Page 53 of Fatal Fame
Rishi groaned.
“Look, Rishi, I’m not asking you to turn off cameras or remove any evidence from the locker. I’m just asking you to access the evidence logs. You could do that from your own office. I know you can. You’re a whiz on that computer.”
"I don’t like where this is leading. What specifically do you need to know?" Rishi asked finally.
"Simple stuff. Again, I don’t need anything taken out. I just want to know the chain of custody for evidence collected from the original Hale crime scene. Particularly a latex glove that was reportedly found and processed for DNA analysis along with the DNA under the nails of Jacob Hale. Is the latex glove still there? And was the DNA a match to the glove? And have they run any tests on it in the past few years to check CODIS or any of the DNA databases out there?"
Rishi's eyes sharpened with professional interest. "That's oddly specific."
"Sources who've been tracking this case for years told me. People have noticed discrepancies between what was collected, what was analyzed, and what was released to the public."
"And you think those discrepancies are intentional?"
"I think that if someone with influence over the investigation wants certain evidence to disappear or remain unprocessed, that will happen. At least that’s my theory. The question is whether that evidence still exists and whether modern analysis might reveal new information that wasn’t found ten years ago."
Rishi finished his burger while considering Mia's request. She could see him weighing professional obligations against personal loyalty, and law enforcement protocol against the possibility that justice had been deliberately obstructed.
He groaned. "Mia, okay, but that’s all," he said finally.
"Rishi, you are the best. That will be incredibly helpful."
He cleared his throat. "I'd need to be careful about how I access that information. Queries about old evidence gets logged, and the office would probably notice if I started digging. Also, please understand, this is a one-time favor, because of what Gideon did, and because of who your family is. But after this, I won’t be involved. You can tell Gideon that too. All favors cease after this."
Mia felt a surge of gratitude mixed with guilt at putting Rishi in such a difficult position. "I understand. How will you do it?”
"I’ll limit it to a single inquiry that could be explained as routine database maintenance, or a software update." Rishi pulled out his phone, checking the time. "I will look into the glove situation this evening, when fewer people are monitoring system access."
"Do you need anything from me?"
"Evidence tag numbers, approximate collection dates, any identifying information that would help me locate the right files without conducting obvious searches."
Mia realized she'd need to contact Gideon for those details.
"How should I contact you?" she asked.
Rishi gave her a number that he said was a secure line. "Text only, and keep it brief. If I find relevant information, I'll let you know this evening."
As they prepared to leave the park, Mia felt the weight of crossing another line in her unofficial investigation. Each conversation, each request for information, each step deeper into the conspiracy surrounding Pierce's murder made her a more obvious target for elimination. But she also felt the thrill of making real progress, of building connections and gathering intelligence that might finally expose the truth about crimes that had been covered up for a decade.
Oktoberfest in HighPeaks transformed the normally quiet downtown into a celebration that drew families from across the North Country. Main Street had been closed to vehicle traffic, with beer tents and food vendors creating a festival atmosphere that masked the tension of an active murder investigation.
Mia walked through the crowd with heightened awareness, studying faces and social dynamics while appearing to enjoy the music and autumn colors that made the Adirondacks a destination for leaf-peepers and outdoor enthusiasts. The festival represented everything she'd grown to appreciate about small-town life—community gathering, shared traditions, the kind of social cohesion that created both safety and surveillance.
The mountains surrounding High Peaks provided a dramatic backdrop for the celebration, with Whiteface Peak visible in the distance and forests that blazed with October colors. Beer tents anchored each end of the street festival, while local vendors sold everything from maple products to handcrafted jewelry that appealed to tourists seeking authentic mountain experiences.
A bluegrass band played on a stage erected in front of the municipal building, their music mixing with conversations and laughter to create the soundtrack of small-town celebration. Children ran between booths with the kind of freedom that was possible in communities where everyone knew everyone else, where dangers were assumed to come from outside rather than from neighbors and local leaders.
She spotted Deputy Thorne near the beer tent, off-duty but still carrying herself with the alert posture that identified law enforcement officers even in civilian clothes. Several members of the town council moved through the crowd.
What struck Mia most was the normalcy of it all—families enjoying an afternoon festival while a few miles away, crime scene investigators processed evidence from a murder that had shattered the illusion of mountain tranquility. The contrast between public celebration and private investigation felt like a metaphor for everything she'd learned about High Peaks society.
She bought a cup of pop and found a spot near the bandstand where she could observe crowd dynamics while appearing to listen to music. The bluegrass melodies provided cover for her people-watching.
Strangely, Michael Torres was very much present, accompanied by a woman who was obviously his wife and two children who looked like they were enjoying the festival atmosphere. Torres seemed relaxed and engaged with his family, showing no signs of stress that would suggest involvement in recent criminal activity. His presence felt like an assertion of innocence, a public demonstration that he had nothing to hide from the investigation.
Evelyn Cross moved through the crowd with the purposeful gait of someone who appreciated community events but didn't feel obligated to linger at social gatherings. She nodded to Mia from across the street, a subtle acknowledgment that didn't draw attention to their previous meeting but confirmed their continuing connection.
The festival atmosphere made it easier to understand why Landry had been drawn to High Peaks as a subject for investigation. The surface charm and community cohesion provided perfect cover for darker activities, while the isolation and local loyalty made it difficult for outsiders to penetrate social networks or expose hidden relationships.
