Hunter Page 6

  Episode 5

  Leave Out All the Rest

  The man was well dressed in expensive clothing. But those clothes were heavily stained. His body laid in the middle of the field, blood pooled underneath. The cause of death was very apparent: a single shot to the chest.

  Police vehicles flashed in the distance, officers and detectives walking between the crime scene and the road they parked their cars. There was no signs of that any vehicles had been in the field. Even the officer's footprints had left little mark despite the rain from earlier.

  Officers and detectives continued to do their duty. One was hovering near the body, using various instruments for his tests, and another searched for anything that would identify who this person was. Many more officers searched around the dark field for more evidence.

  Jeff looked down at the solemn sight. He had a screen overlooking it. The Transport hovered above, unnoticed by those who worked below. Other screens were still on, the cockpit fully lit.

  But Jeff continued looking at the scene. He showed resolve that this would be his next mission.

  Jeff approached the two police cars that blocked the road. It had taken him an hour to get to the crime scene perimeter. That fact alone made Jeff glad that this area was basically one large, flat field with various crops, making it easy to navigate.

  The lone officer looked up to see Jeff. He found it curious that someone was all the way out here, miles from the suburb and without a car. Rotating around the barricading vehicle, he intercepted the former-scientist. "Good evening sir. I'm sorry to say that this area is closed."

  Jeff nodded, talking very directly to the officer. "Yeah, I know. Can you tell me who that man is?"

  The officer knew what Jeff was talking about, but decided to play coy. "What man are you talking about?"

  "The body in the field over there." Jeff looked across the field, where lights illuminated a sphere around the crime scene.

  The Police officer remained professional, noticing that Jeff had known about the investigation. "How do you know that there is a body over there?"

  Jeff had to spin the truth a bit, knowing the actual truth would likely be too foreign a concept for the officer to believe. "I was in a helicopter not too long ago and couldn't help but see the lights out here."

  "I don't remember a helicopter flying overhead."

  Jeff knew at this point his explanations could draw suspicions. "It was pretty far away and I have top-of-the-line binoculars."

  The officer believed that explanation, at least enough to give the newcomer an answer. "I personally don't know, nor could I give it unless it's part of a public statement. What was your name, sir?"

  "Jeffrey Hunter. I'm a private investigator."

  That told the officer why Jeff was there. "Did someone hire you or something?"

  Jeff shrugged, "Not really. I would be filed under not-for-profit."

  The officer still found this strange, but decided not to pursue any questions and gave a official-type of response, "Well, we can't help you. We'll give a name and a preliminary report for the public tomorrow morning. If you obtain any information, we would be thankful for any tips."

  Jeff looked over to the crime scene. He wanted to be right in there, but highly doubted the police would let him in on their investigation. "Alright. I'll be at your station in the morning to pick up a copy of that. Can you tell me where it is?"

  The officer pointed out, "It's the one on Marlow Avenue."

  Jeff spoke politely, despite the disappointment, "Thanks."

  He turned around and walked back to where he had came from. The officer looked at him, thinking that he was a strange person.

  The station was not busy at all the next morning. There was a woman in her early thirties who was waiting there, as there was no one at the desk. Jeff entered the quiet place; the woman noticing him immediately. She did not approach or speak to him, just observed him as he walked in an stood near the desk.

  They both stood there quietly for a few seconds before an officer walked to the desk from the offices.

  The officer put up a formal stance, "Good morning, anything I can help you with?"

  He had directed the question to both of the visitors, not knowing which had came in first. Jeff looked at the woman, expecting her to walk up to the desk. Instead, she gestured him forward. At first Jeff was going to suggest otherwise but saw an insistence in her that meant it would have been a waste of time to reject the offer.

  So Jeff approached the desk. "I'm an investigator looking into the dead body that was found last night."

  "The one at the Branson field?"

  "I believe so." Jeff said it rhetorically, but not really knowing the actual name of the crime scene.

  "Yeah, we were expecting you. Got word that you were interested in the case. I'll save you the time and give you the press release; that has all the information on it."

  "Thanks." Jeff had said it right before the officer turned to go back into the offices to retrieve the paper.

  That was when the woman approached Jeff. "Excuse me."

  Jeff turned to see her holding a pad of paper in one hand and a pen in the other.

  "I'm Jen Archer for the Densen Times," she introduced, "and couldn't help but overhear your conversation."

  Jeff remarked, "Very purposeful, since you let me go ahead of you." He was very blunt in that statement. She still laughed even though Jeff was serious.

  "It isn't common for anyone to be here this early in the morning unless you have something interesting that happened. And you apparently did have something."

  Jeff felt fairly resistant to talking with this woman. "I won't have much more to say than what the press release already has."

  Jen looked right at him, calling a perceived bluff. "But you still knew about this before I did. Plus, you called yourself an investigator. If you don't know anything, why would you be interested in it?"

  Jeff honestly spoke, "Because it was there, and there would be someone who would want to know what happened to that man."

  The desk officer had returned, saying, "Here you go." He sett down two sheets of papers; one directed towards the reporter. "And here's one for you, Ms. Archer."

  She turned toward the officer. "Thanks. By the way, is the crime scene clear for reporters?"

  While the officer didn't like the idea, but knew he had to say, "If you want to head that direction, go ahead. C.S.U. cleared the scene a few hours ago."

  Jen took the paper, then turned back to Jeff. "Want to come along?"

  She had held the offer as though it was on a string. He thought it might be wiser to go alone on this, but she would just as likely hover around him anyway.

  "Alright," he gave in, "Where's your car?"

  She waved him towards the door. "Just outside."

  The slim car could be seen in the distance. Jeff had no problem navigating the tall grass field; one that hadn't been maintained in quite a long time. Jen let Jeff lead the way, having him stamp out a path before her.

