coleman was involved, why agree to the search? They had to know the missing equipment would be discovered.
It made more sense that whoever took the drives hoped their disappearance would go unnoticed and the police wouldn’t get involved. If Dr. Pritchard hadn’t been suspicious, Zachary’s death would never have been on Homicide’s radar. Maybe the parents would have eventually figured out the computer didn’t work, but so what? Not enough to trigger any new probe into the boy’s death.
Network of Deceit Page 6
