“SO WHAT DO WE ACTUALLY know about this guy?” D.D. asked.
They’d taken over the FBI’s meeting room. Not D.D.’s favorite location, as she felt she was ceding more and more of her homicide investigation to the feds. Then again, she had two feebies at the table to her one BPD self. Add to that a rogue CI and a civilian true-crime buff, and this was getting to be the craziest investigative team she’d ever seen.
She didn’t approve of crazy. Or the fact that she didn’t know what to do next. She always knew what to do next.
Dr. Keynes did the honors: “Flora, did you ever see the man—Conrad or, I suppose, Conner—at another bar? Or perhaps meeting up with Jacob at one of the truck stops?”
“No. But Jacob would often take off on his own . . .”
There was a slight hesitation and D.D. caught it.
“What?” she demanded.
Flora wouldn’t make eye contact with any of them. “It was shortly after that, Jacob returned to Florida with me. Where he became . . . involved in other business. Whatever he may have been doing previously, I think once he hit Florida, that became his full-time focus.”
D.D. understood what Flora wasn’t saying. Dr. Keynes and Kimberly Quincy should as well, meaning Flora’s oblique reference had to do with the new guy in the room. Fair enough. Everyone was entitled to their privacy, and God knows a survivor of a sensational kidnapping case had to fight to keep hers.
“So Jacob had definitely made a connection with Conrad. Everything about what you described was hardly a coincidental meeting,” D.D. stated.
“But Conrad’s own intentions are unclear.” Quincy spoke up. The FBI agent wore a frown similar to D.D.’s own. Clearly, she didn’t approve of crazy either. “Was he there as a second perpetrator, or as some kind of self-appointed savior? Do you think he recognized you from TV?” she asked Flora.
Flora shrugged. “I doubt it. By that point, I’d lost a lot of weight. My hair was hacked off. Most of the time I didn’t recognize myself in the mirror. Jacob had been taking me out in public for months, and no one ever looked at me twice.”
“Did Conrad try to make eye contact, send you any other signals?” D.D. tried again. “Morse code isn’t exactly the easiest way to establish contact. And risky, given Jacob was a long-haul trucker and had experience on the radio.”
“I kept my gaze down. Jacob didn’t like it when I looked up. Conrad might have tried something. I wouldn’t have known. And Jacob never left us alone. He had his hand on my shoulder the whole time.”
“When did you leave the town?” Quincy asked now.
“The next day. Up and out. Jacob was hardy. He could drink all night, still get up at four and start driving. He’d been off the road for a week. I imagine he had to get back to work.”
“Motel Upland,” D.D. provided. “Last time we talked, you thought you recalled a flashing motel sign that read Motel Upland. Something more for us to check out. Maybe we can even find a record of Conrad Carter or one of his aliases staying there or nearby. Of course, it would help if we had a state and not just ‘someplace in the South.’”
“Try Mississippi,” Quincy suggested. “Given the Abita beer.”
“I think Jacob promised Flora to Conrad, made some kind of deal.” D.D. noticed Keith didn’t look directly at Flora as he said this. He spoke evenly, his tone strictly professional. It made D.D. wonder if Flora would hurt him now or later.
“I don’t think that’s much of a stretch,” Quincy said drily.
While Flora added, “You think Conrad intended to take me away. Jacob would’ve thought it was to abuse me. But maybe Conrad was really trying to rescue me.”
“Interesting thought,” Dr. Samuel mused. He nodded toward D.D. “Does Conrad have any history in law enforcement, military service? Time with at-risk kids?”
“Not even a volunteer at a soup kitchen,” she assured him. “Which makes this all stranger still. But he did have a box of fake IDs. Meaning whatever he was doing in that bar, he was working ‘undercover,’ so to speak. The question remains, to what end? One predator networking with another? Or some lone gunman trying to save the day? But how would he know about Flora? And if this is really what he did, shouldn’t there be some record of other girls he rescued, or crimes stopped? Certainly, his wife doesn’t know about any of this. She appeared as shocked by the fake IDs and cash stash as anyone. Though again, she shot up his computer, which may prove his travel activities weren’t altruistic after all.”
