What Have You Done Page 15
Nix folded his hands on the table and cleared his throat. “Detective Dwyer,” he began. “As you know, it’s standard procedure to interview our officers after a weapons discharge. Detective Farmer and I would like to ask you a few questions about what went on during your arrest of Charles, a.k.a. Cutter, Washington a few days ago.”
Sean nodded. “Yes, I’m familiar with the procedure.”
“Good. Then let’s begin.”
Detective Farmer began speaking, but Sean’s mind was elsewhere. He hadn’t heard from Vanessa since the night before and wasn’t sure what she’d been talking about when she called him about Liam and his boots. He’d tried her several times when he woke, while he was getting ready, and on his way into the station. All of his calls had gone to her voice mail.
“Detective Dwyer?”
Sean blinked and shook his head. “I’m sorry.”
“Are you with us?”
“Yes.”
“I’m glad. Now, as I said, can you please tell us, in your own words, what happened during the apprehension of Mr. Charles Washington?”
Sean looked at his lawyer and was given permission to begin. He sat up in his chair. “Well, we caught a break from a bystander’s picture that put Cutter at the scene of the stationery store at the time of the vic’s death, so we got a warrant and served it at his girlfriend’s house. We had an arrest team enter through the front with one squad sweeping the ground floor and myself and Detective Carpenter taking the second floor. We also had a uniformed officer out back for additional backup.
“We entered with force, identified ourselves repeatedly as Philadelphia PD, and were met on the second floor by the girlfriend, who tried to block our access to her bedroom, where the suspect was trying to escape from a second floor window.
“Detective Carpenter subdued the girlfriend with his Taser, and we proceeded to the bedroom, all the while instructing the suspect to come out with his arms raised and identifying ourselves as police officers.”
“What about the children?” Nix asked.
“A brother and sister. My partner and I didn’t see them, but they were found by the other team who was sweeping. By the time we got to the bedroom, we heard a gunshot outside in the back. The officer we had stationed there was down, and the suspect was on foot, fleeing the scene. I went out the back window, and Detective Carpenter took the stairs. I pursued down the alley, and the suspect fired two rounds at me while running. I shot him in the leg to stop his progress before he hit the busier streets. I didn’t want to lose him.” Sean fell back in his seat. “I placed the suspect under arrest. By then, units were rolling for backup, and EMT had been dispatched for the officer who was shot. We called in a second ambulance for the suspect. That’s about it.”
The room was silent. Farmer and Nix looked at one another, then back toward Sean. “Have you seen the psychologist?” Farmer asked.
“Yes.”
Nix flipped through a folder that was sitting in front of him. “Psych eval cleared him. He’s good.”
Farmer nodded. “I agree. I’m going to classify this as a good shooting. You’re clear to resume duty. Do you have any questions?”
“No.”
“Does your PBA rep have any questions?”
Paul shook his head. “I’m good.”
Nix closed the folder and motioned toward Phillips. “He’s all yours.”
As the men all stood and shook hands around the table, Sean’s focus was back on getting in touch with Vanessa to find out why she’d called him the night before. What did she want? What did she see?
35
Joyce was at work and wouldn’t be due home until later that evening. Don took advantage of the empty house and sat on the couch of his living room, placing his computer on the coffee table in front of him and powering it up. He plugged the flash drive he’d made from Kerri’s computer into the USB port and waited.
A man’s conscience is a funny thing. As much as Don wanted to help, knew he should help, and was willing to help, his conscience had ended up getting the better of him. The Dwyer boys were family. He’d watched them grow up within the department and was there with them celebrating countless holidays and family vacations. He was Sean’s mentor and Liam’s confidant. He looked at them as if they were related through blood, and they looked at him the same way, but the brutality in which Kerri had been murdered had caused a speck of doubt to creep into Don’s mind until that speck grew into a mass of uncertainty and finally a cancer of conscience. Walking through that empty apartment and sensing the finality of that young girl’s life gave his heart pause. He was certain Liam wasn’t capable of murder, especially the kind of murder he’d seen in the crime scene photos Sean had shared with him, but he had to know for sure, so he’d made an extra copy of Kerri’s files when he got back that night. The first copy had been destroyed in Sean’s garbage disposal. Don was the only one to know about the second copy. An affair, and a pregnancy on top of that, could cause a person to do things well outside of his or her circle of normalcy. He’d seen it so many times before. Some people would go to extremes to keep a secret hidden forever. He was sure Liam wasn’t one of those people, but if those boys could suspect him of such a crime, couldn’t he do the same? If he didn’t find anything, his conscience could rest, and he would help them root out whoever was framing Liam, but if he did find something . . . well . . .
Don went through Kerri’s files, which were listed alphabetically, clicking on each one. Most were work-related memos and saved emails. The memos contained information about upcoming analysis that was needed and dates to save for future staff meetings or client presentations. He moved on to the emails, and it was more of the same, mixed with a handful of personal messages from friends and family. Birthday wishes seemed to dominate her inbox. Everything was as it should have been with nothing pointing to Liam or the circumstances surrounding her death.
After about an hour, it was apparent there wasn’t anything in regular files or email that could point him, or anyone else, in the direction toward her killer or a motive. He moved on to the encrypted files.
