Page 121 of Forever Dead

Selena switched off the lamp and hoped she could find peace in the darkness.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The next day, late morning sunlight reached only halfway through the briefing-room windows as Connor stood at the end of the table while Dana worked through Patricia Vanes’s phone extraction on a laptop. Arnold sat opposite her with a legal pad he had barely written on, watching the screen as if enough concentration might make the technical parts easier.

Dana had come up from Archives and IT carrying the laptop, two printouts and the same expression she wore whenever somebody else had created unnecessary work for her.

“The obvious stuff is boring,” she said. “Calls to her mother. Three texts about swapping shifts with a contact we haven't identified yet. I've flagged the number so Arnold can establish where they worked together. Pharmacy reminder. Grocery app. Nothing that gets us to Tully.”

Connor said, “But something does.”

Dana tapped the trackpad. “Patricia had a second email account. Not her regular one. She accessed it through a privacy browser on her phone.”

Arnold leaned forward. “Meaning?”

“It can make a connection harder to trace. What I can see is how Patricia accessed the account. I can’t tell you where the person contacting her was.”

Arnold nodded slowly. “So, the dark web.”

“Not necessarily. Using a privacy browser doesn’t mean she visited a hidden website.”

“I watch documentaries on this stuff.”

“If only that made us all qualified.”

Connor said, “Can we trace the sender?”

“Possibly, but not from this extraction alone. The address that first contacted her was disposable. We need to identify the services involved and see what records they retain.”

Connor moved closer. “Show me the messages.”

Dana turned the laptop so both men could read. The account itself had been created less than two weeks before Patricia’s death. Dana had recovered a deleted message from Patricia’s regular inbox directing her to create a private mailbox if she was interested in confidential nursing work. The originating address was another throwaway. Once Patricia created the private account, every message in it related to the same conversation.

The first had arrived eight days before Patricia died.

A family wanted private medical assistance for their teenage daughter, who was nearing the end of her pregnancy. Her father was influential and feared that a visit to the local hospital would expose the pregnancy. They claimed to have arranged a licensed midwife for a home birth but needed a registered nurse to assess the girl beforehand and remain available to assist.

They had supposedly been given Patricia’s name by someone who trusted her discretion.

Payment offered: ten thousand dollars.

Arnold whistled softly. “That’d get your attention.”

“It got hers,” Dana said.

Patricia’s reply was cautious. She asked for the midwife’s name, details of the girl’s prenatal care and confirmation that emergency transport would be available. She made it clear that she would not assist with an unsafe delivery.

She also said the proposed payment did not adequately cover the responsibility, the travel and the agency shifts she would have to cancel. Her fee would be fifteen thousand dollars.

The sender agreed. The midwife was supposedly qualified and would be at the property when Patricia arrived. Emergency transport could be arranged if necessary.

Connor read the next exchange. “Did she ask who recommended her?”

“She did,” Dana said.

“What was the answer?”

Dana clicked. “A former patient. No name.”