Page 39 of Cipher

Corbin pulled out a chair for me, then sat beside me and slid a folded piece of paper across the table. “The PI is Darren Pike. The payment went through a handle traced back to Nina’s ex. Messages on the cloud will show that Pike’s the one who confirmed the address and took the photos.”

My father’s expression darkened. “I told you we were waiting for the warrant.”

Corbin didn’t look particularly concerned. “You were.”

Dad’s eyes narrowed. “And you?”

“Don’t have a badge.”

Judge leaned back in his chair and sighed. “Which means none of this touches your case until you recover it legally. Use the lead and build your own proof.”

My dad dragged a hand over his face. “Every time I work with you people, my paperwork gets thicker and my patience gets thinner.”

Judge shrugged. “Only one of those helps your case.”

My father was irritated, while Corbin and Judge were completely unapologetic. Their dynamic wasn’t going to help anything, so I pointed out, “The important thing here is that we know who the PI is and that the burner phone will connect him to the case. That’s a win in my book.”

Dad exhaled and pulled the paper closer. “I’ll run it down the right way. If Pike’s dirty, I want the evidence to stick in court.”

Corbin dipped his chin. “It will.”

I suspected that Corbin would make sure of that, no matter what it took. And I was surprised to find I wasn’t even a little bit bothered by that. My dad had raised me to follow the letter of the law, but this case—and falling for Corbin—had shown me the need for crossing the line sometimes.

The next day we were back at Black Castle, this time under the guise of meeting my dad for lunch. Once again, he was already waiting in the conference room when we arrived. There were a few wrapped sandwiches, bottles of water, and bags of chips on the table.

“My people independently recovered the payment record and deleted message fragments from the phone provider.” Dad leaned back in his chair. “Chain of custody is clean. I can move on Pike without anything tracing back to you.”

Corbin reached for a bottle of water. “Good.”

“I interviewed him this afternoon.” Dad opened a folder. “Pike claims Nina’s ex hired him for a lawful locate. Says he had no knowledge of the protected address, restraining order, or any plan to divert police response. The payment and the timing look bad, but it’s not enough to prove he knowingly assisted in her assault yet.”

“All it takes is a simple search to find the protection order.” I shook my head with a sigh. “He has to be lying.”

“Probably,” Dad agreed. “But I need more than that for the prosecutor to file criminal charges. The only thing I can prove right now is that he acted unethically. That should get his license suspended.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “It’s not enough for what he did.”

“Then we go at it from the other side.” Corbin leaned forward. “What would a convincing rollover call do to the nearest units?”

I sat up straighter, mentally shifting into dispatch mode. “It depends on which zone they’re in. Worst-case scenario, a rollover with possible serious injuries will pull the only car within miles. With the amount of land Dad’s deputies cover, one well-timed call to the wrong location will create maybe a ten- or fifteen-minute window of time where nobody is available to take another priority call in that sector.”

Dad nodded. “Some of my men drive a couple of hundred miles per shift with all the winding roads we patrol.”

“That changes the parameters.” Corbin pulled his laptop out of his bag and set it in front of him.

While he tapped away at his keyboard and bounced between files at a pace I couldn’t keep up with, my dad and I ate two of the sandwiches.

Corbin finally sat back. “There’s another case they interfered with. An older one. That makes it six across eighteen months of data. Calls with the same pattern of missing recordings, redirected units, and delayed response. They all overlap a small pool of rural patrol shifts and the vendor-support windows assigned to Stowe’s company.”

My dad’s expression tightened. “So we’re looking at deputies who regularly work those sectors and whoever’s been using Stowe’s credentials.”

“We’re closer,” I whispered.

Corbin squeezed my hand. “Just not quite there yet.”

16

CIPHER