  Then they came to the search area. It was plowed down, showing that many people had walked around. Some heavy prints showed where the lights had been placed. At this time, the ground had dried, making the few remaining prints more permanent.

  Jen pointed out, "The release said that they weren't sure that Allen Carlile was dumped here or not."

  "But it didn't say they found a weapon or any shell casings." Jeff bent down, holding his glasses as he searched around. There were faint spots of blood, though most of the pool had been removed by the rain. Jeff knew what the press release said probably wasn't correct.

  Jen held up her cell phone, taking pictures of the area. Moving around to get different angles, the pictures were more about aesthetics than finding anything.

  Thinking off-hand, she asked Jeff, "You think you can find something the police hadn't?"

  Jeff looked down, seeing in a different visual spectrum a huge splotch in the dry mud that marked where the body had been. It was
apparent that they didn't remove everything from that spot. "Possibly. I'm going to take the guess he was killed right here. Someone took out the grass, but there's still plenty of blood on the ground."

  Jen looked at the spot Jeff was investigating. "I don't see any blood."

  He simply responded, "Don't ask." He said it to wave off the question.

  Jen, being a reporter, didn't like it. "That's my job, to ask questions."

  Jeff got up to start looking around the area, turning to get a perspective of the entire area. "Well, that's a question I don't want to answer at the moment."

  Jen lowered her phone, looking right at Jeff. "Then what other question are you not answering?"

  Jeff looked back, giving a very serious vibe in his features. He knew some of the implications. "If you're thinking that I had something to do with this murder: no, I wasn't even in the city when it happened."

  "I know that. Why would a murderer investigate his own crime. But that still leaves a lot of questions for you."

  Jeff turned, ignoring any further questions about himself. "I can't tell specifically, but there was at least one more person than our victim here. They came the same way the police did."

  The reporter had to ask, "How can you tell that?"

  Jeff pointed to the ground where the body was, noting how different it was from the rest. "Whenever it happened, it was wet out here. Not by much, enough to put an imprint here. And since there is no other paths made, everyone involved came by the same road."

  "But you don't see any footprints," she pointed out.

  "No. That what makes it difficult to determine how many people were here. But there was only one shot, right in the center of his chest."

  "Which means what to you?"

  Jeff looked at her, "Likely, he didn't expect it. Or at least didn't fight back."

  She noted, "That doesn't say much."

  He further expanded upon that point. "Not until we know who he was with."

  Jeff walked down the path, intending to leave. Without looking back, he said to Jen, "Let's see if the family wants to talk."

  She followed him down the path back to the car.

  Jeff knocked on the door, holding the screen open. The house didn't look special; a welcome mat was the only decoration in the doorway.

  A voice came from the other side of the closed door, "I don't want to talk to any reporters!" The call was angry and showed much irritation towards previous attempts.

  Jeff looked at Jen, silently sending a signal to cooperate. Holding her hands up, she backed away from the door. He then called to the woman through the door, "Mrs. Carlile, I'm a private investigator."

  Harriet replied, "I didn't call for a PI!"

  "I'm not asking for any money."

  He heard a few steps before the door opened, revealing the middle-aged woman. She looked tired, as though she had woken up too early and couldn't sleep. She was very skeptical about Jeff. "Then what do you want?"

  "The same thing you want: answers."

  She looked at him, still mostly skeptical, but mostly tired. "Look, I already answered questions the police asked. I don't have anything more to say."

  Jeff decided to go the short route, "What did they ask?"

  She was a bit frustrated, but decided to answer anyway. She figured it would have been faster. "Allen worked at the Fenraid offices downtown. Never said much about work, nor if he had any problems."

  He switched things up a bit, "How about at home? Who was he here?"

  The question triggered minor sense of nostalgia in her. "He...was a father above all else. Even above a husband."

  There was a hint of resentment in her voice. With that in mind, he asked, "You two were having problems?"

  She answered, "Not really. It was just...he was quiet. Not himself unless he was with Kyle or Dana. He's been like that since Dana, our younger one, was born. I just think...it was the both of us."

  "What do you mean?"

  She grew tepid, as though she revealed too much about her personal life, "Well...it seems like something all married couples go through."

  The comment hit Jeff; the part about being married. "I haven't experienced that."

  Harriet missed the meaning completely. "That's good for you, right now at least. You'll know what I mean when it happens. It'll be subtle, but you'll notice it at one point."

  Jeff knew that wouldn't happen, but didn't want to explain to her why. Instead, he redirected the conversation back towards Allen. "So Allen enjoyed being with your kids."

  "Yeah. Would do anything for them."

  A few steps came from down a set of stairs. "Mom, who's that at the door?" The child was no more than ten years old. Leaning just a bit, Jeff could see that he was still in his pajamas; waking up for the first time that day.

  Harriet masked her mood when directed toward her son. "It's someone who wants to help."

  The child was oblivious to the situation. "Help with what?"

  She didn't want to lie, but didn't want to explain the situation just yet. Or ever, but it had to be done. "I'll tell you in a little bit. Go back upstairs for now."

  Tired, the son rotated right around and walked back up the stairs. Harriet turned back towards Jeff. "I haven't told them yet."

  Nodding, he backed away. "I won't take anymore of your time."

  She appreciated the notion. "Thank you," the new widow admitted, "It would help, to have those answers."

  Harriet closed the door.

  Jeff walked back to the driveway, where Jen had been wandering around. The garage door had been cracked open; Jeff didn't notice before if it was like that when they arrived or not.

  The reporter said, "In case you're wondering, one of their cars is missing."

  Jeff looked the door, pointing to it. "Did you open that?"

  Jen innocently shook her head. "No, it was like that. I could just see that there's one car in there. The other side is empty."