“What do you know about his other aliases, the names on the IDs?” Quincy asked.
“Nothing yet. One of my fellow detectives, Neil, has been working on them. He’s running each name through state databases with the license number, but given how common the aliases are, he’s getting too much information. The few he’s managed to whittle down to the ‘right’ Conner or Carter or whatnot, there’s no attached credit history, criminal records, anything. He suspects the IDs are hollow—not representative of whole new lives, just literally a piece of plastic procured for getting into a club.”
“But didn’t you say Conrad had a connection to Florida?” Quincy pressed. “And Jacob was from Florida. Surely that can’t be coincidence.”
“I don’t like coincidences any more than the next person,” D.D. assured her. “But Florida is a big state. Conrad’s family lived in Jacksonville. Jacob Ness’s mother lived on the west coast, north of Tampa. They were hardly neighbors. On the other hand, Jacob drove all around on his job and Conrad traveled all around on his, so anything is possible. Neil will keep searching. But we just learned about the aliases today, so it’ll take a bit more digging.
“I don’t think we should worry about Conrad’s reasons for meeting Jacob and Flora.” Keith spoke up. “We can speculate about why Conrad came to the bar all we want, but at this time we lack adequate data.”
An IT geek through and through, D.D. noted.
“The real question is: How did Conrad and Jacob make contact? You said Jacob had a cheap burner phone. Did you see him call anyone before you entered the bar?” Keith asked Flora.
“No. But he could’ve done it while I was in the bathroom cleaning up.”
“But Conrad knew exactly how to find you. Walked straight over to you.”
“I guess.”
“Clearly the meet was planned in advance. By a guy who didn’t really use his cell but had the Tor browser on his laptop.”
Once again, Flora shrugged. The rest of them simply waited.
“All the more reason to suspect that Jacob was active on the dark web and networking with other predators there. Now, Tor works to obscure a user’s IP address by encrypting internet traffic while bouncing it through odd routes. However, it’s not as anonymous as people think. A user’s information is briefly unencrypted when entering and exiting the dark web, meaning there should be some recoverable information.”
Quincy shook her head. “I already told you, the FBI turned the computer inside and out. Nothing.”
But Keith wouldn’t be denied. “To access anything, dark web, deep web—”
“What’s deep web?” D.D. interrupted.
“Any site you need to log in to—banks, e-mail, e-commerce. Social networks, too, such as Facebook or Twitter. But there are members-only forums for just about anything and everything these days.
“Most people start on the deep web—visiting sites where they feel they’re safe—then move on to the dark web. But either way, Jacob would have to have a username and password for some of these online accounts, which would be stored in his hard drive’s SAM—Security Account Manager. Unless, of course, he remembered to remove that data. The Tor browser, for example, includes a screen asking the user if he really wants to save the information, as a way of prompting him not to store the info. Not all accounts are as helpful, however, and it’s not uncommon for even the savviest IT guru to miss a stored password here or there.” Keith stared at Quincy.
“I already said,” the FBI agent bit out tightly, “our computer techs are the best in the business. As a matter of protocol, we ran the password cracker against the computer’s SAM file and, yes, we discovered stored credentials for a single Gmail account, JNess. Except none of the recovered e-mails revealed anything of a criminal nature. Certainly nothing related to the dark web.”
“What about a domain name? Most bad guys love to register vanity domains, BadAssDude.com, whatever.”
“No.”
“Then he had another e-mail account,” Keith stated. “He left the first as a reward for prying eyes, better hid the second. There are plenty of ways.”
“Not that someone with Jacob’s background should know about.” Quincy clearly wasn’t convinced. “You’re giving him too much credit.”
“But again, once on the dark web, the experts he could’ve met, the lessons he could’ve learned. Flora said he was clever and driven when it came to hiding his habits. And we’re not talking about complicated programming. Get one tech nerd in a chat room, and the rest becomes paint-by-numbers security steps. Jacob would just need to do what he was told.”
Keith spoke matter-of-factly. Flora looked interested, while Kimberly appeared even more pissed. At least D.D. was now having some fun.
