Page 10

Nine

“Tolomato Cemetery,” Jude murmured. “Originally a settlement of Guale Native Americans who were being administered to by Franciscan friars. But as human beings, we’ve always been tribal, I guess. And different ‘tribes’ held the power here over the centuries. The Spaniards founded the city in 1565. Then the British took over in 1763, and being Protestants, burned the original church that the graveyard grew up around—but left the coquina shell bell, and of course the graves.”

Vicky looked over at Jude. He had been thoughtful and quiet most of the morning, and she was surprised he was suddenly verbalizing the history of the cemetery.

That really had nothing to do with their case at the moment.

“And yes, I know a fair about this city, too. Tolomato Cemetery is incredibly old, very historical, tells the tale of years—the centuries—gone by. But it has nothing to do with today. It’s not where Marci is being buried,” she reminded him.

He nodded, glancing her way. “Yeah, I know where we’re going.”

“To the service at Marci’s church, which is right by the ‘new’ graveyard, and we’ll hang at the back. After all, we found Marci, but we didn’t know her,” Vicky reminded him. “We need to be tactful and careful because no matter what is really going on, most of the people we see today will have really cared about her.”

“If they cared about her, they’ll want us to do everything that we can for her—and for others who could be in danger if this thing continues. And no, we didn’t know her. But we will fight for justice for her,” he said.

He seemed to be contemplative—and aggravated about something that morning.

Vicky decided to push it. Even if he was going to get angry.

“You know you’re being very weird today,” she told him.

To her relief, he smiled at that and winced before glancing her way. “I thought I was always weird to you!”

“No, you just weren’t up to date on the possibilities of AI. But hey, not to worry, most of the world, thankfully, isn’t in the loop on extreme hacking. But you’re tense—”

“Yeah,” he said, grimacing. “Sorry, I hadn’t mentioned it yet, but I got a call from Assistant Director Arnold today. It was nothing new—he was just warning me to be careful because we’re dealing with a law firm. And whoever is doing this could press the right person to start up a dozen lawsuits against us and successfully cut us off from getting to the bottom of it before it gets ten times worse. So of course—”

“You went to law school.”

He nodded. “So, I just don’t like walking on eggshells. But I will do it, and I will not be such a jerk to you. I didn’t mean to be.”

“You weren’t being a jerk. You were just—”

“Weird.”

“When something gets at you, talk to me. I have my moments, too, you know.”

He nodded. “Never expected this. You are an amazing partner.”

“And you’re weirdly wonderful,” she assured him, smiling and drawing another smile from him.

But they had arrived, and their smiles soon faded.

Jude parked the car in one of the few remaining spots close to their destination, and Vicky looked at the beautiful church and the cemetery where Marci would receive her final services and be laid to rest.

“History,” she murmured. “Only in this city could something that’s a mere one hundred and fifty years old, approximately, be considered new.”

Jude grinned and nodded. He looked at the sea of cars.

“We should get in.”

“Yep. It’s that time.”

The church was beautiful inside as well with stained glass, pillars, and much more. But they hadn’t come to look at the church. Or even to appreciate life, one’s beliefs or sadly even to mourn for the woman they hadn’t known. But maybe they had come to mourn as well, mourn the loss of a young life. But they had come for more, Vicky reminded herself.

They had come to seek justice.

“Hail, hail, the gang is all here,” Jude murmured.

And they were. Thankfully, they had seen the pictures in the law office as well as images of many of the players online.

Wharton, Dixon, and Smith.

Vicky closed her eyes briefly. She remembered the display of pictures on the wall. The company dealt with corporate law, maritime law, personal injury, and criminal law. Wharton headed the corporate division; Lee Chan, maritime law; Barton Clay, personal injury; and Ms. A. Taylor, criminal law. And presumably Dixon and Smith kept an eye on all divisions and perhaps acted as the trouble chasers. They were all there along with many other people who would surely be on the list they would get from Celia Smith. They should have received it by now. But Celia Smith was evidently not fond of them or of having the law firm investigated in any way.

Apparently, Marci’s work family had been her only family.