  Jeff, turning partially to a different topic, said to her, "It wouldn't be surprising if something happened near his work. Let's go downtown."

  "Alright, I'll just warn you I have deadline this afternoon."

  "So you'll be ditching me?"

  She took it partly as a joke, though Jeff had hoped she would. "Considering, not at all. I just need to stop by my office before then."

  Jeff spoke very deadpan, "I was hoping that you would."

  Jen replied in a hard tone, "Ha. Ha. Get in the car!"

  Jeff led Jen down from the nearby parking lot. The plaza was a fancy one, especially considering this wasn't a metropolis. Various offices could be seen, each being a completely different business than the others.

  As the two strolled down, a man in formal attire approached them. He first directed towards the reporter. "Are you following this guy around, Miss Archer?"

  She took the humor in stride, "Yes I am, Detective. Is there a problem?"

  The detective turned toward Jeff. "Be careful, she'll be quite pushy if you allow her."

  He deduced, "I trust that you know each other."

  She waved at the formally clothed man. "This is Detective Oldman. I've had the "pleasure" of interviewing him a few times."

  He responded in kind, "They were a "pleasure" all right. I've heard about you though, but never got your name."

  Jeff decided to ignore the apparent rivalry between the two. He introduced himself, "Jeffrey Hunter. I'm guessing you didn't stop here just for pleasantries."

  Jen muttered, "More likely stone-walling."

  Detective Oldman clearly heard it, but chose to ignore it. "Anyway, I wanted to save you time. Mr. Carlile didn't work here. He was fired well over two years ago."

  Jeff pointed out, "His wife didn't know that."

  The detective pointed out in the distance. "Being his car is parked here, he may have changed jobs, or something else."

  Jeff found that curious, "His car?"

  The detective pointed directly to a Sudan parked away from other cars. "I
t may take a bit for us to get a warrant to search it. You're still welcome to look, but not touch." He emphasized the last point towards Jen, showing he didn't trust her at all.

  Jeff politely said, "Thanks for the tip."

  "Good luck for you as well. Officially speaking we don't condone a P.I. investigating an open case, but unofficially we don't mind. As long as they don't get into any trouble."

  "I'll keep that in mind." Jeff was more sincere in the comment than what Jen was showing. The Detective left, keeping an eye on the reporter before going full stride across the parking lot.

  The two started walking to the Sudan, with Jen taking the rear. "Trouble won't stop you, I can see that."

  "I'm not sure if it's true here, but where I come the average police officer has never fired their weapon. I've done so several times."

  "Sounds pretty safe," she commented about Jeff's hometown.

  He solemnly responded, "Not really."

  They arrived at the car. Jeff looked inside, immediately noticing a small box placed on the dash."There's a GPS in there. Maybe it has previous points that would..."

  The door unexpectedly unlocked before him. He turned around to see Jen had fiddled with a remote key. She shrugged at Jeff's look. "I did a story on car thieves and found out a thing or two. One of them was that the security on this model car is rather pathetic."

  Jeff very seriously said, "I thought he said not to touch."

  "And I didn't," she innocently responded.

  Jeff sighed, opening the door. He reached in to grab the loose GPS. Coming back out, he switched it on. Looking at it, he pressed a button on the screen to bring up several way-points. It automatically showed the last one used. Jen looked over his shoulder, seeing the way-point on a map.

  "I know that place," she said to him, "No wonder he left his car here."

  "Why do you say that?"

  "Police patrol there all the time. Very bad neighborhood. Drug dealers all around, along with other unsavory folk."

  "And leaving his car here means he didn't want to get caught. Question is: for what?"

  The car rolled slowly through the rather old and run-down neighborhood. Jen drove as Jeff looked at the poor people that inhabited the grey homes. A few stared as they drove by, most tried to look as nonchalant or hide from view.

  They stopped along one of the houses. It didn't look any different than any of the others. Jeff got out, holding his glasses to get a preview of the scene.

  Jen walked around the front of the car. "This is the place on the GPS. Doesn't look special. Then again, nothing here does."

  Jeff blatantly stated, "Nobody's inside, so let's take a look."

  Jen looked at him, "How would you know..."

  Jeff raised a finger to cut her off. "That's one of those questions."

  He began walking to the house, with Jen taking a momentary pause before running to catch up. The door was cracked open; though without a door handle it couldn't have been technically closed. Jeff was not cautious at all, whereas Jen didn't trust his analysis. She knew the neighborhood and the dangers that lay. She kept a constant watch back toward the entrance, as well as any dark corners that someone could hide in.

  Jeff looked around, inspecting the empty home. There wasn't one piece of furniture. Opening a closet door, he found it just as empty. "Are any of the homes here this empty?"

  She knew neighborhoods like this, "If it's been abandoned a long time, it could have been looted into this state."

  Jeff held his glasses, searching for any hidden compartments or rooms. At first he looked along a horizontal line, then downward. Finding nothing, he looked up; that direction held something interesting.

  He rounded around a wall, navigating to and up the stairs. Jen followed, mostly out of curiosity along with a little bit out of caution.

  At the top of the stairs, Jeff looked up to find a string on the ceiling. Pulling it slid down a step-ladder that went up to the attic. Climbing it, he saw what he had found earlier.

  "I didn't expect this."

  Jen climbed up behind him, a bit of shock in her discovery as well. "That..can't work, can it?"

  What they had found was a large computer, running warm in the otherwise cool attic. There was a lone screen and keyboard. More over, there was several slots open. Jeff inspected those slots, finding two occupied. Pressing a button, a drive slid out. He picked it up, finding it clearly labeled as a terabyte hard drive.

  Jeff knew exactly why that was here, "Information is what they were hiding."

  Jen looked around, still wondering several details. "Still...how were they getting power to this thing. Most homes here don't have power, much less those that have been abandoned."

