Page 93 of The Five Year Lie

A girl could drive herself crazy like this.

From my pocket, I pull a printout of the warrant Zain gaveme. I’ve nearly memorized every word on the page. It’s signed by a judge named Arnold Kerry. The name tickles my memory, but I’ve read this warrant a thousand times, which could easily be the root of its familiarity.

What I need is another look at the warrant system. I need to know if there’s anything weird about the pattern of this judge’s activity.

The warrant desk is downstairs, though, and undoubtedly staffed by some junior person who drew the short straw to work the busy Friday evening shift. There’s no logical reason for me to butt in and ask to look something up.

But Ray’s computer would have access to that system. The CEO can see literally anything from his terminal. Zain told me that.

A quick glance at the conference room shows that Ray’s meeting is in full swing. So I pick up a couple of file folders and stroll with them into Ray’s office. Once there, I pause to move a potted plant closer to the window, where it can get better light.

Then I sit down at Ray’s terminal and nudge the mouse, waking up the monitor. I tap in his password—remembered from the time he called me from a remote meeting with an urgent need to access a file. That was three months ago, at least.

Butboom. I’m in.

My stomach fizzes with anxiety as I reach for the mouse. The first thing I do is locate the icon for the warrant system. That takes me a couple of sweaty minutes. But once I find it, the search for Judge Arnold Kerry is quick. The screen lights up with a string of warrant requests.

Alotof requests. Judge Kerry signed warrants fifty-three different times in a period that spans just over two years. But it ends abruptly after summer of 2017. In fact, the last warrant the judgesigned was August tenth of that year. That’s six days before Drew disappeared.

A chill climbs up my spine.

Fifty-three warrants sounds like a lot, but I have nothing to compare it to. I don’t have the names of any other judges handy, either. And I don’t have a lot of time to snoop. In fact, when I turn my chin to check the progress of the meeting, someone is staring at me from right outside the glass.

I nearly have a heart attack until I realize it’s Zain.What are you doing?he mouths.

Go away, I say, and then make a shooing motion. Even if I’m a clumsy snoop, his standing there staring at me isn’t really helping.

He beckons urgently, and I close the window on Ray’s computer. I pop out of Ray’s chair, pick up my file folders and then leave the office.

Zain waits for me at our new, deluxe coffee counter, stabbing the buttons on the espresso machine as if they’ve offended him.

“Seriously,” he whispers when I reach him. “What the hell are you doing?”

“The judge,” I whisper back. “Arnold Kerry. He requested video fifty-three times in two years. But then he stoppedrightbefore Drew went away.”

“Is fifty-three a lot?” Zain asks, removing the steaming cup from the machine.

“I don’tknow. But aren’t you curious?”

“Yes,” he whispers. “But you’re leaving a trail, Ariel. You’re going to get caught.”

“Got a better idea?”

He nods. Then he glances toward the conference room beforespeaking. “We need to see the warrants for the five yearsafterthat judge disappeared. Then we’ll know if the pattern was strange. Let me do it. I know tricks.”

I simmer inside, because I don’t like the way he’s taking over.

But nobody knows the system like Zain.

“Your job is to google Judge Kerry,” he says. “Figure out if he retired or died in the summer of 2017. Why does he go off-grid?”

“Fine.”

“And, Ariel? There’s a reason I was looking for you.” His eyes dip, and my pulse quickens.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. My PI friend isn’t going to send us a bill this time. He, um, couldn’t find any evidence of our Jacob Marker’s existence after 2017.”