Defending Justice

by Misty Evans

  The twisted part of Jackie wanted to announce to the aggressive blonde that Beck was suspected of murder. Maybe that would back her off.

  With the way he looked? Probably not.

  “Hey, guys,” Beck said.

  He shook hands with a tall man. Presumably Matt.

  “Jackie, meet Matt Stephens. And this is Meg and Charlie Schock. They own the agency.”

  After introductions were made, Beck pulled a chair out for Jackie and she slid into it. “Thank you all for seeing us.”

  Charlie nodded. “Of course. Beck helped us with a case recently. We want to repay the favor.”

  Standing in front of a gorgeous redhead, with blue eyes and an outfit so well accessorized, left Jackie feeling like a homeless person in her drab suit.

  I need a wardrobe upgrade. Maybe try for silk blouses and slacks, like Charlie Schock.

  Could she even pull off those styles? Might be worth experimenting with.

  “Can we get you anything?” Meg asked.

  For sisters, these two were an interesting pair. In direct opposition to her sister’s elegance, Meg wore an old T-shirt complete with paint stains. If Jackie had daughters, that’s what she’d want. Two women offering varying perspectives. She glanced at Beck, casually leaning back in his chair. Would their baby have been a girl he could spoil? Would he have even wanted their baby? Or would he have felt trapped?

  She’d never know. The years and opportunity to see his reaction were gone.

  He cocked his head and his mouth moved, but all Jackie heard was a whooshing sound.

  Beck lifted a hand and snapped his fingers. “Earth calling.”

  Oh, God. She’d spaced out. The hotshot lawyer daydreaming in front of Beck’s private investigators. Excellent first impression.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I was thinking.”

  His mouth curved into a sexy grin that once again inspired an urge for clothing evaporation. Damned man. So arrogant.

  “Meg asked if you wanted a drink?”

  Double vodka maybe. She faced her hosts. “Just water. Thanks.”

  A small refrigerator hummed in the corner and Meg retrieved three water bottles. Jackie reached for one of the glasses on the tray in the middle of the table and cracked a bottle open.

  “Beck,” Charlie said, “how about you bring us up to date?”

  “We can do that,” he said.

  We. Not I. Jackie liked the sound of that.

  It took him ten minutes to replay the events of the weekend, including a summation of his ‘date’ with Annabelle.

  “Okay.” Matt rose from his chair and moved to the giant whiteboard mounted on the wall. “Let’s make a list of what we’ve got and I’ll tell you what we found out this morning.”

  That sounded promising.

  He snatched a marker from a bowl on the credenza and uncapped it. “We’ll start with our suspects.”

  He wrote Beck’s name on the board. “After leaving Annabelle’s you went straight home?”

  “Yeah. I was tired. I’d just spent an entire evening trying not to insult my boss’s estranged wife while rebuffing her advances. That may not sound like rough duty, but believe me, it sucked.”

  “Were you home alone?” Meg asked.

  “Yes. I set my burglar alarm though. The security company should have a record of that.”

  Charlie leaned forward and jotted a note. Under her notepad was a small stack of reports that Jackie assumed were for use in this meeting.

  When she finished her note, she set her pen down. “Suspect number two. The estranged husband. What do we know about him?”

  “Well, they were in the middle of a knockdown, drag-out divorce. Based on what we’ve found out from their friends – the Travathians – money was an issue.”

  “Did Annabelle work?”

  “Yes,” Jackie said. “My investigator looked into that. She was a partner at a small accounting firm. She made $90,000 last year, but the firm is only in its third year and still growing. Mostly corporate audits and forensic accounting.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  The question came from Meg, and Jackie, having dealt with forensic accountants during trials, took it. “Audits will tell if there are any misstatements in the financials. Forensic accounting is more of a fraud investigation for use in lawsuits or criminal cases.”

  Meg nodded. “Okay. We’ll assume she could support herself. It was just the splitting of the marital assets they were fighting over.”

  “Yes, and they had a lot of them,” Jackie said. “Our esteemed FBI director was an early investor in Mr. Travathian’s company. He sold his stock before being promoted and made a bundle.”

