Chapter 47
Forty-Seven
A sher walked out of Esther’s room, reluctant to leave. He knew there was nothing he could do to help her heal, but it didn’t change the fact that he wanted to just sit there in her presence and be thankful he could.
Stroud pushed away from the wall and tucked his phone into his pocket when he saw Asher emerge. “Ready?”
“Yep. Let’s go.” Tucking Edie’s laptop under his arm, he followed Stroud down the hall toward the elevators. As they approached the ICU lounge, he saw Edie through the glass doors. She was camped in a recliner, reading a book, but glanced up in time to see him. Asher gave a quick tip of his head. Without question, she got up and met them as they passed.
Stroud sighed as Asher paused. “I invited you, Horn. This is not social hour.”
“Invited him where?” Edie frowned.
“He finagled an interview with the woman who owns the car Lennox was driving.” He’d told her about his discoveries this morning before he went to see Esther and subsequently passed out on the couch in her room.
“Let me tell Mom and Dad where I’m going.”
“Now, hang?—”
Asher waved a hand, cutting Stroud off. He glanced at Edie. “Go ahead.”
She spun away, retreating through the glass doors. Asher turned to Stroud. “Trust me, it’s easier to give in. She’d probably follow us, then make a ruckus at the station until you either arrested her or let her come back, anyway.”
Stroud huffed and glared, but stayed silent. A moment later, Edie returned, and they traipsed toward the elevators.
“How’s Esther?” Edie asked as they stepped into the lift. “Still sleeping?”
“No. She woke up not long before he arrived.” Asher hooked a thumb toward Stroud. “She’s groggy, but coherent. The nurse was going to hook her up to a pain pump now that she’s awake to keep her comfortable. I imagine they’ll try to get her up and at least into a chair later today.”
“Did you get some rest? I poked my head in an hour or so ago and saw you passed out.”
“I slept a little. I’m fine.”
She hummed.
Stroud snorted. “Can you make him stay here tonight? Maybe take away his car keys so he doesn’t show up at my house before the sun comes up?”
“He had info, and I’d have done the same thing.” Edie gave the detective a pointed look.
“You all are nuts,” he muttered.
“We prefer efficient,” she said.
The elevator doors slid open, and they stepped into the lobby. Stroud led them out of the building to his cruiser. “You guys have a way to get back up here? I’m not sure I’ll be able to bring you back.”
“My rental is with Audra in Heron Ridge. She can bring us,” Edie said.
“Sounds good.” Stroud unlocked the vehicle. “Get in.”
Asher let Edie sit in front, while he crammed his long legs into the back seat.
“Are you sure you don’t want to sit up here?” Edie twisted in her seat as Stroud started the engine. “It’s not a short trip.”
“Positive. I’m going to check on my search.” As of the time he went to sleep, he didn’t have any hits on Vanessa’s social media.
“How do you have an internet connection?” Stroud glanced in the rearview mirror.
“Hotspot.”
“Oh. Right. Sorry. It’s been a long day.”
Asher knew the feeling.
Opening the laptop, he pulled up the search screen. It was done, and there were results. “Bingo.”
“You got something?” Edie turned.
“Yep. Now we just have to hope the pages aren’t set to private.” That would take time, and he doubted Stroud would appreciate him breaching the platforms’ firewalls to get to Vanessa’s accounts.
The first account he clicked through had very little on it that was public. He scrolled through a few tags, looking at pictures of her with friends, but didn’t see anyone who jumped out at him. The second account was much the same way. But the third one was a treasure trove. It looked like she’d tried to be an influencer, so much of her content was public.
A series of photographs from last year caught his attention. “Hello.” He zoomed in. “Got you.”
“What?” Stroud glanced back.
“Lennox is in some of her pictures. I don’t think he knows it. She was taking selfies with some other women. He’s behind them.”
“He talking to anyone?”
Asher tipped his head, zooming in. “Yeah. There’s someone there, but I can’t tell who.”
“You did all this legally, right? So I can use it?”
“Yes. Nothing I accessed was behind a firewall. And the search program I used is one I wrote. It’s just basic facial recognition.”
“Basic facial—” Stroud broke off, shaking his head.
Edie uttered a soft laugh. “I know, right? Sometimes, his genius boggles my mind too.”
Asher rolled his eyes and kept scrolling. He didn’t see it as anything all that extraordinary. Anyone could do what he did. He just followed a series of logical steps.
Engrossed in his task, the rest of the drive went by in a blur. He found several more inadvertent pictures of Lennox in different locations. Her acquaintance with him wasn’t a one-time deal. She couldn’t claim he was just “there.”
