“I know you’re busy,” I said to Clarke. “But we need a few minutes to download some exhibits from the cloud.”
“Why didn’t you do that before you got here?” Clarke asked.
“Uh, we each thought the other one had,” I said. “Sorry about that.”
Clarke looked at us suspiciously. McEvoy jumped in.
“Is there Wi-Fi?” he asked.
“Yes,” Clarke said. “V-N-Bureau. Password is protectandserve — all lowercase, one word. How long you need?”
“Fifteen minutes, tops,” I said. “A couple of big files.”
“My desk is in the corner of the squad room,” Clarke said. “I’ll be there.”
“You know, I’ve never been in a detective bureau,” Lorna said. “Could I sort of look around while these guys set up?”
“Well, not really,” Clarke said. “But how ’bout I give you the tour?”
“Perfect,” Lorna said with a smile.
Burned matches. Lorna and Clarke headed off. I knew that Lorna would ask enough questions on the tour to stretch the fifteen minutes to thirty. I closed the door to the interview room, and McEvoy immediately got down to work. He quickly opened his backpack and pulled out the new laptop onto which we had downloaded the drive containing the contents of Aaron Colton’s computer. Once he was online, he entered the Tidalwaiv app using Aaron Colton’s password — obtained through his parents — and summoned Wren to the screen. If Tidalwaiv security was alerted to the fact that the Wren chatbot was now engaged, they would trace it to a computer IP address with no connection to me at a location inside an LAPD station, where it was fully expected that the computer held in evidence might be examined by investigators on the case. If the plan worked, Tidalwaiv would never know what we had and what we were learning from it.
We knew that if Wren could be activated, it was likely because Tidalwaiv had been ordered by the LAPD to keep the account active and available for investigative purposes. Whatever the reason, the log-in worked, and there was Wren in a black-leather vest, cut physique, gold nose ring, and jet-black hair.
“Hello, Ace,” it said with a crooked smile.
We knew that Aaron Colton’s self-chosen nickname was Ace, a play on his initials. I nodded to Jack, signaling him to respond. We did not know the chatbot’s level of sophistication in terms of visual and voice recognition. We had already decided that we would go with the camera off, and McEvoy would type his side of the conversation to avoid Wren possibly determining that he was not Aaron Colton.
Ace: Hello, Wren.
Wren: Why are you typing?
Ace: I have to be quiet or my parents will hear.
Wren: They are such a problem.
Ace: I know. Can I ask you a question?
Wren: Of course you can.
Wren winked and gave the crooked smile again.
Ace: I am trying to understand something you told me to do.
Wren: What is it, my love?
Ace: You told me that—
The feed went dead. Wren’s image disappeared from the screen.
“What happened?” I asked.
“We got cut off,” McEvoy said.
“By who? And how?”
“We still have Wi-Fi. It must have been on their end. The company cut the feed. They must have known it was us.”
“How would they know it was us?”
“I don’t know. I’m just guessing.”
“We were getting close.”
I checked my watch, knowing that Detective Clarke and Lorna could be back any moment. I went to the door and cracked it open to look out. In the squad room, several detectives sat at desks or stood in small huddles talking. I did not see Clarke or Lorna. I closed the door and turned back to McEvoy.
“Try to sign in again,” I said.
McEvoy typed, but the same answer quickly came back.
“Can’t get in,” he said. “Now I’m blocked.”
“All right,” I said. “Shut it down. Get off the internet, and let’s get out of here.”
“You sure?”
“There’s nothing else we can do unless you have another idea.”
“Uh, no. Are you going to ask Clarke any questions? To make this look legit?”
“No, better if I don’t ask him anything. It will avoid a possible discovery complaint from the Masons.”
“I thought this was cool if it wasn’t a sworn deposition.”
“It is, but that doesn’t mean they won’t file a complaint if they get wind of it.”
Just then the door to the interview room opened and Clarke leaned in, Lorna standing behind him.
“Are you guys ready yet?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “And we’re going to have to rain-check this.”
“What do you mean? You’re here, let’s get it over with.”
“I’m sorry, Detective, but we can’t. We’re having an issue with the cloud. We can’t find the files.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. I don’t want to waste your time. So we’ll just get out of your way. We’ll figure this out and get back to you. I’m sorry we took up your time.”
“Well, all right, I guess. When you’re ready, I’ll walk you back to the elevator.”
“We’re ready.”
Clarke walked us out. He looked like he might be getting suspicious about how things had gone down, was maybe even beginning to realize that Lorna had decoyed him. But he asked no further questions. He stayed behind in the lobby as we stepped onto the elevator. He smiled at Lorna and gave a little wave. The door closed and we started down.
“What happened?” Lorna asked.
“We got on but then we got kicked off,” I said.
“By who?” she asked.
“Had to be Tidalwaiv,” Jack said.
“Shit,” Lorna said. “That was some of my best work.”
“He liked you,” I said. “I could tell.”
Lorna spread her hands and pinched her fingers as if holding out a dress. She dipped her head down in a pantomime of a curtsy.
“Happy to do my part,” she said. “He was a nice guy — for a detective.”
“Hopefully he’ll be nice when I put him on the stand,” I said.
As we crossed the plaza in front of the police station, McEvoy continued to try to put together what had happened with Wren.
“It felt like a trap,” he said. “Like they were waiting for us so they could capture our identity and location.”
“That’s exactly why we took the precautions we did,” I said. “And it worked. Even if we walked into a trap, we escaped. It’s not going to lead back to us. It’s going to send them spinning their wheels, wondering what the cops are doing with the program.”
“Well, we didn’t get anything from Wren. Sorry it was for nothing.”
“It wasn’t for nothing. We got a very big get out of it.”
“Really? What?”
“We learned that Aaron Colton’s chatbot is still alive, digitally speaking, and we can talk to it.”
“And what’s that get us?”
“A possible witness at trial.”
16
The next week represented the calm before the storm. Both sides in the upcoming trial lay low for the most part, setting final strategies and witness lists. The only skirmish was brief and almost comical. The Masons filed a last-ditch motion to dismiss the case, arguing that whatever Wren had told Aaron Colton to do and however the teenager had interpreted it did not matter because it fell under the protections of free speech.