Page 22

22

Mac dug an adapter out of her desk drawer and searched for the power socket on Marrion’s Microsoft Surface Laptop.

“What do think are the odds we won’t need a password?”

Stella shrugged. “Doesn’t every computer need a password to log in?”

“Sure. But you can change the settings on a PC so you only have to enter your password after you shut the thing down or after updates.”

Mac opened the screen and rubbed her hands together. She looked like a kid who’d just received a locked box and a long-handled screwdriver. This was a puzzle and a prize rolled into one technological package. All Mac had to do was crack it open.

She hit the power button. Sure enough, the laptop required a password.

Stacy swung in the chair next to Stella. “Can’t you hack it?”

“Sure. I’ll replicate a brute force attack to gain access. Basically, it’s trial and error. I use a program to generate thousands of passwords, initially based on information we know about Marrion, like his date of birth, names of family members, that sort of thing. It’s a tried-and-true method, but, as you might imagine, that could take days.”

Stella huffed. They didn’t have days to spare.

Mac’s disposition remained sunny. “In the meantime, there’s nothing stopping us from guessing. For this guy, I might try some favorite historical figures. What do you think? Napoleon or Washington?”

Stella shook her head. She wished she knew.

Mac typed. Winced. Rubbed her chin. “Hmm. No dice. Fun, though.”

Stella didn’t always appreciate Mac’s idea of fun and neither did Stacy, judging by the sour expression on her face.

Mac tried again. She held her hand above the Enter key and gave it a punch. She grinned. “I can’t believe it. We’re in. Julius Caesar was his man.”

Stella was impressed. “It was his birthday? How’d you guess that?”

“The lock screen image is his bust. Let’s see what we got.”

She lowered her head and typed quickly. Clicked, typed, and clicked again. Stella wondered whether she should just leave Mac alone.

She nudged Stacy and pushed herself out of her chair. Mac raised her finger. Stella dropped back and waited.

After a few minutes, Mac sucked in one cheek and pushed the computer to the side.

“Okay, so a quick look suggests…there’s nothing here. Browser history is all Netflix, history factoids, and homework. The kid didn’t even watch porn. No encrypted files and nothing secure. His email account is mostly spam and messages from college. At least he read them. I’ll take a deeper dive later, but if the contents of this machine represent his personality, I can see why he had no friends.”

“That’s low, Mac.” Stacy pushed the phone across the table. “What about this?”

Mac took the device. It was an Android, not the latest model and not the most expensive version in the year it came out. The case was plain, the screen protector cracked and bubbled. Mac turned it on.

The lock screen displayed a bust of a Roman emperor, though Stella couldn’t tell whether she was looking at Julius Caesar or Nero without his fiddle. Mac bit her lower lip.

“I’ll put in a call to Marrion’s family to see if they knew his password. But if not, we’ll need a court order to hack it. I can see there’s a notification from Dispatch…which is interesting. Especially as your last case hung on a Dispatch group. But if I start plugging passwords in and get them wrong, it could wipe everything. I’ll need to be careful.”

“So there’s nothing you can do with it?”

“I didn’t say that. The good news is that it’s an old model. If he hasn’t kept up with his security updates, there should be some vulnerabilities I can exploit.” Mac opened a drawer and picked out a cable. “I’ll let you know when I’ve got something.”

That was their cue to leave. Mac had her own office because, when she got her teeth into something, she didn’t like to be disturbed. All they could do now was wait for her shout of triumph from down the corridor.

They returned to the bullpen. Anja was staring at her monitor while Hagen was watching Ander pace with a phone to his ear.

Hagen pointed at Ander and mouthed to Stella, Alessandra .

Stella took her seat and tried to ignore the conversation taking place in front of her. The office was a strange place for Ander to talk to his partner. If he wanted privacy, the break room was empty. And Alessandra’s workspace was in the same building.

Ander hung up. “That was Alessandra.”

Stella feigned surprise. “Really? That’s nice. How is she?”

“She…” He stopped and eyed Stella. “She’s fine. Oh, the lab called with preliminary DNA results from that beer can you picked up. The one from the homeless guy in the alley.”

“What did the results say?”

“There’s a name. Delafayette Gerwen.”

Stacy dragged her keyboard closer and typed quickly. “Fett. Got him. Oh, yeah, it’s him all right. Hasn’t changed much. And he’s got a record.”

Stella rolled her chair to Stacy’s desk. The face in the mug shot was that of the white male she’d seen emerge from under filthy blankets in the alley. He was younger and much paler with the crust of dirt gone. His beard was thin and black without the white tinges. No lines on his face yet. And his hair was short, not clumped and unwashed. But it was him. Same eyes, same nose, same square face and wide cheekbones.

His record showed his conviction. Second-degree murder, for which he’d received a sentence of twenty years. He’d been released three years ago.

Stella blinked. She’d hoped when she’d picked up the bottle that they’d get lucky. Finding a convicted killer at a crime scene was about as much luck as any investigator could hope for.

