Page 37 of Done Dirty

“At 10:00 p.m. the system logs a clean shutdown command. Not a malfunction, not a power issue. Someone turned it off. It doesn’t come back on until 6:00 the next morning. Eight hours.”

“From the on-site control panel?” Derby asked.

“That’s how it’s supposed to work. But Axiom Security—that’s the system in the building—has been in the news for the last six months.” He pulled up a browser tab on the side of the screen. “It’s been publicly demonstrated that the system can be accessed remotely. The vulnerability is in the API layer. It’s actually fairly simple to get into the Axiom system and issue shutdown commands without ever setting foot in the building.”

“Easy for you, or easy for anyone?” I asked.

“For anyone with rudimentary tech skills and the internet,” Derby said. “This is a global company with major leaks in its AI capabilities and systems. There are forums discussing how people have overridden the system to prove they could do it. Things aren’t going well for Axiom right now.”

“What about the key fob?” Jack asked. “How’d they get around that?”

“Those are mostly for show,” Doug said. “There’s not really any protection or added security by using them. It’s just a selling point to make residents feel better. There’s actually a device that clones a key fob in about thirty seconds. Available online for around ten dollars.”

“Good to know,” Jack said. “Daniels, you have an update?”

Daniels set her plate down and pulled out her folder. “My team went through the condo this afternoon. DNA was found on the sheets—we’ll be testing to determine if any of it belongs to the victim and what belongs to a separate source. Results are pending.” She looked at Jack. “The dumbbell canvass came back empty. Most likely the killer took it with them or dumped it along their route home.”

“Agreed,” Jack said. “What else?”

“The condo inventory turned up testosterone injections and what looks like performance-enhancing steroids in the pantry. Prescription labels on both, along with syringes.”

I looked at Jack. It looked like Sloane had been right.

“And then there’s this,” Daniels said.

She pulled up photographs on the digital wall. The pantry was immaculate—everything organized, everything in its place. But tucked behind a row of protein powders were four small unlabeled bottles, each containing different pills. Different colors, different sizes. And on the bottom of each bottle, written in black marker: a number.

I leaned forward.

Daniels clicked to the next set of photographs—close-ups of each pill, laid out on an evidence sheet. Different colors, different shapes. My eyes went straight to the oblong olive-green tablet in the second row.

“Oh, man,” I said.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve come across these,” Daniels said. “Looks like our victim had a dark side.”

“What am I missing?” Doug asked.

“Rohypnol, darling,” Margot said. “It seems our victim’s death is well deserved.”

“Someone still murdered him, Margot,” I said. “Our job is to find out who killed him.”

“I’m just saying, someone who plays in that lane is likely to get run over.”

“You’re not wrong,” Jack said. “But two things can be true at once. He can be a bad man, and someone still murdered him in cold blood. Maybe in finding his killer we’ll find other victims. That’s why we always have to dig deeper.”

“Acceptable logic,” Margot said.

“What about the other three pills?” Jack asked.

“Running them now,” Doug said. He had his laptop open and his fingers moving. “Give me a second.” He pulled up an image recognition program and matched each pill to the database. “Okay. Bottle number two—small blue diamond-shaped tablet, film coated. That’s sildenafil fifty milligram. Viagra.”

“That makes sense,” I said. “If he’s been a steady user of performance-enhancing steroids, that often causes erectile dysfunction issues. And considering the frequency of his sexual activity, he would probably need the testosterone and erection assistance.”

“Bottle number three,” Doug continued. “Small round white tablet, scored down the middle. It’s being identified as methyltestosterone. Low-dose oral testosterone. It’s not commonly prescribed in the US anymore.”

“Now that doesn’t make sense,” I said. “He’s already got the injectable testosterone he takes with his steroids. It wouldn’t make any difference for him to up his dosage. You can max out on testosterone.”

“What does it do in women?” Jack asked. “Especially if added to the Rohypnol?”