Deadly Waters Pt. 02

After Mayor Klinger and his city council entourage left, Sean turned his attention back to his budget. They had adequate funding to operate, but there was nothing in the budget to upgrade their computers, and he couldn't find any place where he could move money around. He was typing away on his computer, his personal laptop so he didn't have to use the ancient piece of shit the city provided, writing a proposal for the city council to upgrade the computers in his office, when Fish rapped lightly on the door frame.

"Chief, you got a minute?"

"Sure. What's up?" Sean asked, looking up from his task and pushing the laptop to the side of his desk.

"I'm about to leave, but I thought you'd want to see the medical examiner's preliminary report."

Sean took the folder and placed it beside his laptop to look at after Fish left. "Have a seat," he said, motioning to a chair.

Fish folded himself into one of the oak and brown leather guest chairs. Bill Horton may not have had any use for computers, but he didn't mind spending money on nice furniture for himself. Sean's office wasn't lavish, but it was nicer than the rest of the station, with dark wainscoting and fresh paint to cover the shadows left behind when Bill removed the many photos taken of him during his long service to the city. The only decorations left after Bill's departure were the American and North Carolina flags flanking the window and a couple of paintings of the city from a local artist.

"What did the report say?" Sean asked.

Recently married, with a baby on the way, Sean had heard through the grapevine that Fish was applying for positions in other police departments. He'd hate to lose him, but he also knew if Fish cracked this case, it would be just the thing he needed to get himself snapped up by another department.

"Not a lot. The ME couldn't determine how long Thacker had been in the ditch, but his best guess was between four and seven days. There was no water in the lungs, so he was dead before he was dumped in there. The report also stated he had some broken bones and torn ligaments, though he couldn't tell if that was the result of him being run through the mixer or was done before he was chucked in the ditch. Either way, it was post-mortem. There was also trauma to the head, probably caused by something like a wrench or other long-handled thin object. The ME said the head trauma was inconsistent with the damage to the rest of the body and was likely the cause of death."

"So, he was probably killed somewhere else and then brought in and dumped in the ditch. Do we have confirmation it's Thacker?"

"That's what it looks like, and no, no positive ID yet. That should come in a few days, but I'm working on the assumption it's actually Thacker."

Sean's face twisted in a grimace. "I don't know if having him killed somewhere else makes this easier or harder."

Fish shook his head. "Me either. I spoke with both the dayshift and nightshift operators, the two lab people, and the maintenance crew. Nada. Tomorrow I'll speak to the rest of the operators."

"You're thinking they're clean?"

Fish shrugged. "They don't seem to be hiding anything. Every question I asked, everyone answered plainly. I didn't get the sense they were lying or trying to hide anything. To be honest, they seemed as surprised and confused as everyone else that Thacker was there, and nobody has a clue how he could have gotten into the ditch. Every last person said there was no way the body could have come in through the normal process and that he had to have been dumped. They showed me, and I have to agree. Not only that, but everyone was pretty consistent in saying an operator would have a tough time pulling it off."

"Why's that?"

"Because they spend most of their day in the office, watching the…" Fish paused as he looked at his note pad. "SCADA system." He pronounced it Skay-Da. "That stands for Supervisory Control and Data Acquisition. That's the system they use to run the plant."

Sean nodded. "I'm familiar with it."

"Anyway, they spend most of their time in the office unless there's a problem. Normally, the only time they're out is when they do rounds."

"And they couldn't have dumped the body then?"

Fish made a face, his features twisting in doubt as he slowly shook his head. "Not easily. They usually walk the rounds, so they'd have to carry the body from the parking lot, assuming they had it in their car, all the way to the oxidation ditch where they found him. I wouldn't want to have to carry a body that far. It has to be at least three hundred yards. Not only would it be heavy, but there's also the chance of being seen. That, or drive their car up there, but that would look totally out of place and someone would've probably noticed. Also, nobody could remember anyone taking the Gator or one of the plant trucks on rounds in the last week."

