Chapter 18
The lunch crowd at Riverside Park moved with the relaxed energy of people escaping office routines for an hour of autumn sunshine and food truck cuisine.
Mia arrived early, choosing a picnic table with clear sightlines and her back to the Saranac River, habits inherited from a childhood spent around law enforcement officers who thought tactically even during casual outings.
The October air smelled of fried onions from the Adirondack Grill truck, wood smoke from someone's backyard fire, and the crisp promise of winter that would transform the mountains from a tourist destination to an endurance test.
Families with young children occupied tables near the playground, while clusters of what looked like state workers grabbed quick meals between meetings that determined local policy and federal funding.
Rishi Patel approached the park with the careful gait of someone who'd learned not to draw unnecessary attention to himself.
"Mia? Where’s Gideon? He said he was going to be here," he asked, stopping at her table with obvious uncertainty.
“He got pulled away. I hope you’re hungry, I ordered you a burger.”
He raised an eyebrow. "Gideon said he wanted to talk about evidence processing? You are aware I don’t do that, right?"
"Of course," Mia said, gesturing for him to sit. "Look, I don’t want to put you in a difficult position but I was hoping you might be able to look into something for me."
Rishi settled across from her, glancing around the park with the wariness of someone who understood that casual conversations could have serious consequences.
“Like?”
“Evidence.”
"You know I can’t do that."
"Why not?"
"I could lose my job. Besides, your father's been good to me. Professional, respectful, never made me feel like an outsider the way some officers do. If I help you access information he doesn't want you to have, it feels like betrayal. Besides, there are legalities with that."
Mia studied Rishi's expression, seeing genuine conflict rather than simple reluctance. "What did Gideon tell you about why I need this information?"
"He said you're investigating the Hale case, and that official channels aren't providing access to information about the evidence that might solve it." Rishi paused, watching a group of teenagers skateboard past their table.
The food truck line moved steadily, workers from nearby offices ordering lunch combinations that would fuel afternoon meetings and administrative tasks that kept local government functioning.
"That’s right.”
“And like I said, I can’t help you. You understand?”
“I understand Gideon helped you with immigration issues," Mia said. “Is that true?”
Rishi's expression tightened. "Not exactly. My green card application was delayed for reasons that had nothing to do with my qualifications or background. Bureaucratic complications that could have cost me my job and my future in this country. Gideon knew people who could expedite the process."
"What kind of people?"
"Immigration lawyers who owed him favors, clerks who trusted his recommendations, advocates who'd worked with him on other cases. Gideon has more connections than you'd expect from someone who runs a DVD store in a small town."
“Ah…” Mia thought about the extensive files and networking capabilities she'd observed during her visit to Gideon's store. His obsession with cold cases had apparently led to relationships that extended far beyond amateur investigation.
"So you’ve helped him before?"
"Yes. No. I mean…” He trailed off. “Ugh.
Look, I feel grateful to someone who went out of his way to help a stranger navigate a system that wasn't designed to accommodate people like me.
" Rishi took a bite of his burger, chewing thoughtfully.
"But you know as well as I do, I can't compromise my professional ethics or jeopardize my position. "
“Sounds like you already have,” Mia said.
They ate in silence for several minutes, both of them watching the casual normalcy of park life while discussing access to evidence in an active murder investigation.
“I know why you help him. And I don’t think it has anything to do with Gideon.”
“And why might that be?”
“You’re just bored being stuck in that tech room all day.”
“That’s nonsense, I enjoy it.”
“If you did you would have denied Gideon the last time he asked for your help.”
Rishi groaned.
“Look, Rishi, I’m not asking you to turn off cameras or remove any evidence from the locker. I’m just asking you to access the evidence logs. You could do that from your own office. I know you can. You’re a whiz on that computer.”
"I don’t like where this is leading. What specifically do you need to know?" Rishi asked finally.
"Simple stuff. Again, I don’t need anything taken out.
I just want to know the chain of custody for evidence collected from the original Hale crime scene.
Particularly a latex glove that was reportedly found and processed for DNA analysis along with the DNA under the nails of Jacob Hale.
Is the latex glove still there? And was the DNA a match to the glove?
And have they run any tests on it in the past few years to check CODIS or any of the DNA databases out there? "
Rishi's eyes sharpened with professional interest. "That's oddly specific."
"Sources who've been tracking this case for years told me. People have noticed discrepancies between what was collected, what was analyzed, and what was released to the public."
"And you think those discrepancies are intentional?"
"I think that if someone with influence over the investigation wants certain evidence to disappear or remain unprocessed, that will happen. At least that’s my theory.
The question is whether that evidence still exists and whether modern analysis might reveal new information that wasn’t found ten years ago. "
Rishi finished his burger while considering Mia's request. She could see him weighing professional obligations against personal loyalty, and law enforcement protocol against the possibility that justice had been deliberately obstructed.
He groaned. "Mia, okay, but that’s all," he said finally.
"Rishi, you are the best. That will be incredibly helpful."
He cleared his throat. "I'd need to be careful about how I access that information. Queries about old evidence gets logged, and the office would probably notice if I started digging. Also, please understand, this is a one-time favor, because of what Gideon did, and because of who your family is. But after this, I won’t be involved.
You can tell Gideon that too. All favors cease after this. "
Mia felt a surge of gratitude mixed with guilt at putting Rishi in such a difficult position. "I understand. How will you do it?”
"I’ll limit it to a single inquiry that could be explained as routine database maintenance, or a software update." Rishi pulled out his phone, checking the time. "I will look into the glove situation this evening, when fewer people are monitoring system access."
"Do you need anything from me?"
"Evidence tag numbers, approximate collection dates, any identifying information that would help me locate the right files without conducting obvious searches."
Mia realized she'd need to contact Gideon for those details.
"How should I contact you?" she asked.
Rishi gave her a number that he said was a secure line. "Text only, and keep it brief. If I find relevant information, I'll let you know this evening."
As they prepared to leave the park, Mia felt the weight of crossing another line in her unofficial investigation.
Each conversation, each request for information, each step deeper into the conspiracy surrounding Pierce's murder made her a more obvious target for elimination.
But she also felt the thrill of making real progress, of building connections and gathering intelligence that might finally expose the truth about crimes that had been covered up for a decade.
Oktoberfest in High Peaks transformed the normally quiet downtown into a celebration that drew families from across the North Country.
Main Street had been closed to vehicle traffic, with beer tents and food vendors creating a festival atmosphere that masked the tension of an active murder investigation.
Mia walked through the crowd with heightened awareness, studying faces and social dynamics while appearing to enjoy the music and autumn colors that made the Adirondacks a destination for leaf-peepers and outdoor enthusiasts.
The festival represented everything she'd grown to appreciate about small-town life—community gathering, shared traditions, the kind of social cohesion that created both safety and surveillance.
The mountains surrounding High Peaks provided a dramatic backdrop for the celebration, with Whiteface Peak visible in the distance and forests that blazed with October colors.
Beer tents anchored each end of the street festival, while local vendors sold everything from maple products to handcrafted jewelry that appealed to tourists seeking authentic mountain experiences.
A bluegrass band played on a stage erected in front of the municipal building, their music mixing with conversations and laughter to create the soundtrack of small-town celebration.
Children ran between booths with the kind of freedom that was possible in communities where everyone knew everyone else, where dangers were assumed to come from outside rather than from neighbors and local leaders.
She spotted Deputy Thorne near the beer tent, off-duty but still carrying herself with the alert posture that identified law enforcement officers even in civilian clothes. Several members of the town council moved through the crowd.