The next morning, she drove to the office and parked her car. After checking her emails, she decided to walk down to the police station. She needed to check that laptop, to see if there were any clues to other enemies Frey might have made. When she arrived, she was surprised to find Chase already there. He was seated in front of Frey’s laptop, intently staring at the screen, his hulking frame dwarfing one of the chairs in the evidence room. The rest of the evidence was spread out across the table, and when she walked in Chase didn’t look up. Instead, he growled, “Morning, Miss Poole.”
“How did you even know I was coming in?” she asked, her eye falling on the poker that indeed had a slight dent in it.
“Your uncle told me about the invitation he extended you,” he said a little gruffly, and she wondered if he’d been up all night, going over the evidence.
“Yes, well, I thought perhaps there was more evidence to be found on Frey’s laptop.” She hesitated, then decided not to hold back. Chase might not be willing to share, but she wasn’t going to be so stingy. “After I talked to Gabby Cleret and Aissa Spring, I checked Frey’s social media pages.”
“And?”
“Well, turns out Paulo Frey was doing his darndest to earn himself the prize for the world’s nastiest social media troll. The guy actively trolled women and gays, and was engaged in online warfare with dozens of people.”
“Yeah, I saw that,” Chase said, taking a break from checking the laptop.
She drew up a chair. “So I figure that maybe whoever killed him might have been one of his victims. Someone who decided enough was enough.”
He stared at her. “And you hoped to find a lead on his laptop?”
She nodded. “There’s only so much you can glean from a public Facebook page. If I could use his laptop to log into his accounts, I’ll bet I’d find a treasure trove of stuff, and maybe a lead to his killer.”
“Just what I was thinking,” he admitted. “Which is why I’ve been going over his laptop half the night.”
She didn’t know why, but the fact that they’d shared the same idea somehow gave her a little thrill of excitement. “And? What did you find?”
“So far, nothing good,” he said with a shake of the head. “You called it when you said the guy was a hardened troll. Which is surprising for a writer of his stature. You would think he’d be afraid it would affect his sales.”
“Did he have another account? In a different name, perhaps? An alias?”
“If he did, I haven’t found it,” he said, scooting over to allow her access to the computer. This greatly surprised her. Was he inviting her to actively join the investigation? Perhaps her mom’s cooking had changed his opinion about nosy reporters whose last name is Poole?
“Did you check his emails?”
“I checked a bunch of them, but there are thousands and thousands. To get through all of them will be a Sisyphus job.”
“Then we better get cracking,” she said with a grimace.
“Be my guest,” he said, rising. “Coffee?”
“Black,” she said, cracking her knuckles. Frey’s laptop looked a little dilapidated, but then any laptop would, after spending a year soaked in human waste. It was a miracle the thing was still functioning. While Chase spent the next hour holed up in Uncle Alec’s office for their morning briefing, she went through Frey’s emails, checked his browser history, and generally tried to get a sense of what the guy had been up to in the weeks before his death. And it was when she checked his bookmarks that she hit the jackpot. Apparently he’d been a member of some kind of cyber-vigilante group called the Army of No, Frey clearly one of its ringleaders and moderators.
As soon as she logged into their private forum, she discovered he’d been extremely active coordinating what he called campaigns against degenerates, conducting online warfare on anyone and anything he disapproved of. She found the conversations that had launched the coordinated campaign against Gabby Cleret, but it quickly became clear to her that the Army of No mainly sought out gays and transgenders and outed them online, posting their pictures and causing trouble for them.
“Check this out,” she said when Chase finally joined her. “This Army of No actually revealed the identities of over a dozen gays and transgenders to their communities, no doubt causing a lot of trouble for these people.”
He read a few of the exchanges and shook his head. “This is so much worse than trolling,” he finally said. “This is actual criminal behavior.”
She pointed at the screen. “I’ll bet one of these victims decided to get even, and bashed Frey’s head in.”
“But how did they even know he was behind these attacks? This entire group was working in complete anonymity, and Frey’s name is never even mentioned.”
Chase was right. Frey’s involvement with the group was a strict secret, all the members using aliases. Frey’s was TransKiller, as he seemed to have developed a particular distaste toward transgenders, and singled them out.
“Someone must have found out,” she said.
“We have to compile a list of all the victims,” Chase said.
She gave him an amused look. “Are we actually working this investigation together now, Detective Kingsley?”
He shrugged. “I’m starting to see that if I’m ever going to fit in in this town, I better adapt to the way things are done around here. And from what Chief Alec’s been telling me you’re a great researcher, so…”
“So you’re allowing me to take part in the investigation?”
He studied her for a moment. “I’m drawing the line at you going out there and interviewing suspects—actively pursuing leads. But this…” He gestured at the laptop. “This is analyst’s work, and I don’t see why you can’t give us your two cents. It’s not as if there’s any danger involved.”
Annoyed, she said, “So I’m being relegated to playing second fiddle, huh? You actually want to keep me from going out there and doing my job?”
“Doing my job,” he corrected her tersely. “Interviewing suspects is police business, Miss Poole. And so is following leads. What would you do if a suspect turns violent? Or, God forbid, you actually confront the killer and he turns the tables on you? You don’t have a gun and even if you did, you’re not trained to protect yourself.” He shook his head adamantly. “You’re not qualified and I want you off the street. Your uncle Alec feels the same way.”
“I very much doubt that,” she insisted.
“Look, I’m cutting you a lot of slack here,” he said, gesturing at the computer. “And to be honest, I still think this is a bad idea.”
“Well, thanks for nothing,” she said, and quickly got up.
Just then, her uncle stuck his head through the door. “Frey’s publisher is here. You want to be present while I do the interview? You too, Odelia,” he said with a pointed look at Chase, who emitted an exasperated groan.
“I’m happy that someone appreciates my help,” she said as she breezed past Chase and followed her uncle out of the small evidence room. On the way over to his office, she saw that Rohanna was busy cleaning the vestibule, moving and shaking to the music, as usual, and singing along to some unheard tune. She smiled. At least someone was having fun around here.
The interview with the publisher didn’t take long. The man had been in town to pick up Frey’s belongings that had been released, like his clothes, his suitcases and the printed-out copy of his manuscript. Uncle Alec was going to hang on to the laptop for a little while longer. When questioned why Frey’s family didn’t collect the writer’s stuff, he said Frey was estranged from his family, and he was all he had. The publisher hadn’t been happy with Frey, either, for he’d been having trouble finishing his new book, apparently too busy with his Army of No and his trolling to spend time writing.