  Taking that into account, Jeff looked around. It didn't take long before he found cables that leaked directly out of the house. "They must have done something, since these go straight outside."

  Going back to the large computer, Jeff another cord that ran next to the power cable. "This thing's also connected to the Internet."

  Jeff went back around to the front, where the keyboard and monitor was placed. He began to type, seeing if there anything on it. All he found was a blank screen.

  "Having difficulty?" Jen asked.

  But Jeff knew it wasn't just simple security measures. "In that we're too late. They erased everything."

  Jen practically gave in with that. "So this is a dead end."

  Jeff smirked, "Nope. I got a few things up my sleeve. I just need another computer that can take this drive."

  "If it helps," she offered, "The newspaper has those drives."

  "Good. I'll need a quick stop before hand."

  The two climbed back down. They walked down the stairs, with Jeff in the lead. His glasses detected people approaching from outside. He signaled for Jen to stay at the stairs.

  Diving to the door, he looked through the crack. He saw four men approaching, all with pistols drawn. Jeff drew his own gun, diving out of the way.

  The door slammed open. Without hesitation, Jeff fired through the door, hitting one of the gunman. The others dove back outside, reevaluating their tactics.

  While crouching down, Jeff ran to the living room windows. He kept a constant watch at the gunmen. Random shots were fired into the house, all missing Jeff. Raising back up, Jeff fired through the window at the nearest gunman. Of the several shots, one hit the target in the head. Diving back down, the windows shattered with the return fire.

  Then a round object was hurled into the home. Jeff couldn't help but say to himself, "Crap!" Jeff lunged over the window-sill, out of the small explosion.

  Now outside, Jeff quickly looked back up. He found one of the gunmen. It was a split-second, but a long one. They had seen each other and both knew how vulnerable they were with their guns lowered. Jeff was faster, raising his gun and firing it several times.

  Then the last gunman dove on top Jeff. He successfully pinned him down, gun aimed right at Jeff's head. The gunman smiled, thinking he had defeated his opponent.

  Then a gun shot sounded, blood splattered all over Jeff. The gunman slumped down, his head blooded from the bullet. Jeff looked up, to see Jen aiming a pistol at the dead body. She was in complete disbelief and shock over her own actions.

  Jeff got up, looking around to see the house on fire. He moved to Jen, trying to console her. "It's over. You can let go of the gun."

  Jen released the gun, letting it fall to the ground. She still stared at the dead body. "I've seen bodies, but..."

  "Jennifer!"

  Jeff shook her on the shoulders, trying to get her attention away from the transpired event. "I need you to drive. Back to the field."

  Although still in shock, she was confused over the request. "Why back there..."

  "I need to get something. But we need to work fast. The more we wait, the more evidence is erased or destroyed.

  "Do you have the detective's phone number?"

  "Yeah, it's in my cell phone."

  "Good. Ha
nd it over to me."

  Jen cooperated, taking the phone out of her pocket and handing it over.

  Jeff gave further instructions, trying to get her away the events before her. "OK. Get the car ready. I'll call and make sure the detective knows everything that has happened."

  But she couldn't help but have the gunshot in her mind. She couldn't move, yet Jeff was forcing her to do just that. "How can you be so calm?"

  Jeff grimly said, "It's something I've gotten used to. Now go!"

  He started going through the cell phone to call, all the while making sure that Jen walked to the car.

  The car stopped along a nondescript part of the road. It was along a large ditch, where water would flow during the winter.

  Jen's shock had dissipated, but the memory of the events had not. She was still reflecting - seeing the man die in front of her. Normally she would have demanded why they were stopping there. Now she was too distracted to even ask.

  "Jen, come with me." He was trying to be sympathetic. But rather than ask any questions, she silently nodded in agreement.

  They got out of the car. Jeff led her down the ditch, revealing to her the Dimensional Transport.

  Using his key, he opened the back hatch. She was in awe, for the first time since the firefight showing some emotion.

  "Again, this is another question that I won't answer. Plus, I want this to remain off the record."

  She nodded, no questions coming to her anyway.

  Jeff walked inside, rifled through some of the equipment. As he went through some of the stuff, he explained, "One thing we have as a precaution is a recovery disk. It's just in case the system gets wiped for one reason or another." He found a box, in it full of computer equipment. From it, he easily snagged out a CD case.

  Then a beep came from the cockpit. The screen showed that it found the other Dimensional Transport. Jeff clearly saw it, then turned to Jen. Despite his own mission, he needed to finish this case.

  Without her even asking, Jeff said to her, "That's nothing. Another one of those questions." He said that as he left, closing the Transport.

  Jen led Jeff through the newsroom. The people inside took notice, more over Jen's changed mood than Jeff's presence. Some of the reporters kept to their typing while others looked at the two while conversing on the phone.

  She led him to a back room that held several sets computers. With a sigh, Jeff said, "Thank you. From here on out, I need to do this alone."

  "But don't you need any help?"

  "Not with what you already have faced. Go write that story. Make some good come from this."

  She nodded. "Then this is good bye. I hope you find what you're looking for. You deserve it."

  She was about to leave for her desk when Jeff stopped for one brief request, "Can you keep Allen's name out of it. We don't know his role in this, and I don't want his family to learn the worst possibility."

  It was a request often given by police. Despite the name being in the press release, she said to Jeff, "I will."

  With that Jen left. He sighed, then moved onto the business that was the hard drive. Jeff sat in front of the nearest computer, taking out the drive from his pocket. Sliding it into the nearby open slot, the screen showed that it had loaded the drive. Next he put in the CD into the slot loader.

  Jeff rebooted the computer. Instead of going to the operating system, it went to a simple command prompt. He moved the cursor with the keyboard to the option that will repair the drive.