Others were those who worked in the various departments. Now thanks to what they’d learned about the meager threads of connection, they knew Nathaniel Wharton himself had to have met Paul Sands, and that Carlos Rodriguez had also known the Lucky Sun ’s captain Ronald Quincy, and that Quincy had used the law firm of Wharton, Dixon, and Smith when he had filed a maritime claim.

“I’ll take Wharton in the graveyard,” Jude whispered when the service came to an end.

“Maritime law, that’s… Lee Chan. He’s in the third row right now with his wife, Gina,” Vicky whispered in return.

“We’ll be appropriate for the occasion, of course,” Jude murmured.

The priest headed out the door and the others filed out as well. Celia Smith saw them as she walked out and frowned fiercely. With the crowd heading out, she was able to incline her head toward Vicky and whisper angrily, “This is entirely inappropriate!”

“Well, we’re still waiting for your list!” Vicky said. “And we’re here to honor Marci Warden in the best way possible.”

Celia Smith walked on.

Wharton looked like a man who had been shedding tears. Dixon appeared duly distressed as well.

Vicky studied every face as they all filed out. Barton Clay’s pretty blonde wife paused as she apparently knew who they were. Her attitude was entirely different from Celia’s.

“Thank you for coming, thank you for caring!” she said, before heading on out.

Vicky recognized Barton Clay, of course, who paused just after his wife. “Belinda is truly distressed. She and Marci were friends. She insisted we all be here not just because Marci worked at our offices but because she knew Marci’s family was all gone. So, thank you.”

Vicky nodded and smiled, lowering her head. “Of course,” she murmured.

They moved on out to the graveside services.

Like the church, the graveyard was beautiful. Handsomely sculpted angels sat here and there along with headstones, tombs, and mausoleums. The trees that shaded the paths cast sweeping shadows over the morning, adding to a strange and gentle feel.

Marci’s coworkers gathered around as the graveside service progressed.

Wharton headed up by the casket to give a speech.

It was what one might have expected: a tribute to Marci’s beautiful smile, her work ethic, and her family morals. While she’d had no remaining family of her own, she had made those at the firm her family, standing by others for every loss, remembering the birthdays of her friends, always ready to lend an ear or a hand.

Naturally she had been an amazing receptionist, making clients feel welcome and at home. She had put together so many of their important dinners, and their firm get-togethers as well.

He seemed sincere, incredibly sincere. Either the man should have gone into the movies instead of law or he was completely genuine, Vicky couldn’t know. But something inside her believed him.

He was heartbroken by Marci’s loss.

“Well, he has given me a great opening!” Jude murmured. As he finished speaking, the priest blessed the assembly and said they should all go in peace.

The crowd dispersed slowly. Many people had flowers to set upon the coffin before it could be lowered into the earth. That made it easier for Vicky to approach Lee Chan and his wife, Gina, when they turned to leave the grave site, having each cast down a rose.

Chan obviously knew who she was, or perhaps he just knew she didn’t really belong here among his coworkers. And she was obviously approaching him.

“Mr. and Mrs. Chan, forgive me, but I’d like to speak with you for a few minutes.”

Chan frowned briefly. He was a handsome man of about forty; his wife was an attractive woman of about the same age.

“Oh, okay, I know. You’re one of the cops—”

“Agent, sir. Special Agent Victoria—Vicky—Tennant. Yes, law enforcement. And I do hate to stop you at this very sad occasion, but we’ve several people that we need to speak with—”

“Because you don’t think what happened to Marci could have been an accident,” he said. He shook his head. “I’m happy to talk to you at any time. We’re a legal firm, and I like to think we all believe in law enforcement. We might specialize in defense, but that doesn’t mean every one of us wouldn’t want to track a killer who was running loose. But…” He glanced at his wife as if looking for words.

Gina Chan offered Vicky her hand. “Hi, I’m Gina. And I think Lee is so confused because we can’t begin to think of anyone who would wish any harm whatsoever to Marci! Every word Mr. Wharton was saying here today is true. She was a sweetheart. She cared about everyone. She was kind. Oh, she could make you laugh, too, but…we loved her!”

