Waking the Dead (39 page)
“What?” Disappointment pooled in her gut. “How is that possible? He’s still in the system.”
A shrug sounded in the man’s voice. “Maybe I didn’t get back into the database and clear it out. God knows his family isn’t satisfied. The man still might be missing, but it’s a pretty good probability that he’s sipping mai tais on a Belize beach somewhere while the rest of us chase our asses.”
It wasn’t possible, she decided, to take a dislike to someone based solely on his voice. So her reaction to Cross was likely due to the disappointment blooming inside her and not his insolent tone. “What makes you think he’s in Belize?”
“Not me, the feds. They waltzed in here about three months after Bentley disappeared asking questions. They didn’t care so much about where he went, but they were all kinds of concerned with what happened to the quarter million he moved overseas to various accounts.”
Adrenaline spiked through her, sharp and edgy. And with it brought certainty. “So there was money missing from his account. He didn’t appear in the banks to transfer it himself. And there’s no trace of the transfers on his computer.”
“Sounds like you wrote the story. Feds took their sweet time, but eventually they concluded he’d been laundering money. Couldn’t figure out for who and how exactly he was doing it. Or if they did, they never shared those details with me. He must have thought things were getting too hot and disappeared. Happens all the time.”
“If they never proved or disproved their theory, how can you be sure the feds were right?” She raised her hand to return Jodie Paulsen’s greeting as he slowly drove by with his pickup loaded with what looked like scrap metal.
“It made a helluva lot more sense than someone vanishing into thin air, that’s why,” he retorted. Something told Cait the two of them weren’t going to hang up as buddies. “Hell, people lie all the time. Families lie. Where’d the guy go? They don’t know. He had no enemies, everyone loved him. Yeah, okay. Except he’s
gone
, right? Maybe he had a mistress he ran off with to Bora Bora. The fact that he didn’t want to tell his brother about his plans doesn’t mean he’s dead; it just means he left.”
gone
, right? Maybe he had a mistress he ran off with to Bora Bora. The fact that he didn’t want to tell his brother about his plans doesn’t mean he’s dead; it just means he left.”
Or else, she thought cynically, it meant that accepting that story made it easy for Cross to wash his hands of the whole thing and improve his closed-case ratio.
“You might want to take another look at Bentley’s case.” She watched an old man who looked on the wrong side of ninety step cautiously off the curb as if fearful of breaking a hip on contact with the street.
“And why should I do that?”
“Because I’ve got skeletal remains here in Oregon that are a tentative match for his age and stature.” Ignoring the rude sound he made, she continued, “We’ve got seven sets of remains all hauled out of the same cave. So far the two sets we’ve positively identified spent time in this area within a year of their disappearance.”
“What does that—”
“I just discovered records today showing Bentley was here six and a half years ago.”
That stopped Cross for a moment. “He disappeared about six years ago.”
She mentally sighed. “Yes. And a large sum of money went missing at the same time as the other two victims’ disappearance. Is this starting to sound familiar to you at all?”
“Helluva coincidence.”
“If you believe in coincidence, Cross, you haven’t been in police work nearly long enough.” The elderly man had made it safely down the curb and was now proceeding at a snail’s pace across the street. “Bentley didn’t happen to be a fan of the New York Giants, did he? And an avid whitewater rafter?” Both an image of the New York team and churning whitewater had been depicted on his scapulas.
“I’d have to check the file.”
She’d had more than enough. “You do that. And while you’re doing it, look for his credit card statements and see where he stayed during his time here. Then contact his brother about getting to a lab for a DNA profile. Got a pencil handy?” She gave him her fax number. “Get those results and his statement to me as quickly as possible, and I can give you a definitive answer about whether I’ve got William Bentley’s remains on a gurney in my lab.”
“Feds aren’t going to like hearing they’re wrong,” the man muttered.