  Then a man came into the room, "Are you the PI that Jen's been shadowing."

  Jeff turned to face him, "I'm guessing you want to know what happened."

  He was the only one with a name tag on his shirt. Jeff could tell he was the editor of the newspaper. The boss said, "I already know; heard it from Detective Oldman. But I wanted to know from you, is she fine?"

  Jeff nodded, "Physically, yes. Mentally...that will take time. If you can, it may be best to give her time off."

  "Normally, I find that difficult. She's a hard worker and never wanted to miss a story. But I haven't seen her like this since her first traffic accident."

  Jeff asked, "But she still continued after that?"

  The editor nodded in confirmation. "Yeah. She's resilient."

  "I hope that's still true."

  The computer beeped, letting Jeff know that it was finished. He looked at it, then back to the editor. "I need to see this alone."

  The editor had heard that plenty of times. "Alright, take as much time as you need."

  "Thanks. And give Jennifer my condolences."

  "I will." The editor closed the door behind him, leaving Jeff to look at the hard drive.

  He searched through the various files, each came up as a text file. Jeff quickly knew what it was. "This is spyware...from the looks of it targeting banks."

  He scrolled down, looking through more of the file. He saw what the program was designed to do, then decided to close it. He had seen a list of details on the file, including the author. It was simply named "Allen."

  It was a simple deduction, "He wrote this."

  The bank's office was just in the back room on the public floor. This was a district office; not any of the big fancy ones that would be in the big cities. There wasn't any extraordinary amenities or decorations. Jeff was being led by the manager to a set of computer banks - the servers that run the entire bank network.

  "I thank you for telling me about this," the manager said to him as they walked, "We try to have the best security out there. But if something gets in, it can take far too long to even see something wrong."

  "Well, I'm hoping that you could tell me where all that money is being funneled to."

  They arrived in the center of the server room, where a lone terminal stood. The manager explained, "To secure us in cases of fraud just like this, we keep records going back for at least a decade. If even a quarter of a cent, or less, is moved, we have a record for it."

  The manager began typing into the computer, paying attention to the computer while the conversation continued.

  Jeff asked, "Do you need to be that specific?"

  "Oh yes! One of the easiest ways to launder money is to take very low amounts, like half cents, from various accounts. Get enough and it'll be a plentiful sum."

  "So how does this one work exactly?"

  "This one is new," the manager answered, "It was designed to trick the system into thinking that it's paying an employee. The transaction isn't mirrored to H.R., so no one would have noticed it until we audit it. Which could be several years."

  "So how much money is being funneled?"

  The manager found several records. "Judging from what I found, it was about a dozen accounts. That would translate to about six-hundred-thousand dollars a year."

  "Not a great amount, but not petty," Jeff commented.

  The bank manager took a good look at the listing, finding something curious. "That's strange. No wonder nobody found this. Every one of the fake accounts lists them as various branch positions, but it's all billed to the corporate account."

  "That's strange how?"

  The manager turned away to face Jeff. "It doesn't work like that. All the branches are run by their own management structure; including HR departments. Corporate just handles the larger numbers and services."

  "So someone knew how to hide it in your system?"

  "Actually, that's not the major effect. Funneling money is something the company looks out for all the time; no matter the source. No, what this means is that it only affects the corporate entity. No personal accounts, none of the branches."

  "So they think that this is taking from the rich, and giving to themselves?"

  The bank manager shrugged, "I guess so."

  "Still, do you have records of who this is going to?"

  "Yup, it's all going to one account; one from another country."

  Jeff didn't like that answer. "That means it's untraceable."

  "That would be true. But
you said you got this from here?" The manager asked.

  Jeff didn't know where that question was leading. "Yeah, would that be important?"

  "There's only one wire transfer service within fifty miles; it's on Maple Avenue. Actually...," The manager typed a few more buttons, bringing up a new screen. "Yup, they all coincide with our normal time scale. That means it all the accounts were paid this morning."

  Jeff knew what that meant. "So whoever is behind this has visited the wire service today."

  The manager corrected, "Or will. A friend of mine used to work there, says it can take a short while for the entire process to complete. I say if he's been there already, it's only been a few hours."

  "Thanks." Jeff said before quickly turning around and began to leave. If the bank manager was correct, he could easily identify the killer, or even catch him.

  Jeff walked along the street near his destination. The wire service was a lone building, among the series of businesses located in a quiet part of town. Several cars were in the parking lot. One was right in front of the building; a good indication that it's owner was inside.

  He just entered the parking lot when a man exited the building. The somewhat short man held a wad of cash in his hand. Looking up, the man saw Jeff. A look of recognition flashed on his face.

  The man pulled out a pistol, aimlessly firing it.

  Jeff quickly ducked behind a parked car. Pulling out his own gun, he quickly rose to see where the villain was. Gunfire came from the black car, forcing Jeff back down. The unknown man had opened the door while still firing to cover his escape.

  Rising back up, Jeff fired into the car. The passenger-side window spider-webbed, but the villain was undeterred. He started the car, then the motor roared to life. Going backward, the car aimed directly at the car Jeff was hiding behind.

  Jeff dove away from the smashing cars. Getting back up, he fired at the fleeing car. While some of the bullets hit the trunk, it was too late. The car was gone. All Jeff could do was to use his glasses to get a license plate.

  Jeff was led by an officer directly to the desk of Detective Oldman. The man in business attire turned in his seat towards Jeff. "I see that you once again found trouble."

  Jeff ignored the comment. "Did you find out who owned that car?"

  The detective pulled a file, "Frances Regal. Middle-aged with two petty thefts. Are you thinking this has to do with the Carlile case?"

  Jeff simply said, "He recognized me."

  "Considering that you're a PI who investigates random cases, how would that be unusual?"