“A murderer. That’s handy. I think we’d better have a talk with Delafayette.” Stacy scrolled down the screen.

“No fixed abode. No Wi-Fi would make it hard to make friends online,” Stella pointed out.

“There are libraries.” Stacy didn’t seem perturbed by the long shot odds. “Last picked up in the town of Lebanon three weeks ago. I’ll put out a BOLO, but let’s face it, a guy like that could be hard to track down. He’ll probably turn up at one of the shelters or homeless camps at some point, but until then, he could be anywhere.”

Stella wasn’t convinced Delafayette was worth their time, convicted murderer or not. “Other than his record, what reason do we have to believe this Delafayette guy was involved?” She reached over Stacy’s shoulder and scrolled down to the police report. “A fight in a bar that resulted in a stabbing, and…yeah, everything on his rap sheet is dime-a-dozen stuff. A long way from the kind of crime we’re looking at.”

“Yeah, but he’s a killer.” Anja swung on her chair. “People don’t change. Once a killer, always a killer.”

Hagen twirled his chair. “You sure? You really think people don’t change?”

“The best predictor of future behavior is…” Anja prompted.

“Past behavior,” Stacy finished, but she didn’t look happy about it.

Stella rolled back to Hagen’s side. “Maybe, but there’s still no reason to believe this ex-killer is our current unsub.”

“Apart from his presence at a body-dump site, you mean?”

Stella didn’t like Anja’s attitude. She also didn’t like that she had a point. “Fair enough. But if he dumped Patrick Marrion there, why did he stay in the alley too?”

“Not exactly a criminal mastermind?” Ander leaned against the table. With his hands gripping the edge and his mid-length curls hanging over his collar, he looked like an osprey observing the world from a treetop. “What about Tripp? If the roommate’s a thief, maybe he’s also a murderer.”

Stella shook her head. “Kid’s a creep. But he’s got alibis for both murders, and they check out. He’s in the clear.”

Ander looked thoughtful. “What about the other victim? Otto Walker. I don’t think we should rule out his boss. He could’ve made those cuts on the first victim too. And then killed his employee?”

Stella waited for Hagen to respond. She hadn’t met Otto’s boss, but she trusted Hagen’s instincts.

“Possible.” Hagen inclined his head. “There was something off about him. Might be the job, though. I mean, wouldn’t he have killed Walker in the same manner as Marrion? One murder is precision perfect, the other a complete hack job? Doesn’t track behaviorally. We still haven’t found Marrion’s friend. We need to find that guy ASAP.”

Stacy stretched her back. “Mac’s working on his phone now. The friend’s number must be in there somewhere.”

Mac’s magic was their most promising hope. Stella wished her bestie would hurry it up.

“What about the church the mortician mentioned?” Anja seemed relieved to have something more valuable to contribute than her view of killers who never changed. “What was the name of the priest? Father Ted? Otto Walker used to spend time there, right?”

Hagen wagged his finger. “Yes. His uncle mentioned that too. Otto used to volunteer at a soup kitchen and shelter next to the church.”

Stella eyed Stacy, who returned her look with a short nod. “We’ll check it out.”

“Check what out?” Slade stood in the doorway with his phone in his hand. “You got something?”

“Not really. Maybe. We’re going to check out the soup kitchen where Otto Walker volunteered in Idlebrook. Maybe someone there knows something.”

“Good. Have we heard back from the sheriff who replaced you in Pennsylvania? We need to rule out all of Maureen King’s past associates.”

Stella shook her head. “Not yet. I’ve got a feeling the guy’s dragging his heels a bit. Seemed like the type.”

“I’d check in on him.” Slade lifted his phone. “But listen up, everybody. We might have something here. That strange writing, the cuneiform, has appeared in the alley where Marrion’s body was found. I just got off the phone with some of the locals. They found it about an hour ago.”

Stella’s head jerked up. “What do you mean?”

“What I said. Someone painted a bunch of cuneiform in the alley. Forensics is heading over there. But I want Hagen and Ander to meet them. Maybe you’ll find some new hard evidence, like the gloves.”

Hagen tossed his pen onto the table and reached for his coat. “Sure it’s not someone screwing with us?”

“Yeah. A killer is screwing with us. No one has linked Patrick Marrion to the cuneiform in the press. It’s not common knowledge.”

A strange feeling filled Stella’s gut. She couldn’t place it, but her instinct was telling her something was very off. Why paint the cuneiform message so long after the body was removed? She couldn’t think of a good reason.

Hagen’s hand landed on Stella’s shoulder as he passed her. She held it for a second and stopped him. “Hey, keep an eye out for Delafayette while you’re there. We want to speak to him.”

“Sure, send me his picture.”

“Will do.” She squeezed his hand before letting go. “Hey…” She still couldn’t form the right words.

“Hm?”

“Be safe.”