Page 31 of The Killer You Know

Nikki sits at the counter with a giant monitor glowing in her face, her own laptop is open next to it, and she’s got a phone in her hand with a hot pink case, Brittney’s I’m assuming.

“I hacked my way in, like slicing butter with a hot knife.” She motions to the monitor in front of her that’s able to test hundreds of thousands of codes per second. It’s nice that the good guys have the technology to crack their way when necessary, but the bad guys have it, too.

“So what are we looking at?” I ask as Jack and I pull up a seat.

“I waited to start the party,” she says. “I coasted through some of her social media accounts but didn’t deep-dive into the nitty-gritty. Let’s head to her messages.”

We lean in as the entire screen is populated with messages from dozens of people. Most of the recent messages are laced with comments like are you okay, please tell me this is a joke, and I’m praying for you.

“Here’s one from Nessa.” Jack points to a message near the bottom of the screen.

Nikki clicks in and we quickly scan them to see the two of them chatting about the sale of the house, how happy Nessa is to have her doing the honors, and Brittney’s exuberance to show the house to the sisters last week. Nikki backs out and we scroll down the list of messages.

“Whoa,” I say as we settle our eyes on a certain name at once.

“Derek Russell.” Jack clucks his tongue. “Let’s see what that’s about.”

“It shouldn’t be about anything,” Nikki teases. “He said they haven’t spoken recently, remember?”

“I remember a lot of things.” Jack sighs. “I’m getting the feeling Derek has a selective memory problem.”

“Yeah,” I say. “I have a feeling it’s called not wanting to get caught.”

Nikki clicks in and we quickly scan it and shake our heads. According to their chat, they’ve been meeting up quite regularly for the last few months—coffee here, a Mexican restaurant there, and they even took in a basketball game last winter. The flirtation is unmistakable. Their messages are littered with innuendos and plans to do far more than have coffee.

Jack taps the screen. “Let’s see that last message she sent again.”

“You don’t get to act that way anymore,” I read. “I’m not seventeen anymore. Grow up.”

“Sounds harsh,” Nikki says. “And his reply is, try it yourself.”

“That’s equally as harsh.” Jack clasps his hand to the back of his head as he weighs it. “All right. We’ll talk to him again.”

“I want to search his bar, his home, and any other facilities he has access to,” I say.

“I’ll start the procedure,” Nikki offers as she pulls her own phone out.

Jack ticks his head. “Go ahead, but I think I’ll drop by the bar and see if he offers up a freebie. If he’s got nothing to hide, then he shouldn’t put up a fight.”

“Agree,” I say. “Let’s get the security footage as well.”

“Done,” he says.

“Let’s see what else we have,” Nikki says and we deep-dive back into Brittney’s phone. No other text exchanges arouse suspicion, and neither do any direct messages on her other social media sites. “I’ll keep digging,” she says. “Just in case something sounds off. I know Derek isn’t looking too good, but I’m not putting all of my eggs into Derek Russell’s basket.”

“Good,” Jack says, shaking his head at the hot pink phone before us. “As much as I didn’t care for the guy way back when, I still don’t want him to turn out to be a monster.” He gives Buddy a quick pat. “I’ll call him and see if he’s there.”

Jack steps to the corner of the room to do just that and I lean toward Nikki.

“Jack did some digging in my sister’s direction. It turns out, there was only one person named Angel that night at the Paradise compound. She claimed she was heading south to Colorado Springs. I just can’t figure out who she might have known there.”

“Okay, that’s good.” Nikki closes her eyes a moment. “Your sister’s social network might be a black box right now, but we’ll crack it open.”

“Thank you,” I say just as Jack lands back in his seat. “So what’s the verdict?”

“He’s not picking up his phone.” Jack pulls his sandwich out of the wrapper and breaks a piece of it off and gives it to Buddy. “The bar says he’ll likely be in this evening.”

“That works for me,” I say.

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