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“You know the date and the approximate time, so maybe a staff member remembers who used them.”
“Let’s hope. I owe you one.”
“Nonsense. I’m always happy to help.”
Mick was a great guy. They disconnected, and Benson turned to Preston and Ariel. “Apparently, your stalker sent the photo from Pauline’s.”
She stood and then winced. “We need to check it out. Besides, I’m kind of hungry.”
They did have to eat, and if she was with both of them, nothing would happen to her. If he told Ariel she couldn’t go, she’d balk, and Benson didn’t want to come off as being unreasonable. “Sounds good.”
Ariel took a step, and it was clear that more injuries were beginning to manifest themselves. At first, she claimed that only her ankle hurt from when she’d twisted it, but now she was favoring her side. When she reached out to steady herself, she moaned. Her shoulder had taken the brunt of the impact when she landed. Tonight, the bruises should appear, but to comment on it would serve no purpose.
“Let me help you,” Preston said.
She smiled, but Benson could tell that took some effort. “Just this once,” she said.
“You’re the boss.”
“Sure, I am.”
All during the drive to town, Benson wondered if it was prudent to continue this aspect of the investigation. After much internal deliberation, he decided that finding this person could lead them to the killer.
As luck would have it, he was able to park close to the café since it was on the street behind the main drag. Unfortunately, Pauline’s was situated next to the hair and nail salon where Peggy worked. Benson hoped he wouldn’t have to dissuade Ariel from visiting Peggy and drilling her about whether or not she knew her boyfriend had impregnated Samantha.
Pauline Lancer, the owner of the shop was behind the counter. “You two find a seat, and I’ll speak with Pauline,” Benson told them.
Pauline smiled when he saw him. “Haven’t see you since the trial ended.”
“We’ve had a littleincident.” Benson nodded to Ariel.
Her eyes widened. “I’d heard she was staying with you, but I’m no gossip. I never asked how that came about.”
Pauline was in her mid-fifties, always polite, and not known to spread gossip—though most people couldn’t help themselves sometimes.
“Please keep this in confidence, but someone accessed one of your computers yesterday at around five o’clock. He sent Ariel pictures of herself. We’re trying to find the identify of this person.”
“Was Ariel in a compromising position?” she asked softly.
If that had been the case, the photos would have been with him and Preston, but thankfully they weren’t. “No. Someone is stalking her. In fact, someone—we’re guessing the same person—tried to run her off the road this morning.”
Pauline sucked in a breath. “That is horrible. How can I help?”
“Do you remember anyone in here using the computers at five?”
She pressed her lips together. “I don’t pay all that much attention. It’s an Internet Café after all.”
“By any chance was Walter Winston in here?”
“Do you think he took the photos?”
Benson shouldn’t have mentioned a name. “It would be a slim chance, but we are at a total loss at the moment.” He looked over at the three computers. “Would it be okay if I ask my cousin, Mason, to see if he can find out who might have accessed them?”
“Sure, but people don’t have to sign in.”
“Too bad.” He would have asked if his uncle could fingerprint the computer keys, but Benson bet they’d all be smudged.
She snapped her fingers. “Come to think of it, there was a man in here late afternoon that I don’t think is from Wildwood. At least, I’ve never seen him around.”
