“I’ll be there,” she said. “Can I stay here for the rest of the day? I still have files to go through, and your analyst, Dorothy, is meeting with me at four.”
“Be my guest. Dorothy is the best analyst in my office. She retires next year and I’m going to miss her. I’ll make sure Noah updates you. But just because Sean went dark doesn’t mean anything’s wrong. The nature of criminals is that they don’t trust anyone.”
“Sean’s not a criminal.”
“But he’s working for one.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Noah walked through Deanna Brighton’s apartment, increasingly horrified by her evident obsession with Sean Rogan.
The small, two-bedroom apartment in New Jersey had a view of the New York skyline and would have been considered typical for a single, female, fifteen-year veteran of the FBI. Tasteful, uncluttered, and feminine.
Except for her office.
Deanna slept in the closet-sized bedroom and the larger master bedroom was her office. One wall was covered with corkboard pinned with newspaper articles about RCK, specifically Sean Rogan. She had sticky notes on each one with questions like, “Who paid him?” and “How did he get security clearance?” Stacks of files lined another wall. She had information about RCK, their employees, Sean’s assignments.
One section was devoted to everything related to Sean’s case at Stanford. She had a tape of the symposium where he’d hacked in and exposed his professor. Half her documents related to her failed project.
A day planner on her desk highlighted when and where she’d tracked Sean since he’d been in New York. Noah flipped to early October, when he and Sean first arrived. Two days before they moved to SoHo, she had a notation:
SR working with Thayer again.
No one knew about that outside of Sean, Rick, Noah, and Colton Thayer’s group. Unless Thayer had told Paxton, and Deanna was Paxton’s mole.
Deanna seemed far too volatile to be the mole, but if she was set on arresting Sean she might work with Paxton to make it happen. It would also make sense that Paxton wouldn’t want Sean involved in stealing from Joyce Bonner’s pharmaceutical company, because Paxton knew Sean didn’t trust him.
Noah rubbed his face. The theory was too convoluted, but there was some truth to it—if Paxton had Sean arrested, then he wouldn’t be a factor in the PBM theft. Except why would Paxton kill Deanna and kidnap Duke Rogan? Paxton was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a cop killer.
“Noah, you need to see this.”
Suzanne walked over to where Noah sat at Deanna’s desk and slipped a file in front of him. “This doesn’t look like her handwriting.”
Noah opened the file. It was a copy of handwritten notes that appeared to have been taken at Lucy’s FBI panel. There were things in here that weren’t in her permanent file and some that were hand-copied from her file.
Noah knew about Lucy’s past—ten months ago, when she was a murder suspect, he’d had access to even her sealed file. She’d be horrified that the information about her abduction and rape seven years ago had not only been written down by members of her panel but also given to someone else.
“‘Mentally unstable’? ‘Dangerous’?” Suzanne turned away. “I don’t want to see any more.” Then she said, “I didn’t know about the kidnapping.”
“I did,” Noah said. He wasn’t reading the notes so much as trying to figure out who wrote them. By the end he ascertained that it had to have been Juan Martinez, because the note-taker referenced things that the other two panel members had said.
That’s why Deanna went to talk to Lucy—she thought Lucy was the weak link. Deanna had threatened Lucy, but Noah didn’t realize with what until now.
“She has surveillance photos of Sean, mostly with his pal Colton Thayer. And a blonde.”
Noah glanced over. “That’s Skylar Jansen, part of Colton’s crew. Sean’s ex-girlfriend.”
“What was Brighton doing?”
“Trying to catch him in the act.”
Noah looked at Deanna’s planner. She hadn’t written anything down for today, but there was a notepad next to her desk. He lightly rubbed a pencil over it and brought out Sean’s address.
“Someone called her and gave her Sean’s address.”
“We can’t track her phone. The battery is out; it’s the only explanation.”
“Did she have a personal phone?”
“We can’t find that, either, and the carrier has no signal. There’s no landline into the house, but that’s not unusual. I don’t have a landline either.”
Noah said, “I need a team over here to box everything.” He picked up Juan Martinez’s file. Suzanne saw but didn’t say anything. Noah should leave it as part of the evidence, but he didn’t want the notes to become part of the investigation.
He looked around again, trying to put himself in Deanna Brighton’s shoes. He couldn’t imagine himself so obsessed with trying to catch someone that he would surround himself like this. And it wasn’t for murder or child molestation or some other heinous crime that often had Noah working 24/7. Deanna believed Sean was guilty of cybercrime—essentially, computer fraud. But ultimately, she was obsessed because he’d humiliated her twelve years ago.
“If Deanna isn’t the mole,” Noah said, talking out loud, “she must have an informant in Thayer’s group. Unless—” He stopped himself.
“Oh, come on, Armstrong; you can’t hold back on me.”
“How well do you know Steve Gannon?”
“I don’t. I’m Violent Crime; he’s White-Collar. We have hundreds of agents in the building.”
“He had to have known about this obsession. She couldn’t keep it to herself, not with the amount of time she spent tailing Sean.”
“You’re accusing Gannon—”
“I’m not accusing anyone.”
