Grandma arrived twenty minutes after the expected time. Dad called and said Grandma had to use the washroom in the train station before meeting him in the parking lot. I impatiently waited for them in the Rangeman garage. Agent Weaver, Al and the New Jersey prosecutor were in the conference room on the second floor, preparing the area to unpack the bag to see what evidence Serena may have left in the backpack.
When the medical examiner removed Serena's body from the barrel, they found a broken digital camera. The memory card was missing. Whoever shoved her inside must have taken it because it wasn't in Serena's clothes or body.
Dad honked when he arrived. I pressed the button to open the gate and let him inside. He parked in the space beside my SUV.
"You're cutting it close," I said when Grandma and Dad exited the car. Grandma was still wearing the backpack on her front. "Valerie's coming over at 19:00 so Carlos can give Kayla her medicine. We promised Kayla could see the puppies if she took her medicine this morning."
Grandma laughed. "Kayla is like you," she said.
"Come on. People are waiting on us," I said, leading them to the elevator. "Dad, Rosalyn is at my house with the children. Do you mind going there? I can bring Grandma home with me."
"Sure thing, Pumpkin," he replied. Dad kissed my cheek and returned to the car. "I'll transfer her luggage to Valerie's car."
"Thanks, Daddy," I said.
The elevator doors opened. Grandma looked tired, but she refused to hand the backpack over to anyone other than Agent Weaver and the prosecutor. "I don't trust those idiots in Trenton," Grandma said when the doors closed. "Helen or Angie might destroy the evidence before Agent Weaver could review it."
"You didn't want Helen to say I planted that backpack," I said. Helen Mazur might have given birth to me, but her betrayal and lies ended her role as my mother. She didn't deserve that title. Rosalyn has been more of a mother to me than Helen.
"Bingo," Grandma replied, interrupting my unkind thoughts about my so-called mother.
I smiled as the door opened, expecting Al to be waiting for the elevator to arrive. "Hi, Edna," Al said.
Tapping his cheek, Edna replied, "I see you lost some weight."
Al blushed. "I still have another twelve pounds to lose," he said. "Ranger thinks I'll shed those in the next few months. It didn't take that long to gain the weight."
"Gaining weight never takes long," I laughed.
"Everyone is waiting for us. I have the cameras recording everything, including whatever we say," Al warned, pausing with his hand on the doorknob to enter the conference room. "Ranger is monitoring the cameras since he assisted us in Trenton."
"Grandma, the prosecutor will use anything you say in court. Don't speculate or comment on whatever we remove from the backpack," I explained. "We don't know what we'll find."
"Open the door," Grandma said. "I promise to keep my thoughts to myself."
"And only answer questions someone directly asks you?"
"Yes. I will only answer Agent Weaver's questions," Grandma replied.
Al nodded and opened the door. He waited for Grandma and me to enter before stepping inside. I wasn't surprised when Al locked the door.
Agent Weaver stepped forward to introduce himself. Grandma shook his hand and turned to face the New Jersey prosecutor. She smiled. "You're the district attorney, Ken Montgomery," Grandma said before he could offer his name. Ken raised a brow. "I know your father."
"He recently relocated here," Ken offered. Edna's grin widened. I wondered what that was all about. "How did you come across this backpack?"
Grandma explained how she stumbled across Serena while trying to sneak back into the house before Helen noticed her absence. "Serena asked for a drink and some bread," Grandma said. "I asked when she had last eaten. She said it was a few days. I went into the house to make her some sandwiches."
"Did she have this backpack with her?" Ken asked.
"Yes. I wanted to bring Serena inside the house to keep her safe, but Helen would never allow that," Grandma answered. Agent Weaver glanced at me and raised a brow. I nodded. Helen would never invite a Hispanic woman to live in her house.
Ken pointed at the backpack and asked, "Have you opened it?"
"No," Grandma replied. "I didn't want my fingerprints on the contents. The bag might have evidence needed to close the case." And prove my innocence.
A box containing nitrile gloves sat on the table. Weaver, Ken, Al and I grabbed two gloves and slipped them over our hands. In full view of the cameras, Al unzipped the backpack. Instead of reaching inside, he upended everything onto the table. A plastic case contained five memory cards; two were small enough to fit in the camera found with Serena's body; the other three were for another digital camera. Bits of torn paper and a gum wrapper with what appeared to be a wad of gum had fallen beside a black camera bag and Serena's mobile phone.
Al picked up the black zippered bag and opened it. Carefully tucked inside was an expensive camera with two zoom lenses. I removed the camera from its case and searched for the latch for the batteries. It opened with a click. "Do we have a memory card reader available?" I asked Al.
"Hector might have one in his office. We also need an iPhone lightning cord," Al replied, pointing at the phone. We didn't have to contact anyone to deliver the device, trusting Ranger to notify the appropriate person. Hector knocked on the door. Agent Weaver unlocked it to grab the banker's box containing the reader, tablet and other necessary accessories. "Is it connected to the network?" Al asked Hector, speaking Spanish.
"No," Hector said and walked away.
