What Have You Done(49)

36

“Yeah man, come in. Make yourself at home. You want a Red Bull or something? I got the Bull, I got a 5-hour Energy, I got beer, but you’re probably on duty or something. Oh, I got some Mountain Dew.”

“I’m all right, thanks.”

“Something to munch on instead? Pretzels? Cheetos?”

“Nothing.”

“Cool.”

Don walked inside the cramped studio apartment and was instantly consumed by stacks of hard drives that climbed halfway up to the ceiling, countless processors that lined one wall, and wires that snaked the entire length of the floor to the point where he could barely see the carpet underneath. The rest of the space held a bed, a stained black futon that acted as a couch, and a small flat-screen television balanced on a stack of books. In the far corner he could see a refrigerator but no stove. Everything else was covered by some kind of technological hardware.

Rocco turned and walked to a desk that had three laptops on it, each one running some kind of code. He was dressed in an army green robe that looked like rags sewn together and white boxer shorts. He was pale and thin but for a belly that protruded from the robe. His shoulder-length hair looked greasy, as did the goatee that had grown out of control.

“I was in the middle of a killer hack when you called,” Rocco said, his voice raspy from the cigarettes he constantly smoked. “A new airline out of Cairo hired my firm to try and infiltrate their booking system.” He pointed to the laptop on the left. “That’s what that one’s doing. Shouldn’t take me too long to get in. Some places in the Middle East have a long way to go when it comes to cybersecurity. They’re still using technology from the eighties. Cracks me up.” He sat in his seat, took a long drag from his cigarette, and spun around to face his guest. “So what’d you bring me?”

Don handed over the flash drive. “There are two encrypted files on this drive. I need to get in there as part of a murder investigation.”

“You get a warrant, or is this gray-area classified stuff?”

“Gray area. Just between you and me. You get something, you call me.”

Rocco studied the flash drive. “Part of a murder investigation, huh? Cool. Do you know when the file was created?”

“No. I tried a bunch of random passwords to see if something clicked, but I couldn’t get in.”

“Was the person who made this a techie?”

“Not sure.”

“Okay,” Rocco replied. “It really doesn’t matter either way.” He spun back around, plugged the flash drive into the middle laptop and began to make a copy. “Sometimes, if the user is new to encryption, they just take whatever they can find off the internet, buy it, and encrypt. The newer the encryption service, the less tested it would be, which means people like me haven’t found all the vulnerabilities in it yet, which then means it should be relatively easy to manipulate and gain entry.”

“How long you think it’ll take?”

“Depends on the encryption service that was used. If it’s one that’s been around awhile, it could take a bit longer. Maybe a week or two. If it’s new, shouldn’t take more than a few days. I’ll hit it with blunt force to find a way in, and if that doesn’t work, I’ll look for a back door. Either way, I’ll get what you need. That’s what I do.” The laptop made a few noises, and Rocco leaned forward to extract the flash drive. He turned back around in his chair and handed it to Don. “Copy made. You keep the original. Anything else I need to know?”

“Nothing that I can think of.” Don took the drive and put it back in his pocket. “Just remember, you get anything, you call me. Don’t read through it, don’t make any more copies, don’t tell your friends what you’re doing. Just call me.”

Rocco laughed. “Don’t read it. Yeah, okay. I’ll break into a file that’s linked to a murder, but I won’t read it. You crack me up, man.”

“We don’t even know what’s in there,” Don said. “Could be plans for a new marketing campaign or an upcoming summer vacation. I just need to know for sure.”

“No problem. But just so you know, I’m gonna look.”

“Call me when you get in.”

“Sure thing.”

Don checked his watch and made his way toward the door. The afternoon was drawing to a close, and he’d have to run home to get ready to meet Sean at the Hard Rock. “This is between you and me, Rocco. Got it?”

Rocco took a drag of his cigarette and let the smoke seep from his teeth as he put on a broad and obnoxious smile. “Your secret’s safe with me, Detective. I ain’t saying nothing.”





37

As dusk began to take hold, Liam walked through the front door of his home and collapsed onto the bench beside the stairs. He was exhausted, both mentally and physically. The ride back to Philadelphia from Wilmington had taken longer than expected due to an overturned tractor trailer on I-95, and as the minutes had passed in an unrelenting gridlock, the images of Kerri and JB had continued to invade his every thought. Even with the radio on and some mundane conversation Jane was able to offer along the way, he couldn’t stop thinking about the two victims and the fact that he could’ve had something to do with them.

Liam opened the manila file that was on his lap. Glossy crime scene photos from JB’s murder stared back up at him as he began flipping through them, one after the other. Jane could be right. The killer might have been practicing on a girl no one would miss before moving on to the primary target. But the way the rope was tied through the bedpost, up into the exposed piping in the ceiling, around the ceiling fan, and back down to the victim told him this could also be the telltale sign of a serial killer. What he’d seen in Delaware was exactly the same as what he’d seen at the Tiger, only there was no fan at Kerri’s scene. JB had been placed on a chair just as Kerri had been, and the chair had been taken from under each victim for the actual hanging. The way JB’s hair was cut so randomly not only reminded him of how Kerri’s hair had been cut but also of how his mother had cut her own hair the day she had tried to kill him and Sean. These were patterns. There was ritual to it, a cadence. The only thing missing in JB’s homicide was the stomach slashing and the bouquet of paper flowers. Everything else was pretty much the same.