by Robin Mahle
Will was already on his feet. “I understand.” He took a final sip of the coffee and began walking to the door. “I’ll be in touch very soon about the laptop. As I said, there isn’t much hope it will be of use anyway. It’s more of a formality at this point.”
Lacy opened the door. “Thank you for coming by, Agent Caison.”
“Ma’am.” A brief nod and Will proceeded to his car.
♦♦♦
The painful task of cleaning out Jay’s office was one she could no longer put off. It had been almost a week. Lacy arrived at Argus Solutions to forlorn faces and condolences. However, it wasn’t until she walked inside his office that their words pressed upon her shoulders and began to push her down into that place that made it difficult for her to come up for air.
Looking at his office, she wondered about his daily comings and goings. His conversations, sales pitches to clients. His dealings with his team and his boss. In hindsight, Lacy didn’t really know who he was at this place, not since she left it, and that was her own fault. She rarely asked, having become so accustomed to talking about the kids and whatever they had going on. Jobs and things weren’t usually at the top of the list for their conversations, mostly because she was limited in what she could say anyway, and so it became a neglected topic.
“Can I get you anything to drink?”
Startled, Lacy turned to the man she knew to be Scott Voss, the vice president of sales for Argus and Jay’s boss. “No, thank you, I’m fine.”
He moved in and placed a comforting hand on her arm. “I’m so sorry, Lacy. Jay was a good man and a hell of a salesman. We’re all going to miss him.”
“Thank you. That’s very kind of you to say.” She dodged his gaze, feeling uneasy with the exchange. “I spoke to the FBI. They said Jay’s company laptop was damaged, but they won’t let me have it until they try to get into it. They said it was because Argus was contracted for internet security with Nova Investments. Do you know anything about this? Wouldn’t they need permission from someone here?”
“I’ve been leading that one. Working to see if we can retrieve anything, but we aren’t having much luck.”
“Jay used that laptop for just about everything. I’m sure there are photos and personal files on there too. I really don’t want pictures of my kids being rifled through.”
“Lacy, if, and that’s a big if, anything is recovered, it will be virtually useless anyway. All the important documents are stored on our servers, so if the FBI wants to pursue information, they already have the authority to do so.”
Lacy considered for a moment her conversation with Jay. “What do you know about Nova Investments? Tom Neville?”
Scott moved to the small seating area and hoisted his trousers to sit. “Just that he’s the man in charge of awarding the security contracts. Nova’s a multi-billion-dollar subsidiary of Liwa Holdings in Dubai. To be honest, while they’re one of our nation’s largest commercial retail builders, they’re not much more than a blip on the screen for their parent company. Liwa owns everything from property to oil and gas facilities to banks. And, given the economic climate and the decline of big-box stores, Nova’s seen some pretty steep decreases in revenue over the past few years.”
Lacy moved to join him. “And what about Tom Neville?”
“So far as I know, he’s the VP of Cyber Security, been there about, oh, three maybe four years. Other than that, I don’t know much about him. You’d have to ask Owen Ballard. He’s been chummy with him for a while and especially since they signed with us.”
Lacy didn’t want to tell him that Owen had made an unwelcomed early-morning appearance at her house a few days ago. “Well, his things aren’t going to pack themselves.”
Scott rose from the sofa. “I’ll have someone bring you a box. Are you sure there’s nothing I can do for you?”
“I don’t think so, but thanks. I know Jay loved working here, working for you. I’ll keep you posted on the upcoming funeral arrangements.”
“Okay, then. Don’t hesitate to call if you need anything at all, Lacy.” He headed toward the door. “I’ll leave you to it.”
She inhaled a deep breath, knowing it would take all her strength to get through this. Packing up his office belongings would not be nearly as difficult as packing up his things at home, but she wasn’t ready to consider that just yet.
“Hey.” Owen tapped on the doorframe. “You need help with any of this?”
“No. Thanks, Owen. I got it.”
He wasn’t one for taking hints and continued inside. “I’m really sorry for dropping in on you like I did the other morning. So soon after… Well, it was selfish of me and I hope you’ll accept my apology.”
“It’s okay. I know you meant well. If you don’t mind, Owen. I’d like to get this over with and get back home to my kids.”
“Oh, right, yeah.” He cast his gaze across the office until his eyes landed on Jay’s desk. A picture frame stood on one corner and he seemed to be fixated on it.
Lacy noticed and turned to the photo. “What is it, Owen?”
“Nothing.” He returned his attention to her. “I just wanted to come by and apologize for my behavior. Please let me know if I can help, won’t you?”
“Sure.” She smiled until he walked out and closed the door.
Lacy began by opening Jay’s desk drawers—funny, though, because it made her feel disloyal. They might not have had the perfect marriage, but trust was never an issue between them. And so rifling through his things felt peculiar.
Inside she found the usual items; pencils, pens, even a small calculator. Business cards and the like, all neatly organized. She had to smile because that was where their personalities diverged greatly. She was Oscar to his Felix and it was a good thing they had Celeste.
