“So you don’t know who C. R. is?”
“No, sir,” Ms. Okala said.
“Care to hazard a guess?”
“No, sir. I really don’t have any idea.”
Leo was frustrated, and Lucy changed gears. “What was Mr. Grey’s state of mind when he left work on Monday?”
“I didn’t see him when he left.”
“Did you see him at all that day?”
“Of course.”
“The last time you saw him, was he preoccupied? Happy? Chatty? Did he say anything to you?”
“Mr. Grey was always professional. He didn’t talk much except about the work, and the last time I saw him we passed in the skywalk. I asked if he needed anything before I left for my lunch break, and he said no. So I imagine I last saw him between noon and twelve thirty on Monday.”
“Was his office in this building or the research building?” Lucy asked.
Ms. Okala looked confused.
“It’s not a difficult question,” Leo said.
Cortland said, “He has an office in both buildings—a business office, and a research office off the main lab.”
“Was Mr. Grey going to or from the research building when you saw him?” Lucy asked. It wasn’t an important question, but she had a theory she wanted to test.
“Why is that important?” Cortland said.
“I’m curious where he spent most of his time, and whether he was leaving work or going to work while Ms. Okala was taking her break.”
“I just told you he spent most of his time in the research building,” Cortland said, more irritated than flustered. “None of this is relevant to whether or not Charlie killed Paul. We don’t know why Paul left early, who he was meeting with, but I’m positive it had nothing to do with Clarke-Harrison.”
“But you can’t know that for certain,” Lucy said.
She opened her mouth, then closed it and tilted up her chin. “Point taken.”
Mr. White said, “We have our own internal security reviewing every project Mr. Grey was involved with. If there was any hint of impropriety or if anything is missing, we will go through the proper channels to remedy the situation. If that’s all? Ms. Clarke is a busy woman running a multimillion-dollar research facility.”
“For now,” Leo said and stood up. “If you would please direct us to Mr. Harrison’s office?”
Cortland stared at them a second too long. Did she not think they would ask to speak with the other principal? The one who was directly involved with McMahon and Grey’s research?
“You’ll have to make an appointment for next week,” she said. “Garrett is away on company business.”
“When did he leave?” Leo asked.
“Monday morning.”
“We need his contact information.”
“Garrett hasn’t been in town all week, and he’s in the middle of securing a major funding source. Does he really need to be bothered with this?”
“We need his information,” Leo repeated.
White said, “I’ll send that to you along with the security footage, if that would suffice.”
Before Leo could answer, Cortland said, “If that’s all, we really have work to do. With Paul’s death, we’re in the middle of a complete project review. This has put us back weeks, if not months.”
“Murder has a way of doing that,” Lucy said.
She didn’t like Cortland, and from the woman’s expression, the feeling was mutual.
Lucy and Leo walked out of Clarke-Harrison a few minutes later.
“What do you think?” Leo asked.
“She’s hiding something. They all seemed like they were hiding something, but I think that everyone is terrified of Cortland Clarke. Even the attorney, who acted tough. He glanced at her one too many times.”
“She was a piece of work.”
“Definitely had answers for everything, and that in and of itself is suspicious—except she told us nothing of substance.”
“Exactly. We need to find out who worked with Paul Grey prior to McMahon’s termination. It can’t be a coincidence that Ms. Okala started after Charlie left. And McMahon’s assistant was fired for letting him in? We’ll reach out to both Mrs. McMahon and Mrs. Grey to find out what they know about the research assistants.”
While Leo drove toward Guadalupe County, where they planned to talk to the bartender about Paul and Charlie’s confrontation two weeks ago, Lucy called Lisa McMahon.
“Lisa, it’s Agent Lucy Kincaid.”
“Any news?”
“Like I told you this morning, investigations take time. When we were at Clarke-Harrison, Ms. Clarke said that she’d terminated Charlie’s assistant for letting Charlie into the building in May. Mr. Paine?”
“I didn’t know that—Charlie never told me.”
“Do you know this Paine?”
“Vince Paine. I don’t really know him, but he’d been at the house a few times over the last couple of years. Charlie and Paul had dozens of employees. I met very few of the people who worked at CHR.”
“Was there anyone he was particularly close to?”
“Garrett Harrison—he and Charlie were very close, though they didn’t work day-to-day together. Garrett travels a lot.”
That was good to know. Lucy made a note.
“What about his research assistants? Anyone he worked with for a long time? Someone he trusted … or distrusted?”
“I don’t know—well, there are two who were with him a long time, whom he trusted, and they both came over to the house for barbecues and such when things were—well, better. Tom Perez. Young, very bright, very introverted. Has a lovely wife and two little kids. He left last year, took a position at a research university in Arizona. And of course Cassidy Roth. She worked for Charlie for the last three years or so. He hired her right out of grad school. She’s a brilliant chemist. She had a rough life, is a bit odd … she really took to Charlie. I adored her, too, but…” Her voice trailed off.
“What were you going to say, Lisa? Everything is important.”
