The Scarecrow

I wrote a few notes about the findings, then flipped back through the pages to see if anything prompted another question. Between what I knew and had seen and what Rachel was telling me, I would have a hell of a story for the next day.

“So Western Data is completely closed down, right?”

“Pretty much. I mean, the websites that are hosted at the company are still operating. We froze the colocation center, though. No data is going in or out until the EER team completes its assessment.”

“Some of the clients, like the big law firms, are going to go ape shit when they find out the FBI has custody of their stored files, aren’t they?”

“Probably, but we’re not opening any stored files. At least not yet. We are just maintaining the system as is for the time being. Nothing in or out. We worked with Carver on a message that went out to all clients to keep them informed. It said that the situation is temporary and that Carver, as a representative of the company, was observing the FBI investigation and ensuring the integrity of the files, yada, yada, yada. That’s the best we can do. If they go ape shit, then I guess they go ape shit.”

“What about Carver? You checked him out, right?”

“Yes, he’s clean, all the way back to MIT. We need to trust somebody inside and I guess it’s him.”

I was silent as I wrote a few final notes. I had more than enough to write the story the next day. Even if I couldn’t get through to Rachel, I was sure my story would lead the paper and draw national attention. Two serial killers for the price of one.

“Jack, you there?”

“Yeah, I’m just writing. Anything else?”

“That’s about it.”

“You’re being careful?”

“Of course. My gun and badge are being overnighted to me. I’ll be locked and loaded tomorrow morning.”

“Then you’ll be all set.”

“I will. Can we finally talk about us now?”

I was suddenly speared through the chest with anxiety. She wanted to get the work-related discussion out of the way so she could get to what she really wanted to say about our relationship. After all the unanswered phone calls, I didn’t think it was going to be good news.

“Uh, sure,” I said. “What about us?”

I got up off the bed, ready to take the news standing up. I walked over to the bottle of wine and picked it up. I was staring at it when she spoke.

“Well, you know, I didn’t want this to be all business.”

I felt a little better. I put the bottle down again and started to loosen the spear.

“Me, too.”

“In fact, I was thinking… I know this is going to sound crazy.”

“What is?”

“Well, when they offered me my job back today, I felt so… I don’t know, elated, I guess. Vindicated in some way. But then when I got back here by myself tonight, I started thinking about that thing you said when you were joking around.”

I couldn’t remember what she meant so I played along.

“And?”

She sort of laughed before answering.

“And, well, I think it really could be kind of fun if we tried it.”

I was racking my brain, wondering if this had something to do with the single-bullet theory. What was it I had said?

“You really think so?”

“Well, I don’t know anything about business or how we would get clients, but I think I’d like working with you on investigations. It would be fun. It’s already been fun.”

Now I remembered. Walling and McEvoy, Discreet Investigations. I smiled. I pulled the spear out of my chest and slammed it point-first into the hard ground, staking a claim like that astronaut who put the flag on the moon.

“Yeah, Rachel, it’s been nice,” I said, hoping my cool bravado masked my inner relief. “But I don’t know. You were pretty upset when you were facing life without a badge.”

“I know. Maybe I’m kidding myself. We’d probably end up doing divorce work and that’s gotta kill the soul over time.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, it’s something to think about.”

“Hey, I’ve got nothing lined up. So you won’t hear me objecting. I just want to make sure you don’t make a mistake. I mean, is everything suddenly forgiven there with the bureau? They just gave you your job back and that’s that?”

“Probably not. They’ll lie in wait for me. They always do.”

I heard the knock on her door and the muffled voice of someone calling out, “Room service.”

“My dinner’s here,” Rachel said. “I gotta go.”

“Okay. I’ll see you later, Rachel.”

“Okay, Jack. Good night.”

I smiled as I disconnected the call. Later would be sooner than she thought.

After brushing my teeth and checking myself in the mirror, I grabbed the bottle of Grand Embrace and slipped the folding corkscrew that room service had provided into my pocket. I made sure I had my key card and left the room.