“You knew her as well?” Vicky asked.

“Well, I didn’t see her every day as Lee did, but we went shopping now and then, and a group of us from the firm went bowling sometimes, out to dinner…and…she was kind! She would open doors when she saw elderly people heading in or out somewhere, reach for things for shorter people when we shopped… Marci couldn’t have had any enemies!”

“None known,” Vicky said. “But as you may or may not have heard—”

“We heard,” Chan said dryly. He looked out over the remaining crowd, as if guaranteeing that he wouldn’t be heard by the wrong person. “Celia Smith sent us all emails, warning us we’d be ‘bothered’ by the police over what had happened because a boat also exploded. Of course, I knew about the boat because I was asked once to represent the guy who owned it, Captain Ronald Quincy.”

“Oh, so you did know Captain Quincy,” Vicky said.

“I knew him, but I never wound up working with him. He really had a personal injury suit, and it was settled out of court. I met him a few times,” Chan said with a shrug. He winced. “I didn’t really…”

“Yeah, and this guy we’re talking to is an attorney!” Gina said lightly, smiling at Chan in a friendly manner, shaking her head. “I will be as blunt as possible—I’m not an attorney. The guy was a scumbag, and Chan didn’t want anything to do with him. Celia Smith was aggravated until she read about the case and determined it could be easily settled. Personal injury is Barton’s gig, but she swooped in and took over herself.”

“Celia Smith and Mr. Dixon do that sometimes, when a case is complicated, when it’s tricky, when there’s anything that might cause a questionable relationship between a client and the firm. That’s their job. Wharton started the agency twenty years ago, and he was always into corporate law. When he took Dixon and Smith on as partners, well I guess that was the agreement,” Chan said. “But anyway, I’d help you in any way that I could. But I just don’t see the correlation. Ronald Quincy was suspected of being a drug lord, a fantastic captain and tour guide, and a grade A asshole to anyone who wasn’t giving him money. On the other hand, Marci was the best and sweetest human being known to man.”

“She was so proud of that house,” Gina murmured, shaking her head. “She loved it. She had us over for dinner one night so she could show us all the things the artificial intelligence in her house could do for me. And it can be amazing, of course. I was just reading that there’s an AI piece of equipment that can detect cancer earlier than any other screening and certainly earlier than any human being. And we thought it was…fun. I never thought in a zillion years her house might go crazy and kill her.”

Vicky nodded. “As you were saying, AI can be amazing. But AI is fed information and ‘taught’ by human beings, so…”

“But a house?” Gina said, shaking her head.

“And a boat and a car,” Vicky said. “Oh, I’m okay at a computer, but I’m curious. Who at your company is the best with all that?”

“I would have said Marci just last week,” Chan said. “I don’t know… We can all manage our planners, accounts, even get into research when a case requires it—nothing illegal, I swear. We are a law firm. But… Oh, Celia Smith is good. And…” He shook his head. “Again, we all know a little.” He lowered his voice again even though people had moved on, some still in the graveyard, talking in groups, some heading to their cars. “The worst? He needs help all the time! Mr. Wharton himself. Then again, he’s a bit older and he didn’t come through school in the age of computers. I think the man had typing classes if anything.”

“Well, thank you! Thank you so much for speaking with me,” Vicky said. “We will be talking to everyone at the firm at some point, and you made it very easy for me today.”

Chan looked at the coffin and winced. “You’re welcome. Feel free to call me any time.”

He took his wife’s hand and the two of them started away. But Gina pulled back.

“If someone did do this somehow, I hope to God that you nail them! Marci was an amazing friend, and she deserved the best that life could give, not…this!”

Vicky nodded and told her softly, “Trust me. We are on this.”

As she spoke, another couple came up to talk to Lee and Gina. Of course, she knew who they were from the portraits on the wall.

Barton and Belinda Clay. They were a handsome couple, he in his mid- to late thirties, tall and dignified, she a pretty, petite blonde who appeared to be several years younger.

“Wharton spoke well!” Belinda said to Lee and Gina. “He really cared!”