  "Trust me, it would be."

  Another officer, the same one that Jeff encountered the night before, stood up from his desk.

  He said to the two, "I couldn't help but overhear you. Going through the remains at the Branson place had several pieces of burned equipment."

  Jeff turned to the officer, "Yeah. I already knew that there was a server there. Did you get anything off of it."

  "Unfortunately, no. All the drives was too severely burned to recover anything. But we did find a few things within the framework. One was that there was a security camera installed right in it."

  Jeff was curious by that."I don't remember seeing that."

  The officer replied, "And you wouldn't. It was only when we opened it up did we find the thing. It's one of those "spy" types that one could buy at specialty markets."

  Oldman said, "That would explain how he would recognize you."

  Jeff realized something, "That would mean that they also was Jennifer."

  The detective thought for a second, but drew from his own knowledge and experience. "I don't think they'll go after her, but I'll send a patrol just in case."

  Jeff offered, "I'll go down. I already put her through a lot; I need to make sure she doesn't go through anything else."

  The detective nodded. "Alright, I'll have one of our officers drive you over. Stay in the house while the officer sits in the car for the night. It'll take a while before we get anything on where Regal is."

  Jeff said to the detective, "Just keep me informed."

  "I guess so." The detective turned back to his desk to continue his work. The officer signaled for Jeff to follow him, leading him out of the office.

  While it was dark outside, the entire house was bright with every light turned on. A knock came at the door. Jen walked over, wearing slippers as part of her more casual clothing. Her approach was silent. It was broken by her gasp as she opened the door to find the man she shadowed that day. "Jeff! I...didn't expect you."

  Jeff was direct, "A camera was placed in the server. I came to make sure you were alright."

  "Thanks. You can come in if you want."

  Jeff opened the screen door, passing by Jen as he walked into the living room. The area was directly adjacent to the kitchen, which Jeff could see some food being prepared. Jen came up behind him.

  "I have dinner ready if you would like some."

  Jeff smiled, trying to convey some warmness. "Sure, I would like that."

  Jen walked to the kitchen. Jeff sat down in the couch, looking around while he waited. It took only a few moments before Jen returned with two bowls filled with hot stew. She handed it over before sitting in an adjacent chair.

  After taking a few bites, she tried to stir up a conversation. "So what made you become a P.I.?"

  Jeff stopped eating, but said nothing.

  "Come on! This is completely off the record. You can't avoid answering everything forever."

  Jeff sighed. He avoided looking at her when he spoke, "Truth is, I'm not sure which I'm tired more of: explaining it or having it told to myself."

  Jen saw the sorrow in his eyes, "Does it have to do with that thing you showed me?"

  "A little."

  Jen tried to keep as sympathetic as possible in her questioning. "What was it?"

  Jeff looked up at her. This was not the part he was hurt about. "Do you watch sci-fi movies?" he asked her.

  "A little. why?"

  "Well, it goes into that realm. It's a called a Dimensional Transport. What it does is travel between alternate universes, alternate time-lines if you will."

  Jen got the concept. "Like "Shifters"?"

  Jeff didn't get the reference; since it was a television show native to this world. "I...don't exactly know. But I guess you got the right idea."

  She turned to her skeptical instincts. "How can I know that's the truth? All you've shown me was...."

  Jeff cut her off by holding out his left hand and launching the grappling beam to the wall. It was a very clear demonstration for Jen.

  "OK. I believe you."

  Jeff flicked his wrist, dissipating the beam. He resumed eating his stew. She too ate a few spoon-full of the meal before a question came to her. "That still doesn't answer my question: Why did you become a P.I.?"

  Jeff looked at her, giving a very resolute answer, "Because I can't ignore those in pain anymore."

  Jen finished her bowl, satisfied with the answer. She got up, taking Jeff's empty bowl. "I'm going to bed. Consider the place yours for the night."

  Jeff needed to know one thing, mostly for logistics. "Does your husband work late?"

  She was confused as to why he knew that, until he pointed at a picture of the couple. After that realization, she was saddened. "No. He's out of town; a conference in Nebraska."

  "Did you tell him?" He referred to the shooting.

  She shook her head negative. "I couldn't tell him right now. He needs to concentrate on his own work."

  Jeff showed he disagreed with that decision. "Trust me, call him. It won't do you any good keeping it to yourself." This was an obvious reflection of his experience with Miles a few weeks ago.

  Jen showed appreciation for the advice. "Sure, I'll do that. Thank you." She left to the kitchen, leaving Jeff to lay down on the couch. The way she agreed told Jeff that she probably wouldn't do it, though he hoped otherwise.

  A cell phone went off in Jeff's pocket, waking h
im in the dark room. He had to adjust his position to retrieve it before answering drowsily, "Hello?"

  It was the voice of the detective, "We got a lead. I already told the officer outside where Regal's residence is."

  Jeff leaned up in the couch. "What about Jennifer?"

  "Considering what I found, I don't think she's in any danger. Just in case I have another patrol heading that way. Plus I think you would probably want to see this."

  "Then I'll be on my way."

  Jeff hung up the phone, putting it back into his pocket. He walked to the door, making sure the lock was set when he opened it. Before he left, he looked back, as though at Jen. He was still concerned, but knew that the sooner the case was finished, the sooner she would be safe. Walking out the door, he closed the door behind him.

  Jeff walked through the rather luxurious home. It wasn't terribly large, it just held a lot of expensive stuff. Right in the living room was a very large HD television, with a surround sound system and several pieces of electronic consoles connected to it.

  Other signs of expensive equipment and trinkets lie everywhere around the home. Jeff knew without a doubt that this person profited the most from the scam the group was running.

