Лиза Гарднер - Never Tell - A Novel (A D.D. Warren and Flora Dane Novel)

“How is this done?” I ask Keith.

“New buyers must establish escrow accounts to guarantee ability to pay. And references are used to guarantee a seller’s ability to provide services.”

“Criminal vendors vouch for other criminal vendors?” The dark web sounds stranger and stranger to me.

“Something like that.”

“Which means,” I say, “someone else must be checking these references, verifying the escrow accounts?”

“All websites have administrators, even illegal ones. For that matter, these encrypted forums where Jacob would’ve met other predators—each have two or three moderators who know one another in real life. They trust each other, which forms the heart of the chat room. They then network and mine prospective new members, demanding evidence of illegal behavior such as a digital copy of child porn, snuff films, etcetera. This makes all site members equally guilty and therefore equally protected. For all the cyber in cyberspace, it’s still a human system. You can’t just hang out, chat, or trade on the dark web. A real person has to vouch for you. A real-life administrator has to grant you access.”

I nod and feel it again—a tenuous connection forming, as delicate as the web I’m learning so much about. Conrad, spending year after year, hunkered over his laptop, dredging through the internet’s worst of the worst. A particular kind of cat-and-mouse game with multiple targets. He was investigating two different cases. Missing women …

“What was his other case?” I ask D.D. now, my voice urgent. “Conrad’s second investigation. You said missing women and … ?”

“A disgruntled ex-husband who shot his wife in the face. She lived. He went to prison. He’s on the record for just waiting till he can get out and finish what he started. We think Conrad knew where the ex was hiding. Might’ve even been sending her some money to help out.”

“Ex is behind bars?”

“Yes.”

“So, evil ex can’t look for the wife himself?”

“No.”

“Vendors,” I state. “Jacob used them. Conrad must’ve been exploring many of them. Pimps, predators, hired guns. Kidnappers. Hell, maybe even an arsonist or two. Like you said, behind every transaction is a real person, buying or selling. Now consider that Conrad has spent years on the dark web.”

“A good ten to fifteen,” D.D. supplied.

“Think of the network he himself must’ve started building under his various aliases. Providers of services who knew and trusted him, allowing him to dig deeper and deeper. Except he’s not just looking at one crime. He’s looking at all sorts of criminal enterprises. What if he figured something out? What if he figured someone out? Because as Keith is saying, none of the dark web can exist without actual people managing the works.”

Long pause. “You mean like Ulbricht from the Silk Road.”

“Maybe. But it doesn’t have to be he identified some huge mastermind. It would be enough to reveal the principal at the local high school is actually the person running the child porn forum, or the nice lady up the block is a secret assassin for hire. It would explain the arson angle as well. If Conrad figured out an identity, the person in question might be worried Conrad documented it somehow. A notebook tucked in a drawer. A journal he gave to a known criminal defense attorney who’s close personal friends with his wife.”

A pause as D.D. considers the idea. “Not a bad theory,” she says at last. “But given that it’s also pure conjecture, it doesn’t help us.”

“Not yet. But give Keith some time. He can approach it from the dark web itself, using Conrad’s various aliases to identify connections. He’ll figure it out.” I look at Keith squarely for the first time all morning. He arches a brow at the huge promises I just made in his name. But he doesn’t shake his head. He’ll do it. Meaning maybe I was wrong about him after all. Maybe there is hope for us. Maybe there is hope for me.

“We know Conrad knew Jacob,” Quincy murmurs from behind Keith’s shoulder. “If we use I. N. Verness to vouch for Conrad, and Conrad to vouch for I. N. Verness …”

Keith starts to nod. Quincy peers down closer at the screen. They are on it. Meaning my work here is done. I end the call with D.D., head for the door.

“Where are you going?” Keith calls out.

“I’m gonna catch myself a firebug.”

• • •

I START WITH a map of the Green Line pulled up on my phone. It’s a major artery, but then the Boston T system has many of them. Unfortunately, based on where Rocket entered the system, he would’ve passed through several major hubs where he could’ve exited the Green Line and entered any number of other ones. It takes me about thirty seconds to realize the possibilities are endless and I’m not going to get anywhere staring a color-coded mass-transit map.

Instead, I start plotting points. Rocket’s neighborhood. Where I’d think, having conducted his business, he’d head back to. A comfort-zone sort of thing, till the dust settled. Add to that, the location of his drop box. Having performed a major job, he’d also want to collect his fee.

Both of these points are in the exact opposite direction of Rocket’s Lechmere-bound subway. Was he trying to be clever? Knew the police might be watching so deliberately tried to mislead them? Except if he’s that smart, he’d know they’d be waiting for him at home, too. So maybe, in fact, he can’t go back to the hood. He needs a safer place to hang for a while.

I decide to be brave. I dial not D.D. but her second-in-command, Phil, the detective voted most likely to be Father of the Year. He doesn’t like me. I’m never sure what to make of him. I didn’t grow up with a father, so I’m never sure if his perpetual scowl of disapproval is the real thing or a show of affection.

“Does Rocket Langley have a list of known associates?” I ask without preamble. “I’m staring at the T map, and he headed directly away from his neighborhood, which makes me think he may have another place to hang out.”

“D.D. asked you to chase Rocket?” Yep, definite disapproval.

“I’ve met him before.”

“And if you catch him?”

“I pinky promise I’ll only talk to him. Unless, of course, he starts playing with matches. Then all bets are off.”

“Rocket has an older brother and a friend from high school. Both live on the same block, however.”

So much for that theory. “Do you know when he got the gig to burn Dick Delaney’s town house?”

“Actually, we have two detectives reviewing every second of video footage, and the only activity we can find at his drop box is Wednesday morning before the first fire. If he was contracted to do a second job at Delaney’s, we haven’t picked up any contact yet.”

I frown. Rocket had a system. Why deviate from it now? I’d made contact with him last night, but he had no reason to think of me as a legal threat. Instead, I’m his somewhat scary future client. So again …

I get an uncomfortable feeling. Lechmere. Headed toward Cambridge. Where Evie lived with her mother.

Her house.

Her lawyer’s house.

Her mother’s house.

“It wasn’t one target,” I hear myself whisper.

“Excuse me?”

“The initial drop. Rocket wasn’t contracted to burn just Evie’s house. He was contracted to torch three homes, the three places Conrad could’ve hidden a secret. His home, the attorney’s home, his mother-in-law’s home. Rocket is headed to Cambridge, where he’ll hit Evie’s mother’s house next.”

Chapter 34 EVIE

“YOU HAD NO RIGHT!”

Mr. Delaney trails after me, holding out a hand in reconciliation. I’m not interested. I come up against a wall of gawking people, staring at the still smoking building, and feel my frustration double. I’m sick of crowds and media vans and people who treat my life like entertainment. I’m equally sick of my mother and Mr. Delaney, the two people who claim to love me but never tell me the truth.