“When I left Charlie, she came to see me at the school where I work. She was angry with me, told me I couldn’t abandon him. I flat out asked her if she was in love with him. I mean, it sounds crazy—I trusted Charlie explicitly, and Cassidy was nearly half his age. Yet … he had been acting off. Not like he was cheating on me, just that he was lost.”
“What did she say?”
“She said she loved him like a father. That if I couldn’t see that, I was stupid. Cassidy has always been blunt—one of the reasons Charlie liked her so much. But she was young, and sometimes didn’t realize or didn’t care what she said. She didn’t have much tact, I guess you’d say.”
“Do you know how to reach her?”
“I really don’t. But she’s in her late twenties and graduated from the Texas A and M master’s program in genetic engineering, I believe. She doesn’t have any family—her dad was an alcoholic and left the family when she was young, and her mother died while she was in college. I think that’s why she attached so strongly to Charlie. She needed someone. She could be intense, which made it difficult for anyone to get close to her if she didn’t consider them her intellectual equal.”
“Thank you, Lisa. If you can find out anything else about her—where she lives, her phone number—it would help.”
Lucy hung up. “What do you think?” she asked Leo. “Cassidy Roth—C. R.?”
“We need to talk to Ms. Roth as soon as possible.”
“Makes me wonder why neither Ms. Okala nor Ms. Clarke mentioned her as a possible identity behind the C. R. in Paul Grey’s calendar.”
“Doesn’t make me wonder,” Leo said. “They were lying, pure and simple. Now we have to find out why.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
After lunch Sean walked into the small US Marshals’ office in the San Antonio federal courthouse. His contact was Marshal John Jimenez, who had facilitated meetings between Sean and Jesse during the year Jesse was in WITSEC. He was privy to
the Spades’ new arrangement with the FBI in Sacramento, and Jesse’s visitation with Sean this summer. Though the marshals’ office considered the threat level against the Spades low, they were keeping the file open. After all, Carson Spade had worked for a brutal criminal organization for years. Sean’s brother Duke had installed security in the Spade house in Sacramento, and Sean had tested it vigorously. Nothing was foolproof, but it was better than most home-based security systems.
“Thanks for meeting me, John,” Sean said.
“You didn’t give me a choice, did you?” John motioned toward the coffeepot in the reception.
“No thanks, and I really do appreciate your time.”
John poured himself a cup and sipped. “I need ten minutes, Mags,” he said to the administrator. Mags Cortez scared Sean. She looked at him as if she could read his mind, which would rarely be a good thing. She ran the office and the four deputy marshals permanently assigned here. The director position was open, and had been for most of the time Sean had known John.
John closed the door to the conference room and sat down. Sean followed suit. John had Jesse’s file in front of him.
“I can’t give you the threat assessment, Sean. I told you that last month, and nothing has changed.”
“Jesse and I were followed yesterday when we left the Rib House. I lost the tail and haven’t seen them since. And I’ll admit—it might have something to do with my business, and not Carson Spade, but I need to cover all bases here. I’m working with my people at RCK on our own internal threat assessment, but this situation could be related to Spade.”
“Jose Flores is the lone survivor of the Flores cartel,” John said, “and our contacts at the DEA are confident that the entire cartel has disbanded. Other cartels are gaining strength—as I’m sure you know, considering your brother’s work—but they wouldn’t be out for Spade’s hide. The destruction of the Flores cartel gave them a bigger share of the pie, so what would be the reason?”
“Kane’s making sure that Jose Flores is truly retired,” Sean said, choosing his words carefully. “But you and I both know that Carson Spade was up to his eyeballs in money laundering. He may not have been completely honest with you.” Spade was a liar, and Sean had been suspicious of him from the beginning. That hadn’t changed.
“I can’t talk to you about his plea agreement.”
“Which was bullshit,” Sean muttered.
John didn’t say anything.
“I manipulated the tail into running a red light at Military and Roosevelt. There’s a red-light camera on the corner.” He slid over his business card with the time of the breach, and make and model of the car. “I can’t legally get this information, but you can.”
John picked up the card and sighed. He put it on top of his folder. “I can’t give you the information, Sean. But I can pull up their images and run them against the criminal database. If something pops that may indicate that there is a threat, I’ll call you.”
“That’s all I’m asking.”
“How’s Jesse?”
“Great. Irritated that I have him on house arrest today until I get this figured out.”
“You left him alone?”
“He’s well protected.” Kane had arrived right on time, and they reviewed external security just to be certain Sean’s system was functioning properly. But Sean wouldn’t leave Jesse with just anyone.
John sipped his coffee. “We wouldn’t have supported the move out of WITSEC if there was a viable threat against any member of the family. You know that, right?”
Sean conceded the point. John was a good guy—a stellar record, former military, and smart. “I don’t trust Carson Spade. He hated the arrangement from the beginning. I can’t help but think he either didn’t know everyone he could have pissed off, or he didn’t tell the US Attorney everything.”
“I wouldn’t go around making accusations you can’t back up.”
“It’s my gut telling me something was off about what happened last night.”
“They must not have been very good if you picked up on them.”
“No front license plate. Dark sedan. Tinted windows. Two burly guys in the front seat. Yeah, definitely flagged for me. They weren’t amateurs, but they weren’t professionals. I don’t think they wanted me to see them, but they didn’t back off when I did.”
