Quest For Justice

The company didn’t look like much of a lead at this point, but he would follow through and check out the five applicants, just in case. It seemed ridiculous to kill over a career opportunity, but he’d actually seen worse as a beat cop. Maybe he was jaded, but few things surprised him anymore. In any case, the list of applicants from Gates was his best lead so far. Hopefully interviewing them would point him to the killer.

He placed his order at the counter and then called his office while he waited.

“Graham.”

“Hey, this is Frank.” He gave Ben Graham a synopsis of the discussion with Johnson, smiled at the waitress who handed him his food and headed for a table, his ear still pressed against the phone. “Anything new on the Cox case?”

Ben cleared his throat. “We’ve got a couple of new reports. Forensics matched the bullet to the gun in the blond man’s possession. So now we know who pulled the trigger, but we still don’t know his identity. According to our databases, he’s a ghost. The dark-haired man we’ve positively identified as Adrian Bekim from Balkavia. He’s an international gun for hire and did most of his work in Europe until recently, when he surfaced in Chicago. He’s suspected in the death of a businessman there.”

Frank soaked in the information. “Still nothing from CODIS on the blond?” he asked, referring to the national DNA index system.

“Not yet. Nothing from the national fingerprint and criminal history system, either.”

Frank grimaced. “I’m thinking it’s time to contact Interpol. The blond is probably a known associate of Bekim. He’s got to show up somewhere.”

“Yep, I’ll start the process.” Ben paused. “You should also know that we’ve finished examining Cox’s financials. There wasn’t anything unusual, just like we suspected. Following the money won’t lead us to the killer in this case.”

Frank took a sip of his coffee, digesting the information. For the past six months, they’d been investigating a Balkavian mercenary group operating out of Jacksonville. They had received a tip that something was going down at Cox’s office that fateful night. They still hadn’t been able to prove any kind of connection, though, between the Balkavians and Cox. In many cases, the money led to the killer, but so far it hadn’t in this case. Why had they killed him? Had he just been in the wrong place at the wrong time?

Frank leaned back, his frustration growing. “Nothing new on the computer angle?”

“Nope, nothing out of the ordinary. In fact, there wasn’t even that much on it. Looks like his daughter was right—he barely used the thing.”

Bailey had been right about something else too—they’d lost a lot of valuable information when those paper files had been stolen. It was unfortunate that the team hadn’t thought to grab them on the night of the murder, but they hadn’t realized their importance at the time. Now it was too late. “Thanks, Ben. I’m off to interview the applicants. I’ll catch up with you again once I have some insight.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Frank stirred his coffee as he flipped to the email program on his phone. That was strange. He could see the two messages that Johnson’s assistant had sent, but they both showed that they had been read. He pulled out his iPad, and then he also opened his work email account on the off chance that there was something wrong with his phone. It also showed that the two messages had been read, even though he hadn’t opened either one of them. Then, right before his eyes, the screen refreshed and both emails were marked Unread.

Frank took a sip of his coffee and a bite of his food as he raised an eyebrow, confused by what he was seeing. Why had the status of the emails changed, and who had changed it? Had someone accessed his account and made the change?

A flash of blue caught his eye and he glanced out the window of the coffee shop. Bailey Cox was just leaving a store across the street. He watched her as she walked toward the bus stop. She looked beautiful, even with that look of grim determination on her face. He glanced up at the sign over the door she had exited. It was an internet café. A sinking feeling hit him hard in the pit of his stomach. He picked up his phone again and called his department’s IT specialist.

“IT, Sergeant Daniels.”

“This is Detective Franklin Kennedy, badge number 4577. I think my email has just been hacked. Can you run a check for me?” He fed the sergeant the details and then waited a moment for the confirmation. It wasn’t long in coming. The knot in his stomach twisted and he grimaced. It looked like he hadn’t seen the last of Bailey Cox after all. She had just broken the law. Again.

* * *

“It will be just another minute,” the secretary said with an apologetic smile. The hospital administration’s waiting room wasn’t as fancy as the room at Gates, but it was decorated tastefully. Bailey tried to relax, even though it was nearly impossible. She hated hospitals. Her mother had gotten lost in the system, given insufficient treatment because she couldn’t afford health insurance. By the time Bailey had stolen the money to make sure her mother got the help she needed, it was too late. It was hard not to hold the entire medical industry responsible for her mother’s fate.

To distract herself from the thought of her mother, she focused on the list she’d stolen from Kennedy’s email—the names of the applicants that had brought her here.

She didn’t know how long it would take Franklin Kennedy to realize she had broken into his email account, if he did at all. Still, she had started her quest to interview the applicants in the middle of the list rather than at the top in hopes of throwing him off if he decided to come after her. If the police wouldn’t let her help, then she would solve this murder on her own. She nervously leafed through the stack of magazines and glanced around the room again, making sure Kennedy was nowhere to be seen.

She was also keeping her eyes open for the man in black. Something was off about him, and she had noticed him a second time after she’d left Gates. She wasn’t sure, but it looked like he had been watching her as she’d left the internet café. Creepy. That was the word for him. At least now he had disappeared and she felt a measure of relief.

A few more minutes passed, and finally the secretary rose and came to her side. “Okay, Dr. Petrela is almost here. Let me take you back to his office.” The secretary led her to a nice office filled with medical books and journals and Bailey took a seat. “I’m sorry for the wait,” the nurse said in parting.

