Mahler walked back to Coyle’s desk. “So, up to now, we were looking for a connection between DivingBell and this guy Thackrey, the name in the victim’s book of poetry. But maybe the connection’s with one of his friends. What’d the company say when you called?”

“I only asked about Thackrey, and the company’s representative said Thackrey was not associated with them.”

Mahler looked across the room to Rivas. “Daniel, you and Ken go down to the offices of this startup first thing tomorrow. Ask about Victor Banerjee and the Asian guy with the hoodie.”

“Speaking of these guys,” Coyle said, “get this. Remember this morning I said I was getting weird messages on my computer? The IT guys did some poking and figured out someone hacked my fucking computer.”

“When?” Eden asked. “How? Someone came in here?”

“Yesterday,” Coyle said, “and, no, they didn’t come in here. They did it remotely, from well…anywhere. Probably broke through the city’s online firewall.”

“Oh, man,” Holland said. “What happened to the days when we just walked around and shot the bad guys?”

Rivas laughed. “Really? In what universe?”

“The thing is,” Coyle said, “whoever hacked me planted a keystroke logger on my operating system.”

Mahler rolled his eyes. “Martin, what’s that mean, in English?”

“It means they’re tracking literally every keystroke I type and intercepting what we’re doing.”

“Who is it?” Mahler asked. “Can we trace it?”

“They covered their tracks. But if I had to guess, I’d say it’s those guys.” Coyle pointed to the photos on the wall. “The same ones who put the dogs in Steve’s car and broke into your house.”

“Can you remove this…keystroke logger thing?”

“Yeah, but instead I thought I’d leave it there and screw with them. From now on, I’m using this new computer, with different online access, for the investigation.”

Mahler gestured again toward the photographs. “What about Thackrey? Is this Benjamin Thackrey? Have we found him yet?”

Coyle looked at his screen. “Maybe. When Thackrey was questioned in the disappearance of Reggie Semple, one of the online articles mentioned a law firm called Walker and Prince. In the Sonoma County tax records, I found a property in Dry Creek Valley with that name listed as the owner. On Chiott Road. Eight thousand square feet. Fits the description Alvarez gave us.”

“All right.” Mahler looked at Eden. “Let’s go pay a late-night visit to Mr. Thackrey.”

The phone rang. Rivas picked it up and listened. When he turned to the others, his face looked stricken. “Something’s been found up in Spring Lake. It’s a mannequin made to look like a homicide victim.”

(ii)

(THURSDAY, 11:18 P.M.)

Mahler and Rivas took the western entrance into the park. Two units sat on the shoulder at the gate, lights flashing. A uniformed officer leaned toward Mahler’s window. “Down near the boat launch.”