To an outside observer, it might have seemed that an old woman had become lost. Maybe she was a victim of dementia. She’d clearly wandered a long way from home. It was obvious by her clothing that she came from a much less affluent part of town.
At least, that was what Sam was going for. She walked in a stoop, one shoulder hunched lower than the other, right foot dragging a little bit, unruly white hair poking out from beneath a scarf, tattered black shawl whirling about her ankles. Oversized sunglasses covered her eyes, because it was hard to fake the eyes, and hers were a memorably piercing shade of green.
She peered at the mansion as she hobbled slowly past. No cars were parked in the drive, no lights were on, and there was no smoke coming from any of the chimneys. It looked completely uninhabited. If her “jackrabbit” message had incited any action, it had ended long ago. The mansion looked completely deserted.
It was her third surveillance pass. The first one involved a rented Fiat and men’s clothing and the second involved a bicycle with a basket full of bread. The hill had been a bitch, but she was grateful for the exercise. It was a chance to clear her head, which was still full of angry, guilty, worried voices.
She glanced up and down the street, then hazarded a call to a memorized number using a fresh burner. She was too preoccupied to do the time-zone math, and it didn’t really matter anyway. She was confident Dan would pick up.
“Anything?” Dan asked without preamble. His voice sounded tired.
“Nothing. Looks deserted.” She kept her voice low. She saw no one around, but she couldn’t be too careful. Just because she didn’t see them didn’t mean they weren’t there.
“Not much good news here, I’m afraid.”
“Oren Stanley raking me over the coals?”
Dan said, “Whatever you do, don’t pick up a newspaper. And definitely don’t Google your name.”
“I have plenty of other shit to worry about,” Sam said. “Like whether this trail went cold in the time it took me to get here from Tripoli.”
“I don’t think so,” Dan said. “There’s still plenty of message traffic to and from the location.”
“The IP address, you mean?”
“Right.”
“What if they’ve just set up a dummy relay?”
“It wouldn’t be too hard. They could also be faking the IP address using a different computer somewhere else. It’s a classic man-in-the-middle play. But why bother?”
“To waste our time, for one reason. To throw us off the scent.”
“You mean, to throw you off the scent. I am officially not allowed to talk to my suspended supervisor, much less help her with a case she is no longer working.”
“Right,” Sam said. “I’d almost forgotten. Thanks, by the way.”
“You’re welcome. For what it’s worth, I think you’re getting screwed, and the seizure of assets is way over the top.”
“The what?”
“Seizure of your assets,” Dan said. “They’re trying to smoke you out.”
Sam shook her head. “Damn glad not all of my assets can be seized.”
“Paranoia pays,” Dan said, “but don’t give me any details. The higher-ups are interviewing me again tomorrow.”
“Under oath?” Sam asked.
“Not yet, but I’m sure that won’t be too far in the future.”
“You don’t have to lie for me,” Sam said.
“I’m not going to lie for you. I’m going to lie for me. I’m into this up to my eyebrows already.”
“I’m sorry, Dan. You’re in a hell of a spot.”
“Don’t mention it. I’d like to think you’d do the same for me.”
“You know I’m not that stupid,” Sam said, and Dan laughed. “But I’m worried. I mean, they might be right. I might not be the right person for this job anymore. I’ve been over it a thousand times in my mind, and I can’t seem to convince myself that I’d make a different choice next time around.”
Dan was quiet for a while. “Sam, I don’t know what to say. You didn’t kill that little girl. Sometimes things just go sideways. Nobody knows that better than you.”
Sam shook her head. “This feels different.”
She didn’t hear Dan’s reply. It was drowned out by the sound of an approaching car. Underpowered, under-maintained, and under a lot of strain, struggling up the hill.
“Gotta go,” Sam said. She ended the call, dropped the phone into the pocket of her shawl, made sure her body language screamed decrepit old woman, and trained her eyes in the direction of the sound.