“And what was that?” she asked.
“Men.”
Alvarez lifted a brow.
“Here’s the judge’s profile, you’ll see she went by KC Sam often, or Kitty Sam or even Sammy Cat . . . she played around on a lot of dating sites, some pretty straightforward, a couple a little more . . . personal.”
“Kinky?”
“Mmm. But that’s not the interesting part. Here’s where things take a not-so-aboveboard turn.” He brought up a number of e-mails from an address she’d never seen before.
“What’re these?”
“Private account. On a different computer,” he said, “not any that you found. This one was registered to her husband, and my guess is it’s hidden somewhere. A friend’s house? A coworker’s office? Somewhere no one even knows it’s there.” He shrugged, as if it were of no consequence. “Here’s her most recent paramour.”
She saw the e-mail address. “CBer43?”
“I figure it’s so most people might think he’s a truck driver, but it’s really his initials.”
“Cort Brewster.” The sick feeling that had been with Alvarez ever since starting to question Brewster’s motives was back.
“Forty-three must mean something.”
“Part of the numbers of his badge,” she said, having seen it enough lately.
“Ahh . . . Even if people are trying to hide their ID, they usually make a name out of letters and numbers that they can remember. Want to see what they said?”
“Absolutely.”
“They weren’t all that clever, though they probably thought they were. This is nothing compared to some of the things I’ve seen, but here ya go. Over there.” He pointed to the computer screen set up in front of Alvarez’s chair and the e-mails began to appear. A seemingly endless list of messages claiming love and lust, talking about sexual positions and dates, and the gist of it was that the judge and Brewster were involved in a very hot affair, with the upshot being “Kitty” pressuring “CBer43” to get a divorce.
That, apparently, was her mistake. Cort Brewster wasn’t about to trade in his wife and four daughters and half of whatever he had, plus pay alimony and child support, all to become Mr. Judge Samuels-Piquard. No, Alvarez guessed, he much preferred to be seen as the upstanding family man, elder in the church, and cu
rrent sheriff of Pinewood County.
As if she’d finally been freed of a suffocating, blinding mask, she saw it all. The driving force behind the attacks. It had nothing to do with Maurice Verdago. The ex-con had only been a pawn.
But why would Verdago go along with Brewster’s plan? She thought of Wanda with her “cubic Z” ring, that Verdago had nearly killed his brother-in-law for skimming company profits, that when he’d gotten out of prison he’d worked as a janitor. It all boiled down to the simple fact that Maurice Verdago never seemed to have enough cash. He was the perfect fit for a hit man.
“Can you hack into bank accounts?” she asked, and Chilcoate looked at her over the tops of his glasses as if she’d asked him if he could walk. “I’m not admitting to that,” he said, “but you might want to check a private account at First Credit in Missoula. I’m guessing there might be a series of significant withdrawals. Cash. All under five grand, but totaling twenty-five.”
“Thousand? Twenty-five thousand?”
He shrugged and an icy chill ran down her back. Though twenty-five grand was a lot of money, it seemed a paltry amount for the price of a man’s life, or a woman’s, or both. She thought of Dan Grayson battling for his life, and Judge Samuels-Piquard lying in the snow, and even Carnie Tibalt, dead on the floor of a ramshackle cabin. Had Verdago actually taken the shots to kill the judge and the sheriff? Or had it been Brewster himself who’d used Maurice as a fall guy and then had set him up?
“I’ll need this info,” she said.
“As long as you don’t say where it came from.” Chilcoate smiled, showing slightly yellowed teeth. “I love being a part of taking that prick Brewster down.”
“Me too,” she said.
“It’s a fuckin’ shame that he got everything he wanted.”
Alvarez couldn’t agree more, but she was worried, too, because what Brewster had was only temporary. As long as Dan Grayson was alive.
Her blood chilled.
And now there was no guard at Grayson’s side.