Mercy (The Night Man Chronicles Book 3), Brett Battles [best books to read in your 20s TXT] 📗

I’ve accessed the accounting files for Price Auto and am in the process of downloading them. There is a lot to go through, so it may take some time.”

Money woes could partially explain Chuckie’s persistent foul mood. A downward financial spiral is not a great mix with an already volatile personality. I’m not saying it excuses anything, just that it could be a trigger.

But going through all those records will take time and we already have a lot on our plate. “We can call JP if you want. He really knows this stuff and you can concentrate on other things.”

JP is a forensic accountant, and a living encyclopedia on all things financial. It’s not often that my colleagues and I need his services, but when we do, his help is always invaluable.

She considers the idea and nods. “I will contact him.”

That’s another thing about Jar that’s different from most people. Ego is never a problem. If it makes sense for someone else to do something, she’s all for it.

“Is there anything else?” I ask.

“Perhaps, but I am not sure if it is important or not.” She brings up another document. “Look at this.”

It’s an email to Chuckie, from August 17, two years ago.

Mr. Price:

This is to confirm your meeting tomorrow with Mr. Neuman at 10:30 a.m.

If you have any questions, please let me know.

Sincerely,

Tara Kerns

Executive Assistant to the Regional Vice President

Hayden Valley Agriculture

cc: Vince Neuman, Isaac Davis

Jar brings up a second letter, dated one week later.

Dear Mr. Price:

We consider this matter closed. Please do not attempt to contact us again.

Vince Neuman

Regional Vice President

Hayden Valley Agriculture

cc: Isaac Davis

“That sounds ominous,” I say. “Did you find anything that might tell us what the meeting was about?”

“I couldn’t find any other communications or documents that mentioned the company. Charles…Chuckie has continued to visit their webpage a few times every month since then, however. The last time was on Tuesday.” The day after we arrived in Mercy. “He checks the bio page for Vince Neuman every time.”

“That sounds obsessive.”

She gives me an oh-there’s-more look and says, “And he always uses incognito mode.”

I can’t help but snort.

Incognito mode is great if you don’t want your significant other to search your browser history and find out what you’ve been looking at, but that’s pretty much where your anonymity ends. Your internet provider and the websites you view will know you stopped by. Which means if you end up doing something nefarious that makes the police curious about your internet habits, all they would have to do is get a search warrant for your records from your provider and they’d know exactly what you’ve been up to.

Or you can do what Jar has done and hack into the internet company, without worrying about search warrants or permission, and take a look yourself.

I can’t imagine Chuckie is trying to hide the fact that he visits the Hayden Valley website from his family. Double-locked door aside, I’m sure they’ve been trained not to go into the den, and even if they did, they wouldn’t care that he’s been visiting an industrial farming company website. Which probably means he thinks he’s preventing Hayden Valley—and anyone else who might be interested—from knowing what he’s doing.

She shows me a few more of the documents, but nothing stands out as being important. She then asks about my afternoon at Grayson Lake.

“Not much more than what I’ve already told you. A lot of people hanging out together.”

She shivers as if cold. “So stupid.”

“Yeah, kind of what I was thinking, too. Unfortunately, I was too far away to hear any conver—” I stop myself. I forgot about the visit Chuckie had made to the Winnebago with his two friends. “Can we check the bugs in the RV? Somewhere around, um, four-fifteen to four-thirty, I think. Could be a little later than that.” I explain why.

It takes her just over a minute to find the audio and play it back.

The first thing we hear is the RV’s door open and Chuckie saying, “Go on in. Have a look around.” His voice is muffled but clear, the bugs having no problem picking up the sounds through the Winnebago’s floor.

“This is nice,” another voice says. It’s deep and kind of rusty, the kind of voice that only comes with age, so I’m guessing it belongs to the older man.

“Thanks,” Chuckie says. “It beats staying in tents.”

The door closes and for several seconds we hear only the floor creaking.

Then: “Looks clear.” A third voice. Younger, stronger. Mr. In Shape.

The silence returns for about fifteen seconds.

“Two?” Chuckie says.

“We’re almost there,” the old guy says. “Pressure time.”

Someone grunts a short laugh. I think it’s Chuckie but I can’t be sure.

“Questions?” the old guy asks.

“No,” Chuckie replies. His words are followed by a sound too faint to identify. Then, “How about a beer?”

“I wouldn’t turn one down.”

“Stop,” I say.

Jar pauses the playback.

“That noise right after Chuckie tells him no—can you turn up the volume and play it again?”

Jar isolates the segment and lets it roll. The noise is louder, but I still can’t make out what it is. Jar noodles with the settings and then plays it again, this time on a loop.

Three times through and I think I’ve got it. “Paper.”

“Yes. Like it’s being folded.”

“Go back to that gap after the one guy said it was clear. Where everything was quiet.”

Jar does so, keeping the adjusted settings where they are. In what was silence before, we can hear something in the same movement-of-paper vein we just heard.

A picture forms in my mind. “So, the old guy—”

“The old guy?” Jar asks.

“The raspy voice.” When she nods, I go on. “He pulls a piece of paper out of somewhere…his pocket, say. And he hands it to Chuckie. After Chuckie looks it over, Old Guy asks if he has any questions, Chuckie says nope and sticks the paper in his own pocket. How’s that sound?”

“There is no way to know for sure.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s a guess. Just want to know if you think