Linger: Dying is a Wild Night (A Linger Thriller Book 1) (14 page)

“And we have your statement, Bob. If we need anything more, I’ll be sure to call you.”

“I belong here and you know it. This isn’t right.”

“Neither is withholding information. But that’s what you did, isn’t it? Every time you make a move or open your mouth you just prove that I made the right decision this morning.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “I am so gonna enjoy watching you belly flop.”

“I’m sure it’ll be quite a view from the cheap seats. Drop me a line when you get there.”

There wasn’t anything to add to this, so Kate turned and walked away, putting some distance between them as she pulled out her phone, dialed Computer Forensics and asked to speak to Matt Nava.

She felt MacLean glaring at her and turned to look at him just as he gave up and walked away, heading toward the courtyard gate.

After a series of clicks, Nava came on the line.

“Hey, Matt, I need a favor. I want you to do a search for a website called the Latin Prowlers.”

He seemed a bit winded. “Sounds dubious,” he said. “Hang on.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just coming back from a late lunch and decided to take the stairs instead of waiting on the elevator. Last time I’ll ever do that.” She heard the clatter of a keyboard. “Okay, here it is. Let me click the link.” She waited and he said, “Looks like the server’s down. I’m getting a 404 not found.”

“I got the same thing on my phone. Is there any way we can find out what was on there?”

“Not unless there’s an archive or a mirror site.”

“What’s a mirror site?”

“Exactly what it sounds like. A clone that visitors are redirected to in case the main server goes down. But if they had one in place, I doubt we’d be getting the 404. What
is
this thing, anyway?”

“A porn website. And the guys who own it are dead.”

“Oh? Does this have something to do with our friend Soriano?”

“Yeah, he’s one of the dead guys. He and his brother.”

“Yikes,” Matt said.

“No kidding. And when it comes down to it, you’re the reason we’re here. If you hadn’t cracked the password on Bree’s phone…”

“Hey, don’t sell yourself short. You’re the one who found it, remember?” He paused. “I’m thinking since we’re talking porn, there’s a pretty good chance there’s an unauthorized mirror out there somewhere.”

“You mean like somebody made a copy and put it on their own server?”

“It’s been known to happen. Some hacker clones the site and has access to all the data. Including credit cards, if he’s in a larcenous mood.”

“Is there any chance you’d be able to find this mirror if it exists?”

“No guarantee. But I can try.”

“That’s all I ask. I need to know what’s…”

Kate paused as she felt a small tremor in her head, as if someone had just run a finger across her left temple. She looked up, letting her gaze drift past the gate toward the parking lot and her SUV. A rear passenger door hung open and Christopher stood in front of the car, his sightless eyes staring in her direction.

Where the hell was that uni she’d told to keep and eye on them?

“Kate?” Matt said.

“Sorry, Matt, I’ve gotta go. Call me if you have any luck.”

She abruptly clicked off and took a step toward the gate, wondering what Christopher was up to.

Then, for the first time since she’d fled her office, his voice filled her head, the transmission clean and clear and full of youthful conviction.

I can feel it, Kate. I feel it all around me.

The man who did this is someone you know.

“S
OMEONE I KNOW?” KATE SAID
. “Are you sure?”

They were in her SUV now, with the doors closed, Christopher on the seat next to her. He had returned from the haze looking more animated than she’d ever seen him.

Yes
, he said.
I’m sure.

“But I thought you had to be closer to the actual crime scene to do this gathering thing?”

This is part of it
.
The man was waiting out here in the parking lot, hiding near the trash cans until it was safe to go inside.

Kate stared out and saw the doorless trash bunker near a group of trees that bordered the parking lot. They had searched it for the computer and the murder weapon and come up empty, but it was an easy enough place to stay out of sight until you were ready to make your move.

Anyone standing there would have a direct view of the courtyard and the Soriano apartment.

“Okay,” she said, “then who is he? What does he look like?”

Christopher shook his head.
I don’t know. The pictures aren’t clear.

“Can’t you make them clearer?”

