Page 15 of Every Last One
Cross flinched.
“I don’t care if he promised to come for you and your family. I have a promise for you too. I will make sure you go to prison for a very long time, and trust me, you’ll be at the bottom of the pecking order. I suggest you get talking.”
“Brent Hartley.”
“Just like that?” Eric remained skeptical. Cross hadn’t been willing to name anyone a moment ago, but put against the wall, he served someone up.
“Yeah, it’s the truth.”
Usually when people made that claim, the opposite was true. Eric played along. “So this Brent Hartley uploaded the virus?”
“Ah, yeah.”
“And who is Brent Hartley?”
“He used to work at Founders until they canned him a few weeks ago. Guy’s not happy, I tell ya that.”
Eric wasn’t moved by Cross’s story because that’s how it sat. Like fiction. He hauled Cross out of his house, only giving him time to slip into a pair of shoes before he rattled off the Miranda Rights.
EIGHT
12:03 PM
Sandra couldn’t be happier that there were two potential suspects for today’s events. Now they just needed to find out more about Brent Hartley. Ideally that intel would prove useful for negotiations. Once she established a means of communication anyhow.
When Neal’s phone had rung a few minutes ago, he put it on speaker for everyone to hear. At the sound of Eric’s voice, her spirits lifted. She couldn’t help but speak up and say she and Brice were there, but he didn’t seem surprised.
At the time of his call, Eric had just brought Cross to the station for interrogation. But Cross had requested a lawyer. Eric volunteered to go to Hartley’s residence to see what he could find out.
Brice stopped tapping on his laptop. “Okay, so Hartley is fifty-nine, no criminal record. Single, lives in the city.” He turned the screen so everyone could see his driver’s license. The man was average in every way. Brown hair, brown eyes, medium build.
“As that detective said,” Luis began, “I can confirm Hartley was a hospital employee in the admin offices. He was let go threeweeks ago for stealing office supplies. He lost his full pension with his termination.”
“It seems a rather severe punishment for lifting some pens and paper,” Brice said.
“According to his file, it wasn’t just one offense. He’d been stealing over a length of time. His option was to leave quietly and take the hit on the pension, or the hospital was prepared to file a lawsuit against him. The hospital doesn’t want to give the message employees can help themselves to hospital property.”
“Understandable, but I can see how this guy might feel backed into a corner.” Brice looked at her. “No job, no pension, no source of income, but how does that translate to him paying Cross to get into the server room? One would think he’d be strapped for cash. And does this guy even possess computer knowledge?”
“It would be foolish to assume he doesn’t just because he worked as a paper pusher,” she said. “Hartley could study computers in his time off. Today could be about getting his job back or his pension,” she said. “Desperate people don’t think rationally, as you know.”
“And if Hartley is on the sixth floor, who is he working with? Just two friends or others we don’t know about?”
“He could have hired help,” Brice said. “There is the possibility this is simply about retaliation. He’s attacking the hospital, like they essentially attacked him. Though I’m still not sure where he’d get the money to pay anyone.”
“And Hartley’s not all we’re dealing with here,” Sandra said. “Luis, were you able to confirm the patient system was unharmed?”
Luis nodded. “Yes, I just received that confirmation via email.”
“One thing going right, at least,” Neal said.
There was a knock on the door, and it opened immediately after. Kreiger stepped inside with an officer holding a few bags of food.
“Hope you don’t mind that I sent an officer on a lunch run. Hopefully y’all love mumbo sauce.”
The smell hit before Kreiger’s words, and it had Sandra’s stomach growling. Mumbo sauce was a Washington staple and typically accompanied comfort food such as wings or pulled-meat sandwiches. She’d run harder and farther along the Potomac tomorrow morning to make up for the indulgence.
The officer set the bags of food on the table and left with a dip of his head.
