“Take a look for yourself,” I said as I gestured toward the computer. Then I circled the desk. “What might have been on there that has now disappeared?”
“I’m not sure. I told you, I arbitrarily collected information that just seemed reasonable to privately document. But it was bits and pieces here and there. Nothing I’d ever pulled together for a big picture.”
“And nearly two hundred files were deleted after the indictments and Bent’s suicide? Before the trials even began?”
“That’s impossible,” he said. “Locked up in Switzerland, remember?”
“Right.” I frowned.
“Except…” Dane pushed back my chair and vacated it, then said, “Take a seat.”
I didn’t question him, just did as he asked. “What now?”
“I didn’t need all this information for the trials
. The evidence I’d gathered and handed over to the FBI, beyond e-mails, was sufficient to show what was happening with Hilliard, Avril, Casterelli, and Wellington. Even the admiral.”
“So why send Ethan for this?”
“Just in case.”
“Well, just in case isn’t necessary, so we’re kind of chasing our tails, right? It doesn’t really matter what’s on this hard drive—or not.”
He nodded. Paced. Nodded again. Then stopped in front of my desk and flattened his palms against the polished wood. He gave me a steady look as he said, “Check for deleted files.”
I opened the recycle bin. “Empty.”
“How else, on a PC, would we know when someone last accessed this hard drive?”
“I’m not sure there’s any bearing whether PC or Mac based, but…” I investigated the restoration date, were we to reset to the last period the hard drive had been backed up.
I stared at the date and my frown deepened.
“Ari? What is it?”
“It’s—I don’t know. Weird.” I shook my head. “Two days after Amsel was born.”
Dane’s brow dipped.
I said, “You stayed at the retreat with me. Kyle was there, too. Amano and Rosa came back here. That’s when Ethan dropped off the hard drive.”
Something foreboding flashed in Dane’s eyes and, before he even asked me to see if I could discern who’d last accessed the database my fingers were already skating across the keyboard and alternately clicking the mouse.
But there was nothing to share with him. No evidence Ethan had even logged on.
And for that matter …
“Dane. Ethan is your closest friend. Your mentor. Not a suspect.”
“No.” He shoved away from the desk. “Not a suspect. What the hell is wrong with me?” he mumbled, and walked the office in frustration.
I kept up my search for good measure, though we both knew Ethan was not a rabbit to chase. Someone else was. We just didn’t know who.
As I scanned the hard drive and then pulled up the Computer function, I fought for a viable option to offer Dane. The best I could say was, “This is a dead stick. There’s absolutely nothing here. No leads, no nothing. I can’t even—” I stalled out mid-sentence.
“What, Ari?” Dane demanded. “What is it?”
“I don’t know,” I repeated. “Hold on a sec.” I stared at the screen as he came around to stand behind me, peering over my shoulder again.