Leslie looked to King. “It’s a great question. One I asked myself.”
“And what are your thoughts?” King asked, stepping forward.
“There are many reasons why victims of CO don’t just leave.”
“Explain.”
“The most obvious is that they are sleeping and just don’t know what’s happening if the house isn’t outfitted with detectors.”
“The report says the victim’s house had new, working detectors; did they not go off?”
“That’s a question you can ask the fire chief. Another reason is that the victim might have been drunk.” Leslie moved across the floor and motioned for the detectives to follow. “In both scenarios, the victim may die before they experience any symptoms.”
“And is that what happened here?” King asked.
Leslie picked up a chart and flipped a page. “I ran a tox screen as soon as I got him here last night.” She handed King the report. “His blood alcohol was high. Probably the reason he didn’t realize he was being poisoned.”
King handed the report to Alvarez.
“Oh, and I did find this in his pocket.” Leslie picked up an evidence bag from the desk and gave it to King.
King held it up to the light. Squinting to see through the plastic liner, he stared at the tiny sliver of paper, reading off the digits—57b605f014671fc65e931b7d30738d2 551825146c7cc8d4780a5170507916007.
“What is it?” he asked.
The corners of Leslie’s eyes crinkled. “You’re the detective. You tell me.”
King handed it off to Alvarez. Both detectives were as clueless as the ME.
“I’ve never seen anything like it before, but glad you stopped by,” Leslie said. “Maybe you could put it in the hands of its rightful owner. I figured it might be important, but who knows, I’ve been wrong before.”
Chapter Seventeen
Erin had her headphones pulled around her neck when she opened her front door to let me inside. She kissed me on the cheek and I reciprocated the greeting by handing her today’s paper. Erin opened it up and I fell into the corner of her couch, kicking my feet up on her coffee table and watching her flip back and forth between Garcia’s headline and my article.
“They put it on the second page?”
I shrugged. “Dawson fed me some bullshit about being too late making a decision.”
Erin cast her gaze back to the paper, shaking her head. “For what it’s worth, Sam, our online forum has never been so busy.”
I sat forward and perched my elbows on my kneecaps. “Because of my story?”
Erin gave me a knowing look, tossed the paper on the coffee table in front of me, and said, “Numbers are up. Listeners, subscribers, everything.”
“But why? I don’t understand.” I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “The man is dead and I’m still swinging punches at him.”
Erin raised a single brow and I watched her eyes glimmer.
I pointed at Garcia’s headline. “I didn’t even get front page.”
Erin skirted around the coffee table and came to sit next to me. Holding my eyes inside of hers, she said, “People were swindled and you exposed the crime. They view you as a hero.”
“I’m no hero.”
“You did the impossible.”
“It’s just reporting.”
Erin shook her head. “It took courage to tell the story you did. But that’s not all, Sam.”
I felt my insides tighten with fear of what she knew that I didn’t. I wasn’t sure I could handle any more surprises. I was all surprised out.
“Come look at this.” Erin took my hand and pulled me to my feet as she towed me into her home office where she opened up her computer and navigated to our online forum. “Go on.” She turned her chair around for me to sit. “Read what our audience is saying and maybe then you’ll understand what I’m telling you.”
I swallowed a deep breath and gently lowered myself into the leather chair. I swiveled around to face the computer and took the mouse into my right hand. I scrolled through the comments one-by-one, beginning to understand Erin’s excitement. I recognized a couple names who I’d interviewed during my investigation into Thompson’s fraud, but the comments kept going as Thompson’s victims seemed to have found commonality in a safe place to publicly speak out against the man they all learned to hate.
“People are very angry with the new ruling class,” Erin said over my shoulder. “And they want to know who else is lying to them.”
I felt my neck tighten and, though I understood their reaction, I didn’t like the energy I felt building. One nudge on the wrong shoulder and this thing could completely change the trajectory of what was otherwise a peaceful movement.
“I was meaning to mention this to you sooner,” Erin squeezed my shoulder, “but I assumed you already knew.”
I stared at the monitor and shook my head no.
I had been so consumed with Thompson’s sudden death, I hadn’t bothered to check our forum. The knots of uncertainly slowly unraveled inside my belly as I kept scrolling. “Do they really think we’re hiding more names?”
“Why wouldn’t they? It’s our job to uncover the dirt, isn’t it?”
My thoughts immediately turned to Donny Counts and Josh Stetson. A flush of annoyance sent heat waves up my collar as I thought back to how Travis Turner had his summer intern casually browsing through my computer without me knowing.
“We’re on to something that clearly resonates with a lot of people, Sam. I don’t think we should stop just because Thompson is dead.”
I understood Erin’s desire to want to ride this wave, as something like this didn’t come along very often, but I was hesitant to jump on board and certainly wasn’t sharing her confidence. Then my heart stalled in my chest when hovering over one comment in particular. After I read it, a chill zipped up my spine.
“Did you see this?” I asked Erin.
