Chapter 79
“Well, that fucking sucked,” Darnell said a week later as he collapsed in his chair.
Vaughn grinned.
“Hey, at least you went.”
“Only thing AA is doing is making me fatter. Donuts are stale as hell, but even you would eat a dozen if you had to listen to Mr. Magoo whining about how he turned to alcohol because his cat died. His cat.” Darnell patted his belly. “You think the department will cover Ozempic?”
Vaughn chuckled, grabbed Darnell by the shoulder.
“Glad you’re getting help.”
“Hmm. What are you doing?”
“Taking down the board.”
Vaughn reached up and removed a photo of Dr. Moorehead. Put it on the stack with the others. He was almost done. Took a moment to survey the remaining few photos on the board.
It reminded him of the wall in Tristan’s house.
All those photos, the writing.
How many things did that psychopath put up on his wall? A thousand? Bowes and Caine were still working through it all, just to tie up loose ends. It was a moot point now that Tristan was dead.
All those photos, but one of them in particular bothered Vaughn. It should be the one of Ivy sleeping. Only, it wasn’t.
It was the one of Steve Neely and Eugene Reeves, the latter signing a document at an award reception.
There was something about it that was off. Something that just didn’t sit right.
Vaughn’s phone rang and he answered, shooting a look at Darnell as he did.
“Delaney, what’s up?”
“Found our boy Joshua Perry. He just walked out of a GMC dealership. Bought himself a brand new truck. You want me to pull him back in? Man’s unemployed . . . only way he could get that truck is if he got that Bitcoin.”
Vaughn thought about it.
“What’s he saying?” No jokes from Darnell, no animosity toward Delaney.
“Hold on.” Vaughn pressed the phone to his chest. “Josh Perry just bought a new car. Only way he could do that is if Tristan sent him the Bitcoin.”
Darnell shrugged.
“So?”
“Wants to know if he should bring him in.”
“Why?”
“I dunno. I guess the Bitcoin is evidence—”
“Let him go.”
Vaughn’s first thought was that Darnell was just saying this because it would fuck with Delaney. But he was inclined to agree with his partner.
Josh Perry had done nothing wrong. A little reckless, answering a shady ad for a fake TV show, but that was it. But being stupid and gullible wasn’t a crime.
Besides, Perry had been through the wringer.
What had Ivy called the winning strategy? Tit-for-tat? Nice guy strat?
By all accounts, Perry was a nice guy.
Vaughn put the phone back to his ear.
“Let him go.”
“You sure?” Delaney sounded surprised.
“Yep. Just forget about him. Actually, on second thought, is Horowitz with you?”
“He is.”
“Have him follow Perry.”
“Well, I drove, so—”
“Have Horowitz follow him on foot.”
“On foot? Perry just bought a new—”
“On foot.”
Darnell chuckled at this. A little petty, but Vaughn was still pissed at the cop for ratting on him to the captain.
“Okay. Hey, Detective Ryan, about that thing?”
“I already put a word in with the captain.”
Vaughn had.
“Thanks. Owe you.”
He hung up.
“So Tristan actually paid out the Bitcoin, huh?” Darnell mused.
“Seems that way.”
“You think that’s weird? Killing all those people and yet he pays out when someone beats one of his games?”
“Not really. I mean, he was a math guy. Had a set of rules.”
“Rules that involved killing innocent people.”
“He probably didn’t see it that way. Probably thought he was giving them a chance—a chance his father never had. I dunno.”
Darnell shook his head and poured himself a fresh cup of coffee. The man seemed to be replacing all of his alcohol intake with terrible coffee. Made him piss twenty times a day. Still, they were both better off for it.
“I still can’t believe it. All this for a fucking math solution?”
It was more than that, though.
Ivy had tried to explain the Riemann hypothesis to him, but Vaughn didn’t get it. Not even close. All he understood was that Gene and Steve’s work was worth a lot of money.
“People have killed for less.”
Vaughn went back to taking the photos off the board.
“You hear anything from the captain about Zeke?” Darnell asked.
His partner had only been gone a week, but it felt like a lifetime. Vaughn had done his best to keep Darnell apprised of developments in the case—both cases— but following Tristan’s death, things had moved quickly.
They had Zeke cornered, had him dead to rights on Rebecca Quinn’s murder. But like all rich criminals, Zeke had a card up his sleeve.
