David Baldacci - True Blue

“But now?”

“Not so possible,” Mace said resignedly.

“But you have to try? Even if it means you might go back to prison?”

“I don’t want to go back. God knows I don’t. But living free outside the uniform?” She paused, searching for the right words. “It feels like I’m right back in the box with bars even though I’m free. I guess that’s hard to understand.”

“No, it’s actually not.”

“So I’m here asking for your help. Because I can’t solve this case without some forensic information.”

She sat down, her gaze squarely on him.

He stared back at her for a moment before rising. “I don’t have the tox report or the DNA match results back yet.”

“Okay.”

He opened a file cabinet, took out some documents, and put them on his desk. “I need to use the restroom. Damn prostate. Be grateful you don’t have one. I’ll be back in a bit.” Before he left, he lifted the cover on the tabletop copier on a credenza behind his desk. “Just replaced the toner and loaded in a full supply of paper.”

He closed the door behind him. A second later Mace was copying as fast as she could.

YOU LOOK HAPPY,” said Roy as Mace climbed in the car and he pulled off.

“I am. And you’re right,” she said. “This Marquis really is huge. You could fill it with water and use it for a pool.”

He glanced at the papers she had in an expandable file. “What’s that?”

“That is the result of a good friend taking a huge risk for me.”

“What do you want to do now?”

“You drive us to your office and I’ll read.”

Twenty minutes later Roy pulled into the parking garage of his office building and Mace turned over the last page of the file she’d copied.

“And?” Roy asked. “She was raped, but Beth already told me that. The DNA results from the sample taken from your buddy the Captain aren’t back yet and neither is the tox report.”

“How did she die?”

“Someone crushed her brain stem.” She looked up. “Back of the neck. It would’ve taken a really strong person probably with some special skills to do that.”

“Like a former Army Ranger who weighs about three hundred pounds?”

“You said it, I didn’t.”

“What else?”

“Trace and soiling on her clothes matched samples they took from the Captain.”

“So that’s why there’s been no court appearance scheduled yet for him. They’re waiting to see if they hit a home run on the DNA. Normally there’s a presentment hearing within twenty-four hours of arrest.”

“When they do charge him what are you going to plead?”

“Regardless of whether it’s burglary or murder, we scream ‘not guilty’ and go from there. The prosecutor doesn’t need any help from me.” He glanced at the file. “Anything that doesn’t point to the Captain?”

“Not really.”

“But the DNA sample is going to come back as not a match. They can get the Captain on the burglary, but I’ll take that over murder in the first.”

“Who wouldn’t?” Mace said.

“But Diane had dinner with someone on Friday night and it sure wasn’t the Captain.”

“Maybe it was this guy Watkins. The real Watkins, I mean.”

“Hopefully, we’ll find out.”

They rode the elevator up to Shilling & Murdoch and Roy swiped his card across the contact pad, releasing the doors.

A minute later they were looking through the dead woman’s space. Mace sat down at Diane’s desk and stared into the large Apple computer screen. “Nice system.”

“I’m surprised the cops didn’t take her computer.”

“They don’t have to anymore. They just download everything to a flash drive. It would be nice to see what’s on here.” She glanced at him. “Any thoughts on that?”

“It’s password-protected, but let me give it a shot.”

Roy sat down, powered up the Mac, and stared at the password line that appeared.

“What do you use for your password?” Mace asked.

“AVU2778861.”

“Okay, the letters I get. UVA spelled backwards. But what about the numbers?”

“Twenty-seven and seven was the record we finished with my senior year.”

“And the eight-eight-six-one?”

“Eighty-eight to sixty-one was the score of my last game when we lost to Kansas in the NCAAs.”

She gave him a sympathetic look. “Ever thought about just letting it go, Roy?”

“I’ve thought about it.”

He refocused on the screen. “Okay, Diane, what would your password be?”

“She’s not married, no children. Pets?” Roy shook his head. Mace glanced at the file she’d carried up with her. “Try her date of birth.” She read it off to Roy and he hit the keys but the password box shook it off. They tried other combinations of the numbers. They tried her mother’s maiden name that Roy just happened to know.

“It’s going to lock us out with one more attempt,” he said.

“We’re not going to break it. Stupid idea.” Mace stared at the top edge of the computer screen. “What’s that thing?”

Roy looked where she was pointing. “A webcam. You can use it for videoconferencing and stuff.”

Mace slowly moved out of the line of sight of the camera and motioned frantically to Roy to get up. But she said in a calm voice, “Well, that’s all we can do here tonight. Might as well get going.”

When Roy was out of the camera’s view, Mace grabbed his arm and hissed in his ear, “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

She pulled him out the door and closed it behind them.

Roy snapped, “What’s wrong?”

“That’s why they came after me. They saw me searching Diane’s office.”

“Who saw you?”

“Whoever’s on the other end of that camera. Come on, before they get here.”

“Before who gets here?”

They both turned as they heard the sound at the same time. The front door to the offices of Shilling & Murdoch had just beeped open.

“Them!”

THIS WAY.” Roy grabbed Mace’s hand and they raced down the hall away from the front doors. They reached the end of the corridor and turned left and the short hallway ended at a door. Roy threw it open and they were staring into a darkened room.

“What is this place?”

“The mail room.”

“Great, Roy, now we can check out some cool travel magazines while we count down the last minutes of our freaking lives.”

“I actually had another idea. Come on.”

He led her to the back of the room where there was a small metal door flush with the wall and about four feet off the floor.

“The firm has some offices on the fifth floor and we also keep an archival space there.” He smacked a red button next to the metal and the door slid up, revealing a three-by-three-foot space that barely looked big enough to hold one person.

“A dumbwaiter?” said Mace.

“This shaft feeds right into the storage space on the fifth.”

They both turned when they heard the footsteps running down the hall.

“Get in, Mace.”

“What about you?”

“There’s not enough room for both of us.”

She looked inside the space. “If you don’t get in this box with me, the next box you will get in will be a coffin.”

He boosted her in and then crawled in behind her. As the door to the mail room was kicked open, Roy reached out with a long arm and slapped the green send button. The metal door closed and a moment later the dumbwaiter lurched into action. The space was so tight that Mace’s knees were touching her nose and the much taller Roy was curved around her body like a moat around a castle.

Mace squirmed. “Is that a flashlight in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”