Chapter 39 Chapter Fourteen

In the Cal Bureau lobby, Jonathan Bolling walked up to Dance, looking happy.She handed him a temporary pass. "Thank you for coming." "I'm starting to miss this place. I thought I was fired." She smiled.He was grading a paper for a summer school course in Santa Cruz when she called (she wondered if he was planning a date, and just caught her).Bolling was more than happy to drop what he was doing and drive to Monterey. In her office, she hands him something on his last assignment: Greg Schaefer's laptop. "I've got to find Travis, or the body. Please look it up for any local addresses, driving directions, maps... anything like that."

"Yes," he pointed to the Toshiba laptop, "Have you added a password?" "Not this time." "That's good." He turned on the computer, "As long as there is a file registration or creation date from the previous two weeks, I will search. Is this okay?" "Row." Dance tried not to laugh anymore, seeing him lean forward enthusiastically.His fingers tapped the keys like a concert pianist.He sat back a few minutes later, "Unfortunately, he doesn't use this computer a lot for his activities here, which is browsing blogs and syndicating news sources, emailing friends or business associates - none of these people One related to his plans to shoot Chilton. But those are records that have not been deleted. He has been deleting documents and URLs a lot in the past week. I think that is what you are more interested in."

"Yes, can you fix it?" "I went online and downloaded a robot program from Owen. This program retrieves the space on the C::hard drive and repairs everything that has been recently deleted. Some are only fragments, and some are out of shape. But most of the documents The recognition rate should be 90%." "That's great, Jon." Five minutes later, Owen's bot was scouring Schaefer's computer for fragments of deleted documents, restoring them and storing them in a folder Bolling had created. "How long?" she asked. "It will take an hour or two, I suppose." Boleyn looked at his watch and suggested that we go to eat something together.They got into his Audi and headed for a restaurant not far from CalBI headquarters.That place is a high slope overlooking the airport, and in the distance you can see the city of Monterey and Monterey Bay.They found a table on the patio, warmed by propane heaters overhead, and sipped Viognier.The sun was sinking into the Pacific Ocean, and the light spread out, gradually turning into a dazzling orange.They looked at the sun silently.Tourists nearby are taking pictures.

They talked about their children, their childhoods, and their respective origins.Bolling claimed that, in his opinion, only 20 percent of the population of the Central Coast was native Californians. The two fell silent again.Dance felt his shoulders go up, and it looked like he had something to say next. "Can I ask you a question?" "Of course." She told the truth without reservation. "When did your husband die?" "Two years ago." Two years, two months and three weeks.She can also tell him the exact number of days. "I've never lost anyone, unlike you." But there was still some heaviness in his voice, and his eyelids fluttered like venetian blinds blown by the wind. "What's going on, would you mind telling me?"

"It's okay. Bill is an FBI agent and assigned to the Local Residents Bureau. But this department has nothing to do with his actual work. There was a car accident on Highway 1. It was a truck and the driver fell asleep." She said. He smiled faintly, "You know, I never thought about it before. His colleagues and friends will place flowers on the roadside where the incident occurred for a year after the incident." "Is it a cross?" "No, it's just flowers." She shook her head. "That's good. I don't like crosses. It can only remind you and make you more painful. In order not to pass by that place, I will walk a few miles around."

"It must have been miserable." Dance is less likely to want to use her skills as a physiologist when out socializing.Sometimes she reads the mind of a child, and sometimes she reads the mind of a date.But she remembers Wes groaning when she caught her telling a fib, "You're like Superman, Mom. Your X-rays can see through what people say and see what's inside." Now She realized that, despite the sympathy in Boleyn's smiling face, there had been a slight shift in his body language.He gripped the stem of the wine glass tighter.The fingers of the free hand twirled involuntarily.She knew that he hadn't even realized it himself.

Danse just needed to seize the initiative, "Jon, it's time for you to talk about yourself. What's your situation? You seem to be secretive about being single." "Oh, my situation is different from yours." He was trying to downplay some kind of pain, she could see that.She's not a therapist herself, let alone him.But they had lived and died together, so she wondered what trouble he had been in.She touched his arm quickly. "Tell me. Remember, I interrogate people for a living. Sooner or later I'll let you tell." "I'd never go out with someone who overwhelms me on the first date. It depends, though."

