The Last Witness (Badge of Honor 11)

“Unfortunately that appears to be the case,” Washington said, nodding. “Tony, would you share what else we have?”

Harris grunted. “There’s not a helluva lot to add, Matt. We were able to trace the anonymous text that Maggie sent back to the IP address of the computer she used. It was in an Internet café outside of Washington, D.C.”

“So, assuming she sent it, she’s no longer in Philadelphia,” Payne said.

“It seemed a hot lead,” Tony went on, “but when I interviewed the manager he said I was describing half the women who came in there. He did say he never noticed any female customer being there with someone who may have been holding her against her will.”

“And there’s no sense in hunting prints on the computer,” Payne said.

Matt saw Jason nodding as Tony said, “Right. Even if we were able to find hers among—what? dozens? hundreds?—of others who used the keyboard, we’re not going to find Maggie herself.”

Matt watched Tony take a sip of coffee from his cup as Tony glanced at a notepad.

“I’m just going to rattle these off,” Harris said. “Stop me if you want.”

“Rattle away,” Matt said, making a sweeping hand gesture at his laptop camera.

“One, we did get some prints lifted,” Tony went on, “partials taken off the one Molotov cocktail bottle that did not break. Not great, but they’re being run now. Two, Maggie has a current permit for concealed carry of a pistol.

Three, the residue on that dollar bill rolled up in the Gonzalez girl’s pocket tested positive for coke. Four, the Gonzalez go-phone went live again last night—”

“Stop,” Payne interrupted. “When and where? At Westpark?”

Tony looked up from the paper. “No, not the apartments in West Philly. It was in the area of NoLibs and Fishtown. Just after midnight last night. Whoever had the phone redialed the last number—”

“Maggie’s work cell phone,” Payne said, remembering the report stating that. “Which was found broken in the alley. And the go-phone then dialed it three times in a row at noon yesterday.”

Washington sat stone-faced, quietly impressed again with Matt’s natural ability to absorb vast amounts of information and effortlessly produce it on the spot. But Washington wasn’t at all surprised. That was more or less expected of those who graduated from the University of Pennsylvania summa cum laude and those who finished first on the department’s exam for promotion—both of which Payne had done, the latter earning him the right to his choice of assignment, the Homicide Unit.

“Right,” Harris said, “and then, for the first time since Maggie went missing, it dialed her personal cell phone, which was, and is, still turned off. Then the go-phone signal went dark again.”

Payne sighed. “Well, that’s something. At least we know the go-phone’s still in play. We just need to find it.”

“Yeah, and with luck, by the time you get here we should have more forensics on the data we took off her work phone.”

“What about the other two dozen phone numbers and texts that her go-phone made between the time of the murder and when it went dark after you tried to trick whoever had it at Westpark?”

“Not a single one answered when we called. Not even out of curiosity. Which is odd.”

“Maybe they were told to ditch their phones and get new ones?” Payne said, and thought, They buy the damn things like they do drugs, in bulk.

“That is entirely possible,” Washington said. “Disposable cell phones being a cost of doing business. We’re now waiting for the phone company to trace ownership of those numbers. I have a feeling Matt’s right about the ditch-your-phones order, though, and that’s likely to become a cold trail, too.”

Payne nodded thoughtfully. “Makes you wonder why hers hasn’t been ditched.” He paused, then said, “What else you got on your list, Tony?”

“Just one last thing. All the neighbors I spoke with last night couldn’t say enough nice things about Maggie. Said she was an extraordinary neighbor, nice and friendly, always taking care of her place. If she saw litter on the sidewalk, she picked it up. They were sick about the home invasion.”

Matt looked away from the screen in thought.

“I can smell the gears burning all the way from here,” Washington said. “What are you thinking, Matthew?”

Payne, rubbing his chin with his thumb and index finger, turned back to the screen.

“Nothing really. It’s just that the go-phone went live in the NoLibs–Fishtown area.”

“And?” Harris said.

“And that’s where the casinos are.”