Val envisioned her final interview of the day, a 3:00 p.m. with Sanjit Patwari, as being a debrief more than anything else. Sanjit had helped the investigation immeasurably by providing data and insider access to Val and Shelby. The grind of the long succession of interviews, none of which provided any real clues other than Nora’s and Tasha Koval’s, left her exhausted. She was grateful to see his smiling face enter the room.
“I hope this day was productive for you,” Sanjit said, offering a fresh, cold bottle of water and taking a seat across from her. “Did you obtain useful clues to aid in your investigation?”
“I think so,” Val said. “I’ll need to follow up to see if any of the information leads to anything significant.”
“If there is anything more I can do to help, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
Val took a swig of the water, savoring the relief it provided to her dry, scratchy throat. “May I ask you something in confidence?”
“Isn’t all of this in confidence?” Sanjit said with a look of puzzlement.
“It is. In particular, though, I’d like you to not discuss this conversation with anyone else.” Val sipped her water again. “Even Shelby.”
“Of course.” Sanjit’s expression grew serious. “I understand she is IT staff and not an official investigator on your team.”
“Right.” Val gathered her thoughts. “How long have you worked at VeroniCare?”
“About three years,” Sanjit said. “I started as a web designer and earned a promotion to website manager about eighteen months ago.”
“So, longer than Nora?”
Sanjit gave her a blank look.
“Your receptionist.”
“Oh, right. Ms. Duggan. Yes, Nora started about a year after me, I think.” He shrugged. “I am not sure. I don’t know her well.”
“So, you wouldn’t know any of her outside affiliations. Church, social clubs, things like that?”
Sanjit shook his head. “We don’t socialize. I mean, she’s nice enough and all. She’s been nothing but kind and polite to me.”
Val frowned. “Kind” and “polite” were the last two words she’d have come up with to describe the receptionist. She recalled something Shelby had shared with her. “The IT department performs periodic security audits on every employee’s accounts, correct?”
He nodded. “Every year.”
Now to the heart of it. Val tried to keep her tone casual. “On these audits, have any ‘red flags’ come up on anyone—Nora, for example—since you’ve been here?”
He shook his head again. “Not at all. We vet our applicants thoroughly before hiring them. That is why we are focused on external sources for these attacks.”
“I see.” Val didn’t share Sanjit’s convictions about the efficacy of those checks. Most corporate facility and data breaches came from within, according to statistics. Perhaps VeroniCare was one of the few exceptions.
Something else occurred to her that had niggled at her for a few days, but she hadn’t been able to articulate sooner. “I was impressed with how quickly you provided the requested data to us. Did you work through the night to pull that together?”
Sanjit grinned. “Not quite. We have protocols in place to provide such data.”
Alarm bells rang in Val’s head. “Why? Have you experienced break-ins and hacking attempts before?”
“Break-ins, no. Hacking attempts, yes, for years. That is why we have developed such vigorous defenses against them.”
“Did you hire any outside expertise to investigate these attempts?”
Sanjit nodded, grinning with obvious pride. “A few months ago, we hired a consulting firm to review our IT and security defenses. I can get you a copy of their report. To summarize, they gave us an A+ overall—their top rating.”
“Have you engaged this consultant to help investigate the latest incidents?”
Sanjit nodded. “We provided him the same information we gave to Shelby. They haven’t yet issued their report on that incident.”
“Wait,” Val said with growing alarm. “You gave him information on your employees and their links to Safe Haven? Personnel data?”
“Y-yes. It’s our standard operating procedure. Why?”
“Who is this consultant and how did you find him?”
“They’re a reputable firm,” Sanjit said. “In fact, it’s interesting that you’ve been so interested in Nora today. She’s the one who recommended them.”
“Nora doesn’t strike me as the IT-security type.”
Sanjit spread his hands in surrender. “I wasn’t on the selection team. However, this firm submitted a very competitive bid. Wait, I’ll find their name.” He opened his phone and scanned through his contact list. “Here it is. RS Consulting. Here’s his email and phone number.” He slid the phone to Val.
She jotted down the information. None of it meant anything to her, but she’d ask Shelby about them later. Then another thought came to her. “You said it’s ‘his’ name, yet all I see is the company name and contact info. Who’s your principal contact there?”
“Oh, sorry,” Sanjit said. “I’ve never met him in person. It’s a one-man company. His name is Ray Stafford.”
As per the plan, Stafford slipped out of the interview with the cop—okay, Cap dismissed him, using the pre-arranged code word “partition”—and changed back into his delivery job uniform: chocolate brown button-down shirt, ivy cap, sunglasses. He completed his assigned deliveries and returned to the MMA arena instead of the warehouse for another load. Stafford needed the money, but the movement needed him more.