Dance finally realizes that Jon Boleyn is a man who uses humorous one-liners as a shield. He continued: "This is a soap opera you've never heard of... That girl I met when I left Silicon Valley? She owns a bookstore in Santa Cruz. It's called Beach Bay Books, I guess?" "I think I have." "Cathy and I started off fine, playing outside and traveling happily together. She even came to my house a few times and it was fine - however, it was actually me who had problems during this period and encountered Here's to trouble." He thought for a moment, "I feel like it's because we're laughing too much. It's a sign. What's your favorite type of movie? We watch mostly comedies. And then she's breaking up , but not divorced, legal separation. Cathy told me all of this, and I fully understand. She is going through the formalities."

"What about the child?" "She has two, yes, a boy and a girl, just like you. Both are wonderful. Live with her and her ex-husband in turn." You mean her ex-husband who has not yet officially divorced, Dan Si corrected silently in his heart, and of course he understood the development track of the whole story. He took a few more sips of the cold, refreshing wine.There was a breeze, the sun was fading into the sea, and the temperature was dropping. "Her ex-husband was abusive, not physically; he never hit her or the kids. But he humiliated her, taunted her." He gave a wry smile. "That's not right, that's not right. She's smart and kind. , and thoughts. But he just kept insulting her. I was thinking about it last night." His voice weakened a little when he said this, and he said something he didn't want to say, "he An emotional serial killer."

"That's pretty accurate." "She came back to him." His facial expression froze for a moment, reliving the scene, she thought.Our minds seldom respond to abstractions; it is the little details of deep-rooted memories that sting.He continued: "He went to China, and Cathy and the kids went with her. She said she was sorry, she loved me forever, but she had to come back to him... Never play a manipulative role in a relationship , like you have to breathe, you have to eat...but with a jerk? What I'm saying is...oh, can we say this: My situation was a 'big' miscalculation and you The situation here is a real tragedy."

