Daniel Palmer - Helpless

“The color depth, please, Cart,” Rainy said, more irritated this time.

“Right. Color depth in computer graphics describes the number of bits used to create the color of a single pixel. The higher the color depth, the greater the range of distinct colors that can be used.”

“And the connection to these four?”

“The precision to which color can be represented gets pretty technical. At the pixel level there are slight variations to color that aren’t visible to the naked eye, but that would change the hash values.”

“Where did Mann get these images?”

“Four different sources,” Carter said.

“So each source altered the pixel colors slightly?”

“It looks that way to me,” Carter said.

“Why would somebody do that?” Rainy asked.

“That’s the question we need to answer.”

Rainy’s cell phone rang. She answered it.

“It’s the coach,” Rainy said, covering the phone. Rainy felt a little pulse of excitement, which took her by surprise. She couldn’t believe how happy she was to hear from him.

What is wrong with you, Miles? Rainy scolded herself. He’s good looking and probably innocent, that’s what’s wrong. Bad combination.

Rainy listened to Tom talk for several minutes without saying a word. “Of course I will,” she eventually said into the phone. She ended the call and turned to Carter. “Lindsey Wells is missing,” she said.

“Missing? As of when?”

“Sometime between last night and this morning.”

“Why is Hawkins calling you?” asked Carter.

“His daughter, Jill, may have found the sext image collection on Mitchell Boyd’s computer.”

“What now?” Carter asked.

“You’re going to try to figure out why people would make slight alterations to the same image composition.”

“And you?”

“I’m going to check out a new lead for our James Mann investigation,” Rainy answered him. “And maybe, just maybe, help find a missing girl in the process.”

On the drive to Shilo, Rainy thought about Lindsey Wells. Her mind painted the gruesome image of a dead girl in the woods, and so she tried to think of something, anything else. Then she’d think about Tom Hawkins.

Rainy parked her sedan on the side of the road. She exited the car and followed a brick walkway to the front door. She rang the bell and waited. Through the sidelight window, Rainy watched Tom Hawkins descend the staircase. He extended his hand to her as he opened the door.

“Thanks for taking the time to come all the way up here,” Tom said.

Again Rainy felt that flash of attraction. Was she not seeing the case right? Was that attraction clouding her judgment? She pushed those thoughts aside. She needed to reestablish the divide between the law and the rest. “Are you sure it’s okay for me to come inside?” she asked.

That’s what I’d say to a suspect, Rainy thought. What was Tom really to her? Suspect? Victim? Or something else? Rainy wanted to trust him. To believe in his innocence. But the girl linked to him had gone missing. Trust was something she wasn’t fully ready to give.

“Of course,” Tom said. “We’re glad you’re here.”

“We?”

“Marvin, my attorney. And Jill.”

Rainy followed Tom into the home. Jill was waiting for them at the top of the stairs. She waved as soon as she saw Rainy. When Rainy reached the top of the landing, the two shook hands. Rainy glanced into the living room and next down the hallway but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

“Jill, I’m so sorry we’re meeting again under these circumstances,” Rainy said.

Jill nodded quickly, several times, which Rainy took to mean “Thanks, but I can’t talk about it yet.”

Marvin, who was dressed in a tracksuit, shook Rainy’s hand as well. “Sorry about the attire,” Marvin said. “Tom’s got me on a new workout program. Five pounds in two weeks. Not bad.”

“No. Very impressive,” said Rainy.

“I really appreciate the tip you gave me about the computer battery,” Marvin said. “It’s going to make a difference.”

“D.A. isn’t going to drop the charges,” Rainy said. “They told me that several times.”

“Me as well,” Marvin said. “But the jury is going to see it as a huge hole. Big enough to dump in truckloads of reasonable doubt.”

“As long as we’re on the same page,” Rainy heard herself say. She sounded cold. Detached. Was she just being protective of herself? Was she afraid of getting close to them—to Tom and Jill? He was going to be tried for the very crimes she’d dedicated her life to preventing. She worried it was a trial they couldn’t win. Unless she could prove otherwise, Tom Hawkins might be going to jail for a very long time.

“Agent Miles, this case is not what it seems,” Marvin said. “I’m glad you’re here to help.”

I don’t know what to believe, Rainy thought.

“Why don’t we sit at the kitchen table,” Tom suggested.

“Sounds good,” Rainy said. She followed Tom into the spacious, bright kitchen and took a seat at the rectangular table. Her seat faced the windows, and she could see out into the backyard, with its spacious, well-kept lawn. There were no tents or tarps out back that could conceal a hostage or a body. No storage shed, either, at least from what she could see.

The battery. James Mann. A collection of sexts. Different pixel colors used for the same image composition. A missing girl. Rainy wanted the delineation between guilt and innocence to be as clear as the bright and cloudless Shilo sky.

“Can I get you something to drink, Agent Miles?” Tom asked.

“No, thank you,” Rainy said. She would never accept a drink from a suspect, but of course, she wouldn’t tell him that.

Tom sat across from Rainy, Jill in the seat to her right, and Marvin next to Jill.

“Are you sure you want to talk to me?” Rainy asked.

Tom nodded, though he now appeared confused. “Of course we want to talk to you. We invited you here.”

“Of course,” Rainy said. She knew to overdo the questions, to plug any holes Marvin might use to try to demonstrate entrapment. Marvin and Tom seemed to think Rainy was on their side, but she wasn’t sure whose side she was on.

“Let’s start with Lindsey,” Rainy continued. “You said on the phone that she’s missing. Have there been any new developments?”

Tom took hold of Jill’s hand. Jill didn’t pull away. Did she no longer believe Lindsey and her father were having an affair? Rainy wondered if she was partly responsible for that turnaround.

“Nothing has changed,” Tom said. “Lindsey’s mother has filed a missing persons report. I guess notices have been sent to all the New England and New York police departments. If she doesn’t turn up in twenty-four hours, they’ll organize a search.”

“Have the police questioned you in connection to Lindsey’s disappearance?” Rainy asked.

“Not yet,” Marvin answered. “But I’m sure they will.”

“At this point, people usually tell me they didn’t have anything to do with a disappearance,” Rainy replied.

“I didn’t think I had to,” Tom replied.

“Why don’t you tell me how you think this is connected to sexting.”

It took Jill several minutes to tell Rainy everything she knew.

“So, Lindsey told you that she sent pictures of herself to Tanner Farnsworth?”

Jill nodded.

“You found topless pictures of yourself on Mitchell Boyd’s computer?”

Again, Jill nodded. “There were other girls on Mitchell’s computer, too,” Jill added. “Some I knew. Some I didn’t.”

Marvin brought Rainy up to date on Tom’s car accident, careful not to reveal too much privileged information. Tom recounted how he rescued his daughter from Mitchell’s bedroom.