“This is getting a little beyond my depth,” conceded Devine.
“There are basically five IP classes. Classes A, B, and C are used for public and private use. Class D for things like video streaming, TV networks, and such.”
“That’s only four classes. What’s the fifth?” asked Devine.
“Class E, not reserved for public. Mainly used for research. Is experimental IP class. If I had to guess, I say your email sent somehow using Class E, but I can’t figure out how.”
“It came in at nine twenty-two a.m. It said that a custodian found Sara’s body at around eight thirty that morning and the police were called. So less than an hour later someone knew she was dead and had details about how she died and where the crime scene was and what she looked like hanging there. And then they sent out a message only to me, as far as I know, that you guys can’t trace. That’s pretty damn fast.”
“You have to find out about this, dude. People I work for are freaking out over this. I mean seriously freaking out.”
“How can I find out about it if you guys can’t? I’m not a world-class hacker.”
“I mean talk to people. Talk to this dude that found body.”
“Is not being able to trace an email really that catastrophic?”
“For me, it is end of world. It means what I do . . . goes poof. And it means that bad people on internet, they get away with anything, because they are invisible. Get with program.”
When he said it like that, Devine began to understand the importance of the situation.
“And you knew this girl, Travis. You told me you dated her. Don’t you want to find who killed her?”
“Of course I do. But if I’m going to be snooping around there, I need your help.” Devine was thinking about the security database at Cowl and Comely. He told Valentine what he wanted done.
“Give me your log-in and password,” the Russian said.
Devine hesitated. “I’m not sure I should do that, Will.”
Valentine smiled. “I can find out in about one minute, dude. But if you don’t want my help?”
“You screw me, I’ll kick your ass,” said Devine.
“Dude,” Valentine said with a smile.
Devine emailed it to him and the Russian’s fingers began flying over the keyboard.
“How long do you think it will take?” asked Devine.
“Is done.”
“What!”
“Your employer has bullshit encryption. I email you what you need to get into database.” Valentine did so and said, “And you Americans wonder why you get hacked all the time. Is bullshit.”
As Devine walked off he knew one thing. There was really only one way the sender of the “invisible” email could have known those details at that point in time.
I think whoever sent me the email also killed Sara.
CHAPTER
26
6:20.
The train slid free from the station and Devine dutifully looked out the window. Sunday had hardly been a day of rest. He felt like he’d already worked a full week at Cowl, not simply starting another one.
The nosy journalist, Rachel Potter, Waiting for Godot, the meeting with Emerson Campbell, Ewes’s parents, particularly the suspicious mother, whatever the police had found there, the missing diary that might have him in it, and, finally, Valentine and the apparently earth-shattering invisible email revelation. It exhausted him just thinking about all of it.
The train stopped and picked up passengers, then chugged up to the knoll and stopped. It was so regular it was almost funny. Almost.
And there she was through the gap between the bottoms of the tree canopies and the top of the wall. She was already sitting by the pool. Her terry cloth robe was off, and her string bikini was once again shiny emerald. The color looked good on her.
“She’s an exhibitionist, you know. Least that’s what I figure. Why else would she be out here this early in pretty much her birthday suit for all of us to see? She can’t miss spotting a stopped train, can she?”
Devine turned to the man sitting next to him. He was around fifty and dressed in a stylishly cut dark blue suit, slim tie, and white shirt with matching pocket square. His hair was a wavy brown heavily laced with gray, his brow was lined, and saggy pouches undergirded his eyes. Devine thought he might be staring into a futuristic mirror and seeing himself in less than two decades. The man looked woeful and lustful in a hollowed-out, pathetic way, Devine thought. He eyed the man’s wedding band.
“What do you know about her?” asked Devine.