Unspeakable (29 page)
Mia hesitated just for a moment. “Not at all.”
Elaina followed her to the elevator. “I hated to call you down here,” she said when they were out of earshot, “but the receptionist wouldn’t let me through, and I
really
need to see Dr. Lawson.”
“Ben?”
“Is he in today, do you know? His out-of-office message said he’d be back yesterday, but he still hasn’t answered any of my e-mails or phone calls.”
“I have no idea,” Mia said, “but we can take a look.” She cast Elaina a sideways glance. “So you’re not here about your DNA test?”
“Not specifically, why? Do you have any news?” Elaina held her breath. A DNA profile, or better yet, a hit in the CODIS database, was slightly more concrete than the dragonfly lead. But pressure was mounting, and Elaina was taking her leads wherever she could find them.
“Nothing yet,” Mia said as the elevator stopped at her floor. “Like I told Troy, I’ll be in touch as soon as I know anything.”
Elaina stepped out of the elevator behind Mia and felt a prick of annoyance once again. “Is there some reason you’re communicating all this through him? It’s
my
name on the evidence receipt, if I remember right.”
Mia smiled politely over her shoulder. “I planned to contact you, too, as soon as the results were ready. But Troy’s called repeatedly to check, and his name is on the invoice, so—”
“What invoice?” Elaina stopped and stared at her.
“The invoice,” Mia said. “The bill we’ll be sending out for your lab work. Troy told me the FBI hadn’t approved the expense.”
Elaina clenched her teeth and tried to mask her irritation.
“These tests are expensive,” Mia went on. “And Troy was happy to pay for them. Why? Is there a problem?”
A problem? Not really. Elaina hadn’t been looking forward to personally footing the bill, but it was a control issue. Now Troy would have the results before she did, and he was practically a reporter. She never should have let him get involved.
Of course, without his involvement, no one at the Delphi Center would have made time for her in the first place.
“Don’t let it bother you. Troy likes to pay for things.” Mia smiled, and for some reason it got under Elaina’s skin. “It’s his way, I think.”
“Whose way?”
Elaina turned to see a petite brunette standing at her elbow holding a cardboard coffee cup in each hand.
Mia’s face brightened. “Alex, have you met Elaina McCord? She’s with the FBI.”
“No kidding? Nice to meet you. I’m Alex Lovell.”
“Alex works with Ben in Cyber Crimes.” Mia turned to the woman. “Have you seen him around? Elaina needs to talk to him about a case she’s investigating down on Lito Island.”
Alex passed Mia one of the coffee cups. She was staring at Elaina now with open curiosity. “I saw him downstairs. He was right behind me in the coffee line. Lito
Island, huh? You must be investigating that serial killer.” And then to Mia: “Isn’t that what Troy’s working on?”
“I was just telling Elaina she shouldn’t let it get to her how he pays for stuff,” Mia said. “He’s funding some lab work for her, but didn’t tell her he was picking up the bill.”
“That’s Troy for you. It’s a pride thing with him.” Alex tilted her head to the side. “How well do you know him, anyway?”
Elaina drew back. “I, er, we haven’t known each other long.” She looked from Mia to Alex. Why was she explaining herself to these nosy women?
Mia crossed her arms. “I’m guessing he never told you, then? About his role at the lab here?”
“What role?”
“He helped fund the place,” Alex said matter-of-factly. “Donated just over a mil.” She shot Mia a look. “Not that that would pay for more than a few of your microscopes, but hey, for most of us working stiffs, it’s a respectable chunk of change.”
Elaina stared at Alex, thinking she’d heard her wrong. Over a
million
dollars?
“I can see he forgot to mention it to you.” Alex exchanged another look with Mia. “How surprising.” She turned to Elaina. “Still waters run deep with him. Just FYI.”
Elaina stood there, completely at a loss for words. Was it her imagination, or did
both
of these women have a past with Troy? Elaina’s head began to throb.
“There you are.” Mia’s gaze flicked over Elaina’s shoulder. She turned around to see a young man striding toward them.
