Heart Break: An Isabel Swift Novel (The Isabel Swift Detective Series Book 1) Read online

  “Sorry, Jenkins.” Izzy places the glass back onto the pile at her feet. “Speaking of state, can you tell me anything about the device that was stolen? I know it was classified, but anything, anything at all that you can share would help.”

  Jenkins shrugs. “’Fraid I can’t help you, Officer. Um . . . SWAT . . . would have a cow, and I can’t say any more than that. At least not without permission.” He tilts his head toward a door on the other side of the room that leads to a small, enclosed room within the lab.

  “SWAT, huh? Thanks.” She nods her head toward the door. “What’s in there?”

  “Your contact, I think.”

  Izzy nods. “I was told I’m working with a consultant, Dr. Jameson? From London?”

  “You mean tall, dark, and British?” the technician asks.

  Izzy smirks. “Down, boy. What would Bryan say?”

  “That I’m married, not dead,” Jenkins retorts.

  Izzy stands and shakes her head with amusement. “Thanks, Jenkins.” A dozen delicate steps over broken glass and she makes it safely to the small, enclosed room within the lab space. She raps on the grey veneered door. “Hello? Officer Swift, Westchester County Sheriff’s Department.”

  Silence.

  Izzy knocks again. “Hello?”

  “Yes, yes. What do you want?” calls an impatient baritone voice from behind the door.

  Izzy takes out her handkerchief and twists the doorknob. “Hello? I’m with the county. I’m looking for Dr. Mark Jameson,” Izzy announces as she walks into the office.

  “Blast this terrible reception. How is it possible that in a laboratory with a HiSeq platform and a structured illumination confocal microscope, the Wi-Fi could be this terrible? Perhaps it is a lack of broadband? Or the complete and utter lack of—”

  “Um, excuse me?” asks Izzy.

  “Yes, well what are you standing there for? I asked for you, didn’t I?” The agitated man gesticulates at Izzy with an impatient wave. “I am unable to establish a proper connection with the network. If you would be so kind as to restore my connection to the local area network, I believe I will be able to carry out the ongoing investigation as needed.”

  “You want me to hook you up to the internet?” asks Izzy with disbelief.

  The man at the desk rolls his eyes. “You are with IT, aren’t you?” With a sigh, the man in front of her closes his eyes and balls his fists in barely restrained frustration. “Please, pardon me. I am unfamiliar with the Wi-Fi system here. So yes, I would like . . . for you . . . to restore my connection . . . to the internet. Please.” He opens his eyes and runs his restless fingers through the shock of dark brown hair atop his seemingly too-large head. “I beg of you, kind lady, if you would be so kind as to do your job and assist me in my technological endeavor, I would be most grateful.”

  Izzy bites her cheek to hide an amused grin. “Sure, absolutely. County Wi-Fi is a little slow, but IT takes pride in serving our customer base. At least, they do at the police station. Guess it’s a little more finicky out here.” Izzy motions for the man to slide his chair away from the workstation and clicks open his control panel. “Easier if you bring an Ethernet cable. Its old school, but it’ll get the job done, and without all the dropping that we get if we go over the wireless.” Izzy clicks the buttons that reestablishes Jameson’s connection to the network.

  As she waits for the connection to take, she clears her throat and stands. “So, what’s the case you’re working on, anyway?”

  “Ah, well. A theft has occurred in this lab. The good state of New York has asked me to consult on the case and reclaim the object that was stolen. I am here to oversee the investigation and ensure that the object is returned to the proper authorities.”

  Izzy squints at the computer. “And what about the guy who stole the object? Did the damage to this lab? That’s a lot of damage—both the equipment and the backlog it’s gonna cause to the evidence processing for the county.”

  “I am afraid I have been tasked only with the recovery of the object. Although, I believe another officer, from the county, has been assigned to the case. Hopefully, he will ensure the perpetrator of this crime is brought to justice,” reasons James.

  Izzy sputters and coughs. “He, huh? You know who it is? I might be able to help you—I’ve worked here for three years, and I’ve met a few of the cops on the force.”