Al handed me the charging cord. I plugged the phone into the outlet, and it charged enough for us to access it. While I waited, I dusted it for prints to confirm that the phone belonged to Serena. The phone's case provided the best fingerprint samples. Using the tape, I lifted the prints and scanned them into the computer to compare them with those the medical examiner lifted off the body.
"The tablet isn't connected to the Rangeman network. We don't need a username or password to access the device," I explained when Ken looked confused.
"In other words, Rangeman can't access anything from the tablet, not even remotely," Al added. He attached the reader to the tablet and turned it on. Al created a folder and labelled it as card1. He accessed each card, moving the photos to the appropriate folder. Once he finished copying the photographs, Al zipped the folders and emailed them to Weaver, Montgomery and me.
I checked the phone and noticed its charge was enough for us to access it. Unfortunately, I couldn't unlock the phone without a password. I hoped Serena left us a way to access her device. "Weaver, can you check those bits of paper to see if Serena left us the password?" I asked.
He carefully unfolded each piece. "It looks like a puzzle," Ken observed, and he helped by moving the pieces into the correct location. Try 130611."
"Nope. Are you sure that's a three?" I asked. I grabbed the magnifying glass for a better look since Serena tore the paper along the left edge of the number. It wasn't the only digit partially damaged from Serena ripping the paper. I entered 180611, and it still didn't unlock the phone. "I'll lock myself out for thirty minutes if I don't get this last attempt right."
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. When I opened them, I silently prayed and entered 130511. Ken raised a brow. "Did it work?" he asked. I set the phone on the table to show him. The main screen had six icons with a missed call notification bar.
"Did Hector bring one of those touchscreen pens?" I asked.
Ken checked the box. He picked up a red pen-like item with a rubber tip. "Is this one?" he asked.
Glancing up from the phone, where I can see she has some notifications, I replied, "Yes. Thank you." I used the pen to click on her notifications. "Five missed calls. All within twelve hours."
"Who called her?" Weaver asked.
"The caller ID indicates it belongs to James," I replied. I recognized the number from the missing person's report James filed. It was the one I called this morning.
Grandma remained silent as we processed everything from Serena's backpack. She seemed fascinated with the process.
Ken picked up a small, black device, which appeared to be two micro cameras partially stuck together. "What is this?" he asked.
Al extended his hand to examine the item. "Why don't you check the phone's gallery for the recordings I received from James?" I asked Al, exchanging the phone for the device. Upon closer inspection, I determined they were the devices Serena ripped from Carmen's apartment walls.
"What recordings?" Weaver asked.
"James is shipping a DVD to your office, Ken. He's bringing another copy for you, Agent Weaver. I have the digital copies, but I needed to confirm she recorded them on her phone," I replied.
"I found them," Al announced. "The videos show the date of the recording." He pressed play but kept the volume too low for anyone to hear. Grandma didn't need to know more about the case than necessary. It might put her in danger with the Jamaicans who sold the drugs to Gilman and Morelli.
I knew what they were watching. Al played each recording, and I confirmed they were the same as the one I received from James earlier that day. "It only proves someone used her phone to record them," I said.
"And that she uploaded them to her iCloud, which you cannot do without a password," Al said, showing us the display requesting a password to access the cloud.
"If someone accesses the account on a different device, will it log out on this one?" Ken asked.
"I have all of my iCloud storage set to enter a password whenever I want to access it. If someone tries to access it from an unauthorized computer, I receive a notification on my phone and have to use the code provided to access the data on the other device," I replied. "It also provides me with the area where the person attempting to access my data lives."
"I'm unfamiliar with this technology," Agent Weaver said.
"I'll show you, but I have to conceal my password. Grandma, grab my phone from its place on my holster belt," I said, twisting so she could reach the device on my right hip. After unlocking the phone, I entered the password to access my iCloud storage. I used the laptop on the table to access my iCloud. It asked for a code from my iPhone since I never authorized the computer to access the storage.
"I have the code," Grandma announced. Ken watched as I entered the code from my phone. It granted me temporary access to the iCloud files.
"And I'm still logged in on my phone until I close the storage. You needed to understand how the system worked," I explained, showing Ken I could view my files until I closed the folder.
"That's an interesting security feature," Ken said.
"It's a new feature with Apple's latest operating system update," I replied. "We have a similar security feature at Rangeman. The IT department knows when an unlicensed computer attempts to access the Rangeman servers because it notifies them in a similar manner. We also have multi-authentication. It was a pain initially, but it would be bad for business if a security company got hacked."
"How did you get so good at this forensics stuff?" Ken asked, trying to learn more about Al and me.
"Albert and I joined the military after graduating high school. We were in the same basic training class. After serving a few tours, Al and I decided to take courses in forensics and learned from the best in the military. It enhanced our abilities, and we found ways to collect evidence during reconnaissance missions. Eventually, it turned into recovery - finding our deceased comrades to give their families closure," I sadly replied.
"Thank you for your service," Ken said. "Are you still enlisted?"
"No. Al and I retired. The details of our contract are confidential, but I'm allowed to say that through Rangeman, we work with the FBI, DEA, ATF and other government organizations to collect and research cases," I replied.
