Free Breach of Trust by David Ellis

could have been a lead, but only if you had some hint of what you were ultimately seeking. We didn’t. We’d taken several shots. Employee grievances at ABW. Disputes with other contractors, even a couple lawsuits over time. Nothing that panned out. Nothing worth killing over.
    But now, at least, I had something. Cryptic initials on the back of a business card, but at least something.
    “Say thank you to Riley for this,” said Joel, pulling a laptop computer out of his shoulder bag. “This is the database.” High-tech firm that Shaker, Riley was, we’d had a paralegal scan in every document obtained from ABW and put them on a searchable database. “The hard copies are there if you need them, but the computer should be all you need. Return it in good condition. He says hello, by the way.”
    The database made my job infinitely easier. I could do word searches for the initials Ernesto had written down and see what hit.
    “So, you were right about that guy Ramirez? He had some information?”
    “Never felt so wrong to be right.”
    Lightner nodded and appraised me. I don’t like being appraised. “You didn’t put the information in the guy’s head,” he informed me. “You just asked for it. That was your job.”
    “Roger that.”
    “Not your fault, I’m saying.”
    “Heard you the first time. Understood you the first time.”
    “Yeah, well, aren’t you full of piss and vinegar today.” He looked around the office. He didn’t look impressed. I wasn’t, either. He looked at his watch. “Let’s go have a pint across the street. My treat.”
    “Joel, in contemporary American society, the phrase ‘my treat’ indicates that you are willing to pick up the tab for the other person. I realize there’s a first time for everything, but I wanted to make sure you intended to convey that message. Would you like to rephrase?”
    He hitched his thumb toward the door. “Before I change my mind.”
    I patted the computer lightly.
    “C’mon, Kolarich. It can wait. It’s got nothing to—well, anyway.”
    I could have finished the sentence for him. It’s got nothing to do with what happened to your wife and daughter. He wasn’t completely off base here. I was motivated to investigate this by Ernesto’s death, because it sure seemed like he had correctly feared retribution if he gave up his information, and I forced him past the point of no return with the subpoena. But it wasn’t lost on me that the reason Ernesto never got back to me on that fateful Friday was that someone put a few bullets into him, and that delay led to my waiting pointlessly in my office instead of traveling with my wife and daughter.
    Yes, that was part of it. But not all of it. This morning, I looked into the eyes of a woman who lost the love of her life, and who would now raise her two children alone. Ernesto Ramirez had the right to keep whatever information he had to himself. But I publicly confronted him and got him killed.
    “Have it your way.” Lightner stopped on his way out. “Okay, so you’ve never taken my advice before, but I’ll give it, anyway. Have that hot little partner of yours handle this matter. Let this one go.”
    “That’s probably good advice,” I conceded. “And I’m sure Shauna will be flattered beyond words.”
    As soon as he walked out the door, I booted up the computer.

14
     
    BLESS THESE COMPUTERS, BUT THEY’RE ONLY AS GOOD AS the moron directing them, and I didn’t have much to go on other than conducting searches for the “PCB,” “IG,” and “CC” initials that Ernesto Ramirez had written on the paper. My money had been on “PCB,” because it sounded more like an acronym. What it stood for, I had no idea, and the search came up empty. I’d had a fleeting thought that it referred to that chemical that had leaked into public drinking water supplies years ago, causing death, mayhem, and barrels full of money for lawyers. I briefly warmed to the notion of a grand conspiratorial cover-up