  Jameson peers into his messenger bag and retrieves a file. “An Officer I. Swift. Like you, he has worked three years for Westchester County. It appears he applied for a promotion to detective last year and was denied, but a strong review from his training officer, a Lt. Hector Rodriguez, and his partner, Deputy Sheriff Ben Carter, leads me to believe that a second application will not go awry. Excellent marks in physical training, psychological evaluation, and marksmanship.”

  “And internet assistance,” mutters Izzy.

  “Pardon?”

  Jameson’s laptop ‘bings,’ and the connection with the LAN is reestablished.

  Izzy reaches out a hand to the Detective Inspector. “Officer Isabel Swift, Westchester County Sheriff’s Department. Three-year member of the force, and your partner for this case. Also interested in finding the guy who did this and bringing him into custody.” Izzy receives a hand from a shocked Jameson and gives it a firm shake. “To do that, we gotta go talk to a gal I know. So, Dr. Jameson, please pick up your laptop, and let’s get a move on.”

  Still holding back a laugh, Izzy walks to the door and turns to face him. The detective is still sitting in open-mouthed shock at the desk, and a red flush is creeping from his neck to his cheeks. “Look, Jameson, I got a thief to catch. Follow me now, and I’ll give you the Wi-Fi password so you can get on the net later. Sound all right to you?” she asks as she exits the office and walks into the lab. Jameson shakes himself out of his surprised stupor. He stands quickly, gathers his coat, his scarf, and his laptop messenger bag hastily, and runs out of the office to catch up with her. “Officer Swift, I do apologize, I—”

  “Save it, Jameson. You’re here to find your tech. I’m here to solve the case. You can explain to me later why you were surfing the web when you should have been directing the forensic team out here,” she says as she gesticulates to the handful of crime scene technicians still analyzing glass. “But right now, I want to go talk to security and see if we can find some surveillance video from last night.”

  Isabel leaves the lab and walks down the hallway to the elevator. She presses a button, and the doors to the elevator open with a bing! Izzy walks in, turns, and raises her eyebrows at Jameson. “Coming?”

  With the speed generated by his long legs, Jameson is just able to jump into the elevator before it slams shut.

  Chapter Three

  The elevator creaks its way down to the basement of the county laboratory building. A quiet bell rings, the doors open, and Izzy and Jameson emerge from the small, dilapidated conveyance.

  With her legs advancing three steps for two of his strides, Izzy propels herself down the dimly lit hallway to the security kiosk at the far end. At the desk, she gives the attendant a broad, genuine smile and her badge. “Hi, Lou Ann.”

  “Well, bonjou, stranger. Let me guess—this is not a social call, is it?” Lou Ann asks.

  “Official business.” Izzy puts away her badge and nods her head toward the tall, lanky form of Jameson as he catches up to her. “This is Mark Jameson. He’s with the state. We’re following up on the break-in last night.”

  Jameson jogs up to the desk and gives a polite nod to the attendant. “Mark Jameson. Consultant for the state. Originally from London. A pleasure.”

  “Uh-huh. Lou Ann Le Brun. Security for County Labs, when I’m not working intake for the station.” Lou Ann gives Jameson the dubious side eye.

  “Lou Ann, I was wondering if we could see the tapes from last night, please? See if the cameras caught anything or anyone going in or out of the building,” says Izzy.

  Jameson pulls a small notepad from hi
s coat. “Jenkins mentioned that the robbery was discovered at 7:42 a.m. this morning, when the first of the staff arrived. The last person to leave was Jenkins himself, at approximately 9:07 p.m.”

  Izzy looks at Jameson with surprised approval.

  “I pulled last night’s tapes earlier this morning, and I’m burning them for you now.” Lou Ann nods and opens the swivel door adjacent to her desk. “I’ll set up the monitor.” Izzy and Jameson walk through the door. “You’re lucky—I just put a pot of coffee on. Bathroom’s back down the hallway on the left.”

  Izzy and Jameson are ushered into a small room with a video monitor. Lou Ann bustles about, bringing in chairs, notepads, DVDs, and two cups of coffee.

  At the pile of DVDs, Jameson balks. “Pardon me, Ms. Le Brun?”

  “Lou Ann. Everybody calls me Lou Ann,” retorts the middle-aged woman.