“We all have our little disappointments.” She disconnected and called Gavin Pounds, Raiker’s cyber wizard back at headquarters in Manassas. As she waited for the call to go through, she spared the old man one more glance. He’d progressed about four feet. In the course of his short journey, he’d received, and shaken off, no fewer than three offers of help. McKenzie Bridge was a friendly little town.
Except it hadn’t proven so friendly for William Bentley. Or Marissa Recinos. Or Paul Livingston.
“So we should check with all the resorts in the area for a guest named William Bentley.” Andrews was seated at the desk in Cait’s McKenzie Motel room, scribbling on a notepad as she spoke. “What was the date again?”
Cait repeated it, and added, “Don’t forget the campgrounds. We can’t be sure where he stayed. I don’t have access to his credit card statement yet, and I don’t know how long I’ll have to wait for it.” Cross didn’t strike her as the sort of guy who would move at the speed of light. “We also need to find out who the Internet provider is for the resorts in the area. At least who it was at the time Recinos, Livingston, and Bentley went missing.”
Andrews looked up from her jottings, her expression shrewd. “You think the transfers were generated up here?”
“It’s possible. People of wealth caught our UNSUB’s attention. But he had to have some way of knowing they had money. Which means he had to gain access to their accounts initially to select his victims. What better way to do that than through their computer use?”
The sheriff frowned. “I’m pretty sure the provider is Lantis. They provide access to a lot of the outlying areas in Lane County. But you’re not thinking the company is involved.”
“Just an individual. One of their techs. Maybe even a former employee. We’ll need them to open their employment records to us, as well as which tech serviced the resorts.”
“I’ve got a couple men in cyber crimes, but I’m guessing if we need to search computers for this kind of evidence, it might be outside the expertise of my department. I may have to contact someone at State Police.”
“Eventually, maybe.” Cait sat on the edge of the bed. “I talked to Gavin Pounds earlier, Raiker’s cyber genius. He said it could be as simple as the IP host capturing cookies or keystroke information. To access their online bank records, the offender just needs the account names and passwords. If they check their email from a computer the offender is monitoring, he can even install spyware on their home computer remotely and continue to get information long after they leave here.”
Andrews was staring hard at her. “That easy?”
“I know.” She’d been shocked herself when talking to Gavin. “Although years ago it would have been a bit more of a process, recent ‘innovations’ in the industry have made cyber spying easier. And a state-of-the-art powerful spy system can circumvent many of the more popular anti-spyware software.”
“Del Barton has that wireless café,” Andrews mused, tapping her pencil rapidly against the tablet.
“He told me it had only been open for a year and a half.”
“I think I remember Gibbs mentioning it being fairly recent.”
“These victims disappeared three, five, and six years ago. Did he begin the business from scratch or take over an existing one?” In her one conversation with the man, it had sounded like the place had been a fresh start, but they needed to verify that. As the sheriff jotted that down in her notebook, she continued, almost to herself, “Of course, we’ve got more than one resort in two different towns. Do they both use the same provider? They’d almost have to for this theory to work.”
“Easy enough to find out.” Finished writing, Andrews looked up again, her mouth a thin flat line. “We got nothing on the photos. No one seems to recall either victim at the resorts. Not much surprise there, given how long it’s been since they were here.”
“I struck out, too,” Cait admitted. She stretched her legs out in front of her and suppressed a yawn. The lack of sleep was catching up with her. “I didn’t get to the restaurant that showed up on Livingston’s bill here in town. Tito’s. You might have better luck sending a few men there to interview everyone on staff. It’ll take some time to round up former employees. Any word on the garbage bags or paint?” A brief phone call with Kristy early this afternoon had resulted in the news that the tech had, indeed, found a match.
“Nothing on the paint yet. The garbage bags are sold in several spots within ten miles of here, including the General Store here in town. But other than nailing down accessibility, that lead is pretty much a dead end. We haven’t gotten anywhere on the paint yet.”
“And that would be easy to buy online, too,” Cait admitted. “I think our best lead at this point is the Internet provider.”