Erin bent at the waist and leaned over my shoulder. Her eyes scanned the text and I listened to her read it aloud. “Thompson is the first of many more to come. If you don’t believe me, just ask these two.”
Erin glanced to me. “Is it a trap?”
“You have antivirus software installed?”
“Yeah. It’s good.” I gave her a look and Erin nodded. “Click it. See what happens,” she said.
I twisted back to the keyboard and clicked the highlighted link. Immediately, an image popped up and we couldn’t believe our eyes.
“Is that us?” Erin asked.
Unfortunately, I knew it was as soon as I saw it. “Yeah. Taken last night, when we were outside the Thompson residence speaking with Matt Bales.”
Chapter Eighteen
John Alvarez put his hand on the roof of their police sedan when giving Alex King a look. “Now are you satisfied?”
King stared into his partner’s eyes, opened his car door, and dropped his tall body behind the wheel, shutting the door behind him. He had looked at the key code Leslie had given them so many times, he practically knew it by heart. But he was no closer to explaining the mystery of what it was or who he should give it to than when they left the coroner’s office.
“Just admit it,” Alvarez continued, “this was a complete waste of our time.”
“The key code means nothing to you?” King gave him an arched look.
“If it was a receipt found in the victim’s pocket, would you still be asking me if it meant anything to me?”
“Depends where that receipt came from and what was purchased.”
Alvarez stretched the seatbelt over his shoulder, crossed it over his lap, and buckled himself in. “Still, nothing suggests foul play on either the victim’s body or at his house. It was a simple accident. Now please, can we just move on?”
King retrieved the key code from his sport coat pocket and handed it to Alvarez. “Have you seen anything like this before?”
Alvarez cast his gaze down into the alphanumerical code and counted off the digits. “
No. Can’t say I have.”
“There are 64 digits.”
“I know, I counted.”
“It’s too long for a bank account or routing number, so what could it possible go to?”
“Maybe nothing.”
“No. A man like Thompson just doesn’t carry random codes around in his trouser pockets. I bet whatever this is, is real important to somebody.”
Alvarez stared through the windscreen glass with a knitted brow. “You think it has anything to do with what Samantha revealed?”
King looked at his partner and slid the key into the ignition. “Maybe,” he said just as his cell phone buzzed. He answered. “King.”
“Alex, its detective Robbins.”
“What can I help you with?”
“You got some free time to swing by Richard Thompson’s residence?”
King’s brow furrowed, his brain scrambling to understand what in the world Detective Robbins was doing at Richard Thompson’s house. Lieutenant Baker hadn’t mentioned the Thompson case being investigated as a homicide, but by the sound in Robbins’s voice, King was starting to believe something may have changed. “Alvarez and I could head over now. What’s this about?”
“I’d rather not say over the phone, but you’re going to want to see this.”
Chapter Nineteen
The Thompson residence was a hive of activity when King pulled up to the house. Two Rocky Mountain Security vans were parked near the garage along with a single HVAC rig. The crews were working inside and King could only speculate to why Detective Robbins had asked him to come.
“God damn,” Alvarez said under his breath. “You don’t see this every day.”
King heard him mumble something about the rich living in a constant state of fear and how they were some of the planet’s most miserable bastards, but instead of engaging in Alvarez’s misery, King stepped out of the car and entered the house with renewed interest.
A team of two from Rocky Mountain Security was working on the house’s smart home system when King stopped to chat. He introduced himself, flashed his badge, and asked if everything was working as it should be.
“So far so good,” the older of the two men said.
“You heard what happened here yesterday?” King asked as Alvarez caught up to him.
The man nodded. “Terrible. Absolutely terrible.”
“Yeah.” King glanced around the room, listening to the clicks and clangs coming from somewhere near the kitchen. He motioned with his head for Alvarez to question the HVAC crew on their findings. “I assume the carbon monoxide detector is routed through the same system?” King pointed to the glowing blue screen as Alvarez trudged away.
“It is.”
“Any record to confirm whether it was working yesterday?”
“Everything we’ve checked tells us it was.”
The man diverted his eyes and King knew there was something he wasn’t sharing. “Is there a record of it kept somewhere?”
The man sighed. “The system records everything and stores the data away in a ledger that then gets transferred to the cloud and can be later accessed by a technician at our company headquarters.”
“Okay.” King arched a brow.
“Well, I took a look at the ledger, and there wasn’t any indication that the CO levels ever rose. Not when the fire department was called, or before it, or ever.”
King touched his face and stared at the machine hanging on the wall. “You checked the entire house?”
“Every single detector. They all are doing what they’re told.”
King caught sight of Alvarez waving him over. “All right. Let us know if you find anything else.” King slapped the man on the back of his shoulders and met up with Alvarez. “What did you learn?”
“Nothing. The crews have checked all the appliances in the house for possible malfunctions or any kind of interference that might spark a CO leak.”
King’s gaze bounced around the house. “Did they check the fireplace?”