Weston, who had been sitting quietly on the back seat, leaned forward. “It doesn’t work like that. Like I told you at lunch, this is all hit and miss. Whatever network he’s connected to doesn’t always broadcast at full bandwidth. Like a wireless signal cutting in and out.”

Kate again thought of the radio transmission. The garbled words. This was all so new and foreign to her that she felt dazed and disoriented. Not a place she liked to be. She thought she must be suffering a kind of shell shock from her ridealong in that alley, and when in doubt, her natural inclination was to play the skeptic.

She looked at Christopher. “So if it isn’t clear, what makes you think it’s someone I know?”

Because I felt him when I was at your office.

“What do you mean
felt
him?”

His energy. All around me. And he’s been there before. Lots of times.

Kate thought of Bob MacLean and wondered if she had dismissed him too quickly. Had she given him exactly what he wanted—a way out?

She tried to think of who else Christopher might have been exposed to, but the East Division wasn’t small, and neither was its employee pool. She looked at the unis and forensic techs working in and around the townhouse and still wasn’t fully convinced.

“What about here?” she asked. “Is he here now?”

Christopher hesitated.
I don’t know.

“How can you be sure it’s someone from my office? There are a lot of people from the department here. How do you know you aren’t just confused?”

Because
I feel his sickness.

“His sickness?”

The pain he carries. The guilt and the fear. He tries to hide what he is, but he can’t hide what’s inside him. And only people like us can see it.

Kate thought the kid was giving her far too much credit. She couldn’t see or feel a thing without the help of his magic photo album. She glanced at it lying on the back seat next to Weston and felt a small shiver run through her. She wasn’t anxious to go through something like
that
again.

“Is that all you can tell me? Are you sure there isn’t more?”

No
.
The pictures aren’t strong enough.

Weston gestured toward the townhouse. “He might be able to if you take him inside, let him gather more evidence.”

She shook her head. “There are two dead bodies in there.”

“Are you forgetting he’s blind?”

“Just because he can’t see doesn’t mean he can’t be traumatized.”

“Oh, please, lieutenant, did you even listen to what I told you at lunch? He’s been through far worse than either of us can imagine and it looks to me like he’s holding up just fine.”

“He’s a child, for godsakes. None of this is good for him.”

“Neither is getting your tongue cut out and being left for dead. Yet it seems to me he’s handling this stuff a lot better than—”

“Look, even if I agreed, what am I supposed to tell my team? The minute I drag a kid in there they’ll think I’ve lost my mind. And trust me, that isn’t much of a stretch.”

“Hey, if you don’t want his help that’s fine with me. I’d just as soon be on the road and—”

Stop
, Christopher said sharply.
Stop fighting.

They both went quiet, and Kate felt like a bickering parent chastised by a battle-weary child. And judging by the look she saw in her rearview mirror, Weston felt it, too.

It was hard to tell, but Christopher seemed to be caught in a memory—and not a good one. Maybe his foster parents, the Haneys, had been fighters. Or worse.

The ring of her phone cut through the silence. She let it ring a few times, then pulled it out and answered without looking at the screen. “Messenger.”

“Hi, Kate, it’s me, Matt.”

“Hey, Matt, can I call you back? I’m kinda in the middle of something.”

“You’ll want to hear this. I found the mirror of the Latin Prowler website.”

“Already? That was fast.”

“What can I say—I’m good at what I do. I’m not sure why the hacker didn’t do a reroute to avoid the 404, but maybe he’s still in the middle of setting it up, or maybe he just did it to see if he could. Either way, you’ll never believe what else I found. Something that could blow this case wide open.”

“Meaning what?”

“The Branfords weren’t the all-American family everyone thought they were. In fact, they were anything but.”

“Now you’ve got my attention.”

“Good,” he said. “Because you need to get back here right away.”

∙ ∙ ∙

“Where are you taking us now?” Weston asked.

“To your motel. I called ahead to make sure a room is available—and don’t worry, I’m paying for it.”

