Chapter 25 #2
“I did see Wes and Dix arguing just before the guests started arriving,” Laura says. “It wasn’t a knockdown fight or anything,
but they both looked upset.”
“Could you hear what they were arguing about?” Jamie asks.
“No, I was too far away,” Laura says regretfully. “But it was intense. Wes was poking his brother in the chest and going on and on about something until Dix kind of just pushed him away. Not hard, more like to get Wes out of his face. Then it was over.”
“How long did it last?” Jamie asks, making a note to ask both Wes and Dix about this confrontation.
“Not long,” Laura says. “Maybe a minute or two, and then they went off in different directions.”
Jamie questions Laura for several more minutes, but when it’s clear she has nothing more to add, he hands her one of his business
cards. “Thanks for coming in, Laura,” he says. “If you think of anything else, please let me know.”
“Sure thing,” Laura says. “And it’s good to see you again, J. J.”
“You too,” Jamie says, picking up the yearbook and extending it to Laura, but she gently pushes it toward him.
“Keep it,” she says. “My sister has one I can look at. It’s not like anyone signed that one.”
“Thanks,” Jamie says. “And, Laura, I’m hoping you won’t say anything about my history here, about who I used to be.” Laura
looks up at him, confused. “The sheriff knows,” he adds quickly. “It just complicates things.”
“Of course,” Laura says. “I won’t say anything. And by the way, I know you won’t remember this, but you were also very kind
to me.”
“Me?” Jamie asks with surprise. “Really? I always thought I was kind of an asshole back then.”
Laura laughs, and Jamie finds that he likes the way her eyes crinkle when she smiles. Still an asshole, he hears Juneau’s voice in his ear. By the way, have you called your wife yet?
“Jamie, we’ve got something,” Sheriff Colson says, poking his head around the doorway.
“If I remember anything else, I’ll call,” Laura says as she moves toward the door.
“Thanks,” Jamie says and watches as she skirts past the sheriff and out of the room. He turns his attention back to Colson. “Whatcha got?” he asks.
Colson steps into the room and holds out an evidence bag filled with what appears to be white rice. “It’s the phone that was
found near where Johanna Monaghan died. It was soaked from the rain, but it looks like the rice might have worked. It’s turned
on again.”
Jamie takes the bag and examines the contents. The cell phone has indeed turned on again and glows dimly through the rice.
“Are you sure it’s Johanna’s?” he asks.
“Pretty sure,” Colson says. “The screen saver is a picture of the Monaghans’ dog.”
“Well, let’s see what we can find,” Jamie says. “Do you have any gloves handy?” Colson leaves the room briefly and returns
with a pair of latex gloves. Jamie slides them on and then opens the evidence bag, reaches inside, and pulls out the phone.
It’s an older iPhone, and surprisingly the screen wasn’t shattered in the explosion. Jamie presses the Home button and not
surprisingly gets the prompt to enter a four-digit code. “Any ideas?” he asks, and the deputy shakes his head. Without the
code, opening the phone could take months. Cell phone carriers are known for being stubborn when it comes to providing cell
phone data without a court order. “Did anyone find a list of passwords during the search of the Monaghan home?”
“No,” Colson says. “Whatever their passwords were, they died with them.”
“Let me spend a little time with it, and see what I can come up with,” Jamie says, rubbing his eyes. If worse comes to worst,
he can send the phone to Cellebrite, a company that law enforcement often contracts with to aid in extracting digital data
from phones and computers.
“Sure thing,” the sheriff says. “I’m heading to the courthouse now, but why don’t you stop over tonight? I have something I’ve been meaning to give you, and we can catch up.”
Jamie looks up from the phone and examines the weathered face of the man who brought just about the only semblance of comfort
to him after Juneau disappeared. “Yeah, yeah, that sounds good,” he says. “See you tonight.”
Jamie returns his attention to the phone and tries the most common number combinations: 1234, 1111, 0000, 1212. Nothing. Next
he finds Johanna’s birthday in his notes, December 15, 1985, and tries a variety of combinations of those digits. It doesn’t
work, and the same goes for Dalton’s birthdate. He has one more try before the phone will lock him out. He refers again to
his notes, and his eyes snag on her home address, 3308 Mountain Creek Road. He types in 3308, and bingo, he’s in.
