Criminal Enterprise by Owen Laukkanen

Author:Owen Laukkanen [Laukkanen, Owen]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Mystery, Thriller, Suspense
ISBN: 9780399157905
Amazon: 0399157905
Goodreads: 15815340
Publisher: Putnam Adult
Published: 2013-01-01T06:00:00+00:00

67

CHRIS RUSSELL SAT at her desk in the Hastings Police Department, staring at her computer screen, paging through Tony Schultz’s hard drive. She’d managed to convince the big dope to hand over his computer. Told him it was probably the only way they’d catch Roger Brill.

“Bullshit,” Schultz had replied. “I got personal shit on there.”

“I don’t care about your porno, Tony,” Russell said, and sighed. “Only way to track this guy Brill is to trace his e-mail backward.”

“What about his car?”

“His truck?” She laughed. “Tony, you told me Brill drove a dark SUV. You know how many Brills there are in the state driver database?”

Schultz had glared at her. “Said he was from Minneapolis.”

“And there’s sixty-five Brills in the Twin Cities phone book. None of them is your guy.” She put her hand on her hip. “You want those guns back, you gotta give me your hard drive.”

He’d glared at her some more. Then he swore, spat, slumped his shoulders, and helped her cart his yellowed computer tower out to her cruiser.

It wasn’t like she’d been lying to Schultz. Roger Brill was a goddamned wild-goose chase. Probably just an alias attached to a free Hotmail account. If she could trace Brill’s IP address, she might have a lead. And if she could pick up some intel about Schultz while she tried, hell, everybody wins.

Schultz’s hard drive wasn’t going to be much help, however. It was mostly just porn and lame e-mail forwards, a few family pictures. Russell recognized Scotty Montgomery from a couple of shots. Scotty Mo was a Hastings patrol officer; he’d married Schultz’s little sister. They had a couple of cute kids, little boys.

So the computer was pretty much a waste of time. Russell had been hoping for something drug-related, a saved e-mail or something, maybe a spreadsheet. But from the looks of it, Tony Schultz couldn’t even spell spreadsheet, much less figure out how to use one.

So, okay, Roger Brill. Russell loaded up Schultz’s e-mail page. Clicked on Roger Brill’s message, snooped around. A couple keystrokes later, she had an IP address copied and pasted. Cross your fingers, she thought, opening up a trace program on her own office computer. She entered Brill’s IP address and waited for the results to load. Then the page loaded, and Russell shook her head. “Shit.”

TC Wireless, the page said. An Internet service provider in Minneapolis and Saint Paul. The trace program had come back with the ISP’s address, instead of Roger Brill’s.

It’s never easy, Russell thought, as she picked up the phone. Maybe they’re nice people, and I won’t need a warrant. She dialed the Twin Cities phone number and a woman picked up. “TC Wireless. Claudia speaking.”

Russell introduced herself, explained the situation, the e-mail. “I was thinking if I gave you the IP address, you could get me a bricks-and-mortar on my suspect,” she told the woman.

Claudia sucked her teeth. “One second.” Disappeared. Russell waited through half a song’s worth of instrumental soft rock. Then Claudia came back. “You have a warrant?”

Russell sighed.

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