Dance shrugged. "In my line of work, whether it's murder, accidental manslaughter, manslaughter, someone's life is someone's death. It's like love; when it's lost, for whatever reason, it's the same." Heartbreaking." "I think so. But I will say that it is never wise to fall in love with a married woman." Amen, Catherine Dance thought, almost laughing.She poured some more wine into her glass. "Does this look okay to you?" he said. "what?" "We've managed to talk about two deeply personal and depressing topics in such a short amount of time. Luckily we're not dating," he said, smiling maliciously. Dance opened the menu. "Let's order something to eat. They have—" "—best calamari burger in our town," Bolling said. She laughed.She was about to say the same thing. Computer searches turned up nothing. She and the professor returned to her office after eating squid burgers and salad.Both were eager to see what Owen's bot had found.Bolin sat down, looked through the document, and announced with a sigh: "There is nothing." "Nothing at all?" "He deleted emails, files, etc. to save space. Nothing secret, nothing local." A wave of anxiety came over her, but there was nothing else she could do. "Thanks, Jon. At least we had a good meal for that." "I'm sorry." He did look disappointed that he wasn't able to help this time. "I think I'd better go back and grade the paper. Go home." "Yeah. You guys have another family reunion this weekend." He nodded, smiled unnaturally, and said, "Oh." He pretended to be interested. Danse laughed. He walked around her, "I'll call you when I get back. I want to know how things are going. Best of luck to Travis. I hope he's okay." "Thank you for everything you've done for us, Jon." She took his hand and squeezed it hard. "I'm glad you're okay." He smiled, squeezed her hand, turned and left. As she watched him walk down the corridor, a woman's voice interrupted her thoughts, "Hey, Catherine." Dance turned and saw Connie Ramirez coming down the hallway. "Connie." Connie, who was also a senior police officer, looked around, nodded towards Danse's office, walked in, and closed the door, "I found something that I think you might be interested in. It's from the hospital." "Oh, thanks, Connie. How did you do it?" Ramirez thought for a while, "I rely on one empty and one solid to grasp." "I like." "I showed my wife and told them something about another case I was working on, which was the medical fraud case." The California Bureau of Investigation also investigates economic crimes.The case that Ramirez referred to was a major fraudulent fake bankruptcy in which criminals used the ID numbers of deceased doctors to file claims in their names. Chilton himself might have blogged about such things, Dance thought.It was a smart move for Connie; the hospital staff were also victims and would be interested in assisting if anyone investigated. "I asked them to show me the register, which was for the whole month, so that Henry wouldn't get suspicious. They'd love to show you. And here's what I found out: there was only one visiting doctor on the day Juan Millar died—hospitals often Continuing education lecture series, that's probably why he was there. There were 6 people who applied for jobs - two for a maintenance job, one for a restaurant, and three for a nurse. I Got their résumés. I don't think any of them are suspect. "It's interesting, though: There were 64 visitors that day. I checked the names against who they were visiting, and everyone checked out, except for one." "who is it?" "The name is illegible, whether it is typed or signed. But I think it is Jose Lopez." "Who is he going to see?" "He just wrote 'Patient.'" "It's a safe bet in a hospital," Dance said, with some humor. "Why should he be suspicious?" "Look, I figured out that if someone goes there to kill Juan Miliar, he or she has probably been there before—either to see a patient or to check on security. So I put the old check in to see him. Everyone has gone through it." "So smart, so you checked their handwriting too." "Of course. I'm not good at document checking, but I found a visitor who visited him several times. I can almost guarantee that the handwriting is exactly the same as that of José Lopez." Dan Si leaned forward, "Who is it?" "Julio Millar." "His brother!" "I'm 100 percent sure. I made a copy of everything." Ramirez handed Dance some paper. "Oh, Connie, that's great." "Good luck. If you need anything else please speak up." Danse sat alone in his office, thinking about this new situation.Could Julio really kill his brother? At first, this seems impossible, since Julio has shown that he loves his own brother, and he cherishes this brotherhood.But killing him is of course an act of pity.Dance could picture the conversation between the brothers—Julio leaning over, Juan whispering his plea to relieve him of his pain. kill me…… Also, why did Julio report a false name on the registration form? Why did Harper and the state investigators ignore this connection?She was angry, suspecting they knew about the situation, but dismissed the possibility, on the grounds that if Robert Harper went after the mother of a state marshal, the anti-euthanasia provision would work better.The words "dereliction of duty by public prosecutor" were buzzing in her mind. Dance called George Hitty and left a message telling him what Connie Ramirez had discovered.She then called her mother and tried to tell her directly about the situation.But no one answered. Damn.Did she block all incoming calls? She hung up and sat back, thinking about Travis.If he is alive, how long can he last?It would be days without water.What a terrible death it would be! Another figure appeared at her door. TJ. Scanlon shows up, "Hey boss." She sensed something urgent. "Any results from the crime scene?" "Not yet, but I'm pushing them to hurry up. Like on the show Whip, remember? One more thing. Heard from the Monterey County Sheriff's Department that they got a call -- anonymously -- —about the case of the cross." Dan Si sat up a little bit straighter, "What's the situation?" "The guy on the phone said he saw 'there's something next to Harrison Road and Pinehurst Road,' the exact words after. South of Carmel." "only these?" "Yeah, just 'there's something'. I checked out the intersection, near the abandoned construction site. The call came from a payphone booth." Dance thought intensely for a moment.She glanced down at the paper, a copy of the Chilton Report post.She stood up and put on her jacket. "Would you like to go there to check?" TJ asked, his tone a little uncertain. "Yes. Desperately want to find him, if there is any way." "That place is a bit weird, boss, do you need support?" She smiled, "I don't think I will encounter any danger." Because the killer is now in the Monterey County morgue. The ceiling in the basement is painted black and has 18 wooden rafters, also black.The walls are dull white, painted with cheap paint, and made of 892 cinder blocks.Against the wall are two cabinets, one in gray metal and the other in white wood with a rough finish.Inside were stacks of canned goods, pasta boxes, baking soda and wine, tools, nails, and personal items like toothbrushes and deodorant. Four metal columns support the first floor of the building against the darkened ceiling.3 are very close to each other and 1 is farther away.The columns were all painted a dark brown, but also so rusty that it was hard to see where the paint ended and the oxidation began. It was a concrete floor with cracks forming shapes.If you stare long enough, you can see among the shapes a sitting panda, the state of Texas, a truck. An old, dusty fireplace stood tattered in a corner. The basement is 37 feet long and 28 feet wide, a figure that can be easily calculated from the number of cinder blocks.Each brick is 12 inches long and 9 inches wide, no more and no less, though you'll also need to add an eighth of an inch to each brick to account for the mortar they're attached to. There are also some creatures living here, mostly spiders.You can count how many families there are.If that's where the spiders live, they seem to carve out a turf so they don't mess with other spiders -- or get eaten by other spiders.The same goes for beetles and centipedes.Occasional mosquitos and flies too. Larger creatures, like house mice or voles, will be interested in the piles of food and drink in the corner of the basement. There was a window, high up in the wall, that let in dim light, but no view of the outside.The time now is probably 8 or 9 pm. The sound of footsteps on the first floor broke the boundless silence.After a brief pause, the front door opened and slammed shut. Finally... finally... Finally, Travis Brigham can breathe a sigh of relief now that his captors are gone.This is how he spent the past few days: his captor went out at night and didn't return until the next morning.Travis is now curled up in bed, wrapped in a stinking blanket.This is his best part of the day: sleeping. Travis realized that, at least in his sleep, he could get some rest from his despair.