The phone’s battery life is in the red, so Jamie goes to the lobby and asks Ruby if there’s a charger lying around that he
can have. She hands him her own personal charger.
“Keep it as long as you need, hon,” she says. “I’ve got another one in the car. Oh, and Wes Drake has been trying to get ahold
of you. He wants you to stop at the ranch this afternoon.”
“Did he say why?” Jamie says, absent-mindedly as he punches Johanna’s code into the phone again.
“No. Just said he expects you at the ranch at three thirty,” Ruby says. “It wasn’t a request.”
Jamie pulls his eyes from the device. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. He was adamant. Want me to tell him to come here?”
“Nah, it’s fine. I’ll meet him. I want another look at the scene, anyway. But let him know I’ll be there at three.”
“I’ll let him know,” Ruby says, and Jamie goes back to the contents of the phone.
The first thing he notices are the thirty-two missed calls Johanna has after six thirty, the reported time of the explosion.
Jamie counts twenty-five of those as coming from her husband.
There are two from someone named Katherine Logan and another three from a string of numbers with no names attached.
Jamie jots down the information in his notebook and then looks at the call log before six thirty.
At 6:12 p.m., Johanna received and answered a call from another number. The call lasted less than twenty seconds. Jamie compares
the number to the ones received after the explosion. No match. He adds this number to his list, then navigates to her text
messages. Again, there are several from Dalton asking Johanna to give him a call. There’s one from Madeline sent just before
the explosion asking where she is, saying that the reveal is about to begin.
Jamie scrolls back through the mundane communications between husband and wife.
What time will you be home tonight? Will you grab a gallon of milk on your way home?
Interspersed with these are plenty of shared videos from TikTok and I love yous. There are also several texts from Dalton demanding to know where Johanna is.
Where are you? You said you were going to be home at 7. I went by the hospital—your car’s not there.
There are dozens and dozens more like them.
He thinks of what Madeline mentioned about the tracking device Dalton put in Johanna’s car, and indeed, the crime-scene techs found one when they checked her vehicle.
They were still looking for any direct evidence connecting Dalton to the IED.
They found double-headed nails in the Monaghan garage and a copy of a biography of Ted Kaczynski, the Unabomber.
Not near enough evidence. The computer techs are still scouring through Dalton’s computer and his search history.
As Jamie skims through the texts, he sees nothing of interest until he hits a thread sent three days before the party. The
messages are initiated from a number with no name.
555–0110: We need to talk.
Johanna: There’s nothing left to say.
555–0110: I can explain. Just give me a chance.
Johanna: Nothing you say will change a damn thing.
555–0110: Have you talked to her?
Johanna: Stop! I’m not doing this anymore. Leave me alone.
555–0110: Johanna, come on. You know me.
555–0110: Please, 5 minutes, that’s all I need.
555–0110: So you’re going to ignore me?
555–0110: Fuck this and fuck you, Johanna.
Johanna: No, fuck you. I’m finished. No more secrets.
555–0110: I don’t want you anywhere near me or my wife. Do you understand? You call her, come see her, go anywhere near her, you’ll
regret it.
That’s where the conversation ends. He double-checks it against the calls to Johanna’s number the day of the fire, and there
it is. The call that came into Johanna’s phone twenty minutes before the explosion. The one that lasted about twenty seconds.
Well, thinks Jamie, this is interesting.
At first glance, the texts read like a possible romance gone wrong.
Was Johanna involved with a married man?
Had she threatened to go to the wife, and the man wanted to make sure that didn’t happen?
Now he has to find out who it is. He enters the number into a reverse-phone-number site, and the answer is immediate.
The number is registered to Lone Tree Ranch LLC.
Jamie flips through his notes. None of the three ranch hands at Lone Tree are married.
It looks like Dalton was right. Wes Drake has officially become a suspect in the death of Johanna Monaghan.