“What exactly are you looking for again?” Keith asked. “The mentoring program?”

“Yes.” Ava went around the desk to look over his shoulder. Lists and lists of files covered the screen. “How did you get in?”

“It’s a private server.” Keith glanced around the small office. “It’s got to be close by. It has a wireless connection and Scott set it up to connect automatically with this computer. I didn’t even need to enter a password.” He shook his head. “It’s pretty lazy on Scott’s part and not secure at all. I bet the receptionist’s computer isn’t set up that way. If you tried to log in from hers, it’ll probably ask you for a password. The files are organized by type and date. He really should have someone build him a database so that he—”

“Can you search by names?”

“Not from this point. That’s why I’d started to say he should have his information placed in a database so it’s easy to search. Right now I need to be in the specific file to search for a name. What year do you want to look at?”

She wrote down the names of the four murdered men and handed them to Keith. “Start with last year and give me the name of every child they were paired with.”

“How many years do you want me to go back?”

Captain Schefte volunteered for almost twenty years. She remembered the smile on Scott Heuser’s face as he made that statement two days ago in this very office.

“Twenty years,” she said.

“This server only has seven years of data.”

“Are you sure? Is it stored in a different way?”

Keith made a dozen clicks. “I don’t see anything older than seven years. Even his payroll and accounting files only go back until then. I suspect they weren’t computerized until then.”

“So there should be paper records somewhere.”

“Somewhere.”

“I’ll ask the receptionist. Maybe she knows where they’re stored.”

“Be nice,” Keith suggested.

“Can you search for those names while I grab her?”

“Sheesh. I’ll need a spreadsheet.” Keith clicked on the Excel application and created a blank chart. “Beats pencil and paper every time.”

“Uh . . . should you be using that?”

Keith looked over his shoulder at her. “Really? You’re worried about me using his Excel program to make a tiny chart when we’re authorized to take all the hardware?”

It wouldn’t be the end of the world if Keith built a little spreadsheet. “Add Micah Zuch to your spreadsheet. I want to know who’s worked with him.”

They were onto something. She could feel it.

33

Her arms loaded with two file folder boxes, Ava shouldered open the door to the task force room. She felt a pull in her left side where her gunshot wound had been stitched back together. It wasn’t painful; it was simply uncomfortable enough to remind her that she was human. Behind her, Keith carried two more boxes. The receptionist had led them to a small storage room where they’d found the dusty boxes. By the fresh fingerprints in the thick dust, Ava could tell they’d been recently disturbed, and she asked the receptionist about it.

“Scott went through them before your visit the other day,” she’d said, looking down her cat nose at Ava. “It took him an hour to dig up the information you asked for. I assume all that work didn’t help you in your investigation?”

“It helped. Now we need more,” Ava had replied. The warrant had been worded loosely enough that Ava was comfortable removing the hard copies of the records. Keith located the private server and removed that along with two computer towers.

Now they had to search through the paper files and see whom their victims had mentored. Keith’s electronic search of the last seven years had found three children’s names associated with Denny Schefte, two with Louis Samuelson, and two with Lucien Fujioka.

None of them were the same.

Ava had stared at Keith’s mini-spreadsheet, a sinking feeling in her stomach, and wondered if they were on a wild goose chase. She’d hoped there would be a common name among the men. “We need to dig through the older records,” she’d stated.

At the police department, Zander and Nora stared as she dropped her boxes on the conference table. Keith set his down gently next to hers.

“What did you find?” Nora asked, skeptically eyeing the big boxes.

Ava gave her a quick rundown. “Are there any spare eyes to help us go through this?” She glanced at Keith, who was inching backward toward the door. “Where are you going?”

“I need to get back to the computer lab.”

“I still need your help,” she said, planning to use him to sift through the paperwork.

He grimaced. “I’m better with a screen and keyboard.”

“Give me two hours. Please.” She gestured at the nearly empty room. “We need help.”

Zander pulled the lid off a box and lifted out an old accounting notebook. He flipped through it. “Shit. This is going to take forever.”

“Where’s Mason?” Ava asked. “We could use him on this.”

“I sent him away,” said Nora. “I had to answer to the assistant chief about why a witness was hanging around our investigation. I managed to explain away his appearance at the Fujioka murder, but I’m not about to get called in again. He needs to not be seen with us.”