14 - J. T. Ellison [66]
“Damn. I think you’re right. Without help, it’s needle-in-a-haystack time. Thanks for handling that for me. And let me know what the school says. If they give you any guff, let me know. I’ve still got friends in the administration. They’ll talk if we need them to. What about Jane Macias? What’s happening there?”
Lincoln reached over his shoulder and neatly snagged a laptop off his desk. “Got her computer. I haven’t found anything yet. Most of her work is password-protected, and she used rotating binary generator accounts to give random pass codes. Based on the Bernoulli equation.”
Taylor shook her head. “Huh?”
“Bernoulli’s principle? Increases in velocity, decreases in pressure create lift. Commonly taught as why airplanes fly, though it would have to be a perfect world for that particular equation to work. It’s just easy to explain. The binary generator uses the velocity equation from Bernoulli to—”
Taylor started laughing. Despite the urbane exterior, Lincoln was a computer genius, a regular geek at heart. “What you’re saying is this is pretty sophisticated stuff for a reporter?”
“For anyone, actually. There’s something in here she doesn’t want anyone to read, that’s for sure.”
“Nothing on her family? I’m absolutely shocked we haven’t had a frantic call from someone who knows her.”
“Not that I’ve found. Once I have the pass codes cracked, I’ll be able to get into her address book. Waiting on a call back from Google about the warrant to get the password to her e-mail.”
“If Snow White got to her, why haven’t we found her body?” Marcus asked.
Taylor raised an eyebrow. “I’ve been wondering the same thing. Maybe he didn’t take her. Maybe she was working on something that got her into trouble. Or we just haven’t found her body. What about the boyfriend? Think he might have anything to do with it?”
Marcus snorted. “Skip. Kid couldn’t find his ass with a lamp and a map. He’s so moonstruck by her, I ended up wishing I had her phone number. No, I’m betting he had nothing to do with this. You just can’t fake that kind of distraught.”
“So where is she?”
No one answered her. She straightened, redid her ponytail and gave the men a half smile. “Great. That’s just great. No signs, no paths, no clues. Clean trails, but the physical evidence should lead us somewhere. Either we’re missing something or this guy is brilliantly calculating. Though, the massage girls seem to be a step down for him. There wasn’t any of the anointing oils on these new bodies, at least none that Sam could visibly identify. Baldwin thinks he might have been interrupted. Or maybe he’s finally screwed up.”
She stood, turned for her office. “I’m going to nail some of the shit that’s piled up today. Linc, tell me when you get into her laptop, okay?”
Lincoln whistled Lohengrin’s “Here Comes the Bride” after her, and she shot him a bird. That broke the tension; they all started laughing.
A loud cough jerked them from their revelries. Captain Price stood in the doorway. Lincoln’s whistle switched to a low-pitched version of the theme song to Dragnet. Price just shook his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. His luxurious Yosemite Sam mustache moved vertically, more than making up for the lack of hair on his head.
“Boss, you need to give these boys a raise.” Taylor tipped her head toward Lincoln and Marcus. “They’ve almost got this case cracked.”
Price glanced at his watch. “I’ve got time now, if you want to brief me.”
Lincoln stood. “Sure thing. Taylor, you go on, get caught up. Little man and I got this covered.”
She flashed him a grateful smile, saluted Price and ducked into her office. She wished she felt like things were coming together. They were running out of time.
Twenty
Baldwin watched Charlotte Douglas pace as she talked on her cell phone. She was wearing a slim, cream-colored sheath of some silky material that swished every time she took a step. He glanced at his watch—nearly 8:00 p.m. It was time to get out of this hotel room, get on with his life. Taylor and the rest of