by DiAnn Mills
Her cell rang. Alex. She laughed at how much she’d wanted to phone him. Muting her TV, she greeted him. “Good evening, Special Agent LeBlanc.”
“Is this the TV personality? The one who almost made headlines after being knifed?”
“None other.”
“Then I have the right number.”
The sound of his voice soothed the stress. “Thanks for taking time to call. How are you doing?”
“You’re the one with stitches.”
“Tylenol is my crutch. Now you?”
“Just got word on a preliminary cause of death for Lynx Connor.”
“How tragic for someone to die while in custody. What happened?”
“Arsenic-coated Zoloft.”
She startled. “How did that happen in jail?”
“Good question. We’re on it. An interesting piece of evidence was just released to the media. His body held traces of human brucellosis.”
“His visits to the clinic put him in touch with the infection. Looks like his activities caught up with him or killed him.” A chill snaked up her arms. “What more can you tell me?”
“Bekah Howe received the report on Todd’s tox screen. His body was free of drugs.”
“I’m glad for her. She’s been through a lot. Any more news?”
“Honestly? Nothing.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
He chuckled. “I’ve been called worse. Seriously, when I can, I’ll give you more info. Any news about Whitt? With the press conference, I’d hoped for something by now.”
She sighed, feeling the familiar ache for her boy. “I keep expecting him to come through the door.”
“Stacy, I’m praying.”
“I know, and I appreciate all you’ve done.”
“If I were there, I’d be searching to find him.” He paused. “Please don’t overdo the search. A relapse could be . . . serious.”
“I’m following the doctor’s orders.”
“You and I know differently. Are we still on for a trio coffee date?”
“Yes.” A thousand and more. “Will you promise to be safe?”
He laughed lightly. “We are stubborn Cajuns. I need to go. Hearing your voice is—”
“I feel the same. You take care of the investigation. That’s your specialty. Bye, Alex.” She laid her phone on the end table before she revealed her heart. How selfish when her boy was in danger.
Each moment he had to be growing weaker.
“I believe in you, Whitt,” she whispered. “You are destined for great things. Not this. Not a death sentence.”
FRIDAY MORNING, Alex and Ric waited for Howard Dottia to join them for a seven thirty breakfast. He’d requested the meeting but hadn’t revealed why. Alex respected the man’s bluntness and loyalty to Russell Phillips. If Dottia’s body language had been interpreted correctly and the background checks reported accurately about his contributions to the company and community, he valued integrity.
Once they finished breakfast, they’d meet with Jensen Phillips. The nephew sent a few red flags waving, and Alex had requested a deeper probe. He glanced at his phone. “My battery’s low, and I left my charger at the hotel.”
“We’ll get it later. Mine’s charged up,” Ric said.
A text arrived from the ASAC in Houston. “Read me what it says,” Alex said. “Need to save my battery.”
Ric appeared to scan the message. “Okay, the missing man from the CID’s investigation has been found dead near Little Rock, Arkansas. Estimated time of death looks like prior to arresting the partner, Private Wilcox.”
“As in the man in custody could have murdered him.”
“Possibly. We’ll see what the CID uncovers. More than one variable here with Phillips Security the parent company in manufacturing drones and filling government contracts for them.”
“A coincidence considering the volume of business or a link to our crimes?” Alex spotted Dottia entering the restaurant. Shoulders erect. “He’s here. Let’s see what he wants to talk to us about.”
The three were seated for breakfast. A young woman brought them coffee and took their orders.
“Gentlemen, we aren’t sharing omelets and pancakes because we’re hungry,” Dottia said. “I’m here to speak on Russell’s behalf. His impeccable reputation is at stake, and I want to know what I can do to hurry along the investigation.”
Alex stared at him. “Why?” Could his original assessment of Dottia be wrong? Was the man covering up information?
“I’m his friend, like a brother. I despise whoever has conjured this crazy scheme.”
Unusual loyalty or hiding something? “I understand,” Alex said. “We’re here to learn the truth.”
“Lynx Connor, who accused Russell, is dead. What or whom do you suspect?”
“Special Agent Price, could you give Mr. Dottia answers?”
Ric shared the same skin color as Dottia, so the man might open up to him, which gave Alex an opportunity to make observations. His gut told him the source of the crimes ran through Phillips Security, and Dottia might not realize he had answers.
“Agent Price, our skin may be the same color, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to have sudden recall about this unfortunate set of circumstances.”
Ric lifted a brow. “If that was my line of thinking, I would have left Agent LeBlanc sleeping at the hotel.”
Dottia smiled and took a sip of coffee. “I pride myself on an infallible memory, and Connor isn’t there. I regret the man was killed, but I can’t say I’ll miss his negative impact on my good friend’s life.”
“The executives at Phillips Security have tenure except Russell’s nephew, Jensen.”
“Correct. The rest of us began on the ground floor when Russ conceived the idea of a security business. Back then it was residential. When that took off, we expanded to commercial.”
“Did you have any idea the business would grow nationwide?”
The waitress delivered breakfast before Dottia responded.
“Back to your question. In the beginning, Russell designed the equipment. We assembled the systems, sold them, serviced them, all 24-7. We paid the bills and if there was any left over, we celebrated with hot dogs.” He poured a generous flow of syrup over a waffle before continuing. “I miss those days, the optimism of youth. The energy. Creativity. Doing much with little and being happy. The wife and I lived on rice and beans in those early years.”
“Worth it?” Alex said.
“Without a doubt.” He met Alex’s gaze. “Hard work and determination instill a sense of satisfaction, a work ethic that is impossible to duplicate, only experience. Why are you two men committed to the FBI?”
“Same reasons,” Alex said.
“What about Jensen?” Ric reached for the Tabasco sauce. “Where does he fit?”