  Matt added a dollar sign under Byron’s name. “Now that’s interesting. Any idea when he cashed out?”

  Jackie retrieved the copies of Byron’s returns from her briefcase. “January 2015. That was before he became director, so we already figured out there was no conflict of interest. Why?”

  Taking a cue from Matt, Charlie pushed the stack of reports from under her notepad to her sister, who shared with Beck and Jackie.

  Matt tapped his marker on the table. “I pulled this report together. Grey told me about Travathian so I started digging. In February 2015, DTC settled a lawsuit.”

  Before Matt could finish, Jackie perused the report. She never was any good at waiting.

  “Oh, wow,” she said. “A fifty million dollar lawsuit for defective helmets?”

  “Yeah. They were using a material that the Justice Department decertified for use in any helmets approved by the U.S. government. DTC was warned to stop using it, but they already had a warehouse full of helmets. Travathian had his number two guy falsify some financials that made it appear like they were taking a loss on those helmets, since presumably they couldn’t use them.”

  Beck set his report down and focused on Matt. “Why do I feel a ‘but’ coming?”

  “Because there is one.”

  Anticipating his answer, Jackie rifled ahead in the report, shuffling through the pages. Page three. Second paragraph from the bottom. “That son of a bitch,” she said. “He took a loss on the helmets and sold them anyway.”

  “Shit,” Beck said. “He put defective helmets on our soldiers?”

  “He did. And he got caught. An Army private was taking target practice and thought putting one of the old helmets on top of a two-by-four might help him practice head shots. Two of his bullets penetrated the helmet.”

  “Jesus,” Beck said. “Some of our guys could have been killed.”

  “Which is why the government sued. Since there were no casualties or deaths, Travathian’s lawyers were able to settle the case and have the depositions sealed. And, politics being what it is, DTC formed a subsidiary company that, guess what?”

  Oh, Jackie wasn’t believing this one. She smacked the report on the table. “The government continued using him.”

  “Yes. Apparently, the fact that the holding company was DTC slipped through the cracks. They treated him as a new vendor. He at least had to prove his product was safe. Rigorous testing.”

  “And you know this how?”

  Matt nodded at Charlie again and she handed over another stack of pages. “A deposition given by DTC’s number two guy. He was spec ops and brought in by Travathian to help design the helmet.”

  “Wait,” Jackie said. “I thought the case was sealed.”

  “Here’s the pisser. I called the court reporting service used at the deposition. The case was initially temporarily sealed. When the parties came to a settlement agreement, no one asked the court to permanently seal the discovery materials.”

  Jackie smiled. “Which means anyone can access them.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Beck held up a hand. “And the settlement was in February 2015?”

  “Yep,” Charlie said. “Guess who else cashed out of DTC stock?”

  * * *

  It was a fucking shame that Charlie Schock had le
ft the FBI and joined forces with her sister. Good thing she had though, because Beck would definitely be holding his ass right now, looking like a fool if it weren’t for her and Grey.

  The back of his neck tingled as he saw the Cheshire cat grin Charlie shot him from across the table, that same heat he always felt when he was about to find a key to solve a case.

  “Who else cashed out?” Beck asked, the answer already pinging against his temple like an ice pick. He sat forward, elbows on the conference table. The picture someone had slipped to Jackie sat between them, the men in the photo bringing it all home. “President Murphy? He was an investor too?”

  The grin on Charlie’s face grew, a fire in her eyes. She knew the feeling Beck was experiencing—that ‘gotcha’ moment. She’d been there plenty of times, digging up dirt on a perp and discovering the one fact that put her on the right path. “Bingo. There is definitely a link between Murphy, Lockhart, and Dikko Travathian, and it has nothing to do with friendship. Their paths go much deeper than that. Someone greased the wheels for Dikko and none of us need two guesses as to who.”

  “How much did Murphy make when he cashed out?” Jackie said. “Did he dump the stock before he took office?”

  “There’s where the problem lies,” Charlie said. “Like Lockhart, it looks like Murphy cashed out before there was any conflict of interest.”