  “Lou Ann. Please, if I may ask, what are the DVDs you have assembled before us?”

  “We’ve got ten cameras, two in the front, two in the back, and one for the elevator bank and staircases on each floor.” Lou Ann continues to bustle in and out until the pile of DVDs is complete. “Our system is digital, so it’s all recorded onto DVD. They’re wiped after a week and reused, so it’s a good thing you came in right away.” Lou Ann surveys the scene in front of her and gives a satisfied nod. “That’s it. You two need anything else?”

  Jameson is still blinking at the stack of DVDs in front of him.

  Izzy nods. “We’re good, Lou Ann. Thanks for helping us out.”

  “You all right, cher. You need anything, you holler. If you’re still here at lunch, I’ll share some of my boudin with you. Courtesy of my mother back home.” With a nod at the two of them, Lou Ann excuses herself from the room. “Hope you find what you’re looking for.”

  ***

  Izzy sorts through the DVDs on the desk and finds the one for the front entrance. “All right, so timeline. Between 9:07 p.m. and 7:42 a.m., someone comes into County Labs, destroys the second floor lab space, and makes off with . . .”

  Jameson shifts uncomfortably. “Equipment. Small, portable. Yay big,” he says, indicating with his hands something the size of a sandwich.

  Izzy lifts an eyebrow in surprise. “Helpful. Don’t know what our humble suburban county sheriff’s office would have done without the expertise of a PhD in forensic science from the big city.”

  Jameson colors at her taunt. “Officer Swift—”

  “Sorry.” Izzy cuts him off with a wave of her hand. “I’m giving you shit, Jameson. I know it’s classified. Just trying to get to know you. Break the ice a little.” She gestures to the pile of DVDs. “So our perp makes off with equipment that’s small. Fits easily into a backpack or a jacket pocket. Nothing that stands out, so anyone who goes in and out in our timeframe could be our guy.” She sifts through the DVDs. “Front, back, elevator, or stairs?”

  “All of them.” Jameson withdraws his laptop from his messenger bag.

  “Excuse me?” asks Izzy.

  “Assuming the digital videos are each eleven hours long, and we have ten DVDs, and we can fast forward through the video at eight times normal speed, it will take a minimum of fourteen hours to go through all the footage.”

  Izzy sighs. “Yes, Jameson. Thus the coffee, notepads, and offer of lunch from Lou Ann.”

  “Of course, very kind, I must say. However, permit me to suggest an alternative.” Jameson opens his laptop, pops in a DVD, and begins to write the contents to a folder on his desktop. “We could, of course, observe the contents of the DVDs directly on these monitors until we find the evidence we are seeking. However, if we can automate the process and allow my computer to analyze the files, we may be able to better use our time to pursue other avenues of research.”

  “But looking through the tapes will give us a solid lead, Jameson. That and the glass are direct links to finding the person who did this.”

  “I agree with you, Officer Swift. I am merely suggesting that we use all of the tools at hand in order to hasten the process.” As Jameson speaks, his software gives a soft ding to indicate the finish of the file transfer. “Ah. It is done. Another disk, if you please, Officer Swift.”

  Isabel hands him another DVD. “But how will your computer analyze the footage for us?”

  The detective inspector gives her a mischievous grin. “Magic,” he says as he nods his head at his laptop. Jameson clicks his keyboard a few times and opens up a viewer on his computer. A few more clicks, and the video of the first DVD is loaded into the viewer, and Jameson catches a still frame of the entrance to the building. “Or more precisely, a subroutine will sort through the digital signals of the video and isolate the frames in which the content of the video differs from this empty view. So when a person or object perturbs the empty frame, the program will capture the still, saving it to a folder on the desktop.”

  Another soft ding announces the completed copying of the second DVD. “The series of videos may then be analyzed in batch with a push of a button, leaving us free to pursue other lines of inquiry.”

  Izzy raises her eyebrows in an expression of disbelief and begrudging respect. “Really?”

  “Fourteen extra hours with which we can pursue our suspect and our missing equipment.” Jameson’s voice sounds sincere, but the arch expression on his face gives Isabel a challenge. “Surely a humble suburban county sheriff’s office would not turn down such a lowly offering from a simple doctor of forensic science?”

