Blindside (Michael Bennett 12)

“I guess.”

Computer prodigy or not, he was still a teenager. No conversation was that easy. I said, “You talked to me a couple times about networks and some of the different programs you use. If I had the MAC address of a computer, is there any way to pin down where it shows up on Wi-Fi?”

Eddie hesitated. I could see him working the question over in his mind.

I said, “This is unofficial, not Dad asking. If you can do it, I really need to find someone. You won’t get in trouble, no matter what sketchy websites you have to visit for this.”

Eddie said, “There are different programs out there. Or, I should say, networks that keep track of that kind of stuff. I’m sure there’s someone at the police department who knows how to do it.”

“Let’s say I was just trying to keep my distance from the office. And that time was a little bit of an issue. If I gave you the MAC address, do you think you could find some leads for me? No questions asked about how you do it.”

The kids knew that when I told them they wouldn’t get in trouble, nothing would happen. Once you start hedging on promises, it’s a slippery slope. The kids won’t trust you and can’t come to you with real problems. Eddie knew this.

He smiled and said, “This could be a good little test.”

I gave him the twelve digits my odd contact from Columbia University had provided, the MAC address for Jennifer Chang’s computer.

Eddie said, “I might need a while to find this. I have a couple of websites I can look at.”

“It won’t show a name or anything that gets out on the internet, will it?”

He just gave me a little condescending laugh. I mostly deserved it.

I watched him for a few seconds, then turned to head into the kitchen. Before I made it five steps, Eddie said, “Got it.”

He spent another minute or two finding more information. He looked up at me and said, “It looks like this computer regularly signs on to a Wi-Fi network run by a coffeehouse kinda near Columbia. The place’s name is Brew.”

CHAPTER 36

I DROVE A little north from our apartment to the area around Broadway and 123rd, to a short street called La Salle. I had a feeling deep inside me that things were not nearly as they appeared. This case was turning weird fast. The fact that one of the witnesses I needed to find, Tommy Payne, had been murdered made it more immediate.

Whatever had happened to Natalie Lunden, I no longer thought she was just a spoiled kid acting out. I’ll admit, like any human being, I’d approached this with a little bit of an attitude. Maybe it was because of my feelings for the mayor. Maybe it was experience. I’d thought after digging around for a day or two I might find Natalie hiding at a friend’s apartment. Just another kid who basically ran away from home.

Now, the more I looked into it, the more concerned I became. I’d had some guys from the NYPD Intelligence Bureau see if they could find out anything about her or her friends. So far, it looked like she hung out with mostly computer people, and it looked like some of them didn’t follow the rules. That worried me even more.

I had to start considering the possibility that she’d been kidnapped. But there had been no ransom demand or any other contact with her parents. That was weird if it was a true kidnapping.

I wondered if it had something to do with the mayor’s unpopularity. But the fact that he’d approached the police about his daughter made me believe he would’ve told us about a threat.

Add in the element of computers and programs like the one Eddie had used to find this coffeehouse, and my mind had started to swim. I don’t consider myself an old guy, but I was beginning to feel like one. Technology had left me behind. Sure, I could text and send an email. But when Eddie started talking to me about the things he did on the computer, it was like he was speaking another language.

I drove past the coffeehouse. It was so average it could’ve been used on Seinfeld. Just a simple square storefront with the word Brew scrawled in an odd font against a plain background. Wide glass windows on either side of the front door showed a brisk business.

As I looked at the cars parked in the area and the people walking along the sidewalk, I realized I wasn’t exactly sure what immediate threat I was looking for. Maybe a couple of big mobbed-up guys in suits. Perhaps some skinny kid in a T-shirt with an odd computer saying on it.

For a cop who knows the city and understands his job, it was disconcerting to be at such a loss.

The other thing that had been nagging me was the Tommy Payne murder. That meant someone else might be looking for Natalie Lunden. Or for Jennifer Chang. Maybe that seemingly typical thirty-something couple who visited Payne’s building the night of his death. I needed to be alert.

I dumped the car in a lot a few blocks away and started heading toward the coffeehouse. The entire way, I kept looking for anything out of the ordinary. Then it hit me. Was I jumpy from the shooting? Was Mary Catherine right? Should I have taken more time off?

It was tough to wonder if I was as good a public servant as I thought.

Today I wore a light windbreaker just to cover the Glock on my hip. I felt like I blended in, that no one would necessarily assume I was a cop. I noticed a patrol car parked at the end of the block. I was suddenly questioning my skills, but I hoped I wouldn’t need assistance.

After all, I was just looking for a twenty-four-year-old female computer nerd. How rough could it get?

CHAPTER 37