“Purged by who?” Ramona asked.
Matt shrugged. “The service providers claim it was a security breach and they assure me that the information didn’t get dumped accidentally or on purpose by their personnel. But I have no way to verify if they’re telling the truth. If they are leveling with me, that leaves two possibilities. Either a world-class hacker broke into their systems, which I seriously doubt, or we’re dealing with something that’s far beyond our reach.”
“Why not a hacker?” Ramona asked. “Didn’t you initially think that a computer geek or a techie could have wiped the Rileys’ computers clean?”
“And what exactly is it that is far beyond our reach?” Clayton demanded.
Matt turned to Ramona. “I did say it could be a hacker, but the security specialists for the Internet provider and the cell phone companies tell me that whoever penetrated their firewalls and erased the e-mail and call records also found and scoured redundancy files that backed up the data. Furthermore, it was a surgical strike that targeted only the Rileys’ records. Not only that, all the accounts were accessed and cleansed simultaneously.”
He glanced at Clayton. “Which gets to your question. I’m not the world’s greatest expert, but it doesn’t seem likely that one individual, even a brilliant one, could do all that so quickly after the Rileys’ deaths. If it was a lone hacker, it had to have been planned well in advance.”
Clayton leaned back and studied Chacon. “So take a guess and tell me what you think we are dealing with here.”
Matt twisted his toothpick between his thumb and forefinger before responding. “An organization with ultrahigh-tech computer savvy and megabucks would be my guess. That could mean any number of multinational corporations or government agencies, foreign or domestic. I know that doesn’t help much.”
“Can we track the computer break-ins back to the source?” Ramona asked.
“Maybe,” Matt replied, “but not without outside help and even then it could take months. The FBI is investigating.”
“It could be years before they tell us anything,” Clayton said, shaking his head in dismay. As a former tribal police officer, he’d experienced firsthand uppity federal agents who loved keeping local cops in the dark.
“This raises some big questions about our victims,” Ramona said. “What did Tim and Denise Riley know—or do—that got them killed?”
“And who wants to keep it secret?” Clayton added.
“Exactly,” Ramona said.
Clayton pawed through the papers on the desk. “Before I left Carrizozo, I assigned a deputy to do a deep background check on Tim Riley. Has Mielke started one on Denise?”
Ramona flipped through the assignment sheet on her clipboard. “No.”
“What do we know about her?”
Before Ramona could answer, Mielke stepped into the office. He gave Matt Chacon a brief nod and looked directly at Clayton and Ramona.
“Chief Kerney and Sheriff Hewitt are with Sheriff Salgado in his conference room, and they’d like the three of us to join them,” he said.
“Not a problem,” Clayton replied, stifling a smile as he pushed back his chair. “Has anyone interviewed Denise Riley’s employer?”
“The insurance agent was questioned,” Mielke replied, “and was eliminated as a suspect. He’s gay and lives with his longtime partner. His parents have been visiting from Buffalo for the past week. He has an airtight alibi. You should have the report.”
Clayton said, “I mean did anyone interview the insurance agent in depth about Denise?”
“Not yet,” Mielke said.
“Matt,” Ramona said, “after you log in the evidence with the S.O., go have a chat with the man about Denise.”
Chacon nodded, picked up the box of computer evidence, stepped around Mielke, and left.
“Did Chacon find anything useful on the computers?” Mielke asked.
“Not on the computers,” Ramona said.
Mielke turned his attention to Clayton. “What does that mean?”
Clayton gave the major a broad, reassuring smile. “Detective Chacon has made some helpful discoveries. I’ll brief you after our meeting with the brass. What’s that all about?”
“We’ll soon find out,” Mielke replied as he stepped into the hallway behind Ramona. “Did you know that Sheriff Hewitt was coming up here?”
“I haven’t talked to my boss since I left Lincoln County,” Clayton said as he followed along.
“Uh-huh,” Mielke grunted, shooting Clayton a sour look.
The meeting was short and sweet. Wearing his game face, Salgado announced that effective immediately Chief Kerney was officially in charge of all aspects of the homicide investigation. Santa Fe S.O. and P.D. supervisory personnel assigned to the case would report directly to him. Sheriff Hewitt would continue to head up the Lincoln County investigation and work cooperatively with Kerney and Salgado. Clayton would stay on in Santa Fe as a lead investigator, and additional officers and resources would be made available from the Santa Fe P.D.
“This task force is the best way to get the job done,” Salgado said in his closing remarks. “I want everybody behind it one hundred percent.”
Mielke looked like he was seething inside, and Salgado’s chief deputy, Leonard Jessup, had a constipated expression. The two other senior sheriff’s deputies in attendance, both captains, seemed completely nonplussed. The meeting ended with Kerney calling for a supervisory briefing at 1600 hours.
“We’ll want to know everything you’ve got,” he said, glancing from Mielke to Clayton to Ramona. “Get ready for tough questions if we don’t like what we hear, and get ready for some reshuffling if we don’t like the way things have been run.”
Paul Hewitt nodded in agreement to emphasize the threat.
Outside the conference room Mielke scurried to his office with his two captains and quickly closed the door.
“I’d like to be a fly on the wall for that conversation,” Ramona said as she and Clayton passed by. “Did we just witness a palace coup?”
“I think it was more like an abdication,” Clayton replied. He smiled at Salgado’s secretary, who shot him a decidedly unfriendly look in return.
Ramona caught the exchange. “But certainly not a voluntary one based on the spiteful once-over you just got from Salgado’s secretary,” she whispered. “Did you have anything to do with this?”
Clayton gave Ramona a sideways glance but kept a straight face. “Me? Like you, I’m just a lowly sergeant.” Politely he stood aside to allow Ramona to enter his temporary office.
“Ah, I see,” Ramona said as she walked through the doorway. “First you give Mielke a non-answer about whether or not you knew Hewitt was in Santa Fe and now I get one about Salgado’s abdication. Is that any way to trust your partner?”
“Are we partners?” Clayton asked with a smile, quickly warming to the idea.
“For the duration,” Ramona said.
“Then close the door and I’ll tell you what’s up.”
Chapter Six
Denise Riley’s former employer owned an independent insurance agency in a huge open-air mall on Cerrillos Road. A few Santa Fe–style touches—earthtoned stucco exteriors, flat roofs, “roughhewn” wooden posts, and fake buttresses—could not disguise the fact that it was a glorified strip mall with a big-box discount department store and a mega-supermarket mixed in with an assortment of franchise restaurants and national chain stores that sold books, electronics, home accessories, and clothing.
Sandwiched between a brand-name shoe outlet and a cellular phone store, the insurance agency had a front window with a lovely view of the parking lot that served the big discount department store. Inside, Matt Chacon encountered a middle-aged man probably in his early forties, who had the muscular build of a welterweight on a trim five-eight frame. He had short brown hair, brown eyes below thick brows, a strong chin, and a pronounced