Sean rubbed his face with both hands, his fingers sliding under his glasses to massage his eyes. "Well, he got there somehow. What about the maintenance guys?"

Fish flashed a grin. "They admitted it would be easier for them because they always go in a truck so they'll have their tools with them." He looked at his notes. "Kevin Harbaugh was up there with his truck recently, but he couldn't remember the exact day. He said he'd look it up and get back to me."

"What do you do when you need to have a forensic team go over something?"

"Don't know. Never had to have it done, not since I've been here. Call the county I guess," Fish said.

"I'll take care of that tomorrow. I'll have them go over the vehicles at the plant, with a special emphasis on Harbaugh's truck. We'll see if we can find something there."

"You think someone at the plant did it?"

"We have to start somewhere. Wouldn't you agree they're the most likely suspects? They're the ones with the easiest access to the facility."

Fish shrugged. "I suppose. I sure didn't get the sense anyone there was anything other than shocked and surprised they'd found the body, though. If anything, they were upset this was going to be another blow to their reputation. They were pretty upset they were blamed for something they didn't do, the fish kills I mean, and were afraid it was going to happen again."

"I can understand that, but until we figure out how the body got in there…" Sean said, allowing his voice to trail off before he shrugged, his palms up, silently questioning if there was anything else to do. "If we assume it's someone at the plant, at least we have a starting point. If it wasn't someone there, then we'll have to expand our search to all the people who have access to the place." The look on Sean's face made it clear that wasn't something he enjoyed thinking about.

"I've also looked at the logs," Fish continued. "Nobody signed in off shift, though I suppose you wouldn't if you were there to dump a body. Speaking of which, you're the computer expert. Is there any way we can get the security video off the computer at the plant? Maggie said I could watch it there, but she doesn't know how to get it off the computer so I can bring it back to the station with me. I'd also like to get a copy of the gate codes, but she didn't know if those are even logged. The gate is usually left open during the day, but it's closed at night and on the weekends, and you need to enter a personal code to open it. I'd be interested in seeing if anyone showed up off hours and didn't sign in."

Sean bobbed his head in agreement as Fish made his request. "There's probably a way but I'll have to look and see. I don't know about the gate though. That will depend on how their system is set up, but I'll look into that too."

"Thanks. It'll be a relief not having to sit down there and stare at days of video." Fish grinned. "It's kind of nice having an in-house computer expert. The guys at city hall are useless for this kind of stuff. I know, because I asked for their help one other time to unlock a stolen laptop. They said it couldn't be done."

Sean shook his head in sympathetic frustration. "There's always a way. Yeah, I'll stop by the plant tomorrow and pull the video, and the gate codes if they're available."

"Thanks, chief."

"You need anything else?"

"No. To be honest, my brain is mush and I'm ready to call it a day."

Sean glanced at the clock in the lower right corner of his computer screen. "You should have gone hours ago."

"I know, but I wanted to talk to the night shift operators and get the preliminary report from the ME."

"You're cleared for overtime, so make sure you put it down."

"Yes, sir, I will."

"Go. Spend time with your wife. You're not going to have the chance once junior arrives."

Fish grinned as he rose from the chair. "That's what I understand. I'll keep you in the loop on this, and thanks for doing what you can on the security video."

"Any time you need something, come see me. I'm here to help you do your job."

Sean called the waste treatment plant, but Maggie had already left for the day. He decided not to try to pull the video and gate logs without her okay, as a courtesy.

He worked on his proposal until his eyes told him it was time to quit, and then copied the document to his office computer so he could send it through the city email system. There was no sensitive information in the document, and no reason he couldn't send it through his private email, but that was a bad habit to get into. If the city council approved his upgrades, he'd be able to securely send and receive email from anywhere, but until then, the tired old machine sitting on his desk would have to do.

