The Mourning Mail (final release candidate #7)

Chapter 32

It was dusk now, and it occurred to me that the glare of the headlights can hide a vehicle's features at night, especially when seen in a rearview mirror. It seemed better to move to a motel room during the day. I would stand a greater chance of detecting when someone was following and, if necessary, escaping a pursuer.

My decision to fight back had seriously raised my adrenaline level. After taking a long breath to settle my heart rate, I prepared a go bag. Once I finished, I did some DuckGoGo searches over VPN. I needed to find a motel with a low traffic volume where I could pay cash and monitor the comings and goings of other vehicles. The trick would be to find the one that was least likely to have bedbugs. I'd take along a queen-sized air mattress with an electric inflation pump to handle the case where I landed somewhere that left me with doubts. I knew I'd have to change motels frequently for a while.

Strike Response had abundant resources, and I had to assume they could tap into my credit card expenditures and bank accounts. I'd have to rely on Uber drivers since the people threatening me knew my car, and I'd have to pay cash for everything. To become effectively cash-based for the rideshare services, I created a new Gmail account and used that to sign up for new Lyft and Uber accounts on my burner phone. I made a note to stop off at the 7-Eleven and get refillable debit cards for those situations where I had to pay with plastic, including tying them to my new rideshare accounts. The immediate challenge was getting some sleep tonight to be sharp for tomorrow.

But before that became an issue, I received two texts. The first was from Doug Stein about the Transit van plate request, and it read, "Same—Strike Response. They are assigning serious time and resources to watch/follow you. PLEASE be careful!" The second was Darrell Woodson returning my text, letting me know he was available then for a phone conversation. I immediately called him back.

"Good evening, Darrell," I said, "and thank you for taking the time to help with this. I don't know how much the police have told you, but Ainsworth's prints and DNA didn't match either set the killers left on Brian's body. I hoped Richard Ainsworth was the 'Rickie' Brian Pierce identified before his death. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case."

"Yes, I know," Darrell replied. "The police came to my home and re-interviewed me yesterday. When they visited me the time before, they made it obvious they looked at me as a potential suspect. They were much more cordial this time and stayed mostly on the same topics you and I discussed. I was as disappointed as you are that they aren't considering Ainsworth a suspect. Too much to hope for, I suppose."

"And that's why I am calling you tonight. The police have told me to stay away from it, but since then, the official investigation has been back to treading water. And someone from a private security agency is following me. That's why I wanted to talk on the phone rather than meet. I'm sending you the photos of two Strike Response vehicles following me."

"Strike Response doesn't ring a bell...." Darrell said.

"I understand disreputable people hire them mainly as muscle and fixers. I'm guessing they work for James Seaver, but I haven't confirmed that. They have other vehicles in their pool; one is a dark green Mustang – here's that photo, let me send you it as well. But if you see any of these hanging around, be aware they are following you."

"I understand perfectly and appreciate your consideration and concerns regarding my safety. My PI caught someone tailing me several months ago, but we hadn't seen them since and assumed they had lost interest. I'll keep an eye out," Darrell said.

"Since Ainsworth isn't 'Rickie,' I need to find another candidate using that name, even if they are only peripherally associated with any of this. You seemed to know the players best, so I thought I'd reach out to you."