“He did,” Gina agreed. “He brought tears to my eyes. Oh!” She realized Vicky was right behind her still, so she turned and quickly introduced Vicky to the others. “This lady is Special Agent Victoria Tennant and she’s making sure that… Well, weird things have been happening.”

Belinda Clay looked at Vicky with surprise. “It’s wonderful that you’re investigating, but… I mean, her house had a terrible, terrible glitch! Sadly, computers have problems. They’re still just machines, but—”

“But,” her husband said, shaking his head and letting out a sigh, “bad things happening that are a little too weird is a concept that has occurred to me, too. I assume it’s not just the house. I mean, Captain Quincy’s boat went all glitchy, too. I knew that man. I promise you—he wasn’t suicidal.”

“You’re right. And Mr. Clay, we’ve wanted to speak with you, too, hoping that maybe you could help us, give us some insight on someone who might have hated him.”

“I can give you something like the Yellow Pages on that!” Barton said. “Nothing against him was ever proven but he had a rep for being one hell of a…provider when it came to drugs. He started out by visiting our maritime law department, but he was hurt because of a broken board on a dock. He was wanting to sue the company responsible for the dock’s upkeep. When I heard he was going to be turned over to personal injury, I admit, I reacted badly—”

“You didn’t react that badly!” his wife protested. She lowered her head.

“I didn’t really have much say in the matter. Celia Smith stepped right in,” he said. “Could someone want him dead? I would think so. But hating someone for being…”

“Slime?” Lee suggested.

Barton Clay shrugged. “He wasn’t a nice guy. Of course, his accident—if it was an accident—happened before we…before we lost Marci. But—”

“I was already explaining to Special Agent Tennant that he and Marci were like night and day—Marci was loved. Adored!” Gina said.

“She was,” Belinda said quietly. “We were all friends,” she added for Vicky.

“Anyway, I’ll be in the office the rest of the week, or you can call my home phone,” Barton Clay told Vicky, handing her his card. “I… Well, we need to get on home.”

“Thank you—all of you—for speaking with me,” Vicky said. “We appreciate any help you can give us.”

“The age of artificial intelligence is upon us!” Barton said. “And yet, intelligent men and women often disagree, so how intelligent is the intelligence?” he asked with a shrug.

“Think of the movies like M3GAN , about the killer doll!” Gina said. She shivered. “No dolls in our house after that!”

“Hey, Chucky was just as bad,” her husband said. “And he was just a demon or something. Anyway…”

“Good night and thank you!” Vicky said.

The four walked toward their cars. She watched as they left and saw that Jude was by their Mustang.

He was in conversation with both Mr. Wharton and Mr. Dixon.

She still stood by the coffin and realized the cemetery employees were waiting for the mourners to leave so they could complete the burial. Nearby, shaded and in the background behind a group of beautiful trees, was a tractor outfitted with a backhoe, waiting to fill in the grave once the coffin had been lowered into the ground.

And it was time for her to join Jude.

But before she could walk away, Celia Smith came walking up to her.

“The funeral? You had to question people at the funeral?” she demanded.

“We knew that your people would be here,” Vicky said pleasantly. “We had to get started since we’re still waiting for your list, and oh! I really need to speak with you again. This is something that surely you had to have taken note of yourself since Captain Ronald Quincy was your client. Strange. His boat went haywire, and so did Marci’s house.”

“How dare you? Are you accusing me of something? I will have you in court—”

“I didn’t accuse you of anything at all. I mentioned things that happened. Facts.”

“Harassment—”

“I haven’t harassed anyone, Ms. Smith. As a matter of fact, your people are anxious to help us in any way. They cared about Marci.”

“Now you’re insinuating I didn’t!”

“I have no idea what your relationship was with Marci, Ms. Smith,” Vicky said. She spoke flatly; there was no point trying to be diplomatic with this woman.

And if Celia Smith was the one who handled the case that Captain Quincy had brought to the agency, she was a step closer to being a suspect. Especially since they now knew Paul Sands, Esquire , had a relationship with the agency as well and represented Carlos Rodriguez, a known killer.