“They’re working out a deal,” Vaughn said.
“A deal?” Darnell scoffed. “Zeke’s prints were on the knife, Rebecca Quinn’s blood on his shirt. And with Dr. Reeves’s testimony, the DA should—”
“He had information regarding Tristan Neely.”
Darnell lifted an eyebrow.
“Go on.”
“Zeke said that Tristan caught him cheating long before he was first reported. Offered him a proposition: ‘I’ll ignore the cheating if you find a laptop for me.’”
“Gene Reeves’s laptop,” Darnell said.
“Yep,” Vaughn confirmed. “Gave him a tight timeline and when he failed, turned him in. Oh, and Zeke said that Tristan made him print out those flyers at the DAL, probably to redirect our focus to Gene. Zeke also let Tristan use his father’s company mansion in Sea Bright.”
“Convenient, no?”
“Yeah,” Vaughn agreed. “I thought it was bullshit, and maybe Zeke’s dad was using his connections in the PPD to feed him information that his son just gave right back to us. But then we found some of those flyers in Zeke’s place.”
“Huh. Bet that made the DA happy.”
“Means that Zeke isn’t going away for life.”
“Also means that Devon’s donations will keep flowing to the PPD. Maybe even Princeton.” Darnell gave Vaughn a disgusted look.
“Yeah, my sentiments exactly.”
Vaughn went back to taking down the photos and was on the last one when the door opened.
“Detective Ryan, there you are—finally managed to catch you.”
It was Bowes, hopped up on caffeine and Adderall. Twitchy. Eyes darting.
“Well, I’m here—you found me.”
“You like to hang up on people a lot, don’t you?”
It took Vaughn a moment to realize that Bowes was just joking around.
“Have limited minutes and my cell phone bill is already hella expensive.”
“I know a guy who can hook you up. Unlimited, untraceable—”
“What is it, Bowes?”
“Well, remember that whole thing about Tristan being the only TA applicant?”
“Yeah,” Vaughn said. “He deleted the other applications, right? Using the laptop that Aaron had stolen from Dr. Reeves?” The one Tristan thought Gene Reeves’s half of the Riemann hypothesis was on? “The laptop that Tristan likely paid him to steal for him?”
Just like he paid him for his security card?
They still hadn’t found it yet—Tristan had probably ditched it after gaining access to the gas. Most of Vaughn’s thoughts were assumptions, but they seemed to fit the narrative.
“Right . . . but not exactly.”
“What do you mean?”
“The laptop that was stolen—Dr. Reeves’s laptop—was the one that was used to delete the other applicants. But the applications were deleted eight months ago.”
Bowes stared at Vaughn expectantly. He didn’t get it. Was he that stupid?
“So?”
“So, the campus security report for the stolen laptop was six months ago.”
Now he understood.
Oh, shit.
It clicked and Vaughn’s heart skipped a beat. Not just the laptop, but the reason why the photo of Dr. Reeves and Dr. Neely, the former signing the award, felt so strange to him.
All the jokes with Darnell and Bowes were back of mind now.
“Bowes, did you put this in your report?”
Bowes picked up on Vaughn’s change in both tone and attitude. He, too, grew serious.
“Not yet.”
“Lifetime supply of Red Bull in it for you if you keep it to yourself.”
Bowes removed his glasses and cleaned them on his shirt.
“Make it Celsius and you got a deal.”
“Done. And thanks for everything.”
“No prob.”
Bowes left and Vaughn turned to Darnell. The man mimed zipping his lips and tossing away an invisible key. Seemed fair after all the secrets that Vaughn had kept regarding Darnell during their time together.
Vaughn finished with the board, closed the folder containing all but one of the images. Kept that one for himself.
“You wanna grab a bite after work today?” Darnell asked. “Boring-ass non-alcoholic dinner with a friend who owes you? My treat?”
“Wish I could, Darnell, but I have a date.”
“Let me guess, Bae-sian Prof?”
“You nailed it.”
Darnell’s lips curled downward slightly.
“You be careful with that one, Vaughn.”
You and your fucking hunches, Darnell.
Vaughn hated that his partner had been right.
Again.
“Whatever.” Vaughn dragged out the word.
“I’m serious. She’s smarter than all of us combined.”
Oh, of that, I have no doubt.
The entire time, Dr. Ivy Reeves had been playing chess while they were all engaged in a simple game of checkers.