CHAPTER 33 Cross
Cross
AFTER AN HOUR OF searching the trail with no further results, Alex and Bree sit in their Camry back at the trailhead. Bree taps furiously on her laptop.
Still no reply from Melissa.
The sun has fully risen now, and the temperature with it. They’re both sweaty and covered with bug bites and scratches. Alex gets a news alert on his phone.
“Christ! Another bombing in DC.”
“Where?” asks Bree.
“Vietnam Veterans Memorial.”
“Casualties?”
Alex nods. “No final count yet, but it’s not good.”
Bree shakes her head. “I’m sure John is on it. Ned too. We need to stay focused.”
“What are you doing?” Alex asks.
“I’m borrowing some Bluestone software to check emails from the kids we met at the bar. I want to see if there’s anything else they’re not telling us. Deep dive this time.”
Alex leans over to look at her screen. All he sees is a mishmash of lists and codes. This is way beyond everyday Gmail.
“They all have encrypted accounts,” says Bree. “Nia, Carter, Roger …” She taps a few more keys. “Damon and Melissa too.” Bree freezes on an exchange and enlarges it. “Wait. Look at this.”
At that moment, a car pulls up behind them. A Red Kia. It’s Melissa.
“Hold that thought,” says Alex.
Bree snaps her laptop closed and steps out of the car. “About time!” She sounds annoyed, and Alex doesn’t blame her.
He exits the driver’s side and meets Melissa as she opens her car door. “Where did you disappear to last night? We were worried about you!”
“I’m so sorry,” says Melissa. “We were pretty shaken up and we all just took off. I stayed at Nia’s last night. I didn’t realize my phone was on Do Not Disturb until this morning.”
“Come this way. We found a bike.”
“Is it Damon’s?”
“You tell us.”
Alex leads the way down the trail. Melissa follows, with Bree bringing up the rear, clutching her laptop. About thirty yards in, Alex stops and points. “There it is.”
Melissa ducks down and reaches for the bike. Alex grabs her hand. “Don’t touch it. It could be evidence.”
Melissa gets down on all fours and crawls under the branches that cover half the bike. She stretches forward, brushing her hair back from her face. Then she turns around. “It is Damon’s! There’s a scrape on the front end of the frame.”
“Are you sure?” asks Bree.
Melissa nods. “Damon was riding one afternoon when he went by a parked car. Idiot driver opened his door without checking. Damon was okay, but the bike got scraped. He was really pissed off about it. He showed me the mark when he came home.”
Progress, Alex thinks. Now we just need to get the bike to a police lab.
“Thanks, Melissa,” he says. “This helps.”
Melissa sits back and brushes the dirt from her hands and knees. “Is there anything else I can do?”
Bree opens her laptop and holds the screen in front of Melissa’s face. “Yes. You can explain this.”