The Reluctant Coroner by Paul Austin Ardoin (distant reading txt) 📖

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first-in-section first-full-width">Dez shook her head. “No wonder Lana was so ticked off at you, Fenway. I bet she thought you were going to cover this all up.”

“You don’t need to be a handwriting expert to see these notes are forged. Taking a quick look at these files, it looks to me like all of the notes in the Ferris Energy file were written by the same person, in a fairly decent, but detectable, imitation of Walker’s handwriting.” She pulled out the three handwritten pages and put them down on the desk side by side.

Rachel came over and looked over Piper’s shoulder.

“Do we have any idea who forged them?” Fenway asked Piper.

“I haven’t found anything yet.”

Migs broke in. “But we might know soon enough anyway—I heard from the M.E.” He picked up a file folder off his desk and looked through it. “Whoever filed the numbers off the gun that killed Walker did a pretty bad job. So far, they were able to raise every number but two with an acid treatment, and they think the other two might be visible if they leave the acid on overnight. They’ll let us know tomorrow morning.”

Fenway wracked her brain trying to remember where Stotsky had worked before becoming Ferris Energy’s head of security. She thought she remembered Rachel saying it was the CHP. She bit her tongue—she wanted Rachel to confirm it, but couldn’t risk it before Bradley met Stotsky.

Piper sat back in her chair. “And whoever murdered Walker wasn’t aware the computer files would contradict the fake files. That, or they were hoping no one would find Walker’s laptop.”

“So, wait.” Migs pointed to the paragraph in Walker’s note reading Ferris Energy appears to have been negligent in both its safety training, and maintenance. “Is the ‘conclusion’ Walker was talking about in the other email? Ferris Energy was negligent?” He clicked through a few windows until he found what he was looking for. “Here’s the email. ‘I’m not negotiating. Higher than discussed originally but your requested changes give me higher risk. You can say no but we both know what a pain in the ass the investigators can be if they see the conclusions in there now.’”

“That makes sense.” Fenway was now sure her father’s company was involved—but was it Stotsky acting on his own? “The conclusion is that Ferris Energy is at fault for the accident—and the deaths of Cassidy and Fairweather—and that opens them up for all kinds of liability.”

Dez leaned on the desk. “So, it makes sense that the person who messed with the files was from Ferris Energy, or hired by them. And it’s likely the person who crashed Dylan’s truck through the building was also someone from Ferris Energy, possibly the same someone. Not Dylan. Not Mc—” She stopped and glanced at Fenway. “Not anybody else.”

Migs turned to Rachel. “But then why did someone from Ferris Energy put spyware on your computer? That doesn’t make sense.”

“What?” Rachel looked confused.

“Oh, right, you weren’t here.” Piper started to draw the connections on a blank piece of paper in front of her. “Okay, so Walker was emailing his killer, and, based on the email headers, it’s the same person who installed spyware on your PC. And if someone from Ferris Energy swapped out the ‘conclusions’ in those files, it seems like Ferris Energy is involved in your spyware.”

Migs interrupted. “But I don’t get it. Why Rachel’s computer? Why not put the spyware on Walker’s machine? Why’d they pick Rachel, if they were planning on killing Walker?”

Dez glanced at Fenway and set her jaw.

Fenway looked at the clock on the wall. “All right, everyone. It’s almost six thirty, and we need to meet Rachel’s dad at the sheriff’s office. We should check whether Bradley has identified who hired him in those mugshot binders. I have a feeling when we find who hired Bradley, this whole thing will fall into place.”

“Excellent work, Piper.” Dez walked back over to her desk. “Migs, thanks for bringing this to our attention.”

Rachel, Dez, and Fenway were out the door and across the street minutes later.

Once the three of them were inside the sheriff’s office, they went to the door of the interview room. It was still occupied, however; Bradley Watermeier was still going through the photos.

Dez and Fenway went into the observation room to see how much longer he would be. Rachel waited outside.

Bradley had obviously been at it for hours since they last saw him, and he looked exhausted. Callahan was sitting with Bradley, who had a stack of three binders on each side of him, and was going through a seventh binder in the middle.