After sending the document to the four members of the city council and the mayor, he tossed his glasses onto the desk and leaned back in his chair while rubbing his eyes. His department was at least twenty-five years behind the times, and he had a lot of work ahead of him dragging the department into the twenty-first century. The first step was computers, both on the desks and in the patrol cars, then he wanted to begin keeping electronic documents so his officers had access to the information they needed, when they needed it. Once that was in place and working smoothly, he wanted to begin converting all their old paper records into the electronic format for easier access.

If this were a police force the size of Boston, it would take a decade or more to accomplish all of that. Brunswick was a small department and he thought they could do the bulk of the work in only a year or two. If he could get the funding. The hardest, and most time-consuming part, would be converting all the old documents. He smiled to himself. He could have his 9-1-1 operators doing that when they weren't working calls, starting with the most recent and working backwards through the old cases. It'd take time, but they'd eventually get there, and at least going forward they'd have their case information available without having to dig through paper files.

With a groan he put his glasses back on, snapped the lid closed on his laptop, and then stuffed it into its case. It was time to call it a day. "See you tomorrow, Michelle," he called as he stepped into the lobby. Michelle smiled at him through the glass and raised her hand in acknowledgement.

He really didn't feel like going to the gym but he forced himself to stop at Fat2Fit. He wasn't a hardcore body builder, but he did try to stay in shape, so he spent an hour doing reps for his arms, chest, core, and legs. He didn't push heavy weight, and did the same sets Monday, Wednesday and Friday.

After a quick shower, he redressed in his police uniform of tan pants and a black shirt with Brunswick PD embroidered in gold letters on the left breast. His patrol officers wore the classic black police uniform, but as the chief, he chose to dress more casually, hoping to come across as more approachable. If he was on official business, he clipped his badge to his belt so it could be seen.

Feeling tired and relaxed, he pulled into his apartment complex and parked his car in his reserved space. He hadn't bothered bringing his daily driver from Boston, and had sold the rusting Honda Accord when he accepted the position in North Carolina. Planning on using the city provided police car as his primary means of transportation, he'd brought only his 1966 Jaguar E-Type with him, and was looking forward to being able to drive his toy nine or ten months of the year. Until he bought a house, the Jag was in a self-storage building, waiting for its new home.

Slinging his gym bag over one shoulder, his computer over the other, he walked the short distance to his apartment door. He was actively looking for a house, but the only ones he'd found so far were either too big or too small, on too big of a lot or too small, were outside the city, or in need of too much work. Since it was just him, he could be patient until the right property came up.

As he opened the door to his apartment, his fat orange tabby met him, weaving between his legs as it meowed. "Hey, Marmalade," Sean said, moving carefully to avoid stepping on the animal. "You miss me?"

Marmalade meowed that he had, purring as he rubbed against Sean's leg. He reached down and gave the cat a scratch between the ears. The cat had belonged to his daughter, until she left for school, but now the beast was his. He stepped around the cat and walked to the bedroom, Marmalade trotting along behind him. He tossed his gym bag and computer on the bed, and then removed his sidearm from his belt. He laid it, along with his badge, on the dresser before he returned to the kitchen.

Sean's apartment was a small one bedroom that offered few amenities, though the units in his building were renovated just before he moved in. There was no pool or gym on site, but he needed little. The complex was quiet, and the buildings and grounds were well maintained, which was all he cared about.

He'd brought only the basics when he'd accepted the position in Brunswick. He'd loaded a rental truck with his bedroom furniture, a couch with a couple of matching chairs and complementing end tables, the breakfast table with its four chairs, the larger of the two televisions, and a few pictures and lamps. His clothes, linens, dishes, and kitchen utensils rounded out the load. Everything else had gone into a garage sale.

He first opened a can of cat food, scraping it into a bowl for Marmalade. As the purring cat ate, Sean prepared his own meal of chicken breasts seared in olive oil with garlic and minced onion, with a side of steamed cauliflower coated in a healthy sprinkle of Parmesan cheese. As he ate, he read over the medical examiner's report. He avoided looking at the pictures, and the rest of the report was so dry and clinical he didn't lose his appetite.

