Lucy nodded and left the conference room. Barry didn’t follow her, but sat down at the table and pulled out his phone.
She walked back to her squad room and knocked on Juan’s doorframe, even though his door was open and he was typing at the computer. He had an open-door policy, but ever since she’d been suspended, she’d avoided him. She hated the tension and suspected it contributed to her insomnia.
But if she was truthful with herself, she knew there was far more to it than tension in the office. Seeing Michael and the other boys yesterday had reminded her that there were more children like them out there. It was her overwhelming feeling of helplessness that disrupted her sleep. Intellectually, she knew she couldn’t save everyone. That children would be murdered and women raped and predators freed. But when her defenses were down and her mind was at rest, her emotions took over and all she could dream about were those she couldn’t save.
And sometimes, in her nightmares, she couldn’t save herself.
Juan looked up. “Come in, Lucy. Close the door.”
She sat on the edge of a chair. “On the case Barry and I are working, the victim’s company hired Sean to assist with the security audit. Sean told me yesterday. I don’t think there’s a conflict, I didn’t recommend him, but Barry wanted to make sure you knew.”
Juan nodded. “Sean called me.”
“Oh. Okay.” She stood.
“Sit back down.”
She did, her heart pounding. She hadn’t done anything wrong since she’d returned. She’d done everything she’d been asked, gone above and beyond, worked extra hours—yes, to make amends for what happened in Mexico, but also because she loved her job and wanted to get back in Juan’s good graces.
Juan finished typing something on his computer, then turned his attention to her. “Agent Donnelly called this morning. He asked me to loan you to him on a case he’s working. The last-known associates of Jaime Sanchez and Vasco Trejo were murdered last night. Nine people dead, including a child.”
Her stomach turned. “What happened?”
“I don’t have the details yet. Brad was heading to the crime scene when he called. I can’t let you work the case. You’re in the middle of an important investigation.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’re welcome to talk to him and share information, but I need you working the Worthington case with your undivided attention.”
“Absolutely.”
“However, Brad’s concerned about your safety and frankly, so am I. You and Brad were instrumental in taking down Trejo’s smuggling operation and Sanchez’s local gang. While most of their people are dead, that doesn’t necessarily mean you and Brad are not on the cartel’s radar. I already talked to Ryan, and he’s going to liaison with the DEA’s office until we figure out what’s going on with this situation.”
“Thank you for letting me know. Is that all?”
“Yes.”
She got up and put her hand on the doorknob.
“One more thing, Lucy,” he said.
She turned, still apprehensive.
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’ve been putting in extra hours. You don’t need to do that.”
“I know,” she said, then added, “I love my job.”
Juan didn’t say anything else, so she walked out, uncertain if she’d helped or hurt her case.
Barry approached. “Everett’s in his office, let’s go.”
She grabbed her gun and credentials from her desk drawer, then rushed to follow Barry out to the parking lot. They ran into Ryan Quiroz getting into a pool car. “Luce,” he said, “did you talk to Juan?”
She nodded. “He filled me in.”
“Make sure you watch your back.”
“If Trejo’s entire network was taken out, that should be good news.”
“Unless there’s a more dangerous player involved. I’ll let you know what I learn, I’m meeting Donnelly at the crime scene.”
“Thanks, Ryan. Tell Brad I said hi.”
Ryan drove off. Though he’d been angry with her for a few weeks after she came back from her suspension, they’d recently started talking and things were almost back to where they had been. She liked Ryan a lot—he was a great cop and they’d worked well together during Operation Heatwave. She wanted that back. Maybe she should plan a dinner or something at the house this weekend. Sean enjoyed socializing more than she did, so he’d probably be amicable to the idea.
“What’s going on?” Barry asked as he drove away.
“Remember Operation Heatwave?”
“Of course.”
“Fallout from that. Nine people from the Trejo/Sanchez gang were murdered last night. Ryan’s working with the DEA on it.”
“Is your attention going to be divided?”
“No—I’m committed to the Worthington case.”
“Good.”
She wasn’t lying. While she would do anything for Brad Donnelly, a man she liked and respected, she didn’t like working drug cases. What Brad and his people did was difficult, dangerous, and largely unrewarding. Because of their proximity to the border, the DEA had additional concerns and worked closely with all federal and local law enforcement agencies. Gun running, human trafficking, drugs—sometimes Lucy wondered why they had to have multiple agencies when the problems overlapped so much.
“I learned something interesting while you were talking to Juan,” Barry said. “James Everett has been a big supporter of Adeline Reyes-Worthington from the beginning—until last month when he endorsed her opponent.”
“How does that connect with him calling in a prostitute?”
“It doesn’t, but it’s an odd coincidence that Worthington’s phone ends up in Everett’s hotel room.”
“How do you want to handle this?”
“Don’t bring up the prostitute, at least at first,” Barry said. “I want to see what he says when I tell him about the phone. We have no proof that the girl is underage, or that he had sex with her. And truly, no judge is going to put him in prison because he paid for sex—even if we can prove it. I want to see how fast he calls in one of his lawyers. Then, when I give you a signal, flip over your note pad and show him the photo of the girl.”
