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Tess followed him to his private office on the second floor, where the smell of day-old coffee lingered in the air. Tess took the guest chair next to his desk, exactly where she sat one year ago, and grasped the metal armrests. An odd déjà vu overcame her, and she felt doomed to restart the grief cycle, instead of coming full circle to complete it.
On the wall behind Willis, rows of framed commendations praised his service for countless investigations—everything from transit strikes and common thievery to citations for bravery during the 2005 London bus bombings. A twenty-year service award commemorating his dedication to the people of London stood on his bookshelf. Reminders of his achievements strengthened her confidence in his ability to solve this case.
He took a seat and pointed at her injured leg. “I’m sorry ye suffered harm during the Cedarcliff mess. Ye might disagree, but I’d say ye were damn lucky. Kidnapped hostages rarely escape, and those who don’t usually come home in a box.”
“I’m grateful to have survived.” Weary from the previous night’s catharsis, Tess attempted to remain unemotional.
“I read the Mounties’ report, the full report, and ye showed extraordinary bravery, especially for a civilian.” Willis clutched his pen and studied her. “Highly unusual.”
“Thank you. I’m hoping the remaining two gunmen are behind bars. Have any arrests been made?” She assumed the police were closing in on her attackers but simply hadn’t notified her.
Willis pressed his lips together and exhaled. “Our counterterrorism team is working the Cedarcliff case and cooperating with the Mounties. It pains me to tell ye this, but we have no solid leads to identify the attackers.”
“Excuse me?” Floored at the investigation’s lack of progress, she nearly choked, and her mood spiked from calm to livid in two seconds.
“Terror attacks are unheard of in British Columbia, and no group has claimed responsibility. Witness interviews on the scene didn’t reveal any clues about the group’s affiliation either.” Willis tapped a black pen on his desktop.
“That’s it? Nothing?” She slammed a fist on Willis’s desk and growled. “Look, I am your lead. Go find Malinavy Molat, which means Crimson Hammer in English. They’re a Belarusian terrorist group, Russian sympathizers, with assassins and hackers on their payroll.”
“You’re serious, Ms. Bennett?” Frowning, Willis pushed away from his desk and laced his hands over his chest. As he jiggled a knee, a spring in the wheeled office chair squeaked.
“Very.” Not surprised by his reaction, she stood her ground, nonplussed and confident she held the truth.
He swept aside the empty coffee cups littering his desk, whipped out a spiral notebook, and opened it to a blank page. “I’m listening, Ms. Bennett. But frankly, wild speculation won’t help us track the suspects, so ye’d better have solid evidence. Tell me more.”
“Fine.” Tess recounted what she had learned since Cedarcliff and how Kingsley Tech planned its defense against imminent attack while Willis raced to scribble names, dates, and connections. Summarizing all the technical details and key points from her captivity, she constructed a clear outline of all the players and their motives. Willis’s initial rejection of her claim shifted as she shared more information.
His first pen ran out of ink, and he grabbed another one from his drawer. “Okay. Explain how this relates to Kyle and how ye pieced it together. As ye know, we ruled his death a single-car accident and closed his case in January.”
“Crimson Hammer assassinated Kyle, and you need to reopen his case now.”
“I see. Let’s review Kyle’s case file.” Willis stopped writing and swiveled to face his computer screen. “Automobile accident, fatality, dated November 11, Kyle MacTavish of Westminster, London.” He scrolled through the record and frowned. “Wait a second. Something’s wrong here.”
“What is it?” Before Kyle’s death, Tess considered car crashes a tragedy. A terrible, cruel turn of fate, but one lacking blame or deliberate intent. In comparison, Kyle’s brutal end, executed by criminals, added seeking justice to the weighty grief she already carried. Determined to keep any tears at bay, she popped a mint into her mouth, hoping to avoid dwelling too long on the crash.
“Someone’s tampered with his case file. The record now lists the investigator as Inspector John Doe. Ridiculous. I certified the official final report for Kyle’s case, but my supporting files are gone. The case verdict displays as Reckless Driving Under the Influence, Opiates.” Willis scowled at his computer.
She slumped as if someone had kicked her in the gut. “Opiates? What total rubbish.”
“Agreed. Kyle’s toxicology report tested clean. No alcohol, drugs, or garbage like that.” He drummed his fingers on the desk. “One possibility is the suspects forced his car off the road. However, when we retrieved his car from the bay, only crashed metal remained, and we couldn’t prove foul play. No witnesses either.”
“What would anyone have to gain by hacking Kyle’s record?” Changing the record seemed pointless, given the original data was ruled an accident, a designation less likely to incriminate someone.
Fuming, Willis reviewed the record. “Someone’s slandering Kyle’s character and deleting evidence to cover their tracks, in case anyone asks questions like ye are today.” He gestured toward her. “After the life insurance claims settle, we close the case, and it’s rare for us to revisit the record. Someone expected questions would arise and altered this record in advance.”
“What date did the record change?”
“October 28, three weeks ago. The date can’t be a coincidence.” Willis wrote the date in his notebook and tapped a pen against his weathered wooden desk.
“Why?”
Willis stopped writing and glanced up from his notes. “Because I don’t believe in them.”
“Right.” Another non-believer in coincidences. “Do you have daily backups in the cloud or a database archive from the same day and week? Any digital trail, or unusual network activity, could surface leads. Can you retrieve change reports to check which records changed that day?”
“I’ll call IT and request our backups right away.” Willis jotted more notes into his notebook.
Tess gripped the chair’s armrests. “A police database breach is unwelcome news any way you slice it. Who do you think changed Kyle’s record, someone inside the squad or an outside hacker? And for what motive?”