He also craved the accolades he’d receive from his Cell Captain. They—he—had nabbed an important recruit, one with much more respect inside the police department than the falling star that fed them occasional tidbits now. Then, in the interview, he’d performed well, keeping quiet as commanded, intervening in crucial moments when his knowledge and his personal connection mattered the most. An objective observer would credit Stafford with playing a critical role—and with playing his part, instead of “going rogue” as Cap characterized his earlier efforts.
Stafford entered the space, expecting to find Cap in the workout gym. Barring that, the lockers, or perhaps the office upstairs. But his search proved fruitless. A few guys in the weight room said he’d left not long after the cop did.
Disappointed and frustrated by being stood up, he trudged to his locker. A workout would help release some stress. He spun the digits on his combination lock and swung open the door. A folded piece of paper fluttered to the floor.
He picked it up, opened it. Recognized Cap’s handwriting:
WTF, dude?
Didn’t I tell you to STFU and let me handle it? You almost blew the whole thing! Luckily I smoothed things over after, but God Damn, man.
I have to report this.
Stafford slumped down onto the bench, stunned and humiliated. How—? What—? Why?
After a few seconds, his shame turned to anger. Once again, Cap chastised Stafford for doing what they all preached they should do: follow the plan. Take initiative. Be bold. Take risks.
Also clear: the Cell Captain intended to take credit for Stafford’s success and bad-mouth him to the upper brass. Stafford’s chances of gaining the leadership position in Torrington would go up in smoke, just like that.
Why? Why was Cap so determined to stifle his progress?
There was only one explanation. Cap was jealous of his success. He knew that Stafford’s fast rise would eclipse his, maybe stalling Cap’s rise in the hierarchy. Buried in Clayton, stagnating, while Stafford’s action-oriented style gained favor and led to dramatic successes.
Like last week.
He needed to stave off this effort at sabotage, stat.
However, Cap had the advantage. He knew the higher-ups, had their ear and their trust. He also had a head start, probably already filled their ears with his lies and self-aggrandizement.
Stafford had options, though. Advantages that Cap didn’t. Not least being knowledge of the landscape out there, on the street. Where the rubber meets the road—or, rather, where bullets meet their targets.
And Stafford, unlike Cap, was a man of action.
Val caught up on paperwork back at the office, adding interview summaries to the VeroniCare case file, until the minute she needed to leave for the dojo. Dinner and Gil would have to wait until after her jiu jitsu session.
After a quick change of clothes, she hit the mat for her warm-ups. Two things struck her as odd.
One: Tank, as always, roamed the gym, exhorting the participants to work harder, but his omnipresent sidekick, Stevie Ray, was absent.
And two: Maya sat in a folding chair to the side of the mats, arms folded, looking sad, and dressed in street clothes instead of her gi.
“Not working out tonight?” Val asked after finishing her stretching routine.
“Not tonight.” Maya’s voice sounded thinner than usual—a sign of stress reinforced by her cloudy eyes and close-lipped smile.
“I’ll miss you out there,” Val said. “Can you help coach from the sideline?”
“Maybe. Excuse me for a moment. I need to use the bathroom.” Maya dashed off to the lockers.
“Circle up in five!” Tank shouted to the room, twice as loud as he needed to. He approached Val and pointed toward her. “Can you help lead the group again tonight? We’re a little short-handed.”
“I guess. Where’s Stevie Ray?” Val asked.
Tank shrugged. “Pouting somewhere. Little pussy’s mad at me.” He laughed and wandered off, repeating his “five minutes” warning to the sparse group of attendees.
Val realized that she and Jan had never circled back about taking Tank downtown for some good-old-fashioned grilling that afternoon. They’d need to touch base in the morning about that.
She needed a bathroom break before the instruction started, so she headed into the lockers. She found Maya splashing her face at the sink, eyes red. The room, other than the two of them, was empty.
Val stood at the sink next to her, washing her hands. That only doubled the pressure on her bladder, but that could wait. “Are you okay?”
Maya nodded, leaning over the sink, palms supporting her weight on the granite counter. A faint sob escaped her, and tears lined her cheeks.
“What’s wrong?” Val said in a soft voice, edging closer.
Maya shrugged, wiped her nose with one hand, and ran the faucet again. She slathered soap on her hands and rubbed them together hard enough to start a damned fire.
“If you want me to shut up and go away, I will,” Val said. “But I can see something’s bothering you and if you want to talk—”
“I’m pregnant,” Maya blurted out, and then the tears really flowed.
Oh, shit.
Val stood near Maya, her heart tearing in two. Maya needed comfort from someone she could trust. A close friend. But she and Val had met only a week before. While Val liked the young woman and thought Maya felt a kinship to her as well, she wouldn’t dare assume to have earned a spot in Maya’s inner circle.
