Page 80 of Wild Fever
I had recorded the conversation, but I wanted him to come down to the station and make a sworn affidavit on video. He said he would, after the interview with Paris. It was about that time when she knocked on the door.
I moved down the foyer, peered through the peephole to see the ambitious blonde, then pulled open the door.
She flooded in with her camera crew, and I scanned the hallway once again. I closed the door and latched it. “Were you followed?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” she said.
Paris introduced Edward to her crew. They exchanged pleasantries. Paris glanced around the room, looking for a place to do the interview. “Let’s do it over there by the desk,” she said, pointing.
The cameraman agreed and began to set up his tripod.
I stepped into the hallway and made a phone call. The securities fraud was a federal matter. It was a helluva motive for murder, but I still didn’t have enough evidence to make a murder charge stick.
Isabella answered after a few rings. "I was just about to call you.”
I filled her in on the situation.
"Well, that seems to track with my intel.”
"What have you got?"
"The hacker that compromised the cryo system used a VPN to access a server in Norway, then a proxy in Budapest. Fortunately for us, the VPN dropped the connection, and the user's IP was leaked. I traced that IP address back to Coconut Key. ISP records indicate that IP belongs to Elias Thorne.”
"What VPN was he using? And remind me to never use it.”
She laughed, then told me the name of it. I made a mental note. A VPN (virtual private network) is only as good as the connection, and only as safe as the company running it. A good provider didn't keep logs. The bad ones would just hand thoselogs over to law enforcement whenever requested. Good for law enforcement, not so good for the user.
I couldn't use the information she gave me to get a warrant. But I could tell the IT guys at the department where to look. With a little guidance, they might come to the same conclusion. I called Crenshaw and told him to get on it. It would take a little time for them to figure it out and document the process. Hopefully not too long.
After I got off the phone with him, I called Vanessa. She answered after a few rings, and I caught her up to speed.
"You're saying Elias killed my father," Vanessa said.
"I can't say that for certain. But the evidence is pointing in that direction. I do not want you to take matters into your own hands."
"Trust me, the idea of spending life behind bars is not appealing to me."
"Did your father ever mention anything to you about his partner's fraudulent activities?"
"No.”
"Have you noticed anything suspicious during your tenure at the company?”
"It's been such a whirlwind. I honestly haven't had time to dig deeper into the inner workings. My head is still spinning from all of this.”
"Understandable." I paused, then added. "It just seems strange to me that your father would be aware of such activity, then go into cryogenic suspension without mentioning anything to you.”
Vanessa hesitated for a moment. "What I'm about to tell you can't be repeated.”
50
“My father was suffering from dementia," Vanessa said. “Early stages. He was still functional, yet forgetful. Entire conversations would disappear. He’d call me on Tuesday and we’d have a long, in-depth, heartfelt talk. Then we’d talk on Wednesday and have the same conversation. It was heartbreaking. I didn't know what to do. He got defensive anytime I brought it up to him. But he knew he was slipping. And I think that's part of the reason why he wanted to go into cryogenic suspension. He was hopeful that a cure would be developed soon. It was something he couldn't talk about, acknowledge, or get a diagnosis for. It would call into question all of his past judgments, contracts, trades, and the way he ran the business. He was terribly afraid of Elias finding out. Can you imagine how upset his clients would be? A diagnosis like that would be devastating. To be honest, I spent the last several months correcting slight errors that he made. Things would go overlooked. Trades got held onto for too long. Bills didn't get paid. It was terrifying.”
"I'm sorry," I said.
She sighed. "Sometimes I think it's better that they went out this way. Fast. Painless. They didn't have to suffer." She paused. "I feel guilty for saying that, but it's better than lingering. Oh God, I never want to go out that way.”
It was a sentiment I could agree with. That hellish state, somewhere between life and death, at the mercy of caregivers, seemed like a nightmare.