They were driving up the 101, headed toward the Pacifica Avenue exit, Christopher again sitting next to Weston on the back seat.

“I don’t care who’s paying for it. I told you, we need to leave.”

“Yeah, you’re a broken record, but I’m pretty sure Chris feels differently, and I can’t be dragging you all over Santa Flora with me.” She looked in her rearview mirror. “Am I right, Chris? Do you want to stay?”

Yes.

She looked at Weston. “See?”

He sighed. “I don’t get you. One minute you’re interrogating him about your crime scene, the next you’re pushing him in a corner until it’s convenient for you to deal with him. What do you want from us?”

“If I knew, maybe I wouldn’t be so goddamn conflicted.”

“Then get some therapy. If you want Chris’s help, shuttling us off to a motel won’t do you any good. And if you
don’t
want it, then why are we even here?”

“Because I need to know more,” she said. “About what he can do and about what happened to my mother.”

“You already know what happened. You
saw
what happened.”

“And with every minute that goes by, it seems less and less real. I honestly don’t know
what
to think anymore.”

She took the offramp, drove half a block to the Circle Eight and pulled into a spot near the front office.

Weston scanned the lot. “Where’s our car?”

“It was impounded last night. I called to have it released and someone will deliver it in the next couple hours. So if Chris changes his mind, I don’t suppose there’s much I can do to stop you from leaving.”

“You know he won’t.”

“I’m hoping not.” She reached over the seat and patted Christopher’s knee. “I’ll be back tonight, okay? We can talk then.”

Christopher smiled, and Kate not only saw the smile but
felt
it. A warmth that reminded her of her mother.

Don’t be long
, he said.
I have a lot to tell you.

T
HE SANTA FLORA COMFOR
lab was little more than a small, cramped room that held a series of work benches cluttered with gutted computers and a variety of hard drives, most of which had been seized during the execution of a warrant. The only thing that differentiated it from your typical Geek Squad repair room were the
EVIDENCE
bags the drives were stored in.

Matt Nava was one of the two men who staffed the unit and, by default, was currently the man in charge. Matt’s boss, an affable guy named Connelly, had been missing in action for the last few weeks as he recovered from wrist surgery. And despite Connelly’s generally pleasing demeanor, Matt didn’t seem to miss him much.

When she stepped inside, Kate found Nava hunched in front of a laptop that was wirelessly connected to a big screen TV on the wall.

“Show me,” she said.

He grinned. “What—not even a hello?”

“Consider this an extension of our phone conversation.”

Matt nodded and worked the keyboard. “It isn’t pretty—unless you’re into this kind of thing. The guy who mirrored it did a good job of covering his trail, but I think I can track him down if we have to.”

After a few more keystrokes, the Latin Prowlers website filled the TV screen, showing an over-saturated image of an emerald green low rider with two Hispanic gangbangers—the recently deceased Soriano brothers—posing in front of it, wearing sunglasses and large, satisfied smiles. Several photos were composited around them, showing garish close-ups of naked women of various ages and races engaged in a number of sexual activities that left nothing to the imagination. Most of this activity was taking place on the backseat of the low rider.

“Lovely,” Kate said. She wasn’t a prude, by any means, but she certainly wasn’t the target audience for this stuff.

Matt looked a little embarrassed. “I warned you.”

“Okay, so where’s the link you found?”

“Right here.”

Matt ran a couple of fingers along his touchpad and the image onscreen began to scroll down the page. In the right hand column were animated graphics advertising a dozen more affiliated websites. Chubby Girls, Ebony Amateurs, Asian Angels, Hardcore Lesbian Bikers, and tattooed women who smoked cigarettes and verbally abused men as they masturbated.

“I did a Whois on each of these sites,” he said, “and found they’re all owned and operated by the Soriano brothers through a company they founded called Latin Lovers, LLC.”

Kate nodded. “Looks like they had their own little empire.”

Matt stopped on an ad for a website called
XXXurbate
, a webcam chat service that promised:

Live couples and solo chatters who will

blow your mind as you blow your wad.

This was getting better and better.