Crush - Alan Jacobson [133]
Brix snapped his handset shut, then turned toward the speaker phone. “This is Lieutenant Redmond Brix. St. Helena PD just dispatched an officer to secure it. Soon as he arrives, get that flash over here.”
“Ten-four.”
Lugo disconnected the call.
Vail rose from her seat and paced. In a matter of minutes, they would have some answers. And hopefully some way of tracking the offender. But no matter what information they obtained from that flash drive, it would be more than they had now.
She glanced at the clock: 4:05. Less than three hours before she was supposed to walk out the door, officially on vacation. How the hell am I going to do that? Can’t deal with that now. She turned away. “Anyone know how USB drives work?”
Agbayani looked up from his pages of notes. “Beyond the obvious, you mean.”
“Yeah,” Vail said. “Like what can we tell from the device?”
Lugo lifted the receiver. “I’ll call down, see what the geeks can do for us.”
As Lugo made the call, Agbayani held up his notepad. “Did anyone happen to notice when Maryanne Bernal was murdered?”
Dixon held up a hand in a gesture that said, of course. “About three years ago.”
“And . . .” Agbayani said, as if they should all suddenly “get it.” When no one replied, he said, “That was around the time the Georges Valley AVA board was discussing Superior Bottling’s first contract. Right? It’s now up for renewal. The initial term was three years. Maybe Maryanne was against it back when she was on the board.”
“And she was killed because of her opposition to the contract?” Vail asked.
Agbayani nodded.
“I’ve got a problem with that. It just doesn’t fit. Roxxann and I have been through this. Serial killers don’t kill for money, they kill because it fulfills a psychosexual need that’s rooted in their past.” Actually, male serial killers don’t kill for profit. For now, she was comfortable rejecting the possibility the killer was a woman. But if the offender was a man, it could mean they were seeing something different here. She had to be more flexible in her thinking.
“Still,” Agbayani said, “I think we should look into it.”
Dixon pulled her phone. “I’ll call Ian Wirth, ask him about Maryanne and see if that was the case.”
“I’ve got an answer for us on the USB device.” Lugo leaned back in his chair and swiveled to face everyone. “We can track the device to a particular PC, maybe get a set of prints off the keyboard and desk if they haven’t been used. But it doesn’t give us a location, so unless we know where that PC is located, it won’t tell us where to find it.”
“So in a legal sense, if we know what PC he used, we can prove it in court by tracing the USB to a specific PC.”
“Yes. According to Matt Aaron, when a flash drive is inserted into a PC, Windows logs it and writes a little bit of code to the drive to make a record of the device. This ensures the operating system doesn’t get confused when you insert or remove it. It also records successful file transfers and even the file transferred and when. He also said the drives have serial numbers embedded in them as well as the manufacturer, model, and device characteristics. So once we get the UNSUB’s file off it, maybe we can trace it, see where he bought the flash.” He tossed his pen on the table. “As if that’s gonna do us a whole lot of good. Other than wasting more time.”
The conference room phone rang. Lugo looked at it, then sighed and leaned forward to pick it up. He listened a moment, then said, “Erickson just delivered the flash drive. Aaron’s got it.”
Vail leaned both elbows on the desk and ran fingers through her hair. This has to be it. For me, at least, time is running out. Just like it could be running out on the next victim.
MINUTES PASSED. The room phone rang. Lugo answered it, listened, then told the caller to hold.
“KNTV’s downstairs. They’re ready to go. But they want to know what the story’s about so they can set up the shot.”
Brix and Dixon shared a look. Vail knew what they were thinking. All the pieces were in place and things