Noah pulled out his phone. He had a hunch—but if he was wrong, he was going to put Sean in greater danger. “Rick, I think I know who the mole is. I need a little leeway to interrogate Deanna Brighton’s partner.”
“How much?”
“As much as I need.”
Rick said, “Okay. I hope you’re right. I really didn’t want to believe that Senator Paxton could kill a cop.”
“If I’m right, he wanted Brighton to arrest Sean. And when she was close, someone else took her out.”
“Colton Thayer?”
“Him—or someone on his team. Kurt LeGrand fits into this somehow—it can’t be a coincidence that the day he shows up at Thayer’s house, Hunter Nash turns up dead.”
“LeGrand was a whistle-blower on a major mortgage fraud case two years ago. I’ll send you what we have, but so far it’s not much.”
“I’d bet my badge that he’s dirty.”
* * *
Lucy was reading the assistant U.S. attorney’s files on Avery & Block. There was so much information she could hardly absorb it, so she focused on Kurt LeGrand’s testimony.
“Weren’t we supposed to meet in the conference room?”
Lucy jumped and glanced up. A well-dressed, petite woman with white hair and reading glasses on a silver chain around her neck stood at the edge of Lucy’s desk.
“Mrs. Conner?” Lucy glanced at her watch. It was a quarter after four. “I’m so sorry; I lost track of time.”
“That’s okay; I do that all the time. I took the time to look at your boards to bring myself up to speed on where you are. You’ve been busy.”
“I only have today.” She gathered up the files she was working on and followed Dorothy Conner down the hall. Everyone Dorothy passed smiled and greeted her. She was obviously well liked and respected.
“Rick Stockton filled me in.” Dorothy opened the door. They were set up in the smallest conference room but had less chance of being booted. “I’ve been working on this project since the beginning.”
“The beginning?”
“Since Rick agreed to Agent Armstrong’s undercover plan. Neither of them trusts many people, but I’
ve worked with Rick since he joined the Bureau right out of the Marines, twenty years ago. When he was promoted to assistant director, he brought me with him.”
“He said he’d assigned his best analyst.”
She smiled. “He’s sweet.”
Sweet wasn’t a word Lucy associated with Rick Stockton, but she trusted him. If he said Dorothy Conner was the best, then she was.
“I’m going to miss this place,” she said.
“Miss it?”
“I’m retiring next year.”
“But you don’t have to retire, right? There’s no mandatory retirement age for analysts, correct?”
She laughed lightly. “Next April, I’ll have worked for the Bureau for thirty-five years. I’ll be sixty-two next month. I’m more than ready to spend time with my grandchildren.”
“Grandchildren?”
“I have three. Two boys and a girl. They live in Colorado with my son and daughter-in-law, who just found out she’s expecting number four in May. I want to be living there in time for the birth.”
“I can’t argue with that,” Lucy said.
“Good, because Rick has tried to convince me to stay, and he can be extremely persuasive. But I can withstand his charms.” She motioned to the boards Lucy had set up earlier. “This is all good.”
“I was hoping that before I have to go back to Quantico tomorrow morning I can figure out the connection between Kurt LeGrand and Colton Thayer.”
“You’re basing that on the fact that Mr. LeGrand was at Mr. Thayer’s house.”
“Yes. According to Sean, Colton denied knowing him.”
“But you think Mr. Thayer might be lying.”
“Sean doesn’t think so.”
“But you do.”
“I can’t say. I haven’t met him.”
Dorothy nodded. “I’ve gone through all the financials from Avery and Block and talked to the AUSA who prosecuted the case. No one can find the money, and that was the big sticking point in the government’s case. But there was no doubt that they had the mortgage scam in place and were profiting from it. The money disappeared.”
“What I can’t find is what LeGrand did for the two years he was in Boston after he left his accountancy job, before he moved to New York and took a job on the stock exchange.”
“That’s where I can help. If he filed taxes during those years, I’ll know who was paying him.”
“Unless it was under-the-table.”
“There are usually other clues. Most people don’t overtly cheat the system. They generally underreport, such as receiving bonuses and not reporting the income, or pad their allowable expenses.”
“Don’t we need a subpoena for his tax records?”
“Yes, except he already gave us permission.”
She frowned. “I don’t understand.”
Dorothy pulled out the Avery & Block file. She flipped through to documents in the back and pointed to IRS Form 8821. “As part of the FBI investigation into LeGrand’s claims, he gave permission for the FBI to pull his tax records for ten years prior. They never pulled them, but we have the authority, and I put in the request, then called a friend of mine at the IRS who processed the request immediately.”
She flipped through several files. “Here are his returns for the second of those two missing years. That was the first year he authorized us to inspect.”
“I never would have thought of this.”
“You would have if you’d encountered this before. You look at that; I’ll go over the Avery and Block files. Fresh set of eyes.” She slipped on her reading glasses.
The two of them read silently for several minutes. At first Lucy didn’t see anything suspicious on LeGrand’s tax return, which was now nine years old. He’d filed as self-employed. Paid taxes on a net income of $52,300. Had what looked like reasonable write-offs.