Lucy was listening to Barry, but she was also thinking about why Jane Doe would take Worthington’s phone and leave it in Everett’s hotel room. “What if Everett hired her to steal the phone? Maybe she had nothing to do with Worthington’s death—he could have been dead when she got there. She grabs the phone and delivers it.”
Except, why set up the scene to make it look like Worthington had sex before he died?
“Why would he leave it in a room where it could be traced back to him?” Barry asked. “Let’s pretend we didn’t see the security tapes. We traced the phone’s GPS to James Everett’s hotel room. Let him tell us how it got there.” Barry changed the subject. “Did you tell Juan about your boyfriend?”
“He already knew. Sean called him.”
Barry didn’t say anything. If he expected Lucy to say something more, she had no idea what it was, so she kept quiet.
Barry reached into his pocket and tossed her a folded sheet of paper. “That’s the information from the warrant we served on the hotel this morning—Kenzie took care of it while we were interviewing Jolene Hayden. Confirms everything we knew from the security footage, plus the time he registered and when he was in his room.”
Lucy read over the information while Barry drove in silence.
Ten minutes later, they arrived at the sprawling complex where James Everett’s development company took up one four-story building in the multi-building, square-block office park on the outskirts of San Antonio.
Everett made them wait for twenty minutes before his secretary led them to his private office. She closed the doors behind her. Everett continued to sit behind his desk looking through a stack of papers. He was in his late forties, thick around the middle, had thinning gray hair, and wore an expensive suit. He barely glanced at t
hem. “I have a meeting in ten minutes. I don’t see how I can help you. I knew Harper Worthington, but we weren’t close friends.”
Barry said, “When did you last see Mr. Worthington?”
“Months ago. I don’t remember when.”
“And his wife, Congresswoman Reyes-Worthington?”
Everett didn’t say anything for a second and looked up from his papers. “A few weeks ago. Maybe a month or so. Why is this relevant?”
“We’re retracing Harper Worthington’s last few days.”
“And as I said, I haven’t seen him lately.”
“Were you registered at the Del Rio Hotel this weekend?”
Everett didn’t answer the question. He rolled his gold pen back and forth between his fingers. “Why do you need to know?”
“Just following up on a lead.”
“I really don’t see why it’s important for you to know where I’ve been.”
Barry said, “Harper Worthington’s cell phone was found on Saturday in a room at that hotel. The last registered guest was you.”
“Impossible,” he said.
“According to hotel records, you checked in Friday afternoon and checked out Saturday morning.”
“So?”
“Housekeeping found the phone. How did it get in your room?”
“I have no idea.”
“According to the GPS logs, it arrived at the hotel at approximately twelve thirty Saturday morning. An hour after Mr. Worthington died.”
Everett didn’t say anything for a long minute. He then said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I’m not going to answer any more questions without my lawyer present.”
Lucy flipped open her notebook and held up the photo of the unidentified girl in the hallway outside room 606. “Would you be able to give us the name of your girlfriend? Maybe she has additional information for us.”
James Everett couldn’t hide his shock. He stared at the picture, his face pale, an involuntary twitch making his head jerk almost imperceptibly. “I have nothing more to say,” he said quietly.
“Are you sure?” Barry asked.
“I asked for my attorney.”
“We haven’t placed you under arrest.”
“I don’t have to talk to you without an attorney.”
“Would you like to call him? We can wait. Or, I can arrest you for obstruction of justice, bring you in front of a judge, then once all the preliminary paperwork is done, interview you formally.”
His eyes widened. “You can’t arrest me! I haven’t done anything.”
Lucy said, “Obstruction of justice is when someone who may or may not have committed a crime impedes the investigation into a crime, whether or not said individual is a suspect.”
“I’m not impeding anything! You haven’t even told me what this is about.”
Barry said, “We did, twice. Harper Worthington’s phone was found in your hotel room. This girl is wanted for questioning as a potential witness. She was seen in the area where Mr. Worthington was found dead, and she was seen an hour later going into your hotel room. Feel free to call your attorney. We’ll wait.”
Everett cleared his throat and shook his head. “No. Absolutely not. I’ll contact my attorney and then arrange a meeting later this week. I’m not going to be bullied by a couple of feds.”
Barry tensed beside Lucy. Barry was a serious, even-tempered agent. The fact that he was getting angry showed just how much Everett was getting to him. But his voice was calm when he said, “If Agent Kincaid and I walk out of this office without the information that we want, I will require you to submit to questioning by five P.M. today at FBI headquarters, or I will get an arrest warrant for obstruction of justice and compel you to speak under oath in a public court of law.”
Everett’s face reddened. “You can’t do that.” But he wasn’t looking at them.
Barry didn’t say another word. The longer Barry remained silent, the more Everett squirmed.
Finally, Everett said, “I need five minutes.”
“We’ll wait here.”
Everett couldn’t get out of his office fast enough.
Lucy was impressed. “I just had the best lesson in field interrogations ever.”