  Detective Oldman was in the next room over, an office of sorts. There was a computer that a crime scene specialist was going through. The screen was pure text: they were working in a DOS mode.

  Jeff approached the detective very directly. "What do you have for me?"

  "Well, judging from the passports that we got, I think we only have this guy and maybe one other left."

  "Passports?"

  The detective referenced a stack of passports that was on the desk next to the crime scene specialist. "All the passports matched the I.D.'s of the men you fought. It looks like they did much of the grunt-work. Regal seems to be the ring leader. The only thing we don't know is who made the software and how our vic. got involved."

  Jeff noticed the computer, pointing it out for Detective Oldman. "Having trouble getting anything out of that?"

  The crime scene specialist turned around towards the detective, shaking his head negative. Oldman said to Jeff, "Yeah, I'm guessing Regal did a good job erasing everything. He also ditched the car here; so it'll be difficult to find him."

  The detective noticed that Jeff had switched conversations on him. "You know something about Allen Carlile that I don't."

  Jeff purposely hid the fact that he had a hard drive, and that for all he knew that Carlile was in on the scam. "Just speculation. I just know whatever he did got him killed."

  Jeff was wandering around the Regal house. He had been looking around for the past hour, scanning with his glasses. He was in the kitchen when Detective Oldman approached him with a bit of news. "They gone through the computer and confirmed that it was completely erased; more so than if he took a magnet to it."

  Jeff continued to search around, seeing if there was anything hidden. "What else is new?"

  "They went through the other equipment connected to that computer. From what they found in the router, they guessed that he was using an onion-type encryption technique to hide his identity."

  Jeff knew the term, though it was slightly different from his own world. "Slow, but he could connect to anything the spyware was in without being identified. He also shredded every paper document pretty well. I think a phrase involving paranoia certainly applies here."

  Jeff took a quick break, finding nothing along the counters and cabinets. Detective Oldman noticed that Jeff had released his glasses. "Why do you hold your glasses like that?"

  Jeff lied, again mostly to avoid other questions, "Mostly out of habit."

  "I was just curious, especially since those aren't prescription glasses."

  "Well...they're sentimental."

  Oldman could tell Jeff didn't really want to answer anything about the glasses. "Alright."

  A phone rang in the detective's pants. He quickly snagged it out and answered, "Oldman here." He listened for a few seconds before replying, "OK, I'll be on my way."

  "What was that?" Jeff asked.

  "We were able to get a warrant for all of Regal's phones and communication devices. They found a cell phone signal in a hotel along Cherry. Want to come along?"

  Jeff was curious about Oldman's inclusion. "How come you're letting me in on this case? I thought it was official police not to include PI's?"

  "Well, considering what you've already been through, I figured I could include you in on this."

  "I guess I'll take it."

  The two left the home.

  Jeff and Detective Oldman were following a very tired manager. He led along the walkway on the second floor of the motel. He nearly passed the room before stopping. The manager already had out his keys and was intending to open the door before the detective said, "No, I'll open it."

  The motel manager backed away, saying, "Alright."

  He handed the keys over to the detective, keeping an watch of the events that would unfold.

  Oldman retrieved his gun, expecting trouble inside. He looked up at Jeff, "Ready?"

  Jeff replied, seeing with his glasses inside, "Nobody's inside."

  The detective was confused by that statement. "What?"

  Jeff simply said, "I can tell that no one's inside."

  The detective was about to ask how he would know that, but shrugged it off. He inserted the key into the door then carefully opened it up. Still aiming his gun, he turned into the room to find it empty.

  Inside it was pristine, as though no one had been inside. Oldman wandered in, holstering his weapon. Jeff followed while the manager stood in the doorway.

  "I guess you were right," the officer said to Jeff.

  The two quickly looked around, Oldman finding a cell phone placed right on the table. It was purposely placed for anyone to see. Jeff saw it as well. "He must have used it as a decoy, knowing we would trace it."

  The detective was frustrated with the turn of events. Letting out a grunt to release that frustration, he then turned to the manager. "How long was Regal going to stay here?"

  Still tired, the manager answered, "Well, he only rented the room for one night. Just said he was going on the road first thing in the morning."

  "Did you see his car?"

  "Yeah. It was a grey....car. Not a truck. It had two doors. I don't know cars all that well."

  That wasn't what Oldman wanted to hear, but it was something at least. Saying to himself, "I guess that's something for patrols to look out for."

  Without even looking, Oldman gave up on finding anything more there. He snagged the phone then said to Jeff, "We're going to the precinct."

  There was a few people wandering around the police station, usually hauling something from the Regal home. They had collected much and knew they needed to figure out everything before the villain got too far.

  Jeff was pacing, looking at the passports. He was wondering what the connection between these people were. Holding one of the passports, he noted to himself, "This guy got caught for robbery, and the others had similar records. So how does Allen Carlile figure into this?"

  The detective was going through several other things at his desk. He was far more systematic in his method. The hope was that the evidence would lead to someplace, rather than having it support a theory.

  Jeff had an idea. He went to another desk, where the computer had already been turned on. He put in one name from the passports. The result was an exact name, showing one of the men he encountered early that day. Using the mouse, he pointed right to where occupation was supposed to be.

  It had nothing - no job was listed.

  He went onto the next passport. The result was the same; the man had no work. Whispering to himself, "They were all in the same place..."

  That in turn spurred another idea. He got up and approached Detective Oldman. "Can I borrow a car? I think we might have missed something at the field."

  The detective was interested, but didn't think
it would have led to anything. He handed Jeff a lone key.

  "I doubt you'll get into trouble. Car's in the garage. Just click the key and you'll see it."

  Jeff said, "Thanks." With that, he left the station.

  At this time night was starting to give way to the morning light. It still was very dark, with the headlights of the car illuminating the roadway. Jeff stood in the middle of the crime scene, right where Allen had died.