“Looks like he’s about half done,” Fenway said.

“Look at you with the big brain, Prom Queen.”

“All right, Dez.” Fenway lowered her voice. “We need to get Bradley to get a look at Stotsky.”

“Do you think Stotsky hired Bradley to put the RAT software on Rachel’s computer?”

“Yes, I do. But we don’t have enough evidence on Stotsky yet. I thought maybe there would be something in the file. And there’s a lot in there that fits—but no direct evidence.”

“That gun might be his. We might know tomorrow.”

“I think he’s starting to get suspicious. He could be in Mexico tomorrow. If Bradley identifies him, don’t we have enough to hold him?”

“Probably,” Dez nodded. “Okay. I can figure something out.”

They stepped out of the observation room where Rachel was waiting.

Ferris and Stotsky came around the corner. Ferris gave Fenway a sideways hug. “Hi, sweetie. Are we going in the interview room again?”

“No, it’s—” Fenway started.

“Yes,” Dez interrupted. “I think the interview room is free.”

Dez opened the interview room door. Bradley and Callahan were sitting at the table. Bradley’s head turned—and he saw Stotsky standing behind Dez.

Stotsky looked back at Bradley.

“What the hell, Callahan?” Bradley shouted. “Did you set me up?”

Fenway moved behind Stotsky. “It was you.”

In one quick, fluid motion, Stotsky turned and shoved Fenway aside. She tried to keep her balance but slammed against the wall and fell to the floor. Stotsky sprinted out of the room, heading for the front door. He was surprisingly fast.

Fenway was stunned, but managed to squeak out, “Stop him!” but her voice was too quiet. The officer at the front desk didn’t look up. Stotsky was hurrying past him.

Dez jumped over Fenway and ran after Stotsky.

“Stop him!” Fenway yelled, finding her voice and getting to her feet. Stotsky was already out the door. Dez followed, but she was already several seconds behind.

“Go after him!” she yelled at the officer.

The officer stood up a little awkwardly, hand on his belt, rushed around the desk, and ran out the door after him.

Rachel’s eyes were wide. “What just happened?”

“It was your dad, Rachel. Your dad is the one who hired Bradley. But not to spy on Walker—to spy on you.”

“That’s your dad?” Bradley said to Rachel, aghast. “He was using the spyware on you?” He stood up and walked out of the interview room. Callahan followed.

Rachel reached for a nearby chair and sat down. “Oh my God.”

Fenway sat down next to Rachel. “He wasn’t looking at that video for the first time at the memorial service,” Fenway said, as gently as she could. “He had already seen it. He saw it the night it happened.”

Rachel put her head in her hands. “It wasn’t Dylan who saw the video and killed Mr. Walker to protect me. It was my dad.”

Fenway turned to her father, who was standing stock-still, looking horrified. “Okay, Dad. Where did Stotsky go?”

“I—I don’t know.”

Fenway closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “You do know, Dad. You know where Stotsky would go if he were in trouble. And he’s in trouble now. He’s your head of security. Would he go to your office? Would he go home, grab as much stuff as he could, and then take off?”

Ferris shook his head.

Callahan had a confused look on his face. “What are you talking about?”

“That guy—Rachel’s dad—was the one who hired me,” Bradley said. “He hired me to put spyware on her computer.”

“Why in the world would he do that?”

“Because he thinks I’m still a baby,” Rachel snapped. “And he thinks I can’t take care of myself. He wouldn’t let me go to Princeton, he didn’t want me to study a semester abroad, and as soon as I graduated, he set up a bunch of interviews in Estancia so I’d stay close to home. He wanted me to be an assistant manager in the apartment building you live in, Fenway. With a political science degree!”

Nathaniel Ferris turned to Rachel, and his eyes were soft. “He loves you. He’s worried, probably more than he should be, sure, but his heart’s always been in the right place.”

Fenway felt nauseated. “Dad, we traced the spyware on Rachel’s computer. And we traced an email setting up the time and place Walker was killed. They came from the exact same source—Rob Stotsky.”