Cold Betrayal

“Sister Anselm was staying over, but she just got called to look after an accident victim in Flagstaff. I thought I’d give you a call before your flight. I poured myself some of the coffee I brewed for her, and now I’m all yours.”

B. heaved a relieved sigh as the worry in his voice changed to genuine pleasure. “With a call coming from you in the middle of the night like that, I was afraid it was bad news. Hang on a sec. I’ll pour a new cup of coffee for me, too. It’s not the most conventional way for a newly married couple to have morning coffee together, but I’ll take it.” He was off the line for only a moment. When he returned, he added, “I was just talking on the phone to Stu about the situation in Bemidji.”

Ali laughed. “What a surprise. One of these days, if Stuart ever gets a life of his own, he won’t be able to time his waking and sleeping according to where you happen to be on the planet.”

“That’s true,” B. agreed, “but right now he is, and his early morning briefings are invaluable.”

“What about Bemidji?” Ali asked.

“I think his idea of sending Joe out to assess the situation is the right one.”

“Joe would be the guy from Mi

“Yes,” B. said. “His name’s Joe Friday. We’ve used him before. Stuart said he’d clear it with you later today. I don’t think either one of us thought you’d be up and about this early.”

“Joe Friday?” Ali repeated. “Are you kidding? Like the ‘just-the-facts’ guy from that old Dragnet series?”

B. laughed. “That’s the one. We went over all that when I first met the guy. He said his granddad was a big fan of the show. Since he had to miss the broadcast the night his son was born, and because their last name was already Friday, he said that was the only way to get even with the kid. When the son’s first child came along, the name got passed along again, so this Joe Friday is actually a second-generation Joe Friday.”

“Right,” Ali observed dryly. “Whatever generation, I’m sure he appreciates being asked about his name the same way I appreciate being asked if I know about that New York Yankees pitcher from Tulsa, Oklahoma. At least that’s a married name. My parents didn’t do that to me on purpose.”

“Joe gets a big kick out of it, actually,” B. replied. “Names aside, he’s designed this slick motion-activated video network, one he can install in places where no one will ever notice. It’s a smart system that will send out an alert whenever someone’s in the house.”

“Is this something Betsy will have to turn off and on whenever she’s home?” Ali asked. “That’s why she didn’t have the alarm engaged the other night. Every time she lets her dog in or out, she has to turn it off. And what about the dog? If Betsy isn’t home and the dog is, won’t that set off an alarm, too?”

“For one thing, the alert doesn’t sound where Betsy is. It operates on her Wi-Fi system and sends the alert to the desk of one of our round-the-clock monitoring centers. She does have Wi-Fi, right?” B. asked.

“That’s what Athena told me. It’s probably not hooked up right now, but Stuart says it will be.”

“Good,” B. replied. “What’s so slick about Joe’s system is that it uses facial and form recognition. When he goes there to set it up, he’ll create three-dimensional recognition files for both Betsy and the dog. When the camera spots one of them, no alerts are issued. As for anybody else? They’re all fair game.”

“It sounds as though you and Stuart have this in hand. Why does he need to clear it with me?”

“Because you asked him to do it, for one thing,” B. reminded her. “For another, we’re going to need you to talk Betsy into letting Joe into her house. She’ll need to create a convincing cover story for his visit, because the whole point is having the system installed without anyone else knowing it exists.”

“Because the dog didn’t bark?”

B. laughed. “That’s my girl,” he said, “and that’s it precisely. Whoever came into the house that night and turned on the gas most likely was someone the dog—Princess, I believe—wasn’t worried about even though she should have been. So we’re going to observe the movements of everyone who enters the house and see if we can spot any of them doing something suspicious.”

“This sounds expensive,” Ali observed, remembering she had given Stuart the go-ahead to spend whatever was needed.

“It is,” B. agreed, “but you get what you pay for. Besides, you weren’t pla

“No,” Ali admitted.

“That’s what I thought,” he said. “In that case, we’ll care enough to send the very best. By the time Stuart talks to you later this morning, he’ll have some idea of Joe’s availability. After that, it’s up to you to convince Betsy Peterson that this invasion of her privacy is in her best interest.”

“If there are going to be cameras everywhere in her house, how is she supposed to shower or take a bath without feeling like people are watching her every move? It sounds like there will be cameras in her bedroom and in her bathroom, too. Is that really necessary?”

“Yes, it is,” B. answered. “If someone were going to try to slip something into a bottle of prescription medication, for example, it’s important that the cameras record whoever might be messing with the medicine cabinet. But again, that’s where the smart part comes in. The system only records the movements of people who aren’t in the official 3-D recognition file.

“I’m suggesting that you recommend to Betsy that for now she and Princess be the only two entities with recognition files. Anyone else who enters the house will trigger an automatic alarm and record because the cameras will follow them everywhere. It’ll be easy enough to tell from the images if they’re on the up-and-up or if they’re not.”

“Betsy struck me as being a bit cantankerous,” Ali cautioned, “but she’s also provoked that the authorities back there aren’t taking any interest in what happened. In other words, I should be able to pull this off.”

“Of course, you will,” B. agreed. “I have complete faith in your powers of persuasion.”

With the pressing items of business out of the way, they talked for a while longer. By the time the call ended, Ali’s coffee cup was empty. She turned off the fire and went back to bed, thinking that with a caffeine high she’d be able to make great progress on Jane Austen. After a mere page or two, she put the book down on the bed, turned off the bedside lamp, and fell asleep. She did notice, though, that just as she dozed off, a little warm dog wormed her way under the covers and curled up next to her back.

9

Once on I-17, Sister Anselm was surprised that Ali’s weather report proved to be entirely correct. After leaving Sedona, the farther north she went, the less evidence she saw of the storm that was still wreaking havoc from Sedona through Prescott and Cordes Junction and all the way down to the northernmost outskirts of Phoenix. It was an odd kind of weather pattern, to be sure, although she doubted anyone would be able to ascribe the lack of new snow falling in Flagstaff to evidence of global warming or the newest catch-all label—climate change.

Driving north, Sister Anselm spent the time praying for her two, and as yet unknown, patients. An unidentified young woman, possibly a runaway, who was also pregnant, had been struck by a motor vehicle twenty miles north of Flagstaff on Highway 89. The woman, injured and unconscious, had gone into labor. Her infant, a girl thought to be six to eight weeks premature, had been delivered by EMTs in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. The baby was now being treated in a critical care nursery while the mother underwent multiple surgical procedures—one to remove her ruptured spleen and another to reduce pressure on her brain from injuries to the back of her skull.