Chris Jordan - Measure of Darkness

“He visited her there?”

Teddy shrugs. “Don’t think so. My impression is, he spoke to her by phone.”

“Had they communicated recently?”

“The last exchange of emails was two months ago. She forwarded yet another missing-child story, taken from one of the websites, and he politely but firmly declined to get involved.”

“And the video clip that Professor Keener forwarded to Shane? What’s the date stamp?”

“The day Keener was killed. It logs as being downloaded into Shane’s email server at 5:12 a.m., at about the same time the professor called him. Which makes sense, assuming he was calling Shane’s attention to the clip. Maybe he just got it and wanted to share.”

Jack says, “So the first Shane knows of the Mancero involvement is the video clip. And the world blows to hell before he can do anything about it. That explains a lot, actually.”

Naomi leaves her empty glass on a table by the door, for eventual collection by Mrs. Beasley. She takes her seat behind her desk, catty-corner to where Teddy has been working, and leans back in her chair with her slender arms folded, as if in a posture of defense. “This is a particularly awful example of the dark side experienced by anyone who investigates missing children. By that I mean what Shane referred to as ‘the abyss.’ When things go wrong they stay wrong forever and the survivors are sometimes dragged over the edge, into a cycle of grief and despair that’s very difficult to escape. Clearly that’s what happened to Kathleen Mancero. Just as clearly, she would never have willingly participated in the abduction of someone else’s child. There must be another explanation. Theories, anyone?”

I resist raising my hands, which isn’t strictly required during informal discussions. “Maybe she came across something about Keener’s case, forwarded it to Shane and somehow got involved? Trying to help?”

“Any evidence of that on the laptop?” Naomi asks Teddy.

Giving me a “sorry” look, he shakes his head. “There’s a bit of emailing between Shane and the professor, but it all seems to have occurred after Keener first contacted him by phone. There’s no mention of Mrs. Mancero. And for that matter no real specifics about the professor’s case. Mostly Shane’s notification of when he’ll arrive, where he’ll be staying.”

Jack, sprawled in one of the narrow chairs, says, “Randall would never discuss the specifics of a case by email. No way. And he would have been particularly cautious, knowing there were national security implications.”

“And how would he have known that?” Naomi asks.

“Experience and instinct,” Jack says, sounding slightly defensive of his old friend. “Genius scientist with a top-secret project and a missing kid? Stands to reason he’d be monitored by the kinds of people who read emails and tap phones.”

After a pause she nods and says, “Agreed.”

“Yeah, sure, okay,” I say, jumping back into the discussion. “An experienced guy like Randall Shane wouldn’t have discussed specifics in his email or texts or whatever. But what about poor Mrs. Mancero? Would she have been so careful? Maybe someone flagged her emails to Shane, did a little background research and decided she could be exploited.”

“Good point,” says Jack.

Naomi purses her lips, gives it some thought. “That theory has considerable merit,” she decides. “Teddy, we need deeper background on what Kathleen Mancero has been up to recently. See what you can find in Olathe. It’s an upscale suburb of Kansas City, surely her neighbors would know her story. There may be those willing to share.”

“Or gossip,” I add.

“You know I hate that word.”

“Just because you hate it doesn’t mean it can’t be useful.” I happen to glance across the desk to where our resident hacker is hunched over his keyboard. “Teddy? You’re blushing.”

“I, um, already contacted a few of her neighbors on Facebook,” he admits. “As if I was, um, trying to reconnect with my cousin, Kathleen.”

If he’s been expecting disapproval, he’s wrong.

“Excellent ploy!” Naomi leans forward, elbows precisely planted on a foam mat situated on the glass surface of her desk. “What did they say?”

He shrugs. “Not much, really. Expressions of sympathy, but I got the impression Mrs. Mancero made people uncomfortable just by being there. She left Olathe about a month ago, supposedly to care for a sick relative, and it’s like nobody is exactly eager to have her back.” Teddy appears flustered, as well as embarrassed. “I don’t get it. It’s like she has an infectious disease or something.”

“In a way she does,” Naomi says. “She’s a reminder that bad things, unimaginable things, can happen to ordinary people. Sometimes, in some cases, a kind of shunning occurs, intentional or otherwise. In this instance the victim may have made it worse by being so openly disturbed, by showing and sharing her pain. It’s similar to social reactions experienced by individuals with terminal disease. Healthy people don’t want to be reminded that death is always around the corner, and find ways to avoid meaningful contact. An ugly and often cruel reaction but, alas, very human.”

“Same thing happens on a football field when a player get injured,” says Jack. “Nobody wants to look at the injured guy, or talk to him, like it might be catching.”

Naomi, who normally loathes sports analogies, does not object. She’s more interested in the timing. “For purposes of this investigation let’s work from the assumption that Kathleen Mancero was somehow drawn into this case by subterfuge. Her connection to Shane is clear, and very public. There are two possible explanations. Either Randall Shane is himself involved in the kidnapping of Joey Keener and involved Mrs. Mancero as an accomplice, or he has very powerful enemies who went to great lengths to link him to this case. Any thoughts?”

“No way Shane is a kidnapper or a killer. Cross it off the list,” Jack says adamantly.

“I tend to agree,” Naomi says. “Shane as villain has always been a low probability. At this point we’ll proceed on the theory that Shane has a powerful enemy, one willing and able to frame him as a kidnapper/killer. Our task is to identify this enemy and that will lead us to the boy, if he still lives. Are we in agreement?”

We all agree.

Naomi says, “Teddy, Jack, we need to go deeper into Shane’s past. A client who holds him responsible for a child’s death, or his failure to solve a case. Someone in a high government position who feels threatened by him. A friend who believes himself or herself betrayed. Someone who hates him enough to take great risks. Someone with power enough to do the types of things we’ve been witness to of late.”

Teddy hunches over his keyboard, fingers flying.

Jack closes his notebook, and prepares to leave the command center, cell in hand. He pauses, gives boss lady a sideways look. “On the subject of enemies in high places, have we been swept recently?” he asks, holding up his phone.

Naomi cocks an eyebrow. “This morning, as a matter of fact. Just as a precaution.”

“And?”

“As expected, your pals in the helicopter left a few presents behind. Also as expected, none of the devices were able to broadcast. Bear in mind that cell phone calls originating outside of the residence have no such expectation of privacy.”

“Big bro could be listening.”

“Always best to proceed under that assumption.”

Which makes me feel all warm and virtuous for having taken such precautions in the last few hours while out in the field, acting like a real investigator. Shaking tails, locating lost laptops, helping to break the case wide open. Until, moments later, I realize that unlike Teddy and Jack, I haven’t been given an assignment.