And thankfully, a narcissistic wild card.

“We are a family at the firm,” Celia Smith told her. “And so help me, if you don’t quit harassing us, there will be a lawsuit. You can count on it.”

“That’s all right. You can count on warrants from here on out,” Vicky said, smiling dryly and walking past her. She was anxious to speak with Jude and stand by his side if his conversation with the men continued.

And she was anxious to get away from Celia Smith.

“Excuse me,” she said to Celia, walking around her to go toward the cars.

As she walked by, she heard Celia speaking at the grave site to the earthly remains of Marci Warden.

“People don’t understand, Marci. Just because I don’t cry or laugh easily or run into someone’s arms every time I meet them, it doesn’t mean that I didn’t care! But you know now, of course, that I cared about you, Marci, dear! You know.”

Is the woman a twisted form of Jekyll and Hyde? Vicky wondered.

Had she cared?

She paused, hearing a very soft whirr.

Despite Celia still standing there, the workers had apparently determined there was more to be done that day.

They lowered the coffin down.

“Ma’am, step back, please!” one of the workers asked.

Celia ignored him.

It appeared that he was going to walk around to join her, perhaps set a hand on her arm and make a gentle attempt to remove her physically.

But the sound of a motor suddenly started up again, this one like a roar.

“David, stop!” the worker by the grave shouted.

Another man shouted back to him from a position near the earth-moving machine.

“It’s not me! I’m not in the cab, and Jimmy isn’t working the hoe!”

With a fluid spate of expletives, the worker by the grave walked toward the large machine.

But even as he did so, the machine started toward him, moving toward the grave as well and shaking the ground.

And Celia Smith suddenly let out a startled scream.

She was too close to the open grave. The earth’s tremor caused her to slip.

And she disappeared into the earth.

“What the heck is going on?” Nathaniel Wharton demanded.

He and Donald Dixon had not had the least difficulty talking to Jude. While both thought that what had happened had to have been an awful accident, Wharton readily admitted Marci had been something of an expert when it came to artificial intelligence. And yes, it was weird that they had discovered the associations that they had—and yet, life was full of bizarre coincidences and sometimes it could be a very small world.

“Sad to say. Artificial intelligence helps us so much in our daily lives, but… I was trying to write a brief the other day about an accident that occurred by Tolomato Cemetery. My AI editorial program was determined that I had it wrong—that it had to be ‘Tomato Cemetery.’ AI is only as good as the information that goes in, but,” he said and shrugged, “Marci might have gotten carried away while setting up her house. I mean, seriously, it sounded like a horrible, horrible accident—”

“Like the crashing of Captain Quincy’s yacht?” Jude had asked him.

“It’s far more likely that someone was after Quincy than Marci!” Dixon commented.

But that was as far as they got.

Celia Smith’s scream rang out, and those who remained by the cars turned to try to ascertain what could have happened.

Celia had disappeared.

So had Vicky.

Jude ran. When he reached the grave, however, he saw Vicky was unhurt. She had apparently hopped down into the grave to help Celia.

“The backhoe apparently had a mind of its own!” Vicky announced. Jude saw that she had gotten Celia Smith to her feet and was holding the woman to steady her. He hunkered by the grave, reaching to slip his hands around the woman’s midsection to lift her out of the grave.

She was shaking.

Maybe she would now believe that something was really wrong; maybe, just maybe, she’d quit being so damned nasty to them.

Wharton came up behind Jude, saying Celia’s name with distress. Dixon was by his side, and they both started questioning her to try to ascertain if she was all right or if they needed to call an ambulance.

Jude looked at Vicky who shook her head and grimaced. He reached into the grave to lift her out as well, pulling her close for a minute. He told himself he hadn’t panicked when he had heard the scream and hadn’t seen her. He had rushed to the scene the same way he would have done with any partner.

That much was true.

But he might have held her then for just a moment longer than he might have held someone else.

It was okay. She smiled at him, and he nodded and turned around.

One of the cemetery workers had managed an extraordinary leap into the cab of the tractor; he’d manually turned it off, and his face still had a look of stunned disbelief.

