Chương 9
Morales glanced at him.
“Mr. Reed, I need him remembering, not guessing because everyone is frustrated.”
James nodded.
“You’re right.”
The apology came quickly and awkwardly.
Morales returned to Devon.
“Take your time.”
Devon looked at the carpet.
“The logo was green.”
“That is enough.”
She wrote again.
Tasha sat on the floor beside the desk with her knees pulled up.
Her body had begun to feel strange and heavy, as if all the adrenaline had drained out and left sand behind.
Officer Morales asked about the storage facility entrance.
Devon described a keypad mounted beside a metal gate.
Malik had entered a code.
“Do you remember any digits?”
Devon shook his head.
“Think about how his hand moved.”
Devon frowned.
“He used both thumbs.”
Morales looked up.
“Both?”
“Yeah.”
“He was holding his phone.”
“Oh.”
Devon paused.
“Then no.”
Tasha almost smiled.
Not because it was funny, exactly.
Because the officer had allowed him to be wrong without making him stupid.
That seemed to help.
He remembered a blue vending machine near the office.
He remembered a white pickup parked beside the dumpsters.
He remembered the unit being in the third row from the rear fence.
The door was already open when they arrived.
“What was inside?” Morales asked.
“Boxes.”
“What kind?”
“Shipping boxes.”
“Labeled?”
“Some.”
“With what?”
Devon shrugged.
“Electronics brands.”
Tasha sat straighter.
Morales saw it too.
“How many boxes?”
“A lot.”
“Ten?”
“More.”
“Fifty?”
Devon hesitated.
“Maybe.”
Morales’s pen stopped.
“Did you see other computers?”
“Not whole ones.”
Tasha’s stomach tightened.
“What did you see?”
Devon looked at her.
“Parts.”
Her chest hurt.
“What parts?”
“I don’t know computer stuff like you do.”
“Try.”
He rubbed his palms together.
“Cards.”
“Graphics cards?”
“Probably.”
“Motherboards?”
“I don’t know.”
“Hard drives?”
“I said I don’t know.”
His voice rose.
Morales lifted one hand.
“That is fine.”
Devon lowered his head.
“There were screens too.”
“Monitors?”
“Yeah.”
“Phones?”
“A box of them.”
Morales glanced toward the second officer in the hallway.
He nodded and stepped away, speaking quietly into his radio.
Tasha watched him disappear down the stairs.
“What does that mean?” she asked.
Morales capped her pen for a moment.
“It means I am not going to guess.”
Tasha appreciated the answer even though she hated it.
Morales continued.
“Who was at the unit?”
“Malik.”
“Anyone else?”
“One older guy.”
“How old?”
“Like twenty-five.”
James frowned.
“Twenty-five is older?”
Devon looked at him.
“To me.”
Morales almost smiled.
“What did he look like?”
Devon described a thin man with a patchy beard and a red baseball cap.
No name.
No introduction.
He had barely acknowledged Devon.
He had inspected Tasha’s computer by removing the glass side panel and shining his phone flashlight inside.
Tasha stood.
“He opened it there?”
Devon nodded.
“You watched him?”
“Yeah.”
“Did he damage anything?”
“Not then.”
The answer came too quickly.
Tasha turned away.
Morales asked what happened next.
“Malik gave me the cash.”
“How much?”
“Eight hundred for the tower.”
“And the other items?”
“One fifty for the headset.”
“The controller?”
“He said it was basically nothing.”
Tasha closed her eyes.
The controller had cost her seventy dollars.
She had saved the receipt because she saved every receipt for electronics.
That felt ridiculous now.
Morales asked where the remaining money came from.
Devon explained the cash from Tasha’s room and Renee’s insurance envelope.
The officer’s expression did not change.
She asked exact amounts.
She asked dates.
She asked when each item had last been seen by its owner.
The process was painfully dull.
Tasha had expected police involvement to feel decisive.
Instead it felt like being asked to prove that every piece of her own life had existed.
“What make was the computer?”
Tasha answered.
“Serial number?”
She hesitated.
“I have it.”
James looked at her.
“You do?”
“In the email receipt.”
She opened her phone.
Her inbox had become a minefield because every search reminded her that Devon had used her address for his own purchases.
She found the original order confirmation for the case and then the warranty registration for the prebuilt system she had later upgraded.
The serial number was there.
Morales copied it.
“What modifications did you make?”
Tasha began listing them.
New graphics card.
More memory.
Larger solid-state drive.
A replacement power supply after the original started making a clicking sound.
“Approximate replacement value?”
“More than two thousand now.”
Devon looked at her.
Tasha did not look back.
Morales asked for receipts if she had them.
“I have most.”
“That helps.”
“Does it help me get it back?”
Morales paused.
“It helps establish ownership.”
“That is not what I asked.”
Renee said her name quietly.
Morales held Tasha’s gaze.
“No, I cannot promise you will get it back.”
Tasha nodded.
She appreciated that answer too.
She hated it more.
The officer asked for screenshots of Malik’s messages.
Devon handed over his phone willingly now.
Morales photographed the thread using her department-issued device and asked Devon not to delete or alter anything.
“What about the deleted message?” James asked.
Morales glanced at him.
“We may be able to document what remains.”
“Can you recover it?”
“Maybe.”
The word irritated James.
Tasha could see it.
He wanted yes or no.
Morales kept giving them maybe.
Maybe the storage facility could be identified.
Maybe security video still existed.
Maybe the property was still there.
Maybe Malik’s legal name was Malik Carter.
Maybe the apartment address from Tasha’s account was connected to him.
Maybe the threat qualified as something more serious once they had the full context.
Maybe.
Real life, Tasha was beginning to understand, had an obscene amount of maybe in it.
Morales asked Devon if he would be willing to show them the storage facility if they drove the area.
“Yes.”
James said, “I’m coming.”
Morales looked at him.
“That decision will be made by the investigating officer.”
James crossed his arms.
“He is seventeen.”
“I understand.”
“He is not going alone.”
May you like
“I understand that too.”
Her tone ended the argument without humiliating him.
