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Birk grinned. “The point of knowing about Logjam is that protocols are hackable, even VPNs. While I won’t guarantee it’ll happen within your timeframe, we’ll get it eventually.”
Lucien squeezed Brogan’s hand. “That’s good news.”
She frowned. “How do you figure that?”
“Birk’s team could uncover the IP address before a trial starts. Think surprise witness. Consider it a Perry Mason moment.”
She sighed and stared at her computer screen, willing an email to appear in her inbox. “If that’s supposed to make me feel better—”
She refreshed the screen. To her shock, the laptop dinged with an email notification. The anonymous sender was back. She clicked on the email, reading the brief text out loud. “It’s him. He wants to meet twenty minutes from now at seven o’clock on the boardwalk. He says he’ll be wearing a blue-green striped shirt.”
“Maybe this is a bad idea,” Lucien verbalized. “What if this is a nutcase?”
“Look, we didn’t come this far by not taking a few risks. We can’t decide now that it’s too dangerous.”
“Lucien’s right, though,” Birk said. “I’ll call Beckett. You can use him as backup. Meanwhile, I’ll stay here and work with the team. Who knows? I might even learn something about Logjam and ciphers.”
Two pickups saileddown Ocean Street, one following the other. When they reached the pier, Lucien pulled his truck in first into one of the slotted parking places. Beckett parked next to him. The plan was that he would keep his distance unless he spotted trouble. From the passenger seat, Brogan noted a few people milling about near the harbor. But most of them were either jogging or taking their evening stroll. None wore the right blue-green shirt. As she exited the pickup, she acknowledged Beckett but kept scanning the area for their mystery emailer.
Her eyes zeroed in on an older lady sitting on a park bench. In the waning daylight hours, she could tell the woman’s blouse was a turquoise and white top worn with a pair of Capri jeans. Brogan decided she was the right age to have been around in 1978.
She nudged Lucien and whispered, “Is there any chance our mystery man is a woman?”
“I’d say there’s a good chance because it looks like she’s holding a San Sebastian High School yearbook on her lap.”
They headed that way, guarded until the woman looked up and waved.
“That seems pretty normal,” Lucien whispered back.
“Good thing for us she’s not a psychopath.”
Brogan closed the distance and extended a hand. “You must be the witness from August 12th, 1978. I’m Brogan Cole, and this is Lucien Sutter.”
The woman rose to her feet to shake hands. “Patty Weston. Back in 1978, I was Patty Tolliver.” She flipped open the blue and gold yearbook to a bookmark and pointed to a picture of a freckle-faced freshman with brown hair. “Here I am, a young kid with high hopes for the future, taken before I lost my faith in everything. I wanted to prove to you I was here that night.”
They took turns studying the picture. The photo made it clear that Patty Tolliver had been a fourteen-year-old kid the night Regina Miller became a murder victim.
“I can’t believe I’m meeting the two local detectives handling the Gidget case. I heard Jade’s podcast, where you were the guest. I never miss one. Although, that one was special because it hit home to me.” Patty looked over their shoulders. “Are we waiting for Jade?”
Brogan smiled. “No, but I’ll introduce you to her later if you’d like.”
“I’d love it.”
“Thank goodness for listeners like you,” Lucien added. “That’s how seventy percent of cold cases are solved—getting help from the public.”
“I couldn’t believe my ears when Jade started talking about the Gidget case. It all came rushing back to me then.”
“Would you like to go somewhere else to talk?” Brogan suggested. “It doesn’t have to be here.”
Patty shook her head and glanced up and down the boardwalk. “Thanks. But I think it needs to be right here where it all happened. Gidget deserves no less.”
“Her real name was Regina Paige Miller from Denver,” Brogan muttered. “Her DNA came back yesterday with a match to her father—long story. Denver PD made a next-of-kin notification. There will be an official press release tomorrow afternoon where law enforcement will officially name Regina’s murder suspects.”
Patty’s head whipped up. “I didn’t know they’d made an arrest. You have Tazzie Crossland and the others in custody?”
“It so happens they’re in jail on other charges. But they will be formally charged tomorrow with Regina’s murder after the announcement.”
“Why did it take so long?”