“Sorry, guys, we’re going to need a forensic crew out here,” Jude said. “I’m not sure what else was planned for that equipment today, but it isn’t going to happen.”

As he spoke, he saw that Vicky was on the phone. A forensic crew would be out momentarily; he imagined Aidan would want to be leading this one himself.

That made him glad again that Clover was with them; Cary would feel much better about being at their headquarters by herself with the dog by her side.

Celia was insisting she was fine.

Nathaniel Wharton, tall, lean, and weary, kept arguing she needed to allow EMTs, at the least, to check her out after the fall.

“Look, it wasn’t that big a fall. I have a few scrapes and bruises!” Celia said. “Please, Nathaniel, I just want to go home.” She paused, aware that Jude and Vicky were watching her.

“And you! You big federal know-it-alls! You find out who was responsible for leaving that tractor running. I will sue them on personal injury—”

“I don’t know. We were all standing in the area, and that tractor was off, and the workers were waiting for you to get away from the grave site,” Jude said, shrugging. “Amazing, isn’t it? That tractor starting up all by itself?”

“No!” Celia raged. “These idiots left it running!”

“I was standing right here,” Vicky pointed out. “That tractor wasn’t running. It started up all by itself. Just like the way Marci’s house came to life, the judge’s car accelerated to ninety before crashing and exploding, Quincy’s boat soared into the rocks…and, oh, yeah, the car assigned to us from the Nashville offices went crazy, too. So—”

“Whatever! The tractor is faulty equipment and the cemetery is responsible!” Celia raged.

“Celia, Celia!” Wharton said gently. “Please.”

“Yes, please, just get checked out!” Dixon added.

“I want to see their so-called forensic experts—” Celia began.

But Nathaniel Wharton put his foot down. “Celia, I can call an ambulance or Donald and I can drive you by the ER just to get checked out. I’m not suggesting, I’m ordering!”

“I’m a partner!” she protested. “You can’t order me—”

“I made you a partner and I can unmake you a partner. I’m sure with your expertise you read all the contracts. Please, Celia, stop! Don’t you see? Something is really wrong here—”

“Because these people say so?” Celia demanded. She sounded a little bit different. Almost as if she were pleading with them.

“Yes, because we people—and the director of the FBI—don’t believe in this many consequences,” Vicky told her. “And, oh, by the way, you’re welcome. You could still be in that grave, you know.”

Jude glanced at Vicky, willing himself not to smile.

So much for treading lightly.

Vicky had her gloves off.

“Let’s go!” Wharton said firmly.

Celia lowered her head and shook it, but when Wharton put his arm around her shoulders to lead her toward the cars, she went along.

Even as they left, several cars from both the state and federal offices drove in.

He saw that, as he had expected, Aidan had come out himself.

He hurried over to the two of them and looked at Vicky, frowning; Jude realized that her hop into the grave had left a smudge of dirt on her face.

“Vicky just fished Celia Smith out of the grave,” Jude told him, turning to wipe Vicky’s cheek. She looked up at him with amusement as his fingers ran over her skin.

“I guess there’s a lot of playing in the dirt on this one,” she said. “Anyway, we’ve finally gotten in touch with a few of the people from the firm—all of whom are willing to talk. Except for Celia Smith. She’s determined that we’re after the firm on connections that mean nothing.”

“Well, she is the one who fell in the grave, right? I mean, I guess she could have been really hurt, so…”

“So, if you want to look innocent, maybe getting hurt might be a way to do it?” Vicky suggested.

“I still say anything is possible at this point,” Jude told her. “But—”

“Except it’s somebody involved with that firm. So far, people have been helpful, they’ve wanted to find out the truth—except for Celia Smith.”

Jude arched a brow at her, a dry half smile on his lips.

“Haven’t we both learned that being nice doesn’t make you innocent and being a jerk doesn’t make you guilty, especially when it comes to murder?”

“We also know that Nathaniel Wharton is not supposed to have the expertise to have carried off something like this while most of the rest of the firm is pretty tech savvy. We need a connection. We need to know where the servers are that are being used—”

“And remember, that’s a problem because they’re being bounced around from all over the place,” Vicky said. “But here is the good thing—if we can just get somewhere, nothing is ever really deleted.”