“
Ben, meet Elaina McCord.” Mia nodded in Elaina’s direction. “And now I’ve really got to get back to work. I’ll give you a call as soon as I have something, all right?”
“I should get back, too,” Alex said. “Good luck with your investigation. I hope you nail the bastard.”
They turned and walked away, and Elaina shifted her attention to the man standing beside her. He wore washed-out jeans and a T-shirt, and his wire-rimmed glasses made him look just old enough to vote.
Elaina shoved the surreal events of the last five minutes out of her mind.
Focus.
“I’m Special Agent Elaina McCord, with the FBI.”
The wunderkind smiled at her. “The Dragonfly Lady. I was just about to call you.”
Ben ushered her into his office and plunked his enormous cup of coffee on the desk, amid stacks of files and paperwork. He moved a tower of books off a side chair and nodded for her to sit down.
“Sorry about the mess.” He sank into an ergonomic-looking desk chair and smiled at her across the piles. “I’ve been out for two weeks on vacation. Not that it ever gets very clean around here. So you’re really an FBI agent?”
“I really am.” Elaina glanced around. Ben Lawson’s broom closet was only slightly larger than Mia’s and had the same number of windows—none. The only light emanated from a silver laptop computer on the other side of his L-shaped desk and a purple lava lamp sitting atop a bookcase in the corner. Also atop the overstuffed bookcase was a collection of plastic action figures.
“A real, live FBI agent.” He smiled again and she got the impression he was making fun of her.
“Do you have an issue with FBI agents?”
“Not at all, it’s just we don’t get too many around here. You guys have your own lab up there at Quantico.
Of course, ours is better, but what can I say? We’re David to your Goliath.
“Your message said something about a dragonfly. Are you sure you don’t have me confused with Dr. Pritchard?”
“Dr. Pritchard?” Elaina asked.
“Our entomologist.” Another smile. “He knows everything you always wanted to know about bugs but were afraid to ask.”
Elaina nodded at the door to his office. “That dragonfly sticker you have on your bulletin board. What does it mean?”
“It’s a symbol.” He shrugged. “Symbols are open to interpretation. It can mean anything you want it to.”
She leaned forward impatiently. “Listen, Ben. I’m working a murder investigation. I don’t have time for games here. I need to know what that dragonfly stands for.”
The spark of amusement vanished from his eyes. He pushed his glasses farther up the bridge of his nose. “A murder investigation.”
“That’s right.”
He rubbed his jaw, looking serious now. “Wow. That’s heavy. And you’re sure the dragonfly is connected?”
“I think so, yes. Two of the victims were wearing jewelry with that dragonfly on it. And I’ve seen it several other times during the course of the investigation.”
He sighed. “Well, it looks like you’re going to have to make time for games, then.”
“Excuse me?”
“The dragonfly. It symbolizes a game.” He leaned his elbows on the desk and looked at her intently. “Are you familiar with geocaching?”
“No.”
“It’s a popular sport. It’s kind of like treasure hunting, only you find the clues on the Web and use a GPS to locate the treasure. Sort of like a high-tech scavenger hunt.”
Elaina’s pulse picked up. “Never heard of it,” she said. “You say this is a sport?”
“Absolutely.” A sheepish grin. “Although, admittedly, it tends to be played by computer geeks. But some of us are athletes, too. You’d be surprised.”
“And it involves GPS coordinates?”
He swiveled in his chair and reached for his computer. His hands moved over the keys with impressive speed, and suddenly the screen turned purple. “Well, if you haven’t heard of geocaching, I’m assuming you’re not familiar with the sport’s redheaded stepchild.” The purple faded to black, then red, then back to purple again, and suddenly a yellow dragonfly appeared on the screen.
Elaina leaned forward. “What’s that?”
“Also known as extreme caching.”
The words “Xtreme $$$ing” appeared at the top of the screen above several blanks. He quickly keyed in a user name and password.
“You’re a member,” she said.
“I guess you could say that.” The screen went black, and then white text scrolled up in a way that recalled the beginning of
Star Wars.
