John sat in his study at his computer and poured himself another drink. Yes, a moment for celebration if there ever was one. He'd very neatly removed Marge from his life and talked to a lawyer that had assured him they could sue the bureau for 'undue stress', leaving him with a nice settlement and early full retirement. On top of that, the insurance company had already been in touch, and a check would be in the mail as soon as their investigation was complete.
Pouring another drink, John leaned back and watched the words of sympathy roll across the chat box. Yes, they were all a bunch of idiots, too, but it was amazing how they 'reached out' to support one of their own. That didn't change the fact they had been getting off on his wife fucking the black stallion every week, but then, who knew?
Devil_dude's user name and password had rendered nothing, except very skimpy information that said he resided in the United States and connected through a 56k dial-up connection during the day.
As he picked up his drink and wandered to the basement door, John thought, this is the way life should be - a quiet house with kids gone, who knew where, and who really cared and early retirement as soon as the lawyer gets done with the bureau and gets my money - well, as soon as the 'investigation' is over. Yes, life will be good he thought once all the pieces fall into place. He had to laugh when he realized he owed everything to Linda and her sticky little fingers. Yep, another slut comes through; don't they always?
Going down the stairs and over to the corner where he'd stashed the evidence of his involvement, he stood and looked, scrutinizing the nail heads and how it all looked. But, he could find no difference between the floor joists at either end of the basement when compared to all the rest.
Back upstairs, he sat in front of the computer again and decided it was time to try and make some real contact - something other than electronic bits and bytes. He knew some people did it - met in chat and got together in person - why shouldn't he?
Focusing a little more on the chat, he looked around to see what was happening - who was hot and who was not. Clicking on a camera or two, he settled in to see just how far the sympathy would get him.
*****
"I'm looking for someone to do a special task, and going through the files, I came across your application." The Captain leaned back in his chair, regarding Sara Waters, before continuing. "You would report to me and only me. You will be assigned one task and only one task - working out of your home with the hours dictated by the task."
Sara sat attentively in front of the Captain's desk beside Ruth Johnson from Human Resources and wondered what the catch was. It all sounded too good to be true.
As if on cue, the Captain continued, "There are two aspects to this job that may not be attractive, and if you are not interested, it will have no bearing whatsoever on your career here at the bureau. Ruth, would you like to explain?"
Ruth paused as she regarded Sara - an attractive, young, black woman that came to the bureau from the sex trade industry; she was one of the aging strippers who had a BA from a local university that Linda had recruited.
Ruth had had trouble understanding why, at 27, Sara had stated 'age' as her reason for leaving the trade. While scanning the investigator's report that had cleared her for employment, Ruth had seen that Sara's earnings from the last two years in the trade had exceeded ten times what she would make at the bureau in a year. But she had proven intelligent, responsible, and enthusiastic about her new life and career, excelling in the standard bureau training in police and investigative techniques.
"Sara, what I'm going to propose cannot leave this room. I need you to understand that and acknowledge it." Ruth waited while Sara shifted slightly in her seat.
"Yes, I understand. What you're going to discuss with me may not be discussed with anyone - well, other than the two of you, I guess."
"That's right. First, do you know about the officer whose wife was murdered last week, supposedly, by the killer your department is investigating?"
"John? Sure, who doesn't?" Sara answered quickly.
"Have you ever met John?" Ruth asked.
"In person? No. I think he walked through the area once, looking for Linda, but I only got a glimpse of him from across the room."
"Good, Sara. Here's what we want you to do," and Ruth proceeded to explain, in great detail, what many in the bureau thought happened to John's wife and how they thought they could best confirm that hypothesis.
*****
Jack had taken Jan back to the computer room along with another chair. She sat there quietly and watched as he logged into several chat rooms, said 'hi', and moved on to the next. It was a Jack she didn't know - sitting in his wheelchair, moving from screen to screen, pausing to reflect, and moving on. He seemed immersed completely, and she suddenly felt alone even though he was less than four feet away.
His notebook would come out and passwords would be applied; then after a few moments inspecting the participants in a room, he would open another one. The silence, combined with his image in a wheelchair using his hands to move about the room, suddenly became overwhelming, and she stood quietly to step out onto the balcony, unnoticed.
"Hey, sorry, I didn't see you leave." Jack's voice was caring and concerned as he looked out from the doorway of the computer room while Jan shivered slightly in the early evening chill.
"It's okay, Jack. It was a little stuffy in there so I came out for some air."
Oblivious to any undercurrent, he continued, "Listen, Jan, I do have a plan. Let's talk about it. Okay?"
Stepping past her, he opened the door to his apartment and led the way to the dining room where he proceeded to build a small fire. He disappeared into the kitchen to return with two wine glasses and a bottle of red wine.
Jack started as he poured wine for both of them. "I talked to Lee. He has some information for me. Said he was finishing one part of it and would send it along later this evening."
"Okay. What's the plan, Jack? Do we really have one?"
"Tell me why you think this woman you saw is 'cyber' Lisa." He settled and listened.
She searched some to find what it was before explaining. "First, the eyes. Eyes are as unique as fingerprints. The hair and cheek bones. Chin. Lips. Yes, I would swear it was her."
"Did she hide from you at all?" he asked.
"Not really. Maybe some, but I looked right at her twice, and she didn't seem nervous or look away"
"That's good. If it really is 'cyber' Lisa, then we have her. It can't be a coincidence that she was in the coffee shop at my office when you appeared. Tonight, why don't you invite her over to your friend's house? Tell her you have to be here for the week, and it will be lonely for Thanksgiving. Even if she won't come, let me give you an address to give her where you will be staying." Pulling a paper and pen out of a drawer, he wrote an address down and laid it on the table in front of Jan.
"That's an executive apartment the company owns; it's for our employees who come into town on business." Walking to the phone, he called Michelle and checked the availability before asking her to block it off for him until the end of the year. No, he didn't care if people were coming in; put them up at the Hyatt.
