Mitch exhaled heavily, running his hand through his hair, mind turning over. She could see he didn’t like the idea.
“It’s the only way we’re going to get to this ghost, Mitch. You know it. No one is talking. Everyone is scared. So we have to find him ourselves.”
“Let’s run it past Ford,” he said pointing to his iPort. “She’s at Chaney’s crime scene. Let’s see what they’ve found out.”
The Chaney crime scene was a full house. Kim Weston and Chuck Swaggert were there processing the forensics and snapping 4D maps of the scene. Ford, Sorensen and Noble milled about close by, while Hernandez stood talking with a couple of beat cops who were helping to secure the area.
“Beggs?” Salvi asked as she approached Hernandez.
“Still in surgery, last I heard,” he answered.
She nodded and continued on to where the vic lay sprawled on his living room floor. Salvi paused when she saw him. Chaney lay naked, face down, and like Caine he had been tortured. There was a lot of blood. Every single one of his fingers and toes had been cut off, and long deep bloody cuts marked his entire body. His tongue had been severed, and Salvi watched as Weston carefully pulled it out of his throat where it had been jammed. Salvi had to look away as the guilt smacked at her again. Chaney had done many questionable things, but did he deserve this?
If she hadn’t dragged him into the hub, would he still be alive? Would the two detectives sitting in their car outside with bullet wounds to their heads be alive? While her guilt for Farrugia and Burke remained, her guilt for Chaney suddenly waned. He was dabbling in all kinds of things at Diabolique. Probably a lot of things she didn’t even know about. She couldn’t allow herself to feel sorry for a guy that possibly enabled this ghost to live out his fantasies, only escalating his desire for more. Chaney had, in essence, helped to create this ghost, this monster, and now the ghost was terrifying everyone.
“All our leads are getting killed,” Ford said quietly, moving to stand beside her.
“Anything from the digital scrape Noble was doing on Hinde’s data?”
Ford folded her arms. “It looks as though he was a social participant in Diabolique and was just scared of being found out and losing his badge.”
“How’d he get in, though?” Salvi asked. “He didn’t have the looks and wouldn’t have the money.”
“No,” Ford said, “but he had the power to erase narcotic convictions.”
Salvi stared at her. “The digital scrape?”
Ford nodded.
“Whose convictions did he erase?”
“The son of a real estate billionaire. Among others.”
“That’s why was he killed?”
Ford shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe he made friends with the wrong guy while he was there?”
“Yeah,” Salvi sighed. “Our ghost.” She stared Ford in the eye. “If Hinde was involved, how many more of us were there?”
Ford stared back but didn’t answer. Salvi stepped closer.
“Was the Chief’s daughter just mixed up in the wrong crowd, or did she disappear for a reason? Like, maybe to stop the Chief from doing something his badge dictates he should?”
“Brentt!” Ford whispered, glancing around to ensure no one heard. “Watch your mouth on that.”
“But–”
“I hear you,” she hissed, “but this is not the place to be talking about his involvement.”
Salvi nodded and rubbed her face. “I need to go back in with Kara and Bronte. I need to talk to these guys,” she said, showing Ford the image.
Ford paused. “Is that..?”
“Caine?” Salvi said. “Yeah. Someone tried to erase him from Barker’s photograph.” She showed Ford the other one, pointing to the outline of the man on the edge of the frame. “We think this is the ghost.”
“The ghost?”
Salvi nodded. “The one responsible for all of this. That’s why I need to go back to the Ceiling. I need to chat to this guy.” She brought the Caine picture up again and pointed to Tom Bradley sitting in the middle of the bunch. “He hit on me once. The smarmy fucker knew Caine, but I didn’t realize it at the time. I need to talk to him. Undercover.”
Ford looked at her in consideration. “Myki Natashi gave you nothing?”
Salvi shook her head. “No. She’s scared. Like everyone else. We’re on our own. Can you to talk to Chaney’s lawyer and get him to grant me access to the Ceiling?”
Ford thought it over then nodded. “Alright. You go back in and talk to him, but you do not leave the sides of Kara and Bronte. You hear?”
Salvi nodded back. “Loud and clear.”
Ford studied her. “You haven’t slept, have you?”
Salvi shook her head.
“Get some. You’ll need a clear head. I’ll speak to Chaney’s lawyer, call the team together and we’ll rendezvous at 8pm.”
Salvi nodded, took one last look at Chaney’s butchered body, then left.
Salvi walked along the hospital corridor, searching for Beggs’ room. She passed a doctor and nurse huddled deep in discussion over a data pane, then a robot trolley carrying laundry and medical supplies, and the occasional concerned family member wandering along, searching for what looked like hope.
Salvi was dressed for the club and tried to ignore the looks she was getting. The attire wasn’t exactly what you’d expect for an intensive care unit. This was the only time she could spare to see him, though, before she went back in undercover. She’d had to prioritize sleep before, heeding Ford’s advice to ensure she had a clear mind going in.
When she arrived at Beggs’ room, she saw it was positioned right outside a nurse’s station and had long clear windows to offer them a view of their patient. Beggs was hooked up to a number of machines that were keeping him stable, and a visitor sat with him, their back to Salvi.
She knocked gently on the door and entered. The visitor looked around at her.
“Stan?” she said, recognizing the partner she’d had prior to Mitch.
The old man gave her a smile. “You’re a little overdressed for the
