Karen Rose - Die for Me

Liz’s sigh was exasperated, and had they not found what they’d been looking for, it would not have boded well at all. “Okay, so what’s going on here?”

Vito looked up from his computer screen. “He’s a network engineer.”

Liz shook her head as if to clear it. “ Who’s a what? ”

“Simon Vartanian is a network engineer.” Vito pulled a sheet of paper from the printer. “We got into his tax records.”

Liz frowned. “How? Or don’t I want to know?”

Jen shrugged. “Brent had a friendly conversation with a fellow computer geek who happens to work for the IRS.”

“Who happened to be a friend of a friend of a friend,” Brent said with a smile at Maggy. “We got the Social Security number Simon used when he enrolled at Sophie’s college as John Trapper. He paid his college tuition by check and that checking account had a number of deposits over the last year. Trapper had his own business setting up computer networks.”

Vito handed Liz the paper. “John Trapper was issued 1099 forms by twenty firms last year.” He shot Liz an ironic look. “He was a frickin’ consultant.”

Vito could see the wheels turning in Liz’s mind. “Who didn’t work for free,” she said.

“No.” Vito smiled grimly. “Not by a long shot.”

“Vito was wondering where Simon was getting all his money,” Jen said. “He was getting his medical care by stealing Frasier Lewis’s medical benefits. But Simon had to have a place to live, some pretty expensive computer equipment, and cash to buy his goodies from Kyle Lombard. Claire didn’t have any money, so he didn’t steal it from her and he didn’t steal it from his parents. So what’s he been living on?”

“Follow the money,” Nick mused with his mouth full of cruller. “Smart.”

“Okay,” Liz said. “I’m hooked. What does a network engineer do, exactly?”

“Well, he sets up networks,” Brent said. “Connects computers in an office to each other and to other systems. All these computers are hooked into the PD’s network. There are files on shared servers you can see if you have access. There are databases you can search, if you have access. The key here is access.”

Liz pulled a doughnut from the box. “Keep talking, Brent. You haven’t lost me yet.”

“Big companies like Philly PD have an internal IT department to set up the networks and make sure everybody can get to the information they need. E-mail accounts, et cetera. But you gotta make sure people have access on a need-to-know basis. Everybody can download medical insurance forms from HR, but a mail clerk shouldn’t get access to AFIS. Jen gets access because she needs to run fingerprints.”

“Big companies have IT departments,” Vito said. “Little companies that have ten employees still need a network, but they hire a consultant to set it up.”

“And Simon was one of these consultants.” Liz nodded. “I’m guessing that Simon didn’t limit his evil deed-doing to his art. He stole from these companies?”

Brent smiled. “Not from the companies. From their clients. Every network has an administrator, the guy who sets up who gets access to what. We’re guessing Simon left a back door open in some or all of these companies’ networks, giving himself admin power. He could go back into their systems at any time to see anything on anybody.”

“Like financials,” Nick said. “The models-Warren and Brittany, Bill Melville and Greg Sanders. That’s how he knew they were desperate for cash. Sonofabitch.”

Vito tapped his printout. “Twenty companies hired Frasier Lewis. Among them are six investment brokers, three realtors, and two medical insurance companies.”

“But now we’re stuck,” Maggy said. “We’ve been checking these companies for anything that links them to Vartanian or one of our victims, but so far, nothing has.”

“God.” Liz took the paper from Vito’s hands. “Simon really thought of everything.” Then she laughed, a smug yet joyful sound. “Good thing we did, too.” She handed the paper to Nick. “Look at the sixth company down, Nick.”

Nick’s grin was sharp. “Fuckin’ bastard.” He slapped Vito on the back and put the list on the desk. “Chick, that company handled all the finances for Winchester’s aunt.” He thumbed over his shoulder at the evidence box. “Five years of broker’s statements.”

“Rock Solid Investments is a brokerage firm that has a huge client base of retirees,” Liz added. “Lots of old people have their money there.”

“Maybe the old woman buried next to Claire did, too.” Vito drew a breath. They were close. He only prayed they wouldn’t be too late. “Okay. So we need to do what?”

“I’d say we need a warrant to search Rock Solid’s client files,” Maggy said. “I hope the judge on call is an insomniac. Who wants to go?”

Vito got up, but Liz and Nick each grabbed one of his shoulders and pushed him back down. “Dammit, Liz,” Vito gritted. “This isn’t funny.”

Liz got serious fast. “Maggy, take Nick. Brent, you go, too, in case they need someone to speak computerese with their network guy. Vito, you’re staying with me. If you want to help Sophie, get some rest. You’ll need it when you find Simon Vartanian.”

Sunday, January 21, 3:10

A.M.

The phone on Vito’s desk rang and he snatched it up. “Ciccotelli.”

“It’s Tess. I know you’d call if you’d heard anything. But we’re all here, the whole family, sitting in your living room, worrying about you. We just wanted you to know.”

He could picture it, his family gathered to support him, and he yearned to go be with them, to take their comfort. “Don’t worry about me. Worry about Sophie.”

“We are. Don’t worry. We have plenty of worry to go around,” Tess added wryly. “Don’t give up. I guarantee Sophie knows you’re doing everything you can to find her.”

If anyone understood, it was Tess. “Thank you. Tell them all thank you. I’ll call you when I can.” He hung up, then sat back, arms crossed tight over his chest. It had been ten hours since Simon had taken Sophie, three since Maggy, Nick, and Brent had gone off in search of Rock Solid Investment’s client list. “Where the hell are they?”

Jen looked up from her laptop sympathetically. “Try to relax, Vito. I know it’s hard.”

Maggy Lopez had gotten the warrant easily enough. But finding someone at Rock Solid Investments who had access to the full client list was turning out to be harder than expected. The one broker who played network administrator in his spare time was on vacation and couldn’t be reached. Nobody else seemed to know all the passwords and ironically, someone had actually suggested they call their network consultant.

Vito tried to relax, but it wasn’t going to happen. His gaze settled on the CD Brent had made from the camera feed. He remembered Sophie watching that movie of her father’s, because she “needed to see him.” Now Vito needed to see her. He slid the CD in his computer, then saw himself sitting next to Anna’s bed, and Sophie waiting at the doorway, that plastic pitcher in her hands.

He muted the sound, then fast-forwarded until he saw Sophie again, the pitcher in her hand and tears on her face. He watched her expression soften and her eyes change. And saw what he hadn’t seen Friday night because he’d been focused on Anna-Sophie looking at him with love in her eyes. Neither of them had said the words. She’d been so scared of messing things up, but now he’d seen for himself. Vito closed the file, then closed his eyes and did what he hadn’t done in two years. He prayed.

Sunday, January 21, 4:15

A.M.

Nick came running in, clutching a stack of papers in his hand. “We got the list.”