Quiet War by Dom Testa

Author:Dom Testa [Testa, Dom]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

17

By the time the hour was up, we’d pretty much gone through the life and times of Tanner Leachman, along with an additional cup of coffee each. Krup deciphered some of the handwritten scrawls I’d seen on a few pages, quick but sloppy notes taken during the department’s routine investigation into the alleged victim.

Leachman was 34 at the time of the crime, an employee at Barhardt-Billings for only nine months, but lauded by his supervisors as “one of the best hires in years.” They’d granted him a lot of freedom to experiment with cutting-edge security designs, his specialty.

Hey, how could they know what was about to happen?

A graduate of the University of Washington, he’d done post-graduate work at UC-Berkeley, but left before finishing to join a small start-up. That had gone well, providing him with enough of a nest egg to explore other opportunities.

But that’s where the story got interesting. Tanner Leachman hadn’t explored other opportunities. As far as I could tell from the file, he hadn’t done anything. He was the poster child for dropping out; there was no record of him anywhere for nearly six years, until he showed up to apply with Barhardt-Billings. When questioned after his disappearance, a sister who was his only surviving relative told OPPD that she thought he took the money he’d made and went to Europe. When asked why she hadn’t stayed in touch with him, her response to the inquiring officer was, quote, “He’s an asshole.”

I showed this to Krup. “We never heard that from his employer or any of his co-workers,” she said. “They all described him as a somewhat reserved guy, but friendly. Maybe the sister’s the asshole.”

“I might give her a call. Maybe two years has been enough time for her to develop sentimental feelings for her brother.” I sat back in my chair and laced my fingers together on top of my head. “How could there be no record of this guy for six years? People can’t really fall completely off the grid, can they?”

“Sure they can. It’s not easy, but if you have money and know computer science as well as Leachman did, it’s not impossible. I don’t blame him for checking out. Don’t you ever wish you could?”

“I actually do check out from time to time,” I said. “It’s not as romantic as it sounds.”

Krup grunted a reply, but I left it at that. I couldn’t tell her that when I checked out, it wasn’t some idyllic life on a beach with endless umbrella drinks and no phone access. It happened when my consciousness drifted in a dark, mindless void within a sophisticated hard drive buried in a concrete bunker. I mean, when I checked out, I really checked out. And it only happened when I’d been killed.

But the thought of Leachman skipping around Europe—or wherever he’d been—for that long intrigued me. It essentially meant he’d disappeared twice.

I flipped through the papers until I found the one with the sister’s information. Kimberly Leachman was now Kimberly O’Dell, last known to be living in Arizona.

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