Construction owned the contents of the house, including the computer, which this fine Boston detective had been searching without permission.
“File a missing person’s report?” Phil asked Tessa, voice curt.
“Based on what I’ve seen here, I’m sure that will be the company’s next move.”
Another investigative quandary. For the police to become involvedin a missing person’s case, a third party must first file a report. Even then, the standard threshold was that the family hadn’t been seen for at least twenty-four hours.
Meaning at this stage of the game, without a report filed, without twenty-four hours having passed, D.D.’s squad was stuck responding to a call, but not yet handling a case.
“Any contact…?” Phil again, voice less certain, more searching.
“From the family, no.”
“Kidnappers?”
“No.”
A fresh tic of the vein in his forehead. Like Neil and D.D., Phil understood lack of contact was not a good thing. Ransom situations generally involved keeping the victims alive. Whereas in an abduction case with no financial demands…
“Anything good on the computer?” Tessa gestured to Phil, who was still seated at the keyboard.
“Been looking at the Internet browser. Family liked Facebook, Fox News and Home and Garden . Already guessing the iPads will be more personal. Not enough activity here for a family of three. I’m assuming they each do their own thing on their individual devices.”
Fair assumption, Tessa thought. She gestured to the keyboard. “May I?”
Grudgingly, he stepped aside. Tessa reached into her inside coat pocket and withdrew a small notebook. She had written the name and manufacturer on it. Now she started scanning computer icons until she found the desired program.
“Justin Denbe has a new toy,” she explained as she double-clicked the icon. “His crew gave it to him in the fall, partly as a joke, but he loves it. Apparently, these job sites—prisons, hospitals, hydroelectrical plants—are quite large. And Justin, as the hands-on owner, inevitably holds the answer to every question. Meaning his guys spend a fair amount of time searching for him. Sites are also often in ruralareas with shitty cell-phone coverage, making it hard to snag him by phone when they can’t locate him physically. So”—she paused a second, scrolling through the directions that had just popped up on screen—“his guys bought him a coat.”
“A coat?” D.D. asked with a frown.
Neil, however, was already ahead of her. “A GPS jacket. They got him one of those fancy outdoors never-get-lost-in-the-woods kind of jackets.”
“Bingo. Not cheap, either, like nearly a thousand bucks. So apparently it’s a really nice outdoors jacket, and Justin loves it. Wears it everywhere. Including, hopefully, out to dinner last night.”
“Scampo is a nice restaurant,” D.D. commented.
“Navy blue fabric with tan leather trim. He could wear it to Scampo. Hell, from what I’m told, this is a guy who wore his work boots everywhere. Why not a nice outdoors jacket?”
They fell silent, watching Tessa work the keyboard. “The jacket’s GPS device is built into the back liner,” she explained. “There’s a slot for removal, as the battery is good for only fifteen hours, then has to be recharged.”
“Do you have to activate it?” D.D. asked. “Or is it just always on?”
“This particular device must be activated. From what I’m reading here, that can happen two ways: The wearer manually activates it at the beginning of his hike or, say, day on the job site. Or it can be activated remotely using this software, which can also be installed on a cell phone. Kind of wild,” Tessa muttered to herself, fingers flying over the keyboard. “Turns any smart phone into a digital search dog. Find Justin Denbe.”
A map had just opened up on the computer screen. She eyed it carefully. Saw nothing.
“Is it activated?” D.D. again, voice impatient as she moved to stand behind Tessa,
“File a missing person’s report?” Phil asked Tessa, voice curt.
“Based on what I’ve seen here, I’m sure that will be the company’s next move.”
Another investigative quandary. For the police to become involvedin a missing person’s case, a third party must first file a report. Even then, the standard threshold was that the family hadn’t been seen for at least twenty-four hours.
Meaning at this stage of the game, without a report filed, without twenty-four hours having passed, D.D.’s squad was stuck responding to a call, but not yet handling a case.
“Any contact…?” Phil again, voice less certain, more searching.
“From the family, no.”
“Kidnappers?”
“No.”
A fresh tic of the vein in his forehead. Like Neil and D.D., Phil understood lack of contact was not a good thing. Ransom situations generally involved keeping the victims alive. Whereas in an abduction case with no financial demands…
“Anything good on the computer?” Tessa gestured to Phil, who was still seated at the keyboard.
“Been looking at the Internet browser. Family liked Facebook, Fox News and Home and Garden . Already guessing the iPads will be more personal. Not enough activity here for a family of three. I’m assuming they each do their own thing on their individual devices.”
Fair assumption, Tessa thought. She gestured to the keyboard. “May I?”
Grudgingly, he stepped aside. Tessa reached into her inside coat pocket and withdrew a small notebook. She had written the name and manufacturer on it. Now she started scanning computer icons until she found the desired program.
“Justin Denbe has a new toy,” she explained as she double-clicked the icon. “His crew gave it to him in the fall, partly as a joke, but he loves it. Apparently, these job sites—prisons, hospitals, hydroelectrical plants—are quite large. And Justin, as the hands-on owner, inevitably holds the answer to every question. Meaning his guys spend a fair amount of time searching for him. Sites are also often in ruralareas with shitty cell-phone coverage, making it hard to snag him by phone when they can’t locate him physically. So”—she paused a second, scrolling through the directions that had just popped up on screen—“his guys bought him a coat.”
“A coat?” D.D. asked with a frown.
Neil, however, was already ahead of her. “A GPS jacket. They got him one of those fancy outdoors never-get-lost-in-the-woods kind of jackets.”
“Bingo. Not cheap, either, like nearly a thousand bucks. So apparently it’s a really nice outdoors jacket, and Justin loves it. Wears it everywhere. Including, hopefully, out to dinner last night.”
“Scampo is a nice restaurant,” D.D. commented.
“Navy blue fabric with tan leather trim. He could wear it to Scampo. Hell, from what I’m told, this is a guy who wore his work boots everywhere. Why not a nice outdoors jacket?”
They fell silent, watching Tessa work the keyboard. “The jacket’s GPS device is built into the back liner,” she explained. “There’s a slot for removal, as the battery is good for only fifteen hours, then has to be recharged.”
“Do you have to activate it?” D.D. asked. “Or is it just always on?”
“This particular device must be activated. From what I’m reading here, that can happen two ways: The wearer manually activates it at the beginning of his hike or, say, day on the job site. Or it can be activated remotely using this software, which can also be installed on a cell phone. Kind of wild,” Tessa muttered to herself, fingers flying over the keyboard. “Turns any smart phone into a digital search dog. Find Justin Denbe.”
A map had just opened up on the computer screen. She eyed it carefully. Saw nothing.
“Is it activated?” D.D. again, voice impatient as she moved to stand behind Tessa,
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