As the first decade of the twenty-first century had come to an end, a priority within the department had become the emerging use of computers and the technology available to commit cybercrimes. These crimes ranged from online stalking to identity theft to general hacking to financial manipulation, and almost everything in between. Don had been one of three homicide detectives chosen for a pilot program aimed at teaching the good guys some of the tricks the bad guys used in order to infiltrate and trace a criminal in cyberspace. The eight-week class had taught him a few techniques in tracking, tracing, and tagging online. Within those lessons was a brief introduction to encrypted files and the art of decrypting.
Don uploaded the first of Kerri’s encrypted files. He knew he wouldn’t be able to open it with algorithms or encryption methods. The department hadn’t given him that level of training. What he could do was try loading various passwords that might have meant something to Kerri to see if he could hit on the right one and gain access. If that didn’t work, he’d have to pay Rocco a visit.
A white box popped up, asking for a password. The cursor blinked on and off, waiting. Don started firing off key words, one after the other. KERRI, MILLER, KM, KERRIM, KMILLER, 3592, 351992, 1992, 92, KERRIMILLER, DWYER, SEAN, LIAM, LDWYER, LIAMDWYER, SDWYER, SEANDWYER, DWYERBROTHERS, DWYERBROS, SECRET . . .
A gentle chime came from the inside of his jacket pocket. He reached in and grabbed his phone. It was Sean. “Hello?”
“Hey, man, we’re all set. The report on Cutter is filed, my meeting with IA is over, and I’m cleared.”
“That’s great,” Don replied. He continued typing whatever he could think of into the computer as he spoke. Nothing would take. “So now you can continue investigating me for killing Kerri and get paid for it. Nice.”
“Liam told you we visited your mom?”
“Yes. And just for the record, that’s crap.”
“I don’t think he would.”
“Me either. But everything is pointing to him. I’m thinking we let Heckle and Keenan file this away; then we figure things out on our own.”
Don said nothing. He kept typing passwords into the computer.
“I really am sorry about going behind your back.”
“I got news for you. Liam isn’t convinced I’m innocent.”
“He’s scared—that’s all.”
“I get it,” Don replied. “But if I’m going to help you guys, Liam needs to be able to trust me.”
“I’ll talk to him.”
“And if you go behind my back like that again, we’re gonna have a problem.”
“Understood.”
The first file was a bust. Don moved his mouse over to the second and tried that one, repeating the numbers and words he’d tried with the first file: KERRI, MILLER, KM, KERRIM, KMILLER, 3592, 351992 . . .
“Phillips put you back on the board?”
“Tomorrow. We’re back in the rotation come eight a.m.”
“Good.”
“Come out for a few beers with me later. I owe you a drink. I feel bad for what we did. I’ll meet you at the Hard Rock. They’ll have the game on, and we’ll grab a bite.”
1992, 92, KERRIMILLER, DWYER, SEAN . . .
“Yeah, I’ll come by. But just a couple of beers. If we’re back on the board at eight, I don’t want to be hungover and falling asleep at my desk.”
“Tell Joyce I’ll have you home by ten.”
LIAM, LDWYER, LIAMDWYER, SDWYER, SEANDWYER, DWYERBROTHERS, DWYERBROS, SECRET . . .
Access denied.
“I have a few things to wrap up here at home, and then I’ll be by. Meet you around seven?”
“Sure, that’s great.”
The second file failed as well. Don shut down the program and pulled the flash drive from his laptop.
“Look,” Don said. “I gotta go, but I’ll see you tonight. Meet me at the bar.”
“I’ll see you there.”
Don hung up and fell back against the couch cushions. It was a long shot he’d be able to come across the right file on his own. He’d have to let an expert take a look at it, and that meant he’d have to stop by Rocco’s on the way to the Hard Rock and drop off the drive. What Rocco uncovered would determine the next step he’d take.
36
“Yeah man, come in. Make yourself at home. You want a Red Bull or something? I got the Bull, I got a 5-hour Energy, I got beer, but you’re probably on duty or something. Oh, I got some Mountain Dew.”
“I’m all right, thanks.”
“Something to munch on instead? Pretzels? Cheetos?”
“Nothing.”
“Cool.”
Don walked inside the cramped studio apartment and was instantly consumed by stacks of hard drives that climbed halfway up to the ceiling, countless processors that lined one wall, and wires that snaked the entire length of the floor to the point where he could barely see the carpet underneath. The rest of the space held a bed, a stained black futon that acted as a couch, and a small flat-screen television balanced on a stack of books. In the far corner he could see a refrigerator but no stove. Everything else was covered by some kind of technological hardware.
Rocco turned and walked to a desk that had three laptops on it, each one running some kind of code. He was dressed in an army green robe that looked like rags sewn together and white boxer shorts. He was pale and thin but for a belly that protruded from the robe. His shoulder-length hair looked greasy, as did the goatee that had grown out of control.