When he was leading the cybercrimes task force in Boston, his team didn't have to deal with rapes and murders. Money laundering, credit card fraud, and in one case, child pornography, were the types of investigations he was used to conducting. In theory, solving a murder was no different than any other crime. Investigate, examine the evidence, and take it one step at a time. He was the big city cop, the former leader of the team that had made a big splash with a couple of major busts. Even though he was a sworn officer, he'd worked most of his career in an office and didn't actually make arrests. The Cybercrimes Task Force was responsible for piecing together evidence that led to the arrests.

He closed the folder containing the ME's report with a sigh. He'd started out as a patrol officer, just like Fish and Chips, and the rest of Brunswick's police force, and he'd seen a few dead bodies before he was scooped up for the task force. He hadn't missed that part of being a police officer, and wasn't looking forward to getting back into it. Andy Taylor never had to deal with a murder, but it was a different time back then. He smiled to himself. That, and it was a television show.

As he cleaned up from dinner, he continued to turn over in his head the puzzle of how Thacker had gotten into the plant. He had no doubt Fish had been thorough and careful. Assuming Fish was right, and it wasn't someone at the plant, he couldn't figure out how Thacker had gotten into the facility without someone noticing. He sighed and tried to let the problem go, but every time he pushed the case out of his mind, a few minutes later he found himself thinking about it again. With a growl, he grabbed a bottle of Samuel Adams from the 'fridge and sat down to watch television, determined to forget about the problem for now.

Three hours later, as Marmalade slept in his lap, the local news came on. The lead story was the finding of the body in the Brunswick wastewater treatment plant, and as the news reader droned on, Sean realized he didn't remember a damn thing he'd seen since he sat down. The report was long on the backstory of Thacker, the fish kills, and the city of Brunswick, but ended with the video of him and Rudy. They came across like a Laurel and Hardy act, causing him to grind his teeth in annoyance.

Sean crept his car through the throng. A crowd of about fifty people were standing along both sides of the road leading to the wastewater plant, waving signs that accused Brunswick of a cover-up for the fish kills and demanding justice for Boyd Thacker. He stopped at the gate and pressed the call button. He'd called Maggie before he left the station to let her know he was coming, and why.

"Sean McGhee," he said when a voice answered. Seconds later the gate began to trundle open and he pulled through, the gate closing behind him. Maggie was standing just inside the door as he pulled to a stop in front of the admin building. "You're popular today," he said with a grin as he entered the building.

"Yay for us," she said, her lazy delivery making him chuckle. "I'll bet you a cup of coffee it's the same group that was out there waving signs around after our spill. Don't they have jobs?"

"Just ignore them. In a few days, they'll get bored or have some new outrage somewhere else, and then they'll go protest there." She continued to watch the crowd a moment then turned and look at him with a soft grunt. He snickered. It was amazing how much could be communicated with such a simple sound.

"Yeah, okay. So, you're here to get the video and the gate logs, if you can find them?" she asked.

He hefted his laptop. "If you'll point me in the right direction."

"Right in here."

She turned and led him into the operations room where a heavy-set man with thinning black hair was reclined in a chair, watching a computer screen.

"Rick Egerton, this is Chief McGhee." Rick nodded in greeting as Maggie continued. "Rick is one of our operators."

"Nice to meet you, chief. I hope you catch the guy who did this. My wife, she freaked out last night when I told her we dragged a body out of the ditch. I've pulled a lot of crap out of the drink and off the screens, but that's a new one. It's not every day you find a dead guy floating in your plant."

"I'm sure we'll get him," Sean said. "It just takes time to piece it all together."

"Right over here," Maggie said, jerking her thumb at a computer sitting in the corner. "This is where the feed from the cameras are recorded. There are three cameras… one on the front gate, one on the front of the admin building, and one on the truck dump."

"Where's that?" Sean asked as he pulled a chair over in front of the computer.

"The dump pit? At the top of the hill, right in the curve before you come down beside the oxidation ditch."

"Why's there one there?" he asked as he pecked on the computer.