“It’s not really a club, per se. But not just anyone can participate. You have to crack a few codes just to get in the door. And then there are certain guidelines.”
“What are they?” Elaina’s gaze was riveted to the
screen, although the words were too far away for her to read.
“Well, take regular geocaching,” he said. “It’s fairly easy to play if you have the right equipment. Basically, an Internet connection and a GPS, and you’re good to go. At least for the easy hides.”
Hides.
The word sent a chill through her.
Another blank came up, and Ben entered in some numbers. “It’s a family sport. It’s fun. Safe, as long as you pay attention to the difficulty ratings and use a little common sense. The sport has a number of different offshoots, but this one is pretty hard-core.”
The screen turned purple, and a silver list appeared. Elaina stood up and walked around the desk so she could read over Ben’s shoulder.
“What is that?” she asked.
“A list of caches in this zip code.”
“But it’s gibberish.”
“That’s part of the game,” he said. “Everything’s encrypted, even the list of hunts you can choose from.”
“How do you break the code?”
He turned and grinned up at her. “I could tell you, but I’d have to kill you.”
She frowned. “I’m serious. How do you—”
“Okay, take this one here. It’s a simple substitution code.” He pointed at the text, which looked like nonsense to Elaina. Ben pulled a sticky note from his desk drawer and jotted down the words. Then beneath each one, he wrote a different word. “See? Solve for the square root of sixteen, and that tells you to move down the alphabet four letters. This one’s easy, but some of them involve riddles or algorithms. Looks like this cache is hidden in
a state park not too far from here. Every heard of Devil’s Gorge?”
Elaina stared down at him. “Just recently, as a matter of fact.”
Ben entered the decrypted words, and some GPS coordinates popped up on the screen, alongside several icons—handcuffs and a kite.
“That was a simple code,” he said. “These two clues here look tougher to crack, though. But even so, I bet this is a pretty popular cache, given what’s inside it.”
“How do you know what’s inside it?”
“The pictures. See? Handcuffs mean you can expect some sex toys.”
“
Sex
toys?”
“I told you, this game’s hard-core. If it were a movie, it’d be rated R, at least. There’s a subversive element to it. The more difficult and dangerous it is to get to, the better.” He turned back to the screen and pointed at the other icons. “The kite lets me know there’s probably some pot in there, too. You know, ‘high as a kite’? There are icons for pills, toys, comic books, porn. Pretty much anything you can imagine.”
“So people can just show up and find this stuff? In a public park?” Elaina shook her head. “What’s to stop someone from raiding the stash?”
“They have to find it first.” He smiled. “That’s where the sport comes in, really. These things aren’t just sitting around. And you may find this difficult to believe, but there’s an honor code among cachers. If you take something, leave something. It’s that simple. You can take what you want, but you’re expected to leave something of equal or greater value behind.”
Elaina folded her arms over her chest and watched Ben. He was an admitted computer geek and a cyber cop. He was a quasi–law enforcement officer, and this was his hobby?
“I know what you’re thinking.” He swiveled in his chair and looked her straight in the eye. “And I don’t waste my time on the drug caches. I mean, what would be the point? The Delphi Center does random testing on all its employees. I worked my butt off to get a job here, and I’m not going to jeopardize it for a weekend trip.”
“What
do
you waste your time on?”
He smiled. “At the risk of completely blowing my cover as a normal guy? I’m into X Men.”
Elaina stared at him blankly.
He sighed. “I can see you’re not a geek.” He nodded at the bookshelf beside her. “
X-Men.
The comic book? I collect the action figures.”
She eyed the toys lined up on the bookcase with relief. He was out there, but maybe less so than she’d originally thought.
“These caches,” she said. “What do they look like?”
“Anything, really. Some of them get really inventive. They might be camouflaged to look like a rock or a plant. It’s part of the creativity. But more often than not, they’re just boxes that have been painted flat brown and hidden. Ammo cans are a favorite. Some of the original cachers were gun enthusiasts and survivalists. We get a lot of NRA types. Some law enforcement buffs.”