  "This is where they met," Jeff said to himself, "But other than it's out in the middle of nowhere, why here?"

  Jeff looked around, seeing if there was anything more to the field than just the tall grass. Using the zoom function of his glasses, he scanned the horizon. He found a house and barn towards the edge of the field. He began to to trek towards it, making a new path in the field.

  Jeff wandered into the old home on the farm. It had been long abandoned. The door was wide open and every window leaked in moonlight. He attempted to find some type of light switch, but there was none. Giving up, he used his glasses to scan the building.

  Moving to the next room, he looked down to find a hatch to the basement. Walking through the open room, he easily found the hatch and opened it. Inside was a ladder; one much newer than the rest of the house.

  Jeff climbed down to find the basement filled with tables. He only had to walk in a few feet before finding a overhead light. Pulling the metal string revealed the room filled with papers.

  Going to one of the tables, Jeff looked at one of the papers carefully. He knew this was the smoking gun; the very evidence that Regal and the others had stolen money from various banks.

  "They stole from not just a few banks," Jeff summarized to himself, "There's information of hundreds. This one is from India, one from Spain, Russia. They were making a lot."

  He was moving from paper to paper, finding more of the evidence. Then one paper caught his eye. It was from Allen. It read: "Frank, I got another ping from the server. This one will close in a day or two, so I have one request. Put my share into the trust fund that my son has. I'm not sure how much longer we can keep this up..."

  Jeff stopped reading. He found the exact reason Allen joined up with Regal. "All he cared for was his son and daughter."

  That was when he heard a noise. Looking back at the entrance, the ladder was snagged upward and out of reach. Switching modes, Jeff easily found a warm body moving in the house, rushing to get away.

  Then a beep was heard behind him. He looked back, then under a table. There was clearly a bomb, with the red numbers showing not much time left.

  Jeff ran to the gleaming open hatch. Thrusting his arm upward, the grappling launched to the ceiling. Retracting it pulled him back up to the first floor. Reaching with his foot, he got himself back onto ground and began running towards the back; approximately the same route the villain had used.

  Running out, he slammed into tall fields of overgrown wheat. Even though it was thick, he continued to run.

  The house exploded.

  Jeff dove downward, to avoid some of the flaming debris that was raining down near him.

  He looked up, scanning the area with his glasses. He easily found his enemy, still running through the field. Jeff got up and ran right after him.

  Then a maze of corn appeared to Jeff. It was either through the maze or through the walls of corn. Jeff took a step back and rammed through the corn. He dove right onto Regal.

  Regal recovered quickly, throwing Jeff over him onto the ground. The villain reached for his gun - had grabbed it - but it was too late. Jeff had rolled back up and was aiming his own gun at him.

  "Hold it!"

  Regal did just that. He still held the gun, but rose with his hands up in the air. Jeff mirrored the villain when getting up, keeping his sights on him. "I guess you got me," Regal said to Jeff.

  "In that I did."

  Regal laughed at himself, "All because of that stupid man."

  "The very one that made you rich."

  "Yeah,but that man, was he annoying. Everything had to be done a certain way." the villain chuckled, "He wasn't afraid of the cops. No, he wanted to keep it from his stupid family."

  Jeff didn't like what he was saying.

  Despite the visual rejection from his captor, Regal continued his rant. "Then he kept saying things about trust funds and saving accounts. Couldn't be happy with just the mediocre cash he was given. Finally, I just had it. He said he thought he found another job; one which he wouldn't be a "crook." The guys thought he would be rat. Me, it was because he would not stop talking about those stupid kids."

  Something snapped in Jeff. He fired his gun; right into Regal's head. At that time - that moment - he didn't care about the circumstances. It was what he said about Allen Carlile.

  Jeff slackened his arm. He watched as the villain went silent. Regal just gave one last breath before falling backward onto the ground. Jeff stared at the body. The grey eyes, the hairy arms, every small pimple on Regal's face was seared into Jeff. It seemed like it would be alive if it wasn't so still.

  An hour later, police surrounded the villain's body. Detective Oldman stood next to Jeff, showing sympathy. The coroner moved the body into the black cart. They zipped it up the bag. Jeff stood for a while longer, until morning had come. He finally knew what to do.

  Jen opened the door to her home. Jeff was right there, a very serious look on his face. "Can I ask a favor of you?"

  Jen nodded. "Sure, anything."

  Jeff held up the hard drive; the only piece of physical evidence left. "I need you to hold on to this; keep it secret."

  She took the drive, curious as to its importance. "Uh...sure. What's on it?"

  Jeff explained, "It shows that Allen Carlile wrote the spyware. He did it to support his family; his children especially."

  "But shouldn't the police have this?"

  "He already paid the price. His two children have to live without their father. I just hope they won't have to learn the other sacrifices he made."

  Jeff walked away, leaving Jen with the last piece of evidence that Allen Carlile was a criminal.

  Jeff stood in front of Harriet. She waited at her doorstep, leaning forward to listen to him. It wasn't the actual truth, but it was the best answer Jeff could give, "All we know is that Allen found these guys and were about to turn them in. He was doing the right thing; just got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time."

  Harriet smiled, "Allen was like that; always doing the best thing. I was just told that he hid away money for the kids, so they would go to college." She showed much pride in her husband, in the lie that Jeff had told. "I'm sure he thought of them every moment until the end."

  "From what I found, I know that to be true." That, at least, was true.

  The Transport was a much lonelier place. There was no wonder anymore as colors swirled into the cockpit. Jeff had finished all the button pressing and other commands for the Transport. He looked up at the photo of Kara.

  Tears flowed from his eyes. While it was for a good cause, he still felt like he let her down.

  "I'm sorry, Kara. I'm sorry."