Jude nodded, looking toward the offending truck.

Aidan had headed to the truck and hopped down a minute, walking over to them.

“Yes, even tractors and trucks have computers these days.” He shook his head. “Cary and I were doing all kinds of research and there’s been auto thefts across the nation because people can hack into phones pretty easily and lots of cars can be found—and started—by computers. It’s like everything else in life. There’s the good—amazing medical strides, for one—and there’s the bad. People hacking into computers—and killing people.”

“At least no one was killed,” Jude said.

“Maybe that was the plan,” Vicky said.

Jude looked at her. She might have something there, but…

“None of us likes her, but, again, we can’t pin her as guilty because we don’t like her,” he said.

“Anyway, I’m getting crew out here to help with the equipment so that we can do our best to dive into the machinery on this thing.”

Jude felt his phone chime. He glanced at it and saw that Assistant Director Arnold had just sent him a message.

He looked over at Aidan and nodded. “You’re going to find out that someone hacked into the system. Whether it was supposed to look like Celia Smith was under attack when she fell into the hole or if she really happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time is going to be hard to determine but if we can get to it, we’ll be at the truth of the matter. Easier said than done. I think that at this point, we need to get an assistant district attorney involved. We have enough to get warrants to dig into the firm’s entire computer system. And,” he said, looking at Vicky, “we may have a break in the case. We need to head out now and get on the list that Wharton has promised me later.”

She frowned at him. “What’s the break?” she asked him.

“Samuel Hutchins is awake,” he told her. “Out of his coma and the doctors have said that we can have ten minutes with him, no more.”

“All right, let’s go!” Vicky said. “If he knows that his ex-wife and child are safe—”

“He may talk. Or…”

“Or he may think that they can never be safe. Anyway, he’s our best shot at this moment,” Vicky said. “Ouch. Bad terminology—you know, considering the way he shot at us.”

Aidan groaned and turned to head back to the tractor.

Jude just shook his head, smiling slightly and arching a brow.

“Let’s move!” she said.

They headed to the cars together. By that time, the pathways through the graveyard were almost empty; management had apparently closed the gates for the day, or at least until they had their strange machinery problem solved.

Those who had attended Marci’s funeral had been either gone before the tractor incident or ordered by Nathaniel Wharton after Celia Smith had fallen to get themselves the hell out of the place.

“Has anyone talked to Samuel Hutchins yet?” Vicky asked Jude.

“No. According to my message from Arnold, he’s just coming out of it and his situation is still delicate so he decided that it would be best not to push the man, but to send us in because, obviously, he’ll recognize us.”

“What if he tries to kill himself again?” Vicky asked anxiously. “In his condition, it might not be so hard. I mean, has anyone told him—”

“That his ex-wife and child are safe? Yes,” Jude assured her. “And, hopefully, that takes away the only reason the man might do something to himself. Anyway, he’s only been conscious about an hour—hospital let Arnold know right away and Arnold texted me immediately.”

“Let’s go. And then, hopefully, by morning we’ll have the warrant we need. And, of course, maybe our cyber sleuths will have found out more.”

The drive to the hospital was short. Jude was glad to see that law enforcement from all angles were there, with two policemen in uniform in the hallway, a friend Jude knew from Florida Department of Law Enforcement seated in a nurse’s coat behind the desk, and another friend from the Jacksonville office on duty in a cleaning uniform. He’d have liked to have spoken to those he knew, perhaps introduced them to Vicky, but besides the officers, they were undercover—not a time to chat.

Samuel Hutchins was being well-guarded.

The man’s eyes were closed when they entered the room and Jude feared that he might have slipped back into a coma.

But he heard them, and he opened his eyes. He was still a young man and looked particularly young in his hospital bed. Young, lost, and miserable.

“Hey, Sam,” Jude said.

