Never Run (May Moore Suspense Thriller 1)

CHAPTER SIX

Feeling motivated and hopeful, May headed back to the Fairshore police department. Owen drove, and she held onto the bag that contained this critical evidence. As they headed onto the main street running through town, she dreamed of what might happen if the phone yielded the results she hoped for.

Of course, their first task would be to check that it really was Savannah’s phone, but May knew it was very unlikely that another random phone would have been recently thrown away in that very same location.

At least, if they were successful, Savannah's grieving parents would have closure, even if nothing could bring their daughter back. The killer would be brought to justice. And perhaps, her own parents might be proud of her at last.

Owen parked outside the police department, and they rushed inside.

"Morning, May," Jack said. He looked to have just walked in, and she guessed he might also have had a sleepless night.

"I found this," she said, showing him the bag. "It was dropped in the woods. I think it's Savannah's phone. It was on a path she would have used as a shortcut, together with this sweater. Can we get the phone checked for prints?"

Jack's eyebrows rose.

"Good work," he praised. "I'll take it through straight away and check."

In the meantime, May headed into the office that she shared with Jack and Owen. Now that she was the county deputy, she was proud to see a new nameplate on her desk. And Jack had moved it out of the corner and into the center of the room, side by side with his.

The newly opened case file was on the desk, and she paged through, scanning the information.

She noticed that Savannah had been wearing a black sweater when she'd left home. That had formed part of the missing person description. She must have gotten warm while walking, and taken it off, but at least May knew that the sweater and phone were definitely her possessions.

She walked through into the side office where Jack was busy dusting the phone, hoping that there might be fingerprints that would be traceable.

But as she watched him carefully work, she realized they weren't going to get so lucky this time.

"Nope," he said regretfully, shaking his head. "I'm not picking up any prints on this phone at all."

Carefully, with his gloved hands, he turned it over and checked the other side.

Under the bright light of the workstation, the powder looked silvery and shiny, but it definitely wasn't showing up anything except a few smudges.

"I think it must have been wiped after it was turned off," he said. "It would be logical for a phone screen to have some clear prints, even if they belonged to the owner. But there are none here."

May nodded, feeling disappointed that this line of investigation was getting them nowhere.

Jack carefully removed the powder from the phone using a soft cloth.

"How long will it take to get it unlocked?" May asked. "There's information on it that I need."

Jack shook his head.

"We'll have to send it to the techs in Minneapolis. I think it will take about a week. It depends on the waiting times."

May seethed inwardly. While glancing at that Vanity Fair article on her sister, even though she hadn't wanted to take in the words, a few pieces had stuck in her head, and she was sure she remembered one of them being, "We accessed the victim's phone records within a few hours with the help of our forensics team, and from there I was able to identify the suspect."

So easy for the FBI, with their vast reach and quick access to expert resources.

And so much harder for her, in a small rural police department where violent crime was a rarity, and phone access was something that had to be waited for in line.

May felt incredibly frustrated that her efforts had gotten her this far, and that she'd now been stalled by nothing more than logistics. Despite her perseverance, it was not the jumpstart to the investigation that she’d hoped for.

Was there a way she could open it? she wondered suddenly. She picked up the phone and turned it on. A keypad appeared. So this was a phone requiring a six-digit code.

What code would Savannah have used?

The girl was eighteen. At eighteen, May was going to guess that she was not the most tech-savvy person and would have used a basic pass code.

May decided to try the most obvious code she could think of. Savannah would have made it personal, surely. And not overly complicated. Something quick and easy she could key in without thinking, but that a random stranger wouldn't know.

A birthday? May wondered.

She returned to the office and checked those details in the case file.

Then, feeling disproportionately anxious, she typed in the numbers for the day, month, and year.

Nothing. It didn't open. Disappointment curdled inside her.

But although she thought she was probably on to nothing, she decided to give it one more try, doing it the other way around. Year, month, day.

Carefully, she typed in the six digits.

The phone unlocked.

May was so shocked she almost dropped it. She gasped out loud. She had been feeling so sure this was a waste of time, but it had paid off.

"What is it?" Owen said, appearing behind her.

"It worked!" she said.

"What worked?"

"I got in. This is Savannah's phone. I've opened it."

"Brilliant!" Owen said.

Jack rushed through, looking impressed.

"Did I hear you say you opened the phone?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes. I tried an obvious password, and it worked," May said.

"That's very good work," Jack said. “Clear thinking, sound logic, May. I hope we find information on it to take us further.”

May smiled. She felt a warm glow inside. She was glad she'd finally proved herself. It felt like a victory, and it made her more hopeful about getting answers.

"She had a boyfriend that her parents didn't know about," she explained to Jack. "I wanted to find out more about him. We might need to question him."

"That sounds like a good idea. If you're able to find his details, you and Owen go and speak to him. I'm going to head to the school and find out if any other students noticed a stalker, or a stranger watching them or hanging around the area. Let's catch up when we're done."