Chapter 12
TWELVE
Eric was used to multitasking, and leaving one suspect to speak to another wasn’t unheard of. Cross was waiting on his lawyer anyhow.
Brent Hartley’s place was a modest row house, painted purple. The street was lined with some cherry trees, their pink petals at their peak. By next week the ground would be littered with them, and they’d be blowing everywhere.
Eric banged on Hartley’s door. Stacks of boxes and totes blocked the front window. Hartley was a hoarder. Eric arrived with full clearance to enter the home, just as he had with Cross, and he was prepared to do that. He’d just have to find another way in.
Just as he went to step away in search of another entry point, the door was cracked open.
Eric froze. He hadn’t expected a response. The consensus was that Hartley was holed up on the sixth floor of the hospital. Eric’s hand hovered over his holster, prepared to respond with force.
A man in his late fifties tucked his head through, and it was Brent Hartley. The breathing version was a match to his license photo with some imagination. This one had greasy hair matted to his head and beady eyes. Hartley and Cross had the latter in common.
“What do you want?” Hartley asked.
Eric pulled his badge without taking his eyes off Hartley. “Detective Birch. You’re Brent Hartley?” Asked purely for the record.
“Yeah.”
“I need to talk to you about an incident at Founders Hospital.”
“Hold up. They said if I went quietly, they wouldn’t press formal charges or take me to court.”
“This isn’t about the office supplies. You may have heard about the lockdown at Founders Hospital.
” Eric decided he’d feel him out before dragging him down to the station and sticking him into an interrogation room.
But he’d do it from the step. A peek over Hartley’s shoulder showed a narrow path wormed to and from the door.
Entering would be taking a risk to his personal safety.
In more ways than one. It was hard to defend oneself within a square foot of space, and who knew what bacteria was thriving in there?
“I don’t watch or listen to the news.”
“You were let into the server room where you uploaded a virus to take out the hospital’s system. Then you left before the place was locked down.”
Hartley’s face paled, and his mouth gaped open.
Eric snapped his fingers. “Hartley. You need to get talking and fast.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ve been home. Founders fired me three weeks ago.”
As a veteran detective, Eric trusted his ability to read people.
There were only so many types of personalities, and during his career, it felt like he’d seen them all.
Hartley looked baffled. “Are you telling me you have no ill will against your former employer? They fired you and took your pension.” Eric tried to entice a reaction for a better gauge on the man.
“I hate them, but as you can see, I’m here, not there.”
He made a solid point, but he could have hit and run like Cross had. Eric imagined it was possible for the virus to be time-delayed. “See, the problem comes in because your claim of innocence doesn’t line up with what I’ve been told.”
“Then you were lied to. You said a virus? I don’t know jack about computers, unless working Word and Excel count. Certainly nothing like how to infect the hospital’s system.”
“Why would someone tell us you did this when you didn’t?” Eric could think of one reason. That Cross wanted to waste Eric’s time. While he was busy chasing false leads, the real culprit remained unidentified. But he had to see this through. “Come on, we’re going down to the station.”
“Seriously? I’m not saying a word until I get a lawyer.”
“As per your right.” Eric cuffed him and had him taken back to the station. He followed the police cruiser, hoping Cross’s lawyer had arrived so Eric could talk to him and ideally make some progress.
It turned out Cross was ready to go, and Eric made up a coffee and headed to the observation room for a look at Cross and his attorney through the one-way mirror.
Cross paced, appearing more frayed than before. He kept running his hands down his face and raking his greasy hair with his hands, contributing to the problem.
Eric entered the room without knocking, and Cross flinched and paused mid-pace.
“If you could sit…” Eric gestured to the empty seat beside the lawyer and set the coffee there.
Cross sat down and eyed the offering with skepticism.
“Go ahead. I brought it for you.” Eric turned to the lawyer. “Sorry that I didn’t think to bring you one.”
The lawyer smiled tightly and slid his business card across the table. Eric didn’t pick it up, barely glanced at it, but caught the name. Gaylord Pearson. His parents must have hated him.
The lawyer leaned forward, but his rigid movement told Eric he was poised for a fight. “My client is ready to talk if you can guarantee his safety.”
“His safety? What about the eleven hundred people inside of Founders Hospital right now?”
“My client has nothing to do with that.”
Eric was the one to smile tightly this time.
He could lay it all out, how they might not be in this mess if not for him, but attacking Cross would shut him up.
Eric was forced to dance. “We’ll disagree on that.
But let’s say your client has reason to be concerned with his welfare.
Before I can give you any guarantee, I need to hear what he has to say.
” Eric leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms as if disinterested.
In truth, Eric saw all this talk of fear for his life to be hyperbole.
Especially if he were meant to believe Brent Hartley was violent.
Pearson gestured at Cross for him to speak.
“I was told that if I didn’t cooperate, I would be hurt. I’m just as much a victim here.”
Eric bristled at that claim. “How is that?”
“I was vulnerable. This person knew about my gambling debts.” Cross met Eric’s eyes.
“So this is about blackmail now?”
“Ah, yeah.”
“And this person being Brent Hartley?”
Cross rubbed his chin on his shoulder and looked at the lawyer.
“Because that’s what you told me. You let Brent Hartley into the server room, and he uploaded a virus. I have to say, I’ve talked with the guy, and he’s not scary to me. Not too smart either.”
Cross was refusing eye contact.
The telltale sign of an unskilled liar. “It wasn’t Brent Hartley, was it?”
“No.”
“Why tell me that then? To waste the taxpayers’ money? Drag things out for everyone?”
“I… I don’t like the guy.”
Eric licked his lips and leaned forward, shook his head. “That’s not why. You’re lying, Mr. Cross.”
“Not about how I feel about him.” The second the words left Cross’s lips, he snapped his mouth shut and remained still.
Eric resisted the urge to smile. Cross as good as admitted he’d lied about everything but his feelings toward Hartley.
Eric turned to Pearson. “I’m not sure what your client told you, but there’s no denying that Cross got into the hospital’s server room.
The scanner needed his eyes. The rest is up for debate. ”
“My client is not disputing that part, but he was there under duress.”
“Honestly, I’m losing patience. Who threatened you? Made you do this?”
“I don’t have a name.”
“Fine. What did he look like?”
Cross turned to his lawyer.
“It’s best that you tell him all you know,” Pearson advised his client.
“He was in his fifties, scruffy, a white guy.”
“Seems rather vague. How did he find you?”
“He, ah, just came up to me at work last week.”
All the filler words Cross kept using didn’t bode well for his truthfulness.
“Uh-huh. Let me be honest with you. I think you’re still lying to me.
And Mr. Cross, there’s nothing much I hate more than a liar.
Either we start having honest communication or I’m out of here, and you’ll be facing decades, if not life in prison.
” Eric paused for effect, then added, “If anyone dies today, you will go away for murder.”
“What? No, that’s not— I didn’t do it.”
“When you opened that server room, you became an accomplice to a felony. Have your lawyer explain that to you if you’re confused.
” Eric got up and left the room. Cross might not be talking, but the search of his home might speak on his behalf.
All Eric knew was Hartley had to be cut loose, and Cross warranted closer scrutiny.