Page 29

Finally, after what felt like hours, Malcolm sat back. "Good news and bad news."
"Good news first," Sheila said.
"Storage component is intact. Recent footage is there, encrypted but recoverable." He gestured at his screen. "Bad news is, we need his password. And given how much private content these influencer types record, it's probably a good one."
Sheila chewed her lip for a few moments, thinking. Then she pulled out her phone.
"What are you thinking?" her father asked.
"Amy, Marcus's sister. If anyone would know the password…"
Sheila dialed Amy's number, putting it on speaker. It rang three times before Amy answered, her voice hollow with grief.
"Sheriff Stone?"
"Amy, I'm so sorry to bother you. I wouldn't if this wasn't very important."
"Have you found who did this to him?"
"We're working on it. That's actually why I'm calling." Sheila chose her words carefully. "We recovered your brother's smart glasses from the scene. There might be footage on them that could help us, but we need his password."
A long silence followed. When Amy spoke again, her voice was barely a whisper. "His glasses? I didn't even think about those. He wore them everywhere, used them to record his videos..."
"I know this is hard," Sheila said gently. "But anything you can tell us about his passwords, his accounts—it could help us find whoever did this."
There was a long pause.
"Amy?" Sheila asked gently.
"I want to help," Amy said, her voice rough from crying. "But Marcus never shared his passwords. He was paranoid about security after his account got hacked last year."
"What about hints?" Sheila asked. "Something personal he might have used?"
"He changed them regularly. Said that was safer." Amy paused. "The only constant was that he always used something from our dad's old newspaper stories. Said it was his way of keeping Dad's memory alive."
Malcolm perked up. "What kind of newspaper stories?"
"Dad was an investigative reporter. Covered everything from city council corruption to cold cases." Amy's voice caught. "He always said the truth would set us free. That was kind of his motto."
"What kind of cases did Marcus find most interesting?" Sheila asked.
"Dad's biggest story was about corruption in the police department back in '61. Three officers were taking bribes, falsifying evidence. Dad broke the story, won a regional award for it." Another pause. "Marcus had the article framed above his desk. 'Truth Prevails: Three Officers Face Justice.'"
Sheila felt a chill. Corruption in the police department—it wouldn't have anything to do with the money laundering her father had been investigating back when he was with I.A., would it? No, probably not. Nineteen-sixty-one was a long time ago.
"That's too long for a standard password," Malcolm muttered.
"What about dates?" Gabriel asked. "Would he have used the date the story broke?"
"June 15, 1961," Amy said immediately. "Dad referenced it all the time. Said it was the day that proved one person could make a difference."
Malcolm's fingers flew across his keyboard. "Adding special characters... trying variations..."
They waited in tense silence, only the sound of typing filling the workshop.
"Got something," Malcolm said suddenly. "Device is responding to 'TPJ61561.' Truth Prevails Justice, 6/15/1961."
Sheila leaned forward. "Can you access the footage?"