The man winced, shaking his head. “You’re the ones I was supposed to kill,” he said miserably. Then he grew anxious. “They let one of the officers in. He said that my ex-wife and kids were fine. Please tell me that wasn’t a lie! They said that if I failed…”

“I swear to you!” Vicky told him, sincerely. “They are fine! They are being carefully guarded. As you are. But you know that. I promise you. And you didn’t kill us, you tried to kill yourself. And that was to protect your family.”

“You don’t know their power!” he whispered.

“And you don’t know ours,” Jude said, because they might be fighting and fighting hard, but he knew that they would keep going and going until the end—they and just about every other officer and agent out there, as well as Cary and Aidan and rooms full of cyber teams.

“We will find out what is going on,” Vicky said. “But we need all the help we can get.”

He almost laughed. “I would help you—if I could!”

“You can help us. Let me tell you what we’re seeing so far,” Jude said. “You were just a poor struggling dude on the streets, but somehow you crossed paths with our cyber killer. I’m not suggesting you ever met this person—they saw you somewhere. And they contacted you. Online.”

Samuel nodded miserably.

“At first, I thought it was a joke.”

“You were warned, but you didn’t think about calling the police?” Jude asked.

He winced. “I opened an email. It was a picture of Jessy. Below it was another picture—the same one but covered in blood. I’m supposing that it was created by using generative AI, but it was to show me just what could happen to her. I was to be on call when needed. I wasn’t to go to the police. I was to obey when told. Naturally I wrote back that they should go to hell. But then the message ding on my phone went off. Right after I said they should go to hell. And it was a warning that they could kill anyone and that they would start with Jessy and then get to my kids. And if I didn’t believe them…they’d prove it. I was on my way to the store for something and I was angry and I demanded how and…they took control of my car and almost crashed me into the side of a wall… I begged them not to hurt Jessy or the kids… They showed me more pictures, an exploded car, and said it could happen to me easily, which I should realize, and then they showed me a boat that had crashed and exploded and I knew about that, I’d seen it on the news. And I knew, I knew then that they were dead serious and I had to do what they wanted or…”

He shook his head.

“What about the gun? How did you get it?” Jude asked.

“A dumpster off Aviles. And they left me the pills attached to it, and warned that if I failed, I’d better not let the cops get me. Jessy would be fine if I failed and died, but if I didn’t…”

“Jessy is fine. We’ll find a way for you to see her and your kids soon,” Vicky said quietly.

“Oh, my God, yes! I never stopped loving Jessy and I would do anything in the world—” Hutchins began.

“Including die, so we know you would do anything for them,” Vicky interrupted, but her words weren’t cutting. “Right now, we must keep all of you safe, so be patient, and believe that we will be working on it. All right, when we found you, you didn’t have your phone or a wallet on you. Where is the phone? We have a technical crew that might be able to trace the calls and pictures.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, his head sinking deeper into the pillow. He almost smiled.

“I did something right!” he whispered. “I mean, I can hope that they’re still there. There’s a loose stone in an old wall right across from Aviles Street. It’s in a wall around an old building that houses a bunch of businesses, an airline office, a phone store…some other places. I put my phone and wallet in the earth beneath the stone. With any luck, you can find it there. Just…dig a little.” He paused, shaking his head. “But I think they have a way of making things disappear. As if they are magicians!”

“We have people who are magicians, too. They can make things that have disappeared reappear,” Jude assured him.

Jude nodded and Vicky nudged him; they had promised they wouldn’t stay long, and they had something to go on—maybe everything that they might get from the man.

“All right,” Jude said. “Jessy and the kids are at a safe house. When the doctors tell us that you’re strong enough, we’ll take you. We’ll leave you now. Rest and get well. We’re keeping the guards watching over you, even though we never let anyone know that you survived what you did to yourself. Rest and get well.”

“So you can arrest me. But I deserve it,” he said.

“We may not need to, not if the information you gave us helps us get to the people who really caused all this,” Vicky told him. She squeezed his hand. “Rest. Get better.”

Jude gave him a nod and caught Vicky’s hand to draw her from the room.

She smiled and arched a brow at him.

“And now…” Vicky began.

“We’re going on a hunt for buried treasure!” he told her.