Page 101 of Stay Awake
“In that case, it’s very unlikely she wrote it,” he said definitively.
“Why are you so certain?”
“According to the CIA algo, the person who wroteWAKE UP!on the window was somewhere between five foot nine and six foot three in height.”
“How does your algorithm determine that?”
“It’s based on machine learning,” he said. “The angles of the letters, their shape, and the amount of ink, or in this case, blood, in specific areas of each letter indicate the direction where the hand pressure was coming from. That gives us a pretty good read of the person’s height and hand preference.”
The bodega manager lifted a metal drainer with the donuts out of the deep fryer as Halliday finished the call. She wondered how she’d break the news to Lavelle. His discovery of the likely murder weapon in the trash outside Liv Reese’s old apartment had convinced her that Liv Reese had murdered Ted Cole. Jeffries’s call turned that theory on its head.
“Sorry about the wait,” said the manager.
Lavelle showed the manager his detective’s shield and introduced Halliday, who’d joined him at the counter.
“We need an address for a customer. Her name is Liv Reese,” he said, showing a couple of photos of her on his phone.
“That’s the lady with the writing on her hands? I know her,” the manager said. “She sure likes to drink caffeine drinks. Orders them by the box. Her address is in the delivery book.”
He pulled a book out from under the cash register and flipped through the pages until he found her address. Liv Reese lived a couple of blocks away.
“Who was that on the phone?” Lavelle asked Halliday as they left the bodega.
“It was Owen, my buddy from the CIA. He ran the writing from the crime scene through their AI handwriting analysis system. It’s one of the most sophisticated in the world. Their system says that Liv Reese did not write that slogan on the bedroom window.” Halliday recounted everything that Jeffries told her.
Lavelle didn’t look convinced. “I don’t know how much stock I put in computer algorithms when there’s so much hard and compelling evidence against her. She even disposed of the murder weapon,” he said, opening the car door. “I have the warrant for Liv Reese’s arrest. It was just emailed to me. Let’s bring her in.”
“We’re going to arrest her?” Halliday asked, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. “Despite what I just told you?”
“If she’s innocent then she has nothing to worry about. I don’t throw people into jail just to keep up my solve rates. But I’m not going to let her go on the say-so of a CIA algorithm.”
“I’m not suggesting we let her go,” said Halliday.
“Then what are you suggesting, Darcy?”
“We treat her as what she is. A potential witness. A possible suspect. But mostly a person going through a crisis. She doesn’t have a memory anymore, Jack,” said Halliday. “She must be terrified. We shouldn’t amplify the terror by treating her like a criminal when the evidence is ambiguous, and now apparently contradictory.”
“We’ll bring her in for questioning and then we’ll take it from there. You drive. I’ll update the captain on the way.” He threw Halliday the car keys.
Halliday parked halfway down the street from the building where Liv Reese now lived. When the backup team arrived, they all put on flak jackets and checked their weapons. Lavelle posted a few cops at the rear of the building. The other two came in with him and Halliday. They took the stairs down to the basement level.
Liv Reese’s apartment was near the end of the corridor. Halliday and Lavelle both drew their weapons, pointing the barrels toward the ground as they each took a side of the front door.
“Police. Open up.” Lavelle knocked on the door.
They pressed their backs to the wall and waited. There was no suggestion that Liv Reese had a gun, but the arrest operation would be carried out by the book. She didn’t answer the first knock. Lavelle knocked again. There was still no response.
Rather than wait for a battering ram to be brought down, Lavelle took a small piece of wire from his pocket and jimmied the lock.
“Where did you learn how to do that?” Halliday whispered.
“An informant. Taught me everything he knew about breaking and entering.” He pushed down the handle and swung open the door. Halliday went in first.
It took them less than half a minute to reach the conclusion that Liv Reese wasn’t there. Someone turned on the living room light switch so they could see properly. The naked bulb dangling from the low ceiling was too weak to light up the room properly.
“It’s because the walls are all painted black,” said Halliday.
A noxious smell of wet paint indicated the walls had been painted recently. She stepped over an empty can of black paint and a roller brush on the floor. “Why paint the walls black?”