“He pissed me off.” He glanced at her. “You kept your cool. It’s easy to get rattled with people like him.”
“The only sign that you were angry was that your lower jaw shifted forward and your neck muscles tightened.”
“You can see that?”
“One of my psych classes dealt solely with physical reactions to emotional stress. It’s easy with a guy like Everett who uses his bravado and pomp to steamroll over people, harder when someone is calm and even tempered like you.”
“Can you tell when people are lying?”
“Usually. Some people are really good at it, though. They tell half truths and use emotion to work for them rather than against them. The best liars are those who are telling mostly the truth, or who have a sociopathy where they believe their own lies to the point that they themselves can’t distinguish between truth and fiction. They’re harder to pinpoint unless I have solid evidence I can use to rattle them.”
“People probably don’t like playing poker with you.”
She laughed, then covered her mouth. “Actually, I’m a really bad liar.”
“Our goal here is to find out who that girl is,” Barry said. “She’s the one who took the phone from Worthington and left it in Everett’s room. Do you think he knew about the phone?”
“No,” Lucy said. “I don’t even think that he cared about the hotel, until you mentioned when the phone was left there. That’s when he started to worry about why we were here.”
Everett returned ten minutes later, along with his attorney—a tall, lean brunette named Miriam Shaw.
“I’m Mr. Everett’s corporate attorney,” Shaw said, “and if I feel that this conversation is treading too far into criminal law, I’ll halt the interview and we’ll make arrangements for Mr. Everett to meet with you once he retains another lawyer.”
“This should have been simple,” Barry said. “Mr. Everett is the one who made it complicated.”
“And you’re the one who threatened him with arrest.”
“Only if he breaks the law,” Barry said. He nodded to Lucy.
She pulled a photo of their Jane Doe from her folder. “We need to find this girl. We know she was in your hotel room Friday night. We need her name and phone number.”
Everett stared at the picture, lips in a tight line.
“Mr. Everett,” Lucy prompted.
“I don’t know,” he said.
“You don’t know what?” Lucy asked.
Shaw said, “My client has just said he didn’t know this girl.”
“Then what was she doing in his hotel room from twelve thirty A.M. until four forty-five A.M. Saturday morning?” Lucy asked.
“I don’t know,” Everett said.
“Lying to a federal agent is a felony,” Lucy said. She pulled out additional surveillance photos. “This is you registering at the hotel at four thirty-six Friday night.” She slapped down another surveillance photo. “This is you having dinner alone in the hotel bar at seven-ten.” Another photo. “This is you entering your room at nine-seventeen Friday night. You didn’t leave. You purchased two adult videos from the hotel’s streaming service.” She pulled out the photo of Jane Doe. “This girl entered at twelve thirty that night and left at four forty-seven in the morning. You left at seven forty-five Saturday morning after checking out via the hotel’s automated service. Are you still saying that you didn’t know that this girl was in your hotel room at the same time you were?”
“I mean—of course I-I-I knew she was there,” James fumbled. “B-but sex between two consenting adults isn’t a crime.”
Lucy had to bite her tongue to avoid mentioning that paying for sex was still a crime. She couldn’t prove that Jane Doe was underage, or that money had been exchanged. “Then what
is her name?”
“Why do you need to know?” Shaw asked. “My client is a married man, and he doesn’t want any publicity about an extramarital affair.”
“Then he shouldn’t have one,” Lucy snapped. She immediately regretted it. It was completely unprofessional.
Barry picked up the questioning immediately. “We need the information because this woman is a witness in a major criminal investigation, and if Mr. Everett does not give us her name, I will arrest him for obstruction of justice until he agrees to give us her name and contact information. And that will go on the public record.”
“Elise,” Everett said. “Her name is Elise.”
“Elise what?” Barry asked.
“I don’t know.”
“How did you meet her?”
“A mutual friend.”
“A mutual friend sent her up to your hotel room?”
Everett wiped sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. “It doesn’t work that way.”
“How does it work?”
“It’s complicated.”
Lucy leaned forward. She was familiar with how a variety of prostitution rings were run. “Let me guess,” she said, trying to speak as calmly as Barry did. “You call a number. You tell them what you want, deliver a hotel key and money to a specified location, then wait at the hotel for the girl to show. Am I warm?”
He nodded.
“Give us the number.”
He pulled a piece of paper from his desk note pad and quickly wrote it down. His hand was shaking when he handed it to Lucy.
“That’s it?” he said.
“For now,” Barry said.
“One more question,” Lucy said. “Had you ever met with Elise before Friday night?”
“No. I, um, my regular girlfriend is Bella.”
“Did you ask for someone different?”
He shook his head. “Bella was sick. I don’t want to get her in trouble. You’re not going to get her in trouble, are you?”
His concern for his hooker was odd, but it was clear he was equally as concerned about his own hide.
“No,” she said, and meant it.
On her way out, she saw a picture of Everett with his wife, a young boy, and a younger girl. Picture perfect. She picked it up, then looked at Everett. “You have a beautiful family. Why would you jeopardize your relationship with them?”
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