“I was in the middle of a killer hack when you called,” Rocco said, his voice raspy from the cigarettes he constantly smoked. “A new airline out of Cairo hired my firm to try and infiltrate their booking system.” He pointed to the laptop on the left. “That’s what that one’s doing. Shouldn’t take me too long to get in. Some places in the Middle East have a long way to go when it comes to cybersecurity. They’re still using technology from the eighties. Cracks me up.” He sat in his seat, took a long drag from his cigarette, and spun around to face his guest. “So what’d you bring me?”
Don handed over the flash drive. “There are two encrypted files on this drive. I need to get in there as part of a murder investigation.”
“You get a warrant, or is this gray-area classified stuff?”
“Gray area. Just between you and me. You get something, you call me.”
Rocco studied the flash drive. “Part of a murder investigation, huh? Cool. Do you know when the file was created?”
“No. I tried a bunch of random passwords to see if something clicked, but I couldn’t get in.”
“Was the person who made this a techie?”
“Not sure.”
“Okay,” Rocco replied. “It really doesn’t matter either way.” He spun back around, plugged the flash drive into the middle laptop and began to make a copy. “Sometimes, if the user is new to encryption, they just take whatever they can find off the internet, buy it, and encrypt. The newer the encryption service, the less tested it would be, which means people like me haven’t found all the vulnerabilities in it yet, which then means it should be relatively easy to manipulate and gain entry.”
“How long you think it’ll take?”
“Depends on the encryption service that was used. If it’s one that’s been around awhile, it could take a bit longer. Maybe a week or two. If it’s new, shouldn’t take more than a few days. I’ll hit it with blunt force to find a way in, and if that doesn’t work, I’ll look for a back door. Either way, I’ll get what you need. That’s what I do.” The laptop made a few noises, and Rocco leaned forward to extract the flash drive. He turned back around in his chair and handed it to Don. “Copy made. You keep the original. Anything else I need to know?”
“Nothing that I can think of.” Don took the drive and put it back in his pocket. “Just remember, you get anything, you call me. Don’t read through it, don’t make any more copies, don’t tell your friends what you’re doing. Just call me.”
Rocco laughed. “Don’t read it. Yeah, okay. I’ll break into a file that’s linked to a murder, but I won’t read it. You crack me up, man.”
“We don’t even know what’s in there,” Don said. “Could be plans for a new marketing campaign or an upcoming summer vacation. I just need to know for sure.”
“No problem. But just so you know, I’m gonna look.”
“Call me when you get in.”
“Sure thing.”
Don checked his watch and made his way toward the door. The afternoon was drawing to a close, and he’d have to run home to get ready to meet Sean at the Hard Rock. “This is between you and me, Rocco. Got it?”
Rocco took a drag of his cigarette and let the smoke seep from his teeth as he put on a broad and obnoxious smile. “Your secret’s safe with me, Detective. I ain’t saying nothing.”
37
As dusk began to take hold, Liam walked through the front door of his home and collapsed onto the bench beside the stairs. He was exhausted, both mentally and physically. The ride back to Philadelphia from Wilmington had taken longer than expected due to an overturned tractor trailer on I-95, and as the minutes had passed in an unrelenting gridlock, the images of Kerri and JB had continued to invade his every thought. Even with the radio on and some mundane conversation Jane was able to offer along the way, he couldn’t stop thinking about the two victims and the fact that he could’ve had something to do with them.
Liam opened the manila file that was on his lap. Glossy crime scene photos from JB’s murder stared back up at him as he began flipping through them, one after the other. Jane could be right. The killer might have been practicing on a girl no one would miss before
moving on to the primary target. But the way the rope was tied through the bedpost, up into the exposed piping in the ceiling, around the ceiling fan, and back down to the victim told him this could also be the telltale sign of a serial killer. What he’d seen in Delaware was exactly the same as what he’d seen at the Tiger, only there was no fan at Kerri’s scene. JB had been placed on a chair just as Kerri had been, and the chair had been taken from under each victim for the actual hanging. The way JB’s hair was cut so randomly not only reminded him of how Kerri’s hair had been cut but also of how his mother had cut her own hair the day she had tried to kill him and Sean. These were patterns. There was ritual to it, a cadence. The only thing missing in JB’s homicide was the stomach slashing and the bouquet of paper flowers. Everything else was pretty much the same.
Liam closed the file and tossed it onto the bench next to him. He stood on weary legs and made his way into the kitchen, crossing to the refrigerator, where he grabbed a beer, twisted the cap off, and took a long sip, almost finishing it in one gulp.
The front door opened, and Liam could hear Vanessa shuffling inside, dropping her bag on the bench, and slipping off her raincoat.
“In the kitchen,” he called as he took another sip of his beer, finishing it.
There was no answer.
He walked into the hall and found his wife untying her sneakers. “Hey.”
Vanessa didn’t look up. “Hey.”
“Something wrong?”
“Yes, something is definitely wrong.” Vanessa looked at him, and now he could see she’d been crying. Black mascara had run down her cheeks. Her eyes were red and swollen.
“What happened?”
Vanessa kicked off her sneakers and brushed past him, into the kitchen. “I called your office today on my break. I was going to surprise you and stop over for a late lunch. Our census dropped, and they let some of us go early. I thought it’d be a nice opportunity to spend some time together.”