Alvarez nodded. “And the stove and furnace. According to them, everything is working efficiently.”
None of this was what King thought he would hear. He was certain someone would be able to trace the leak to some kind of failed appliance. Rounding his lips, he exhaled a heavy sigh and was only more perplexed by the story of what happened to Thompson than before they arrived.
“I hate to admit it,” Alvarez flicked his gaze to King, “but you might have been right about thinking Thompson’s death needed a closer look.”
King couldn’t help but smile inwardly. As he bounced his gaze from wall to wall, he realized the entire scene had been contaminated. If Thompson had been killed, investigators wouldn’t have a fair shot at determining what might have caused his death now that a couple dozen people had been inside the house.
“We need to get the fire chief on the phone. Who was on call last night?”
Alvarez didn’t know as they continued on their journey through the back of the house. “How many people do you think live in this gigantic house?” Alvarez asked.
King shrugged as he heard his name being called.
“King, back here.” Detective Robbins was standing in the hall. “I thought I heard your voice. Thanks for coming so quickly.”
“What brought you here to begin with?” King asked Robbins.
“We were only assigned to do a quick walk-through because of who Thompson was.” Robbins looked to both King and Alvarez.
Alvarez slapped King between the shoulders. “See, it’s what I’ve been saying all along. The rich get preferential treatment.”
King ignored his partner and asked Robbins, “But you found something to suggest it might be homicide?”
“Not quite.” King gave Robbins a questioning look. “Follow me; I’ll show you why I called.”
Together, the three detectives entered Richard Thompson’s study. King took in his surroundings, noting the wood paneled walls housing a marvelous metal photograph of the Maroon Bells near Aspen. Robbins’s partner, Detective Mike Zimmerman, was at the mahogany desk glaring at King. King locked eyes and felt his muscles involuntarily flex.
“What’s up, Zim?” King greeted his colleague. “Did Thompson leave me in his will?”
Zimmerman didn’t even smirk as he lifted up several printed pages and asked, “How did our victim get himself a copy of this before it went to print today?”
King stepped forward and pinched the stapled packet with his right hand. He felt the blood drain from his face when he recognized it as the final draft to Samantha’s article on Thompson. Lifting his eyes, he locked his gaze on Zimmerman. “What are you suggesting?”
“We’re not suggesting anything,” Robbins said. “But it’s why I called.”
“It doesn’t look good for your girlfriend.” Zimmerman cocked his head to the side and stared at King. “Especially since the lieutenant has four of his homicide detectives looking further into one dead man’s past.”
King’s heart thundered in his chest as he wondered how in the hell Sam’s article found its way to Thompson’s desk. He doubted she would have given it to him.
Alvarez moved to the desk and King watched him pick something up.
“That was paper clipped to the article,” Zimmerman said, looking to Alvarez.
“Any idea what it is?” Alvarez asked him.
Zimmerman shook his head.
“What is it?” King stepped forward.
Alvarez drew in a breath and released it as he held up a key code similar to the one Leslie had given them. “Look familiar?”
“You two know what that is?” Robbins asked, looking to his partner as if they were both thinking it might have belonged to Samantha.
King took the second key code between his fingers and said, “No. Not quite. But something tells me that we should soon find out.”
Chapter Twenty
I thought the first message I received was bad. But the public comment that there would be others following
Thompson’s death kept me on pins and needles. Not only did it bring into question Thompson’s cause of death, but it also had me wondering if we’d been put on the clock and were expected to count down the seconds until the next person was murdered.
“LilJon,” Erin said, hovering the mouse over the username who claimed Thompson’s death was the first of many more to come. “Mean anything to you?”
“Lil Jon is a rapper, but this isn’t him.”
“No, but maybe someone who likes his music?”
Once again we were working a puzzle with few clues and not enough pieces to know where things fit and in what order, if at all. I didn’t care that we had been photographed without our knowing. I always assumed that someone was watching me. It was the life I chose, and I accepted that. But what I refused to accept was a public threat on someone’s life.
“Whoever wrote this,” I said, pointing at the monitor, “knew we would see it.”
“But is it intended only for us, or for everyone to see?”
I scratched my head. There was no way to know for sure. “More importantly, does it confirm that Thompson was murdered?”
Erin’s eyes were filled with doubt. I certainly thought it did. But I might be overthinking LilJon’s response when everyone was lashing out at Thompson.
“I want to know who was watching us and why?” Erin shook her head and I could feel her unease tighten the muscles in her back. “There is nothing more unnerving than thinking that Thompson was murdered and the killer was watching the investigation unfold while using us as his tool to learn what’s being said.”
I had the same sunken feeling, my body cold with uncertainty. “I should visit Thompson’s house again.”
Erin spun her head around and looked me in the eye. “To do what?”
“To find out if he threatened me with that first email.”
“And what if it was him? What would that prove?”
“Then I know that I’m not chasing a ghost and I can let it rest.”
Erin’s eyebrows raised. “And if he didn’t?”
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