Gregg Hurwitz: The Program

Nancy Kramer.

He'd seen TD give the command to march her into the woods. With the help of a forensic entomologist, a medical examiner could set the time of death, corroborate Tim's eyewitness account.

Bear was squatting, murmuring to Cosmo until she came forward and licked his hand. Thomas stood over the Dobermans, can of pepper spray at the ready.

Freed sat by Danner, who groaned and said, "Damnit."

Tim trudged over to the other corpse. Only a slender, muddy hand was visible, shoved up from the moist earth.

The long road to Leah had ended here – four fingers and a thumb sprouting from the ground.

Tannino might want to call Judge Seitel for a telephonic warrant before digging; Tim didn't want to take any chances.

His breath caught in his chest. He crouched over the small hand.

A metal ring glinted through the grime on one of the fingers. A gold signet, inscribed with the letters DK.

The initials floated through Tim's head before striking chimes. Danny Katanga. The first investigator Will had hired.

Short little nervous guy, the PI was.

He moved back to Bear – already he could hear backup crashing through the growth.

Bear's stubbled face was heavy. "That her?"

Tim shook his head.

"We'll get more dogs out here, sweep some more."

Tim turned away, but he had nothing to look at behind him except the glittery remains of Skate's face, the thread of a necklace embedded in the meat of his neck.

He stared at the little silver key.

He pivoted on his heel, raising the portable to his lips. "Frankie, did you clear all the rooms in the treatment wing?"

A sputter of static, then Palton's voice – "Negative. We just peeked in the windows, confirmed they were empty. We didn't want to step on the warrant."

Tim reached down, grabbing the chain against Skate's torn-open Adam's apple and twisting. The key pulled loose.

He moved through the woods, barely hearing Bear's shouts behind him.

Branches whipped at his chest. Leaves tore his face.

He passed a sheriff's deputy carrying a come-along pole, two fire-department medics hustling with a stretcher. Deputy marshals filled the clearing now, bagging evidence and muttering into portables.

On the step, Denley scowled and said, "Computer's got Frisk all in a tangle."

Tannino's voice through the Racal – "Bring me something to link Betters to those bodies."

Tim's breath burned as he charged up the trail. The other deputies were chatting up the Pros like old friends. Tim blew by, handing off his MP5 to Miller, who called after him, puzzled, as he trotted up the hill.

Tim kicked down the treatment wing's door, the sound traveling down the tiled corridors and coming back at him. He made ragged progress now, his limp more pronounced.

He called out her name once, twice, but heard nothing save the hum of electric clocks and the tired refrigerator in DevRoom C.

The tiny square of glass atop the Growth Room door looked in only on darkness, and he felt the optimism whoosh out of him, leaving him breathless. He fumbled the key, dropping it, and finally found the lock. The door stuck, so he kicked it open.

A triangle of light fell over his shoulders, his shadowed outline stretching across the floor and her crumpled form.

She stirred, shook her head as if to clear it.

The lightbulb blinked on, throwing an aquarium-blue glow that lent her flesh a pale, cadaverous tint. Her lips were cracked – white, rectangular segments of peeling skin. They moved soundlessly, then moved again.

Her voice was hoarse, little more than a whisper. "I knew you'd come."

He went to her. She was shivering, so he wrapped her in his raid jacket.

The Racal sputtered, and Denley said, "Aside from the mail stuff, we're drawing a blank in here."

Frisk's voice – "I can't determine what's on the computer -everything's unreadable. I can see files and folders, but they're PGP-encrypted."

Leah pulled herself to her feet. "All the good stuff is encrypted on the C drive…" She paused, leaning against the wall, catching her breath. Her voice was weak but clear. "I built a passphrase generator that creates hex values to reverse-engineer the hashing strings of the PGP. I hid it in the system file."

"I don't know what that means."

She reached for the portable. Tim keyed it to the right channel and handed it over. Leah walked Frisk through a few simple steps, and then he gave an excited bark of a laugh and said, "I'm in."

Leah clicked off, and Tim holstered the radio.

"I would have sent you all the stuff out, but I didn't want to keep dinging the access log, and encrypted files have too many megs to upload quickly anyway." Leah staggered a bit, and Tim threw an arm around her back to steady her. Her eyes were rimmed black with stress and exhaustion.

"How'd you get a phone cord to send out the e-mails?"

"I snuck in Skate's shed when he was sleeping, slid his necklace off. I took the copper wires out, twisted them to minimize inductance." A faint smile. "A makeshift phone cord. He caught me later." She shuddered.

Frisk's voice – "Pay dirt. We've got the Dead Link files. And financials, surveillance shots -"

Tim eased down the radio volume.

They walked up the hall, out the doors. The cold hit them fiercely; she turned her face into him, thin arms tightening around his waist.

They walked down the hill toward the staging point.

Night was squeezing in on dusk, cutting visibility.

By the guard station, TD glowered from the back of an unmarked car. A frayed wick protruded from the bottom of the closed door – the end of the nylon cord securing his ankles. When he spotted Leah, he blanched.

The car pulled away, clearing their field of vision to the staging point.

Will turned, his face red and chapped from crying, and did a pronounced double take. Tim and Leah high-stepped over the fallen gate. She stumbled a bit, weak on her feet.

Tannino grasped Dray's shoulder, and she turned. He saw the breath go out of her, saw her shoulders lower a good three inches with the exhale.

Will was wiping his face, already directing traffic as if he had jurisdiction. "Ambulance. We need an ambulance."

Three rescue vehicles sat parked and ready within ten feet of him, but he didn't seem to notice them. Rooch and Doug approached on either side of him.

Will stroked his daughter's cheek. His face crumbled, and then his hand spread over his eyes like a mask. He turned away, took a deep breath. "We need an ambulance."

Wheels crackled through the mud. Two doors slammed in unison, then the paramedics opened the back of the ambulance.

Rooch grasped Leah's shoulder, starting to guide her to the ambulance, but she wouldn't let go of Tim.

Tim started to move her, but she held him harder. He tried to pry her off gently. His throat was thick, but he managed the word "Go."

She gripped him tighter.

Will stepped between Rooch and Doug, splitting them. His arm slid alongside Tim's behind Leah's back. Tim leaned, shifting her sagging weight to Will.

She looked up at Tim, her green-gray eyes frightened, and he tried to steel her with his look.

"Go."

The arm around his waist relaxed.

Will pulled back, drawing her gently to him. The paramedics were at his side, helping them to the rear of the ambulance, reassuring her.

They loaded her up, and Will ducked into the back. The doors slammed. The tires churned mud and found their hold.

Tim watched the diminishing white square until it faded into darkness.

"Go," he said.

Dray was at his side, the wind whipping a band of hair across her forehead. Her curled fingers found it and tucked it behind an ear. The APC's headlights lit her eyes magnificent green, liquid emerald, a shade he'd never seen anywhere else in thirty-four years and counting.