The morning sun beamed across the marina as boats swayed in their slips. It felt good on my face. That little feeling of joy made me think about Ava. It would be a long time before she felt the joy of sunshine on her face. Every time she looked in the mirror, it would be a constant reminder.
After we ate, we dished up plates and returned to the galley. The TV was still on, and a breaking news segment flashed on the screen. "An activist group has claimed responsibility for the attack on Ava Lang last night,” Lily said. “We have an exclusive recording of a phone call made to our station by the alleged attacker just minutes ago. Our segment producer fielded the call. We'll play it for you now. Be advised, this is raw and unedited."
The voice of the caller crackled through the speaker. It was a low-quality recording. “I represent the organization responsiblefor the attack on Ava Lang. I want you to play this message on air in its entirety. If you do that, I will spare everyone at your station from future attacks. If not, you’re fair game. This is the first of many that are yet to come. We will target actors, models, musicians, influencers, politicians, and anyone else we think is responsible for the downfall of Western society. You have been warned."
"Why are these people responsible for the downfall of society?”
"If I have to explain it to you, you’re part of the problem.”
"What is your name?"
The caller laughed. "I'm not telling you my name."
“What's the name of your organization?"
11
The caller disconnected before stating the name of the group.
I figured it was a coin toss if this guy was full of it or not. Crackpots like to call in and feel important, but it was worth investigating.
I called Paris. "I need the name and number of the segment producer for the morning show.”
She gave me Darren’s info, and I called him. It went to voicemail, and I left a message. Then I called Isabella, gave her Darren’s number, and asked her to track incoming calls to his phone. After a few taps of the keys, she told me, “That call came from a burner phone that was located at Key Bean.”
It was an eclectic coffee shop.
“Can you tell me where he was sitting?”
She could get pretty accurate, within a few feet. “Walk into Key Bean, look left. He was sitting near the window.”
“What happened to the phone after the call?”
“It went off grid.”
I thanked her for the info and updated JD.
He said goodbye to the girls, and we hustled to the parking lot and hopped into the van. In a few minutes, we were at Key Bean. The perp was likely long gone, but maybe somebody here had recognized him.
The smell of fresh coffee filled the air, along with morning chatter. At this time of day, it was a casual crowd. People typed on laptops, read books, and tried to perk up for the adventure that lay ahead.
The two tables on the left by the window were empty. A paper cup remained on the table closest to the door. We’d be able to recover DNA from it, but it probably wouldn’t do us much good at this point. There was no telling who it belonged to.
Jack collected the cup and bagged it as evidence.
I hurried to the counter, flashed my badge, and talked to the cashier. "There was a guy in here maybe an hour ago, sitting at that table,” I said, pointing. "He made a phone call. You remember seeing that guy?”
The clerk looked at me like I was crazy. "You know how many people come in and out of here?”
"Do you have any security footage?”
He shook his head. "No. Customers don't like that.”
"You don't remember anybody sitting at that table, talking on the phone?” I asked again.
He gave me an annoyed look, then just shook his head.
“I need to see the credit card receipts for everyone who's made a purchase in the last several hours.”