“What would you suggest trying next?” D.D. asked Keith. The man did seem to know his stuff, and as long as the “best in the business” FBI techs were coming up empty . . .
“Work on figuring out a second username. Just because there’s no record of one on his laptop doesn’t mean we can’t use old-fashioned deductive reasoning to come up with some possibilities. We could then plug and play those options on known websites till we get a hit.”
“You mean given Jacob’s own background and history.” Dr. Keynes spoke up. “We determine what online identity would appeal to him?”
“We did every version of Jacob Ness possible,” Quincy argued. “JNess Jacnes. NJacob, et cetera. Hell, one of our techs wrote an algorithm just to run all possible name combos.”
“He’d never use his own name to access the dark web,” Flora stated immediately. “Too obvious.”
“We tried Everett, too,” Quincy reported. “Fake Everett. Any detail we could glean from your interview with Dr. Keynes. Including your name, your father’s name, even your brother’s name. Jacob had a sly and cruel sense of humor. We all can agree on that.”
“Hang on.” D.D. raised a hand. “Forget username for a minute. Given this Tor browser, we can be sure Jacob was accessing the dark web?”
Quincy and Keith nodded.
“Meaning if Conrad was connecting with the likes of Jacob Ness or other predators—either as a fellow abuser or a naïve avenger—he’d have to be part of the dark web as well.”
More nodding.
D.D. smiled. First real break all day. “Meaning, Conrad’s wife may have destroyed his computer, but there should still be traces of his activities on the dark web, right? You said every time a user logged in and out, there’s a moment when their data is unencrypted. Meaning, we figure out Conrad’s username, log on through Tor, and . . .”
“We should be able to identity frequently visited sites, maybe even some chat rooms,” Keith supplied. “Basically, identify this Conrad guy’s username, or Ness’s evildoer username, and the amount of data we could suddenly recover . . . Contacts, activities, identities of other predators.”
D.D. started nodding. “I like it. Two subjects, two usernames, two bites at the same dark web apple.”
Quincy had stopped frowning. “But do we have ideas for Conrad’s username?” she asked.
“His wife might.”
“Is she cooperating?”
“Not yet, but I have some ideas on that subject.” D.D. eyed Flora.
“Monster,” Flora stated.
“What?” D.D. didn’t follow the transition.
“Jacob always referred to himself as a monster. No one wants to be a monster.”
D.D. was still confused, but Keith was suddenly nodding. “Loch Ness Monster,” he murmured.
Quincy immediately sat up, expression intent. “Could it be that simple? His username is some play on Loch Ness? Jacob Ness the monster, Nessie the monster?”
“I don’t think he’d use Ness.” Flora again. “Too direct a tie. But that kind of sly inference he’d like.”
“There are other creatures,” Dr. Keynes provided. “Ogopogo, for instance. It would appear random, while having a secret meaning to Jacob that would fulfill his need to be silently superior.”
“The sightings of the monster took place in Inverness-shire in Scotland,” Keith rattled off. He turned toward Quincy. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t Jacob’s mom live in Inverness, Florida? A city named by a Scotsman who said the lakes in the area reminded him of the lochs of his homeland?”
Quincy nodded. “Jacob’s mailing address was his mother’s home in Inverness, Florida.”
“There’s a connection there.” Flora again, looking convinced. “Inverness, loch Florida, L Inverness, something like that.”
Quincy started to scribble on her notepad.
“There are some algorithms which could blow out all possible combinations,” Keith began.
Quincy’s turn to hold up a hand. “Quit while you’re ahead. All right, I got this. I’ll get in touch with the techs, see what we can do.”
“The office next to mine is empty,” Dr. Keynes offered. “You can set up shop there.”
The agent nodded her appreciation.
Flora looked at D.D. “What next?”
“Boyfriend goes home.”
“He is not—”
“Civilian goes home,” D.D. reiterated firmly. “You can catch him up later. But you and I have business. You’re still my CI. Time to earn your keep.”
“What do you mean?”
D.D. was already rising to standing. “Come on, you’re with me.”
“Where are we going?”
“I’ll explain along the way.”
D.D. headed for the door. Flora scrambled after.