“Mrs. Merrick?” A young man, probably an intern, entered. “I was asked to bring you a few boxes.” He held two file boxes for her approval.
“Thank you. Please set them on the sofa, if you would.” She watched as the young man, white shirt and conservative tie, set them down.
He smiled awkwardly and left the room.
This was what she would expect in the coming days and weeks. That look of sadness mixed with pity. It was the same look she recalled seeing on the faces of her mother’s friends at the passing of her grandmother some ten years ago.
Lacy picked up the frame that Owen had looked upon so intently. She could recall the day that photo was taken just as clearly as if it had been yesterday, yet it had been almost three years ago. A family vacation—Waikiki, one of the luxuries they could afford thanks to Jay’s job. The children wore their tiny little wet suit-like gear, covered almost head to toe. Lacy didn’t mess around when it came to sunburns. And there she was with Jay, her head cocked, smiling wide beneath his arm. His face beamed with pride and also a sunburn.
“There you go.” The man handed Jay back his phone. “That should be a nice one for you.”
“I appreciate it. Thanks so much.” Jay nodded to the man who was kind enough to take the photo. He turned back to the family. “So, where are we off to now? Anyone feel like an ice cream?”
She traced her finger over Jay’s smiling face and continued to examine the image. It was both beautiful and wretched at the same time. As she pressed the frame to her breast, Lacy felt something at the back of it. Turning it over, she noticed a fragment of what appeared to be a yellow sticky note peeking out. The backing was secured by clips, which she began to open. The note slipped out and fell onto the desk. It was folded over twice and Lacy retrieved it. She unfurled the note and on it, a number was written. On closer inspection, she saw it was a twelve-digit number. This was not a number she recognized. Too long to be a phone number, too long to be a social security number. She considered why he would need to conceal this number, whatever meaning it had. It had to mean something and it had to be important.
7
A twilight in shades of gold and orange
washed over the home Lacy now realized might be too much of a financial burden for her to shoulder alone. A life insurance policy would only get them so far. Among the infinite feelings she was now forced to process, it was this that worried her most. A sense of guilt began to preside over her for thinking of material things. Her concerns should be elsewhere, but how could she not be fearful of what this turn of events would bring for the future of her children?
In that moment, her thoughts shifted to the number. Perhaps it had never left her mind but had merely been pushed back in light of the circumstances. Or was it that she wished not to believe anything might be off-kilter and this number was of no consequence at all.
Of course it was important and something she could not ignore. She’d seen it. She’d memorized it, but what did it mean? Owen Ballard, with his off-handed remark, sprang to mind. Assuming Jay had left them without a financial care in the world. “At least you’re financially set,” Owen had said.
Doubts began to seep into her mind, slithering through the space between the memories and the grief. Lacy wondered if Jay had been dishonest in some way; on the take. But how, why? He made hordes of money. There would have been no reason to risk everything for what, a few extra bucks? No. She had to stop. No way would this little seed sprout further doubt inside her. It was just Owen being Owen and it meant nothing. But there was still the number.
Lacy rose quietly from the couch and padded toward the kitchen, intending not to disturb the kids, who had again been watching the television. She permitted this lengthy stipend of screen time both because it kept them distracted and it allowed her time to process the feelings. Maybe it wasn’t the right way to handle the situation, but how exactly was one supposed to handle the death of a spouse?
She pulled down the shades on the large window of the breakfast nook as the setting sun blinded her vision. A small kitchen desk was adjacent to the nook and on that desk was the card of Agent Will Caison. Lacy held the card in her fingers, flipping it over and over, considering the consequences of asking for his help. She didn’t know him, nor did he know her, but he had made a concerted effort on her behalf; more than once, in fact. He’d been the first to approach her in the conference room, then bringing her the earrings, which she still hadn’t the strength to wear. Was there another she could trust more? Certainly not Owen and really, no one at Argus Solutions at all because if Jay had conducted himself in a disloyal manner, she would not want them to know. But she was again jumping the gun and needed to reel this thing in. Her husband was not capable of deceit; she was sure of it. And speaking with Agent Caison would confirm and settle her thoughts on the matter.
Her cell phone was within reach and Lacy dialed the agent’s number.
“Caison here.”
“Yes, Agent Caison, this is Lacy Merrick.”
“Good evening. What can I do for you? I don’t have any new information on the status of your husband’s computer.”
“I’m not calling about that, actually. I was wondering if you would consider meeting with me in the morning. Say around 9 a.m.?”
“Sure. What’s this about?”
Lacy let his question hang in the air almost too long. “I found something that I was hoping you might help me with.”
“Is it regarding the mall?”
“No. No, not the mall. Something else. I don’t mean to be vague, Agent Caison, but I’d feel more comfortable speaking with you about this face to face.” Lacy considered the possibility that she wasn’t alone on the line.
“Sure. 9 o’clock will work. Where would you like to meet?”