"Was this case one you received through Rangeman?" Ken asked.
"No," Agent Weaver replied. "We needed Stephanie and Albert's skills to work undercover. However, without receiving the military's approval, the courts cannot use that information."
"Are you saying it was a joint effort to uncover the participants?" Ken asked.
"Yes," I replied. "As Agent Weaver indicated, Albert and I are not to be identified as working undercover to uncover the truth. We have already debriefed with all parties, and those reports, with our identities redacted, are part of the case you're presenting."
"What about the civil suit?"
Sighing, I replied, "I was worried you would mention that. Neither Al nor I planted evidence. We followed all protocols. I'm relieved that Serena Sanchez risked her life to collect everything here, to show that I had not planted evidence to incriminate an innocent man. Joseph Morelli was responsible for ruining his own reputation. All I want to do is repair mine, though I doubt that's possible in a community stuck in the fifties like the Burg. They wouldn't believe the truth if they fell face first into it."
Ken glanced at Grandma, who said, "The truth isn't as exciting. My daughter, Helen, never liked Stephanie and went out of her way to make Stephanie's childhood miserable."
"Why would she do that to her child?" Ken asked, looking rather disgusted by the thought of a parent not nurturing their daughter.
"I never wanted what the Burg had to offer. Cooking, cleaning and raising children as a housewife never piqued my interest," I replied. "Helen tried teaching me how to cook, but lacked the patience to ensure I followed the recipe, or used the correct measuring spoon and cup. She expected me to know everything like my older sister, who spent more time watching our mother cook than I ever had. I was too much of a tomboy for Helen's liking. She took great pleasure in punishing me for getting my clothes dirty."
"But you're married," Ken observed, pointing at my left hand.
"I am. In Trenton, part of my cover was pretending to be divorced. Helen knows I have children. Since they are interracial, Helen never accepted them, or my husband, as part of her family," I replied.
"She should be happy you're married with children," Ken said.
Grandma added, "Helen would only be happy if Stephanie married a Burg man. My daughter knows Stephanie never divorced her husband, which fuelled her desire to assist Angie Morelli in claiming Stephanie planted evidence to ruin Joseph's reputation."
"Do you have proof?" I asked.
"Recorded the entire conversation," Grandma happily replied. "It's on my phone. After confirming that Angie Morelli filed the charges, I collected that bag and took a train here."
"I have a colleague who will love to represent you," Ken offered.
"Thank you, but I have a Trenton lawyer," I replied. "Have you heard of Jerome Parker? He recently passed the New Jersey boards and resides in Trenton at the Rangeman branch."
"I do. He attended law school with my son," Ken answered.
"Small world," I mumbled. "Grandma, I'll give you Jerome's email so you can send him the recording. I don't want it passing through me first." Grandma nodded.
"You can ask Billy Montgomery to assist as unbiased legal representation. He will help Jerome prove your case," Ken offered.
"Thank you. I'll have Jerome reach out to your son."
It didn't take us much longer to finish processing the items discovered inside Serena's backpack. Most of the evidence we collected was digital. Fingerprints confirmed Serena handled the items shoved inside the backpack. Long black hairs got caught in the zipper. Using tweezers, I plucked those free and placed them inside an evidence bag. Weaver signed the seal, indicating he received it from me. I raised my brows when Ken added his signature.
"My signature indicates I witnessed the collection and placement of the samples in the evidence bag for testing," Ken explained. "Nobody will dare to question if these hairs were planted. You never opened or touched the nap sack until you retrieved the hair stuck in the zipper's teeth."
"We had everything recorded," I reminded him. "You can use that as irrefutable proof that I didn't plant evidence."
"Did you know about this nap sack before today?" Ken asked.
"No. I noticed it in the video James sent me, but I didn't know it existed until then," I replied. "Ranger will give you the recording when we leave this room."
Weaver carefully rolled the backpack to fit it inside an evidence bag. He sealed it and added his signature, offering it to Ken for him to add his. I shook my head at the guys. Ken's signature wasn't necessary on the evidence. He seemed to enjoy being a part of the process. Ranger would love to know that his suggestion to have Ken Montgomery in the room while we processed the evidence.
Al and I helped Weaver place everything, including the tablet, into the box. He closed the lid. I grabbed the garbage can so everyone could drop their used gloves into the trash. Al opened the door while I emailed Ken and Weaver the search results and logged off the computer. Hector would collect the laptop later.
As I promised, Ranger had DVDs burned with the evidence. "I have emailed a digital copy as well," Ranger said, passing each man a DVD for their records. "Thank you for flying here to observe."
"I should thank you for the opportunity to watch your wife and brother-in-law work. They make a great team," Ken said, shaking Ranger's hand.
Ranger and I accompanied the men to the parking garage, where they climbed into Weaver's car. I pressed the button to open the gate, allowing the men to leave.
"Babe, let's go home," Ranger said.
"What about Grandma?" I asked as the elevator at my back opened.
"I've got her," Al replied. "We'll meet you at your place."