Diana Rowland - Secrets of the Demon

He leaned against the worktable and crossed his arms. “Uh-huh. It’s not tough to do if they haven’t cleared the cache. What kind of computer do you have?”

I hesitated. “You’re going to laugh at me if I say ‘a black one’ aren’t you.”

Jill snickered but Brad managed to keep a straight face. “Not at all. I’ll merely post it all over the Internet.”

“Oh, well, that’s all right then,” I said with a roll of my eyes.

He grinned. “Okay, well is it a PC or a Mac?”

“PC. And I bought it about a year ago.”

He turned and rummaged for paper and pen, then peppered me with a few more questions as he scribbled quickly. “Here,” he said, passing the paper to me. “Instructions that even a non-geek should be able to follow.”

“I owe you one,” I said, deeply pleased. I tucked the instructions into my notebook and then lifted the laptop case. “Now I’m going to push your good will even farther. How long would it take you to examine this one?”

“Dunno. Let’s see what we’re up against.” He took the case from me and slid the laptop from it, then flipped it over. A tiny screwdriver appeared in his hand, and a few seconds later he’d removed what I assumed was the hard drive. He pivoted to the table against the wall and hooked the drive into a gadget connected to one of the computers, then clicked a few buttons on the screen with the mouse. A gray box appeared on the screen with rapidly scrolling numbers. I waited patiently while he peered at the screen.

After less than a minute he straightened. “This won’t take long at all.”

“Great!” I said.“So you could finish it today perhaps?”

He shook his head. “I’m done now.”

I looked at him blankly.

“It’s been wiped,” he said. “That drive is as clean as a whistle.”

After leaving the crime lab I headed to the main branch of Lake Pearl Bank, pausing only to zip through the drive-thru at Taco Hut in a carefully orchestrated effort to undo every bit of last night’s unintended purge. I scarfed down two burritos while I drove, musing on the various revelations. Brad had gone on to explain that it was ridiculously easy to wipe a drive with the right kind of software, and that such programs were easily obtained online, with no special expertise needed.

So, if Adam Taylor and Vic Kerry were murdered for the same reason—whatever that was—why wasn’t Kerry’s computer wiped as well? Maybe the murderer didn’t expect it to be pegged as a homicide. Or, since Vic Kerry was actually killed several days ago, perhaps the murderer hadn’t yet realized that Adam needed to be killed too. Or perhaps their murders really were for completely different reasons. I grimaced. I had an ugly feeling I was going to be up late tonight looking at financial information. Woo boy.

As promised, the bank had copies of all Roger’s financial information ready for me. The woman at the service desk smiled cheerily as she passed it over, chirping a “Have a nice day!” at me as I took the thick envelope from her. I thanked her in an equally chirpy tone and began to leave, then paused, looking past the woman at a sign on the wall behind her.

We’re getting a new look! New name, new benefits, same wonderful service! Lake Pearl Bank will soon be Southern Regional National Bank of Louisiana!

“The bank is being bought out?” I asked her.

Her smile increased in radiance. “That’s right! It’s a terrific opportunity for our customers! SRNBL has branches all over, and we’ll now be able to provide even more quality service for this community!”

I was slightly intimidated at how Very! Happy! She! Was! About! It!

I thanked her again and left. Ben Moran has to be pleased about that, I thought as I continued to the station. That would increase his status considerably.

Crawford’s office door was open when I arrived, so I stuck my head in. He gave me a questioning look, then I realized that there was someone in the chair in front of the desk.

“Whoops. Sorry, Sarge, I’ll get up with you in a bit,” I said, then blinked as Detective Marco Knight turned to give me a smile.

“Oh, hey, how’s it going?” I said. Then frowned. “What are you doing here?”

Knight chuckled. “Nice to see you, too.”

Yeah, that had been real friendly. “Sorry. You took me by surprise. You’re a long way from New Orleans.” I paused. “So, what are you doing here?”

Crawford sighed and shook his head. “This is why she’s not our public relations officer.”

Somehow I resisted the urge to give Crawford the finger.

“Lida Moran filed a request to drop the investigation into her attack yesterday, but then I saw that her manager had died.” Knight gave me a shrug, eyes on me. “I hate it when people try to drop cases after I’ve put work into them. Especially when there’s a chance that it was a bullshit case to begin with.”

I snorted and leaned up against the door frame. “Aw, where’s your trust in human nature?”

“That died a long time ago,” he said.

“Well, actually the whole thing may be a lot more complicated than a bullshit publicity stunt,” I told Knight. “I have two murders, and I’m convinced they’re connected, but I haven’t pinned down the link yet.”

“What makes you think they’re connected?” Marco asked.

Crawford cleared his throat and flicked a glance from me to the door.

I took the hint and entered fully, closing the door behind me. “The thing that threw Lida in the river was a golem, or something similar,” I explained in a low voice. “I could feel a weird resonance from it, and I felt that same resonance at the crime scenes for both of these victims. Plus, our pathologist said that whoever killed Vic Kerry was ‘strong as shit’ since he apparently crushed Kerry’s neck.” I flicked a quick glance at Crawford to see how he was handling this, but he merely looked slightly pained. It was progress.

Knight let out a low whistle. “So, how do you kill this golem thing?”

I had to shrug helplessly. “I’m not sure, mostly because I’m not really certain what it is. I’m only calling it a golem because it’s easier to say than ‘arcane construct’, but it really doesn’t quite fit with the stuff about the golems of legend. I didn’t see any letters on its forehead, and it seems a bit too ... nimble for that sort of thing.” I shrugged again. “Not that I’m any sort of expert. My current theory is that maybe it’s some sort of earth elemental that’s being controlled and directed.” I sighed. “And even that’s a wild guess at best. I don’t know a damn thing about elementals.”

Crawford frowned. “Is there anything wrong with just shooting the ever-living shit out of the damn thing?”

I grinned. “Not as far as I know. Extreme violence, for the win!”

Crawford’s phone rang, delaying any further speculation on the best way to destroy a creature I knew next to nothing about. He answered the phone, listened intently to the caller with a deepening frown, then gave me a penetrating look that didn’t give me a warm fuzzy feeling. He muttered a thanks to the caller and hung up.

“Roger Peeler was found dead near his apartment,” he said, voice tight. “It supposedly looks like an accidental death. A fall into a drainage culvert.”

“Shit,” I breathed. I knew it was no accident. Guilt rose in a choking wave. I should have seen this coming. I should have done more to warn him, protect him.