♦♦♦
Lacy waited at a coffee shop near FBI Headquarters. She figured that would be the easiest place for Agent Caison to meet. After all, he was taking valuable time away from the important matter of the bombing. She understood that and in fact getting to the bottom of who took down that mall meant more to her than just about anything right now. She wanted to know who was responsible for killing her husband, as so many of the victims’ families did right now. So she respected his time and prayed it would not be wasted on her troubling doubts.
Only a few minutes passed when she spotted him enter. He noticed her right away.
“Good morning, Mrs. Merrick.” He didn’t bother with the usual follow-up question as to how she was doing. It was fairly obvious.
“Good morning, Agent Caison. Thank you for meeting with me, I know how busy you are.”
“It’s not a problem.” He sat down.
“Can I get you a coffee?” She felt obliged to ask as she had a cup warming her hands right now. Not that it was cold outside. It wasn’t. It was almost June. But Lacy was having a hard time subsiding the chills the crept up on her daily.
“I’m fine, thanks. I try not to drink too much of the stuff and I’ve been up for a while, so I’ve reached my limit for today.” He smiled. “What is it that you wanted to talk about?”
“First, I’d like to ask you, and I have no idea if you’re allowed to answer, but have they found any connection of the bombing to the detonating device located at the shop in Baltimore?”
“Yes. They did. And since your department was involved, it’s safe to say that I can share that information with you. The car that was left near the mall entrance, it was a rental, but it had been rented by the owner of that shop, Ferran Basara. However, Mr. Basara was murdered a day before and his family has been brought in for questioning.”
“If it was his car and the device was found in his shop, why was he killed?”
“That’s a good question. One we’re looking into. And more importantly, this was not a suicide bombing. Someone left a bag. So, where did that someone go? Why leave a car there at all?” He stopped, seeming to realize he’d gotten ahead of himself. “Anyway, he was most likely involved in a terrorist cell and the prevailing indication was that they were covering their tracks. The bomb was left by an unknown, so Basara may have been their only loose end.”
“I see.”
“But that’s not why we’re here, is it?” Will continued.
“No.” Lacy retrieved the sticky note from her purse and set it on the table. “I found this hidden in my husband’s office yesterday.”
He examined it. “What is it?”
“I guess that’s what I’m here to ask you. It’s not a number I recognize and because of that, my skepticism leads me to believe it could be something of a more aberrant nature.”
He eyed her with some concern. “You think your husband was hiding something?”
“I don’t know—I really don’t. I don’t think so. He was a good man, an honest man.” Her eyes welled with tears. “It’s just strange that it was hidden, you know? Why? I guess what I’m asking is, do you think it could be an account to something? Maybe a bank or a customer account? And if it is, is that something you can help me get to the bottom of?”
Will held up the note and studied it. “I don’t know. That would be tough to confirm.” He looked to her. “You work in data analysis. Isn’t this something you could search on your own?”
“I suppose, but I’d have to be logged into the system to have access to the databases, and that’s not something I think I can do at the moment. I’m not sure how it would look.”
“First of all, what is it that you think this is? If you believe it’s a bank account, do you believe your husband was embezzling from his company? Taking kickbacks for contracts? What exactly would be the reason for a bank account he didn’t make his wife aware of?”
He’d laid it on the line, said it out loud, and as she listened to the words coming from his mouth, she could hardly believe it herself. What was she doing here? Was she really accusing Jay of stealing or something just as bad?
Lacy reached for the paper. “I’m sorry. No, I don’t think that’s the case at all. I don’t know why I’m here. I have to go the funeral home and approve his obituary, for God’s sake.”
Will laced his fingers and rested
his hands on the table. “You’re not telling me something. What is it? I don’t think you’d pursue something like this unless you had more information.”
“It was something Owen Ballard said to me. He came to my house the morning after. He looked like he’d had a few and wasn’t making much sense. Anyway, he said something. He said that at least Jay had left me and the kids financially secure.” She shook her head. “Agent Caison, our finances are better than good by most anyone’s standards, and Jay did have a large life insurance plan, but not that big. And I guess what rubs me the wrong way was that Owen knew of our finances at all. I mean, the two were friends, but Jay wasn’t one to speak casually on those subjects. And it was something else too.”
“What’s that?”
“Jay and I talked the night before—our last night together—and he asked me an odd question. What it boiled down to was that he wanted to know how it was that Tom Neville with Nova Investments could have found out that I worked for the FBI. That’s information that would require a fairly high security clearance and certainly not something easily obtainable. I think Jay believed Neville found out, either because Owen told him, which would’ve been bad enough, or that he found out by way of a background check. And that was before they signed the contract with Argus Solutions.”
“And this has led you to believe something was going on? Maybe between your husband and Ballard, or Ballard and Tom Neville with Nova?”
“Maybe. I guess that’s where I’m headed with this. But I have to know what this number is before I can draw any sort of conclusion.”
Will pulled out his cell phone. “You mind if I take a picture of it?”
“Go ahead.”
“I’ll see what I can find. It’s a little outside what I do, but I work with people who can look into these things. And, as it possibly concerns Nova Investments, it’s a legitimate request.”