Though he was self-employed, he only reported income from one entity. Lucy made a note of the company name, address, and tax ID number. “It looks like he worked for Obsidian Trust and Equity.”
She turned to the computer and typed in the name. Nothing came up.
“Lucy?” Dorothy said. “Look at this.”
She pointed to a computer-generated printout. It was extensive, listing all payments by Avery & Block the year prior to the FBI investigation.
“What am I looking at?”
Dorothy pointed to a name midway down the third page. Jansen Tech. The payment was for $10,000 and the memo read: Final Payment Network Upgrade.
“Jansen,” Lucy said flatly. “Skye Jansen works for Colton.”
Dorothy glanced at her watch. “It’s after five; I won’t be able to pull any business filings to confirm.”
“I’m certain it’s her. It’s the connection—Colton told Sean he wasn’t at the carriage house when LeGrand showed up. He said he didn’t think anyone was there, but Skye is living there.”
“What do you think Skye Jansen has to do with LeGrand? What’s her motive? Mr. Thayer and his group are hacktivists, according to Rick, and not violent. Could she be working something on the side?”
Lucy didn’t doubt it. “I need to get this information to Noah.”
“Wait—” Dorothy flipped to another folder. “I can’t believe I missed this the first time. Rick asked me to quietly run one of the New York agents against all the names in this case. Here he is again.”
“Who?”
“Agent S. Gannon. He was one of the investigating agents in the Avery and Block case.”
“Does he know LeGrand?”
“I don’t know—he was a rookie, but it’s one more connection.”
* * *
Noah was on the phone with the FBI personnel office when Suzanne stopped in front of his desk. “I see. Yes. Please fax everything you have. Thank you.” He hung up.
Sometimes, being right didn’t feel good.
“What was that?”
“Let’s walk and talk. I have Steve Gannon in an interview room.”
“Torres agreed?”
“Rick Stockton intervened. I was on the phone with the personnel office. Guess who gave Gannon one of his letters of recommendation?”
“I don’t have to. Paxton.”
Noah glanced at her. “Is that a guess?”
“A guess from these.” She handed him a slim file. “His phone records. He called the senator’s private cell number several times this month, including last night.”
“Thanks.” Noah stopped outside the interview room. “Do you have anything else?”
“I’ll be quick.” She took a deep breath, then dove into her report. “First, Tucker came back from Corbett’s house—the dead guy in the warehouse with Nash’s laptop? Nothing of interest, but they snagged his computer and it’s in our tech unit with a priority. We’re checking e-mails first, then will go into the rest.”
“Good.”
“However, Corbett has a record. We have a list of his known associates. He’s just a gun for hire, so he didn’t do this on his own. Spent a few years in prison, has been relatively clean since he got out two years ago.”
“Anything come up yet on his associates?”
“No, but Tucker has every cop in Queens shaking the trees. If anyone knows anything, we’ll know it.”
“I appreciate their help.”
“Yeah, well, I’m the one who has to pay them back.”
She didn’t seem too upset about it. Suzanne went on, “Then, I got a call from a friend of mine in Trace. Twenty minutes before she was killed, Deanna received a call from a burn phone. We can’t get the number.”
“How did she trace it?”
“We don’t have Deanna’s phones, but we can still track incoming and outgoing calls.” She handed him a slip of paper. “I weeded through the crap and came up with this interesting number from Saturday.”
Meredith White.
“I know her.”
“Thought you might. Her name was in Deanna’s notes on Lucy.”
“She sat
on Lucy’s hiring panel.” This might explain why Deanna went to Quantico to talk to Lucy and how she obtained the notes from the panel.
“I’ve been going through all Deanna’s shit, and it’s pretty sad and scary how obsessed she was with Sean. I’m no shrink, but it borders on psychotic.”
Considering that she’d shot at Sean without provocation, Noah had to agree.
“To be honest, I don’t see Steve Gannon killing his partner, or any cop for that matter.”
“He could have set her up.”
“Why?” Noah didn’t buy it. He held up his phone. “Text me if you learn anything else important to the interview. I’m going to talk to Gannon.”
Noah stepped into the room and put the file in front of a nervous Steve Gannon. He sat down across from Gannon and said, “We know you’ve been talking to Senator Paxton. We know that you’ve known him since before you were hired into the FBI. We also know that he gave you a letter of recommendation. I will remind you that you are a sworn federal agent and if you lie to me you’ll make the situation worse. Cooperate, and I’ll make your cooperation known to OPR.”
At first Noah thought Gannon was going to stonewall him; then he let out a sigh and said, “What do you want to know?”
“When did you start talking to Senator Paxton?”
“Since I became an agent. He would call me and ask questions. At first I didn’t think anything of it.”
“What were the calls about?”
“Mostly chitchat. Then he asked me to look up a few things in the system. Stuff we’re not supposed to give out, but he was on the Judiciary Committee and the Public Safety Committee, and I thought he was looking for statistics and anecdotal stories that would help him get the FBI more funding, or change laws. At least, that’s what he led me to believe.”
Stolen (Lucy Kincaid Novels) Page 21