However, Maya’s inner circle wasn’t there. Val was. She needed to do something. She recalled how she’d reacted to Beth’s similar revelation. Different people, different emotional reactions, but the needs had to be similar.
She rested a hand on Maya’s shaking shoulder, expecting her new friend to react in a subdued but receptive and grateful way. Instead, Maya wrapped Val in a tight hug, crushing Val’s ribs and forcing the air out of her lungs. She coughed, hoping it would shake Maya free. Instead all it did was expel more essential air from her body.
Val patted Maya’s back, working a breath in through her nose, filtered through the thick black hair that fluffed into Val’s face. “Hey, it’ll be okay. I promise.”
Maya sobbed again, nodded, and loosened her grip a little.
“How far along?” The question invaded Maya’s privacy a bit, but that ship had already sailed.
“S-seven w-weeks. I m-missed two periods and so I took the home test last Friday.” Maya sniffled and calmed a bit. “The doctor confirmed today.”
“Does your boyfriend know?” Val kept her voice steady.
Maya shook her head, her hair slapping Val’s face. “S-sorry,” she said, breaking their embrace. She dabbed at her nose with a crumpled tissue, already soggy with tears, and sniffled again. “I d-don’t know h-how to tell him.”
“I’m no expert with this type of situation. But when I need to share sensitive news with Gil, I sit down with him and ask for him to be patient while I—”
“The baby isn’t his.” Maya broke into tears again. “He and I…haven’t been intimate. We were…waiting. He’s from a very traditional family.” She pressed her eyes shut and pinched the bridge of her nose with the tissue-free hand as if to stem the tears.
“I see.” Val took a breath. “That complicates things. Do you want—”
“If I tell him, he’ll leave me. He dumped another girlfriend already for that reason.” Maya sighed. “They were waiting, too.”
Val smiled. “I waited for the right guy, too.” Realizing how condescending that might sound, she rushed on to a new thought. “Does the biological father know?”
Maya pulled her hand away and faced the ceiling, breathing through her open mouth. “No. I…haven’t had the courage to… It was only one time, and he…” She turned and faced Val. “He…scares me.”
“Scares you, how?” The hairs on the back of Val’s neck stood on end. Abusive spouses and boyfriends deserved a special place in hell in her version of the Divine Comedy.
“He’s…big, and he’s…sometimes a little…controlling, and he gets angry and sometimes v-viol…” She couldn’t finish. Tears took over once again.
“So he’s not someone you want in your future, then.”
Maya shrugged. “I kind of don’t have any choice about that.”
Her phrasing puzzled Val. “What do you mean? Did he take off? Is he long-distance? Do you see him, or is he, uh, part of your life still?” Val didn’t want to ask the dreaded “Is he family” question if she could help it.
“He’s…local, and still part of my life, I guess.” Maya wrung her hands together, tearing the soggy tissue into shreds, staring into the sink. “He’s…” Her mouth worked, but no more sound emerged.
“A friend?” Val prompted.
Maya’s eyes rolled. “He’s such a fucking asshole!”
Val bit back But you slept with him and nodded. “Lots of guys just aren’t worth it, are they?”
“I don’t know what to do!” Maya folded her arms across her chest. “I can’t raise a baby alone. My parents are so conservative—they’d disown me if they knew.” She took a deep breath. “They raised me to respect the sanctity of human life, including the unborn. But Val,” she said, and the tears flowed again. “I can’t do it.”
“Can’t have the baby, or can’t have an abortion?”
“Neither,” Maya said. “Not least because if R—uh, the father finds out…My God, Val. I’m so afraid of what he’d do.”
“Maya, no matter what you decide,” Val said, “I will help you. I’ll keep you safe, and if you want, I can look into options for you. Adoption, abortion, whatever you want. Don’t let that mean bastard of a father intimidate you into making the wrong choice.”
Maya glared at her. “What’s the right choice?”
“Whatever’s right for you,” Val said. “Please, Maya. This choice is yours and yours alone. I and others can help, but we can’t decide for you. Only you know what’s right—”
The locker room door squeaked open and a loud, booming male voice echoed through the chamber. “Ladies!” Tank shouted. “You coming?”
“In a minute,” Val said. She couldn’t see his face, but she could hear his frustration.
“No ‘minute’. I said circle up in five, and that was ten minutes ago,” Tank shouted back. “Piss, wash your fucking hands, and get your fat asses out here!”
The door shut and heavy footsteps stomped away.
Val turned back to Maya, whose cowering body had slumped into a tiny, sobbing ball on the floor. Val sat next to her, swallowed hard, and put an arm around her shoulder.
“See?” Maya said. “He’s so scary!”
Val’s blood ran cold when she realized the implication of Maya’s comment.
The father of Maya’s baby was Richard “Tank” Steiger.