“Proving anything is going to be a bitch.” The sheriff’s familiar antsiness was present as she bounced out of the chair and began to pace, slapping the notebook against her stocky thigh as she walked. “Definitely won’t be immediate. We’ll need cyber experts on it, and with the state lab, no telling how soon I can get results.”
“Detective Cross in Idaho mentioned a federal investigation into Bentley’s money transfers. Every monetary transfer in the United States of ten thousand dollars or more has to be reported, so the offender stuck with nine-thousand-dollar transfers to multiple banks. Pounds told me red flags would have been raised if those multiple transfers went out on the same day or if they went to countries known for private banking havens, as many of them are on the terrorism watch list. If we get anything at all on this lead with the IP, you should be able to get some cooperation from the feds who looked into it.”
Andrews threw her a sharklike grin. “Cooperation from the feds? Isn’t that an oxymoron?”
Since there was more than a little truth in the question, Cait responded with a slight smile. “The banking transactions were also looked into for Recinos and Livingston. Those investigations sounded like they stayed local, so we might have better luck there.”
Andrews grunted and seemed to come to a decision. “Well, we’ll start fresh tomorrow. Maybe those newest bones will tell you something.”
Cait hated to tell her that the set of remains they’d taken out of the hot springs were likely to yield the least amount of clues. “I’ll go back to Eugene tonight so I can check on their drying progress in the morning. Once they’re in condition to be handled, we can at least get them put together and get height and maybe approximate age.” It would depend, in any case, on the condition of the bones and whether they were mostly all accounted for. “I don’t know if I told you before, but those remains were male.”
“So we’ve got five men and three women.” The sheriff looked bemused. “I’d expect it to be the other way around.”
“Ostensibly if money is the motivation, it might be easier to find men with bank accounts flush enough to attract the UNSUB. Although you’d think women would be easier to snatch.”
“Some women.” Andrews patted her pockets as if searching for cigarettes. Cait gave silent thanks when she failed to find any. “Others can surprise you.” When her look grew pointed, Cait went tense. “Take you, for instance. You were well and truly pissed this morning. Can’t deny that.”
“You don’t hear me trying to.”
The other woman gave a bark of laughter. “I know what you’re thinking. That Bentley being killed six years ago eliminates Sharper as a suspect because he was still in the Army then. But that still doesn’t necessarily clear him. He could have started killing while home on leave at the same time.”
“Sure,” Cait agreed with mock politeness. “There’s nothing like a little R and R. Fly a few thousand miles home, kill a tourist or two, and then back to the Army for more fun and games. Problem with that is how would he find the tourist if he wasn’t here? How would he have the time to track Bentley for five months and then be back here to kidnap him?”
“Way I hear it that was about the time his grandfather died.”
“That was seven years ago, not six.”
Undeterred, Andrews continued. “I have to do a bit more digging into the exact dates. But if we’re looking for two UNSUBs instead of one, he’s still not off the hook.”
Cait eyed her knowingly. “How’d you come out with him today?”
“He was an asshole, if you must know. Practically invited me to haul him in and charge him. He knew damn well I couldn’t, so he threw me off his property. He’s a real charmer, that one.”
Because her lips threatened to curve, Cait deliberately firmed them. “That’s surprising. Most people are more understanding about being suspected of multiple counts of theft, kidnapping, and homicide. Maybe it was the suspicion of money laundering that put him over the edge.”
“I’m not going to apologize for doing my job,” Andrews said bluntly. But she hesitated then, and her tentative manner instantly put Cait on alert. “I didn’t get to where I am by looks or personality.”
Even as Cait could feel herself heat, the other woman held up a hand as if to halt anything she’d say. “Not saying you did, just saying that wasn’t ever a possibility for me. So I worked harder. Thought harder. Proved myself twice as good as any man. And so if sometimes I’m . . . less than tactful . . . I guess that’s why.”
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