  “Ten million dollars?” Meg frowned at a page she then handed to Jackie. “That’s a lot of money.”

  “And exactly the same as Lockhart,” Jackie said. “He and Murphy were both early investors who cashed out at relatively the same time and made the same amount.”

  “And no doubt helped Dick get his contract accepted by the DOD,” Matt added.

  “But Travathian then got caught manufacturing defective helmets and Murphy and Lockhart bailed right before that was revealed. So maybe it wasn’t all about conflict of interest.” Jackie looked at Beck. “Insider trading?”

  Beck sat back, totally deflated. “That’s probably the least of it, and it doesn’t help us figure out who killed Annabelle.”

  Charlie shrugged, not deflated at all. “Any lead is a good lead. These three have a suspicious relationship that revolves around a lot of power and money. Annabelle knew all three and if they were trying to cover up insider trading, conflict of interest, or defective products sold to the DOD, she might have been using it as a bargaining chip with Byron. Lockhart still looks good for her murder, in my opinion.”

  Meg sipped from her cup. “I never cared for that guy.”

  Charlie rolled her eyes. “You met him, like, once, Meg.”

  “I can tell a lot about a person in one meeting.”

  Beck didn’t doubt it.

  Jackie smiled down at the deposition notes as she continued to read. “Did you see this?”

  She handed the paper to Beck, pointing at the section in question. “Rachael, Dikko’s wife, is CEO of DTC.”

  Beck slapped the paper on the table. “Rachael knew about the defective helmets.”

  “Not only knew about them but let her husband set her up as head of the subsidiary that resold them.” Jackie shook her head in disgust. Her dark eyes swung to Beck’s. “Rachael and Annabelle were friends. Maybe Rachael confided in her. Annabelle knew there was fishy business going on. Maybe she threatened to expose Dikko.”

  They stared at each other for a moment, both processing, following all the threads and where they might lead when it came to motive for Annabelle’s murder.

  God, she was beautiful, Beck thought. Beautiful and so, so smart.

  “We need proof and Rachael won’t tell us squat. Looked to me like he ran the show. As soon as he showed up, she turned into the obedient wife,” Beck said, fighting to keep his head in the game when all he wanted to do was find out why Jackie looked so sad behind those dark eyes of hers. “She’s a dead end, regardless of her claim that she wants to see Annabelle’s killer caught, especially if Dikko had a hand in the murder. She’ll do whatever he says.”

  The room fell silent. Charlie looked around at everyone as if waiting for a lightbulb to go on over someone’s head. “Who stood to lose the most if something was leaked? Dikko stood to lose his entire company if someone like Annabelle made waves or exposed the subsidiary company reselling the detective helmets. If there was any kind of collusion between Travathian, the Director of the FBI, and the President, Murphy could possibly lose the Oval, but it would take a shitload of evidence and the case would never make it past the Justice Department. Lockhart could lose his nice office much easier. I still say we have three strong leads. Every single one of these guys is a power player in Washington and none would go down without a fight, but I’m leaning toward Dikko and Lockhart being our two best suspects at this point.”

  Matt glanced at Beck. “What’s your gut telling you, Pearson?”

  “I agree with Charlie.” Beck blew out a heavy sigh. “While I still like Lockhart for this, it’s more personal bias than clear logic spurring me on, so I may be wrong about him. And the President may have been an early investor, but Murphy’s had his sights set on the White House for a long time. Yes, the timing of the cash-out is suspicious, but out of all three, he has the fewest ties to Annabelle, and the biggest guns to protect him from someone like her. She wouldn’t be a blip on his radar, I don’t think, and if he needed to shut her up, discrediting her would be easier than murder.”

  “So you’re thinking Dikko is our top suspect?” Meg asked.

  Beck nodded. “I want it to be Lockhart, but something’s telling me he actually did love Annabelle and was just as shocked as everyone else that she was murdered.”

  Jackie’s finger slid down to the last line on the page. “The accounting firm DTC used is listed here. What if we look into them, see where it leads? I can also have Chessie dig around DTC and see if anything else turns up.”

