When You See Me (Detective D.D. Warren #11)(90)

Sheriff Smithers still didn’t appear happy. “How do you do that?”

“The mayor and his wife had a couple of computers at their inn, right?”

“Two desktops, a couple of tablets, and a laptop,” Kimberly rattled off.

“Okay. The Counsels are part of this organization. We’re sure of that. Which means they must be accessing the group’s portal from at least one of their computers.”

“I could get Su Chen to come up,” Kimberly began.

“You don’t have time. Let me at them. You know I can do it.”

Keith stared at her, unwavering. He could do it. Kimberly had personally watched him in action last year when he’d worked over the copied hard drive from Jacob Ness’s old laptop. But he was still a civilian.

“I can do this,” Keith repeated. Then, not waiting for her reply, he turned to Sheriff Smithers. “The quickest way to access the group’s dark web site will be with the Counsels’ username and password. I can hack it, but that will take time. Or . . .”

“You want me to go back to Mayor Howard. Get him to cough it up.”

“Tell him if he wants revenge for his wife, this is his way to do it.”

The sheriff nodded slowly.

“While you’re at it, you could just ask him for the name of their leader,” D.D. spoke up dryly.

Sheriff Smithers gave her a look. “Man’s terrified. Asking him to provide a name is a big ask. Provide some computer mumble jumble, maybe not so much.”

Keith was nodding.

So apparently Kimberly’s opinion wasn’t needed after all.

“I want to speak to Walt Davies,” Flora announced.

“Good God, is this a complete mutiny?”

“Think of it. All his trips bringing microgreens to Atlanta. Maybe what he’s bringing back is girls.”

“And you think he’s magically going to confess this?” Kimberly quizzed.

“I think I have the best chance of spotting a lie, and pushing for the truth.”

“Because you knew his son?”

“Something like that. He’s also . . . I don’t think his crazy act is completely an act. I think Walt is paranoid and prone to voices in his head. Too many cops show up, he’ll go to ground, locking himself in his barn and never coming out. But if I go . . . He wants to talk to me. I’m the only connection to his son he has left.”

Kimberly considered the matter. “You can’t go alone. And not just because it’s dangerous, but because if he does confess something useful, you need corroboration. Given that Keith is going to attack the computer and Sheriff Smithers needs to return to county lockup to pressure Howard Counsel . . . I’ll go with you.”

“Do not dress as a fed! Walt will shoot you on sight.”

“Thank you, I’m not a total idiot.” Kimberly turned to D.D. “Maybe you can work with Bonita on more details. The whereabouts of Stacey’s body, other girls. Sheriff Smithers has deputies guarding the Mountain Laurel.”

The sheriff nodded.

“If it’s not too much”—Kimberly gazed at Bonita—“would you be willing to return to the inn? Help Detective Warren understand what you witnessed while you were staying there.”

The girl studied her for a long moment. Then she nodded.

D.D. held up the final drawing, the one she still had in her hand. “Bonita, did you do this today?”

Nod.

“Who is this?”

D.D. extended her arm for all of them to see. Red, was Kimberly’s first impression. Followed immediately by a pang of grief so real, so powerful, she nearly lost her breath. A blur of white against a dusty red ground. A halo of black around a fallen form, leading to a pool of darker red.

Another fatality. But not a fellow maid. Someone else. Someone Bonita had clearly loved.

Then, Kimberly had no doubt. She could tell D.D. understood, as well. No mother could look at that picture and not know.

“This is your mom, isn’t it?” Kimberly asked softly.

Single, sorrowful nod.

Flora studied the picture with fresh interest, her features darkening into an expression Kimberly knew well.

“Did the demon do this?” D.D. asked.

Nod. A slight pause, then Bonita lifted her hand, fingered the scar burrowing into her hairline.

“He did that, too?” D.D. was clearly surprised.

Another nod.

“It’s a gunshot wound,” Flora provided. “Look at the path. The bullet missed its mark, grazed her left temple instead.”

Causing lifelong damage.

D.D. squatted down till she was eye level with the girl. “How old were you?”

Shrug.

“Were you a baby?” Kimberly asked. Shake. “What about, were you this tall?” She placed her hand above the floor, around toddler height. Another shake. “This tall?” She moved up a foot.

Bonita contemplated the spacing for a bit. Single nod, as if that seemed about right.

D.D. and Kimberly exchanged a glance. So, older than a toddler, younger than preadolescent. Maybe five? Seven?

“And you’ve been with the Counsels ever since?”

Yes.

“I’m sorry,” Kimberly said. Because someone owed this girl an apology. Life had failed her early, and no one in the system had ever figured it out. First she’d watched her mother die, then she’d been shot, and then she’d gotten to spend the rest of her years as a servant.