The Killing League

45.

Mack

“That’s bullshit!” Mack said. He pressed the phone tighter against his ear, as if he hadn’t heard right. He absolutely couldn’t believe what Ellen Reznor was telling him.

“They have no record of your requests,” she reiterated.

“But that’s impossible!” he said. He paced around his office. “I received responses from both of them. They both said they would look into my request and get back to me. You saw the messages.”

He had forwarded to Reznor his correspondence, or lack thereof, between himself, the Georgia Trucking Commission and the Charleston Municipal Hospital.

“I showed all of that to the directors of both the hospital and the trucking commission,” Reznor said. “Both claimed that although the emails had come from them, there was no record of who sent them, or a request actually being placed.”

Mack plopped into his office chair. “What am I missing?”

“I’m not sure what happened, but they’re both now fully tasked with your requests and I expect we’ll hear from them quite quickly,” she said. “I used that famous Reznor charm that’s kept me single for so long.”

Mack knew what she meant. No one wanted to be on the wrong side of Ellen Reznor.

He tapped the keyboard on his computer and the screen came to life. “If it had just been one of them that claimed they’d never received my response, I wouldn’t be so pissed off. But both? That just doesn’t make sense.”

“That’s what I thought,” Reznor said. “The only common denominator is you.”

“Yeah, me,” Mack said.

He leaned back and stared at the ceiling.

“What are you thinking?” Reznor said.

Mack dropped his gaze back to his computer. He thought about the strange things Janice had been saying of late, about a strange man watching her.

He looked again at his computer screen.

“Do you think Whidby is tracking everything I do? On my computer?” he said.

He could almost hear the notion strike Reznor.

“Yeah,” Reznor said. “He probably is. You’re still using a Bureau computer, right? Bureau email? Bureau databases?”

“Yes, yes and yes,” Mack said.

“Mack, Paul Whidby would never reroute your requests, or deliberately f*ck up your investigations. The man never puts his own agenda ahead of everyone else’s.” The sarcasm dripped through the phone line.

“Maybe we should have someone take a quick look into my access logs and Bureau email,” Mack said. He realized he was gripping the phone like he was trying to choke it. He relaxed. He would not let Whidby get to him.

“I know just the right person,” Reznor said.