  What could it hurt? Beck nodded, taking out his cell. He had two missed calls from Fallyn Pasche and a text. She’d handled Debra and the news feature, but she wanted him to call her back ASAP to discuss doing an official campaign to raise his popularity score. Popularity score? What the hell was that? He’d call her back after the meeting, once he and Jackie were back at his place. “You call them and I’ll call Grey,” he said to her. “I want Teeg to look deeper into Dikko, see if there’s anything sketchy in his background, okay?”

  Charlie grabbed her laptop. “I’ll dig into Dikko. We don’t need Greystone for that.”

  Beck hit a speed dial button. “No offense, and I appreciate any help you can offer, but Grey has resources we can’t even imagine and a tech guru who scares me with the amount of stuff he can uncover.”

  Charlie snickered and started typing. “First one to come up with something good wins a fancy steak dinner, deal?”

  Beck chuckled as the phone rang on Grey’s end. “Deal.”

  Eleven

  On the way from Schock Investigations, Jackie put a call into Chessie requesting he research any high-profile cases Annabelle may have worked on recently. Maybe they’d get lucky and find an unhappy client somewhere who might be mad enough to commit murder. Chessie’s research, coupled with Teeg attempting to hack into Annabelle’s emails, left Jackie and Beck in a holding pattern. One that prompted Beck to announce his near starvation and a detour to his favorite watering hole.

  He held the door open to what looked like a DC version of an old-time tavern and Jackie stepped over the threshold. Two steps in and she halted, her eyes scanning the handful of wooden booths along the wall, the battered bar with touches of gleaming brass and the vinyl barstools.

  Dive bar.

  Just like O’Hara’s.

  A vision of Beck, twelve years younger, all broad-shouldered and cocky, flashed. “Wow,” she said.

  Beck smiled at her. “Crazy, right?”

  It sure was.

  He grabbed her hand, dragging her down the narrow space between the booths and barstools. “Don’t be fooled by the ambience. The food is great.
”

  The way her stomach curled into a tight lump from the flood of memories swarming her, she wouldn’t be able to choke anything down.

  She stumbled along behind him, her ears ringing at the sound of the ancient jukebox and Tom Petty’s Free Fallin'. She knew the feeling.

  “Hey, Toby.” Beck waved to the bartender.

  “Beck, how’s it going? Good to see you, dude.”

  The bartender waved him over to the service area. On numb legs, Jackie followed.

  “What’s up?” Beck asked.

  “Nothing. I heard about that woman who got killed. That’s bullshit, man. I know you didn’t do it.”

  Beck reached across the bar and shook the man’s hand. “Thanks. Appreciate that. We’ll get it worked out.” He turned back to Jackie. “Speaking of which, this is my attorney, Jackie. She’s the best in DC.”

  And, oh, Beck was no fool. He knew the way to her heart. Even if he was sucking up, hearing such high praise – from him – gave her a rush.

  She shook Toby’s hand. “Don’t listen to him. He’s trying to get on my good side.” Then she couldn’t resist turning back to Beck with a smile. “Lucky for him, it’s working.”

  The two of them stood at the bar, eyes locked for a long few seconds while Jackie’s inner smart girl scolded her. Yes, it was wrong. It also wasn’t causing her to shuffle Beck’s case to another attorney. One who didn’t have emotional entanglements with the client.

  Beck pointed to the rear of the bar. “We’re gonna grab this last booth.”

  Two men sitting at the bar did a half-turn, checking out the newcomers while Jackie’s mind drifted again.

  This place was a perfect replica of the bar where they’d first met before spending a lust-filled, wickedly fun night that turned into high drama.

  Beck stopped in front of a booth and waved her in before taking the seat across from her. He snatched menus from the holder behind the napkin dispenser and handed her one.

  Food. Right.

  She gripped the menu – maybe a little too tight given the ache in her fingertips – and glanced around, taking in the neon beer signs lining the walls. T-shirts in every color hung from the dropped ceiling and the old wound to her heart, the Beck-wound, split open.