Karen Rose - I Can See You

So’s my place in grad school. Eve needed access to the server in a way that couldn’t be traced back to her. She knew someone who could do it. Dana’s husband, Ethan, was a network security expert. When she lived in Chicago, Eve had worked for Ethan part-time and had learned a hell of a lot about networks. She needed to phone home.

If this doesn’t work, I’ll call Webster and come clean . Fingers crossed, Eve dialed and nearly cried when Dana’s familiar voice answered. “Evie, how are you?”

“I’m fine.” Dana was pregnant again, due in a month. There was no way Eve would tell her anything was wrong. “Can I talk to Ethan? My hard drive froze again.”

“You will tell me what’s wrong, sooner or later,” Dana said. “Hold on, I’ll get Ethan.”

A minute later he picked up. “Eve. How the hell are you, kid?”

“I’ve had better days. Ethan, I need access to my university’s server, but don’t want anyone to know I’ve been there.”

“Why?” The single word carried all of Ethan’s unvoiced concerns.

That was a damn good question. “I told you about my thesis study.”

“Building self-esteem in the virtual world. Your subjects get to play all day in Shadowland. I wish I were on your study.”

“No, you really don’t. I’m concerned about one of the subjects. I need to get her home address. Can you trust me and not ask me any more?”

“I can do that. You’ll tell me if you get into trouble? I can be there in a few hours.”

Eve’s heart squeezed. “Thank you.” She gave him Jeremy Lyons’s logon and password. “He wrote it on a sticky hidden under his blotter.”

“He’s an idiot,” Ethan muttered. “Writing his password down like that.”

“But so many do.” One of her jobs for Ethan had been to hack into his clients’ networks, to show them their vulnerabilities. It had been all too easy.

“Keeps me employed,” he said. A minute passed, then two more while Eve watched Christy’s avatar swing from a virtual noose. “I’m in. What do you want to know?”

“Home address for Lewis, Christy L., for now. Can you email me a copy of the file?”

“Done and done. Christy Lewis lives at 5492 Red Barn Lane in Woodfield.”

It would take a little while to get there. “Thanks.”

“Eve, wait. How much trouble are you in?”

“I broke the double-blind code on this test. If anyone finds out, I’ll get expelled.”

“Ooh.” In her mind’s eye she could see him wince. “That’s bad, kid.”

“I know, but it was the right thing to do.”

“You’re Dana’s,” he said quietly. “I’d expect no less. Call me if you need me. I can keep it from her for a little while. She and the baby are strong, so don’t worry.”

Eve hung up, staring at the hanging Gwenivere. “Easy for you to say.”

Monday, February 22, 4:05 p.m.

“It’s officially a homicide,” Ian Gilles said when he joined the team that had gathered in Abbott’s small office. “Martha was strangled. Among other things.”

“What other things?” Noah asked, then put up his hand. “Wait, before you tell us, you know everybody, right? Micki Ridgewell and Carleton Pierce?”

“Of course I know Micki.” Ian smiled at her, a rare look for his face. “And Dr. Pierce and I worked on a homicide last year. Good to see you.”

“And you.” Carleton had photographs of the two victims in front of him and he pointed to Samantha. “Have you re-examined her yet?”

“Not yet,” Ian said. “I’ll have her body tomorrow. For now, I can only tell you about Martha Brisbane. Her bloodwork was positive for ketamine.”

“The puncture wound on her neck,” Jack said. “Ket’s a sedative.”

“Exactly. It’s sometimes used in field surgery because it sedates and immobilizes. This is interesting.” Ian pulled a photo from the stack. “These are her lungs.”

Micki frowned at the photo. “They’re blue. Why did you stain them?”

“I didn’t. She came that way.”

“I’ve heard of holding your breath till you turn blue,” Jack said, “but I never actually thought it worked. What is it?”

“Copper sulfate. I found traces in her tracheal wall and stomach. Copper sulfate is found in drain cleaners that clear tree roots. You flush it down your toilet.”

Micki winced. “It eats through tree roots?”

“And skin. I found traces on her face, under the makeup.”

“He held her face in the toilet?” Noah asked and Ian nodded.

“She was held under long and frequently enough that she’d inhaled and swallowed the liquid. If he hadn’t strangled her, the copper sulfate might have eventually killed her. Also, she’d been cleaning right before her death. I found pieces of sponge beneath her nails. Her hands had also been in contact with some very strong bleach.”

“Her landlady said the apartment was filthy,” Noah said, “but it had been cleaned. The sonofabitch made Martha clean before he killed her?”

“Now, that’s a new one.” Jack looked at Ian. “No signs of sexual assault?”

Ian shook his head. “This woman had not been sexually active in some time.”

“Well, not in the conventional way,” Noah muttered. “You done, Ian?”

“Almost. I found a callus above her left ear. I’ve seen it before in victims who worked in phone sales. It was where the headset rested on their skin.”

“Martha spent quite a lot of time on the phone,” Jack said deliberately. “That we can’t find her headset means he took the tool of her trade, painted her face up, made her clean up her apartment… It does all fit.”

“Martha worked for Siren Song,” Noah said. “It’s a phone sex company.”

Micki blinked. “She was a phone sex operator?”

“No wonder her mother was mad at her,” Abbott said.

Noah sighed. “Perhaps Martha didn’t consider it prostitution, but her mother did. We’re thinking Martha may have been killed because of Siren.”

“By a client or somebody who didn’t approve,” Jack added. “We don’t know how Samantha Altman factors in, yet, although she had been laid off recently. Maybe she was working for Siren until she got something better.”

“We want Siren Song’s employee list. It could connect Samantha and tell us who’s at risk for the next attack.” Like Eve , Noah thought.

“I’ll call the DA,” Abbott said. “Get the subpoenas started. Mick, what do you have?”

“All the prints matched the victim except for one set we found on pipes, light fixtures, etc. I’m betting they belong to the maintenance man.”

“Taylor Kobrecki,” Noah said. “He does all her maintenance. He’s still AWOL.”

“Also, we’ve searched her computer,” Micki said. “Looks like the drive was wiped.”

“Can you work your magic and save the day?” Jack asked.

“Sugar’s working on it,” she said. “If anything’s there, he’ll find it. That stool that you two recovered from the thrift store this morning is a match to Martha’s. I haven’t traced the origin yet, and there are no usable prints. On the other hand, both victims’ dresses and shoes came from The Fashion Club, an online shopping network. Unfortunately they sold hundreds of each this year, none to Martha or Samantha. If we get a suspect we may be able to use the list to confirm, but I don’t see it being a beacon.”

“If this killer bought those dresses, he had to have known his victims’ sizes,” Carleton said thoughtfully. “That’s quite a bit of planning.”

“I agree,” Micki said. “Lots of planning and no mistakes. No fibers or hair, except the cat hair in Martha’s carpet. She had food and a box of litter, but no litterbox.”