the one commonality of the names on the list.
Greywacke Lodge.
With any luck, clearing names off the residents’ list would guide the investigation in the proper direction. Preferably away from the lodge and its staff.
Methodically, Jack keyed the names into the search function, starting on page one of the alphabetical list.
Lawrence Abbott of D-712.
No match found.
Ellen Acton of A-401.
No match found.
Rebekah Anderson of I-114
No match found.
Joseph Angelica of B-603.
No match found.
By the time Jack had gotten through the C s with no matches, he began to breathe easier. Then he hit the D s. The first two were okay then…
Richard Drew of F-327.
Delinquent.
One hit did not an identity theft make, but it did have Jack sitting up straighter in the chair, keying names in faster, exhaling a breath each and every time the words flashed on his screen: No match found.
Evangeline Humble of G-611
Delinquent.
Robert Garfield of F-707.
Delinquent.
Nicholas Montague of C-505.
Delinquent.
Sylvia Owen of I-532.
Delinquent.
Neil Patrick of A-204.
Delinquent.
Eleven in all and Judge Pierce among them. With a sick feeling, Jack pulled up the Clearinghouse Alert, a database that coordinated nationwide law-enforcement efforts about active investigations, and he was still staring dully at the monitor when Randy ended his call.
“Damn kid is being deployed to Afghanistan next week.” Randy ran his hand through his hair, clearly rattled. “He’sthrilled, Jack. Can you believe it? I didn’t even know what to say. I suppose it was just a matter of time, but hell…His mother is going to melt down.”
Jack dragged his attention from the computer, forced himself to face Randy and focus. “You okay?”
“No, I’m not okay. My kid’s heading off to war. Who the hell knows if he’ll make it back in one piece?” Randy exhaled sharply. “I’m not okay, but I am proud. He’s twenty-one and planning to save the world. Do you even remember what it felt like to be on fire?”
Jack glanced back at the computer display. Not so long ago, cracking a case wide would have had him on fire.
Randy must have taken the continued silence as his answer because he gave a short laugh. “Hell. Me, either. Too damn long ago. What I want to know is how I’m supposed to sleep at night knowing he’s over there dodging artillery?”
Jack stared at Randy, not exactly surprised that behind the competence and sarcasm was a father who loved his son. Randy didn’t often share that glimpse of himself. He either felt comfortable around Jack in a way he didn’t with most of his coworkers, or he was really rattled. Jack guessed the latter.
“If it’s any help,” he said, “I can give you something to take your mind off your troubles.”
“What’s that?”
He tossed down a sheath of papers in front of Randy. “How about eleven hits on the resident list?”
Randy’s eyes widened. “No shit? We can wipe all the service people off the suspect list. That’ll narrow things down a lot.”
And point them in the direction of the people with access to the residents’ personal information.
Greywacke Lodge administration.
CHAPTER TEN
“I CAN’T BELIEVE HOW TALENTED that daughter of yours is,” Yvette said casually while striding through the office to place yet another folder on the precarious stack of paperwork that had taken root on the side of the desk.
Francesca glanced up from Susanna’s proposal to change service providers and said automatically, “Thanks.” Then she met Yvette’s smiling gaze and dragged her thoughts out of the paperwork. “That was random.”
Yvette laughed. “Not really. I just ran into her.”
“Really? Where?”
“In the restaurant.”
Obviously Yvette assumed that the elder generation Raffa had a bead on what was happening with the younger generation. Not so. Francesca glanced at the clock. Gabrielle should have been on the school bus headed home right now.
Yvette quickly figured out
Greywacke Lodge.
With any luck, clearing names off the residents’ list would guide the investigation in the proper direction. Preferably away from the lodge and its staff.
Methodically, Jack keyed the names into the search function, starting on page one of the alphabetical list.
Lawrence Abbott of D-712.
No match found.
Ellen Acton of A-401.
No match found.
Rebekah Anderson of I-114
No match found.
Joseph Angelica of B-603.
No match found.
By the time Jack had gotten through the C s with no matches, he began to breathe easier. Then he hit the D s. The first two were okay then…
Richard Drew of F-327.
Delinquent.
One hit did not an identity theft make, but it did have Jack sitting up straighter in the chair, keying names in faster, exhaling a breath each and every time the words flashed on his screen: No match found.
Evangeline Humble of G-611
Delinquent.
Robert Garfield of F-707.
Delinquent.
Nicholas Montague of C-505.
Delinquent.
Sylvia Owen of I-532.
Delinquent.
Neil Patrick of A-204.
Delinquent.
Eleven in all and Judge Pierce among them. With a sick feeling, Jack pulled up the Clearinghouse Alert, a database that coordinated nationwide law-enforcement efforts about active investigations, and he was still staring dully at the monitor when Randy ended his call.
“Damn kid is being deployed to Afghanistan next week.” Randy ran his hand through his hair, clearly rattled. “He’sthrilled, Jack. Can you believe it? I didn’t even know what to say. I suppose it was just a matter of time, but hell…His mother is going to melt down.”
Jack dragged his attention from the computer, forced himself to face Randy and focus. “You okay?”
“No, I’m not okay. My kid’s heading off to war. Who the hell knows if he’ll make it back in one piece?” Randy exhaled sharply. “I’m not okay, but I am proud. He’s twenty-one and planning to save the world. Do you even remember what it felt like to be on fire?”
Jack glanced back at the computer display. Not so long ago, cracking a case wide would have had him on fire.
Randy must have taken the continued silence as his answer because he gave a short laugh. “Hell. Me, either. Too damn long ago. What I want to know is how I’m supposed to sleep at night knowing he’s over there dodging artillery?”
Jack stared at Randy, not exactly surprised that behind the competence and sarcasm was a father who loved his son. Randy didn’t often share that glimpse of himself. He either felt comfortable around Jack in a way he didn’t with most of his coworkers, or he was really rattled. Jack guessed the latter.
“If it’s any help,” he said, “I can give you something to take your mind off your troubles.”
“What’s that?”
He tossed down a sheath of papers in front of Randy. “How about eleven hits on the resident list?”
Randy’s eyes widened. “No shit? We can wipe all the service people off the suspect list. That’ll narrow things down a lot.”
And point them in the direction of the people with access to the residents’ personal information.
Greywacke Lodge administration.
CHAPTER TEN
“I CAN’T BELIEVE HOW TALENTED that daughter of yours is,” Yvette said casually while striding through the office to place yet another folder on the precarious stack of paperwork that had taken root on the side of the desk.
Francesca glanced up from Susanna’s proposal to change service providers and said automatically, “Thanks.” Then she met Yvette’s smiling gaze and dragged her thoughts out of the paperwork. “That was random.”
Yvette laughed. “Not really. I just ran into her.”
“Really? Where?”
“In the restaurant.”
Obviously Yvette assumed that the elder generation Raffa had a bead on what was happening with the younger generation. Not so. Francesca glanced at the clock. Gabrielle should have been on the school bus headed home right now.
Yvette quickly figured out
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