  Annoyance flares inside her, but Izzy bites back a laugh as she recognizes her words from earlier. “I’ll admit that I appreciate the offer and the time it will save.” She hands him another DVD. “If it works.”

  “Ah. I believe the phase you are looking for is ‘when it works,’ Officer Swift,” Jameson replies, his face just barely hiding an expression of smug satisfaction.

  ***

  Half an hour later, Jameson and Swift exit the monitor room of County Lab Security.

  “You’re leaving already?” asks Lou Ann as they exit the swivel door next to the security kiosk.

  “Jameson and I are going to track down some more leads,” replies Izzy.

  “Well, good luck to you, then,” says Lou Ann. “I hope you guys find the people who did this.”

  “Say, do you happen to know who worked security last night? I want to talk to them to see if they heard or saw anything that will help out our investigation,” asks Izzy.

  Lou Ann shakes her head. “After 9 p.m., the building’s monitored by a service. If something trips the alarm, the system calls them. We tested the alarm this morning, and it checked out. I called the service, and they said there was no call. So something or someone got in but didn’t break in to do it.”

  “An inside job, then?” asks Izzy.

  “Head of Lab Security was in earlier. They’re checking the employees, establishing alibis. So far nothing. That said, we do have a custodial service that’s contracted privately. They’d have keys to the place, though no access code to the labs.”

  “That would explain the busted lab door,” Izzy agrees.

  Lou Ann turns in her chair and checks the schedule on the clipboard to her left. “Looks like it was Larry, cher. Larry Davis. He’ll be sleeping now, but maybe he’ll be up later. You could give him a call.” Lou Ann hands her the schedule. “I got you a copy of the schedule for the whole week, right here. Maybe something will turn up.”

  “We will look through this, Lou Ann, thanks,” replies Izzy.

  “Yes, thank you, Ms. Le Brun. Your assistance in our search is most appreciated,” answers Jameson with his mellifluous baritone voice. As he speaks, he leans in close to Lou Ann, takes her hand in both of his, and fastens his blue-eyed gaze upon her. “I wish you a pleasant meal, and for the rest of the day, I hope you continue to be well.

  Lou Ann’s cheeks adopt a pinkish hue, and her sturdy, guttural voice takes on a decidedly breathy tone. “My pleasure, cher.”

  Jameson smiles at the middle-aged w
oman. “I hope you will believe me when I say, most honestly, that the pleasure has been all mine, Ms. Le Brun.” With his thanks given, Jameson turns and walks down the corridor.

  Izzy stares at Jameson as he walks down the hallway. When a low whistle from Lou Ann gets Izzy’s attention, she finds that Lou Ann is blushing from chest to hair and blinking rapidly. “You okay there, Lou Ann? You’re looking a little worked up,” observes Izzy.

  Lou Ann whistles and grins. “You’re telling me something that I already know, cher.”

  As she turns again to watch Jameson walk away from her, Izzy shakes her head in bewildered frustration. He is still her charge, and she needs to make sure they find the perpetrator of the crime, but his technical skills and use of charm are enough to make her see his potential value in her investigation.

  At the end of the hallway, Jameson turns and waves to her. “Officer Swift? Shall we continue our investigation of the case?”

  Lou Ann smiles. “You got your hands full with that one, Iz.”

  Izzy shakes her head in equal parts annoyance and exasperation. “I think you’re right, Lou Ann. Let’s hope I can handle him.”

  ***

  Izzy congratulates herself for making it all the way up the elevator, through the parking lot, and into her cruiser without yelling at the British detective inspector that she has been saddled with as a partner.

  As Jameson and Swift buckle themselves into the car, Izzy turns to the man next to her. “What was that?” she asks sharply.

  Jameson opens his laptop and punches a few keys distractedly. “Pardon, Officer Swift?”

  “Back there. With Lou Ann. With the hand and the pleasant meal spiel?”

  “I do believe one may call that politesse, Officer Swift. A novel concept, perhaps, for someone who falsified their identity upon first meeting their new partner.” He continues to tap on his keyboard, but slides an amused glance her way from the corner of his eye. “Lacking in politesse though it may have been, I do admire the cheekiness of your introduction, if I may say.”