Stroud pulled up behind the police station, then let them inside through the rear door. “Let’s print off a few pictures from her social media quick.”
He led them down a corridor, then turned into the bullpen and stopped at a desk. “Email me some.”
Asher blinked, nonplussed. “It’s faster to print them myself. Do you want to give me the password, or just let me crack it?”
Stroud released a short, incredulous chuckle. “You would, too.”
“Yep. So what’s the password?”
The detective recited it, and in minutes, they had a color copy of the clearest picture of Lennox from Vanessa’s social media and were headed down a long hallway.
Stroud turned into a conference room with a television screen and a camera mounted to the wall. “So, my plan is to have you two in here, but you’re observers, understand? I’ll introduce you as consultants on the case, but you let me do the talking.”
“What if we have questions?” Edie asked. “There could be things we think of that you don’t.”
“Run it past me first.”
She stared at him for several seconds. “You’re a bit of a control freak, aren’t you?”
The detective let a beat pass, then turned away, ignoring her.
Asher nudged Edie. “Play nice. I don’t want to get kicked out,” he said, keeping his voice low. He was already on thin ice with Stroud after his stunt this morning. Actually, he was amazed the man had included him on the call. He figured the most he would get was a briefing after the fact.
She held up her hands, splaying her fingers, exasperation written on her face. “Fine.”
They took their seats as Stroud got things up and running. A few minutes later, the screen came to life and a man and a woman appeared seated around a small table.
“Good afternoon,” Stroud began. “I’m Detective J.D. Stroud. This is Asher Horn and Edie Campbell. They’re consultants on my case. Thank you for meeting with us on such short notice.”
“You’re welcome,” the man said. “I’m Ian Jackson. My client, Vanessa.” He gestured to the woman in the orange jumpsuit next to him. “What can we do for you?”
“Miss Burnwell, can you tell me what you did with your vehicle when you were incarcerated?”
Her brow wrinkled, confused. “My car? What do you mean?”
“Did you leave it parked at your house? Did you sell it? Loan it to someone?”
“Oh. A friend said he’d take care of it for me. He sold it.”
“You’re sure he sold it?”
She nodded. “I got the money and paid off the loan. There was a little extra too.”
“What was this friend’s name?”
The attorney held up a hand. “Why the interest in her car? When you called, you said you needed her help with a kidnapping case.”
“The car is involved in the kidnapping.” Stroud got up and walked closer to the camera, holding up the still from her social media account. “Miss Burnwell, do you recognize this man?”
Asher watched recognition dawn in her eyes.
She shifted in her chair, suddenly a little wary. “That’s Barry.”
“How well do you know Barry?” Stroud lowered the picture, but stayed standing.
She lifted a shoulder and looked away.
“Is he the friend who sold your car?”
“No. That was Tyson.”
“Did Tyson tell you who he sold the car to?”
“No. I just got a message that he’d sold it, and the money was in my account.”
“I can confirm this,” the attorney said. “I facilitated the loan payoff.”
“Does Tyson have a last name?”
“Oliver.”
“How about Barry? Does he have a last name?”
“Lennon.”
Asher arched an eyebrow. Barry Lennon? It was just enough to be different.
“Did Tyson do something? Something bad?” Vanessa asked.
Stroud tipped his head. “Why would you think that? Was he prone to doing things he shouldn’t?”
Again, she looked away. Asher so badly wanted to ask if he was the one who supplied her with drugs.
“Miss Burnwell?” Stroud prompted.
Her eyes darted to her attorney, then to the camera, then away. She shrugged.
“Do you have contact information for Tyson or Barry?” Asher couldn’t stop himself. He didn’t want to give her time to rethink things by running his question past Stroud first.
Vanessa nodded.
Stroud glared at Asher, then turned back to the screen. “Would you share that with us?”
“What’s in it for my client?” the attorney asked.
“Knowledge that she might have helped bring a murderer to justice.”
Jackson’s eyebrows shot up. “Murder? You said kidnapping.”
“This time, yes. But my suspect is also wanted for questioning in connection to a double homicide a decade ago.”
The attorney leaned over and whispered something in Vanessa’s ear. She nodded and he sat up.
“She would be willing to give that up for a written statement from you at her first parole hearing that she was cooperative and helpful.”
“That sounds reasonable. So long as the information she provides is correct and doesn’t send me on a wild goose chase. I’ll be writing a different kind of letter, if that’s the case.”
“It’s good info, I promise,” Vanessa said.
“Then you have a deal, Miss Burnwell.”