“It isn’t a problem.” She’d been waiting for over an hour and a half to see the hospital CEO, but it had been surprising that she’d even gotten her foot in the door. The man was extremely busy, but when she’d explained who she was and why she wanted to meet, the CEO had promised her ten minutes between meetings.

He entered the room a few moments later, and Bailey noted that his internet picture hadn’t done justice to the man’s square jaw or bright, intelligent eyes. It also hadn’t shown the man’s size, which was quite substantial. He was a formidable presence, though not a frightening one. His handshake was firm and his smile friendly.

“First, let me say how sorry I was to hear about your father,” Dr. Petrela intoned, true sympathy in his eyes.

“Thank you,” Bailey answered. “How well did you know him?”

“We’d met for dinner twice. I’ve applied for the CEO position at Gates, as you know, and Mr. Cox had several questions. You see, I got my advanced degree in Europe, and some of the school records were hard to verify. I’m sure he didn’t have any trouble after our interviews, however. I imagine you’re continuing the investigation?”

“Yes,” she agreed, without correcting his misunderstanding. She was investigating. She just wasn’t doing it for Gates. “Could you tell me where you went to school, please?”

“Of course. My history isn’t a secret. I got my undergraduate and master’s degrees at the University of Applied Sciences in Budapest, and then I received my doctorate in Balkavia at the Mirianka University.”

Bailey made a note in her phone of his responses. She would check them out later. “And have you lived in the United States for very long?” She could still hear the tiniest hint of an accent when he spoke, but he’d obviously gone to great lengths to eliminate it.

“Going on twenty years now, though I was born here in the US. My family moved overseas when my father was in the military, and once he retired, he decided to stay.”

“But not you?” She smiled and he returned the smile.

“No, not me.” He shifted some papers on his desk. “My wife is also American, and she wanted to return home so she could be closer to her parents. We’ve lived here in Jacksonville ever since.”

“Why would you like to work at Gates?”

He found a folder with a green tab and handed it to her. “Gates is a mover and shaker in the pharmaceutical industry, and I think their development team is on the cusp of some exciting new medicines. I want to be a part of that. Working at the hospital here has been fulfilling, but I’m mostly administration, and it’s time for a change. My application and résumé are in that folder.”

Bailey nodded and then motioned to the mini helmet that was on his desk.

“Are you a football fan?”

The CEO laughed and glanced at the helmet. “If I were, I wouldn’t admit it,” he said in a jovial tone. “The local team hasn’t had a winning season since 2007.” He motioned with his hands as he spoke. “That helmet was a gift from my daughter. She’s a true believer and still harbors hope that they’ll make it to the playoffs. I don’t suffer from delusions the way she does.”

Bailey grinned and glanced at the folder he’d given her. She scanned the contents and asked a few more questions, and then she rose to leave. He had seemed very open, and, so far, she hadn’t noticed any red flags. He also seemed at ease during their conversation. On the surface, nothing seemed problematic. She had to get to her computer if she wanted to know more, and that’s exactly where she was headed. She offered her hand, knowing that her ten minutes were up. “Thank you so much for your time, Dr. Petrela.”

“My pleasure. I hope you are able to get justice for your father.”

“So do I.”

They shook hands and she stowed the folder and her few belongings in her tote. Then she headed out into the hallway. She was past ready to be free of the hospital. The smells and sights of people suffering continued to flood her with memories of her mother’s final days. Despite the addictions, Bailey had still loved her mother. Theirs had been a rocky relationship, but Bailey’s last criminal acts had all been about her mother’s care. As she’d watched her mother’s body wither away from lung cancer, Bailey had gotten more and more desperate to get her mother the help she needed.

It had all been a wasted effort, however. Right after she had committed her crimes, started paying the bills and brought the equipment home, she’d found her mother collapsed on the bathroom floor—the result of both her coughing and a heroin overdose. Bailey’s efforts had been too little too late, and when the officers had come to investigate the scene, they’d found the stolen equipment before she’d even thought to hide it. Her lack of foresight had cost her mightily. Her mother had died shortly after Bailey’s arrest. Bailey hadn’t even had a chance to say good-bye.

Bailey rubbed her eyes, trying to erase the memories. She had been such a mess back then. It hadn’t even occurred to her that she had done something wrong with her thefts. Her only thought had been to save her mother.

She liked to think that she’d learned her lesson in jail. Even better, she’d become a Christian during her college days and had slowly gotten on the right track. But changes didn’t just happen overnight. She still made blunders here and there, and she was already coming to regret her latest mistake. Hacking Kennedy’s email had been a stupid, impetuous display of bad judgment. She just hoped she could avoid him for the foreseeable future until she could track down her father’s killer. Maybe he wouldn’t care if she could get results from her own investigation.

She pulled out the list from her tote bag and put a check mark by Dr. Petrela’s name. It was time to move on to the next applicant. She still had a few daylight hours left and could probably interview one more applicant on the list today if she hurried. Gabriel Jeffries, an entrepreneur who worked from his beach house, was next. He had already agreed to see her if she could be at his place by 4:00 p.m. She had just enough time to make it.

“You know, most people start at the top of the list, not the middle.”