“Who have you angered recently?”
The question angered Sean because he didn’t think the tail had anything to do with his work, but it was still a valid point.
He said, “You heard about the human-trafficking ring that went through San Antonio a few months back.”
“I did.”
“My wife was involved in that operation, and I had a peripheral role through RCK.” No reason to give John too many details of RCK’s role in shutting down Zimmerman’s human pipeline. “Most of the low-level operatives are in prison, they don’t worry me. Most of the high-level operatives are dead. But there’s always one, isn’t there?”
“Prison?”
“He wasn’t granted bail—a small miracle—pending trial. I’ve already put a call into the right people to find out if he’s been making calls and to who.”
“You have a lot of friends.”
“When I need to protect my family, I’ll call in every chit I have.”
“Can I give you some advice?”
“Do I have a choice?”
John smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You’ve been in security for a long time. You know what you’re doing. But you also have only three more weeks with your son. Don’t let this cloud your time with him. Be cautious, but have fun.”
* * *
The more Sean thought about it, the more he thought that Carson Spade was somehow responsible for yesterday’s tail. It was the only thing that made sense. If Spade hadn’t been honest with the marshals, then there could be a threat they weren’t prepared for. The family had been officially out of WITSEC for six weeks—more than enough time for the bad guys to figure it out and trace them.
He called FBI ASAC Dean Hooper on his way back to the house. Dean was a longtime friend of the Rogans. Kane had known his wife long before Dean came into the picture, when Sonia was an undercover ICE agent. When a threat emerged against Sonia and her family, Sean and Duke had provided bodyguard protection. They’d met Dean and had been close ever since.
“Rogan? Can I put you on hold a sec?”
“Sure.” Sean had called Dean on his cell phone—he didn’t need this call going through FBI channels.
Still, Dean was one of those straitlaced FBI agents that generally made Sean squirm. If they hadn’t had a history, Sean didn’t think he and Dean would like each other very much. Sean tended to skirt the law while Dean was diligent in upholding it. He had worked out of FBI main headquarters for years in the White Collar Crimes Division, moving to Sacramento so that he could marry Sonia, whose career and family kept her in Northern California. Though the relocation had necessitated giving up his assistant directorship, it seemed that over the last few years he’d become the point person for white-collar investigations and consulted with FBI offices all over the country. That Carson Spade was put on probation in Sacramento was no surprise—not only did it put him under the purview of one of the smartest FBI white-collar crime agents Sean had ever met, it kept Jesse close to the Rogan side of the family. A win–win.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Dean said when he finally picked up the phone.
Dean sounded busy, so Sean got to the point. “I think Carson Spade is up to something. I can’t put my finger on what. Last night Jesse and I were followed coming out of a restaurant. I’m not working on anything big right now, I don’t think it’s my job.”
“Do you have any evidence?”
“Instincts.”
“I trust your instincts, Sean, more than most. But it’s a big leap from ‘I’m being followed’ to ‘Carson Spade is up to something illegal.’”
“I want to set up a sting.”
<
br /> “Whoa. Stop right there.”
“Look, he hasn’t changed his stripes. I know it, you know it.”
“I know nothing of the sort.”
“If he’s not up to something, then he wasn’t honest with the US Attorney and he has more enemies than we know.”
“We have no evidence that he wasn’t completely honest.”
“He’s a good liar.”
“Sean, you’re grasping at straws. You’re letting your emotions cloud your judgment.”
Sean tensed. “That’s not it.”
“I get it, Sean—Carson Spade is guilty of a multitude of crimes, he put Jesse and your family in harm’s way. I know this is difficult for you, but if Spade’s attorney gets wind that you’re accusing him of a new crime, everything goes back into the courts and I won’t have any leverage. He could argue any number of points, including a conflict of interest because of our friendship. If Spade is transferred out of my jurisdiction, I have no way of keeping an eye on him.”
Sean knew that Dean had done everything in his power to keep Spade in Sacramento, but his instincts were rarely wrong, even when his emotions were involved.
“So he’s done everything you’ve asked?”
“I can’t talk to you about the terms of his probation. You know that.” Now Dean sounded angry. Sean didn’t want to make him mad, but this was his son’s life.
“I’ll bet if you dangle a carrot, he’ll go for it. If he thinks he can get away with it.”
“You cannot dangle any carrot, Rogan,” Dean said sharply. “You’re too close to this. And I get it—he put your son in danger. I don’t like the guy. But so far, he has met every term of his probation. I can’t accuse him of breaking the agreement when I have no evidence, and I can’t let you of all people set him up. This isn’t a closed FBI operation. The marshals are involved. RCK has a lot of leeway because of Rick Stockton; that doesn’t transcend to other branches of law enforcement.”
“I get that, but—”
“Have you considered that Carson or Madison hired a private investigator to follow you? Madison gave you liberal visitation rights when she didn’t have to—she could have tied you up in court until Jesse was eighteen. What if she’s having second thoughts? Or wants to make sure her son is okay? She’s been through a lot in the last year.”
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