He hesitated, and Alex made a quick mental note.
“Russell never had a child, and his wife died of a stroke. Jensen’s parents passed within two years of each other from cancer. He’s all the family Russ has left, and he’s been groomed from the ground up to one day take over the company.” A spark of anger burst from Dottia’s eyes.
What did the anger mean? Was Dottia motivated to get rid of both Phillips men?
Ric pushed forward. “Sir, in the event Russell was no longer in the picture, why not have the remaining board members run the company?”
“The bottom line is it’s his company. We’re getting older, and young blood is needed to fuel changes and make updates in technology.”
“What’s your opinion of Jensen, especially since you two are working together on the relocation project? After all, he may one day be your boss.”
“Why do you want to know that?”
Ric stopped eating. “Sounds like he isn’t your top choice for a CEO.”
The man sliced up his waffles as though he was taking out his frustration on them. “He’s capable and extremely intelligent. Innovative ideas, and plans to have feet on the ground t
o view various property sites soon.”
“You’re not going with him to Houston?”
“Jensen seeks an opportunity to prove himself.”
“I see. Flaws?”
Dottia focused his attention on Ric. “Jensen’s odd, but we all have our idiosyncrasies.”
“How so?”
“You aren’t giving up.” He finished his coffee. “This has nothing to do with your investigation, and I shouldn’t have labeled Russ’s nephew. But since I already hung myself, I’ll finish. Jensen thinks more of his dog than his uncle or wife and stepdaughter. Certainly more than the company. When you two visited the office and he spoke about his little girl feeling better, he meant his dog. She accompanies him everywhere, and if the animal isn’t permitted, then he doesn’t use the establishment.”
“A service dog?”
“I suppose.”
“Physical or mental issues?”
Alex gave Ric credit for not abandoning the topic.
Dottia smiled. “The most creative of minds may not have people skills.”
“So he’s not your choice for a company leader.”
“Do you really think I’d answer?”
“My job is to ask pointed questions. Is the animal licensed or certified?”
“I have no idea. Jensen claims the dog isn’t a pet. It’s a peculiar trait on his part. No big thing.”
“I see,” Ric said. “How does Jensen view the business?”
“It’s his cash to play the game.”
Alex bolded Dottia’s response in his mental log of the interview.
“So he doesn’t share in your commitment to Phillips Security?”
“He’s young.”
Ric chuckled. “Are you making excuses for him?”
“Just telling you how it is.”
“Am I correct in assuming if you distrusted any of the board members, it would be Jensen?”
“You’re putting words in my mouth that aren’t accurate.” Annoyance flashed over his face.
Ric leaned toward him. “We have a murder to solve along with fraud and the source of a deadly disease. People have died. Did I mention a stolen military-grade quadcopter? We will probe until the truth surfaces.”
Dottia tossed a twenty on the table and stood. “We’re finished here.”
Alex watched his rigid form exit the restaurant. “Loyalty blinds the strongest of men.”
“Russell is his friend, and Jensen—”
“I want to talk to Jensen Phillips now. Call Phillips Security and make sure he stays put. But first I need my phone charger.”
Outside, an explosion rocked the restaurant.
ALEX AND RIC bolted out the front of the restaurant and on to the parking lot. Blue smoke rolled from the rear of a vehicle, indicating the possibility of a tailpipe bomb. The smell of burning rubber met their nostrils. A closer view showed the driver trapped inside a burning Lexus. No one else appeared to be injured.
Ric raced to the scene and attempted to open the door, jerking back on the obviously hot metal.
The threat of another explosion spurred Alex’s adrenaline. “Let me help you.” He ripped off his jacket as he raced to the car to pad the handle. Giving it to Ric, Alex peered inside. Howard Dottia slumped against the steering wheel. The smell of gasoline burst into his senses. “It’s going to blow.”
Ric jerked open the door and felt for a pulse. “He’s alive.”
“Let’s get him out of here.” Alex swung the man’s legs around and picked them up while Ric released the seat belt and reached to grab Dottia under his arms. The injured man’s phone fell from his jacket pocket. Alex kicked it and hurried backward. He’d retrieve it once they were all safe.
A fiery burst of heat and metal propelled the three backward. He held tight to Dottia, and the injured man landed on top of him, face-to-face. Ric flew to the right on the pavement. Ears ringing, Alex lifted Dottia from him, blood pouring from the man’s head and neck. Eyes vacant.
Alex turned to Ric, who had blood dripping down his arm.
“I’m okay.” He struggled to his feet. “Dottia?”
“He’s gone.” Sirens pierced the air against Alex’s ringing ears. He focused on Ric’s blood-soaked arm. “You need that looked at.”
“It’s a surface wound.”
“I’ll remind you of those words when you have a blood transfusion.”
“Bro, the deeper we get into this case, the more bodies.”
Alex waited in the emergency room of Good Samaritan Hospital while a doctor placed fifteen stitches in Ric’s upper arm without numbing meds. Ric said he was allergic to an ingredient in painkillers and numbing agents. After a nurse gave him a tetanus shot, they made their way to the LA office, located a short distance from the hospital.
“Nothing about Dottia appeared vindictive,” Ric said, pale and weak.
“Right. Someone wanted him out of the picture.”
“That person was afraid he’d given us information?”
“Obviously a dead man can’t testify,” Alex said. “At the restaurant, we infuriated him. Where was he going, to the office?”
Ric drew in a sharp breath, no doubt hit by a surge of fire. “He knew the big dog in this mix of crimes.”
“Has to be a member of the board.”
“One or both of the Phillips men. They’re in this together.”
That didn’t sound like his partner, the man who observed before he judged. Pain seemed to be doing the talking. A bomb squad would determine the type of device used and if the explosions were triggered remotely, as well as other means of identifying the person. “We haven’t talked to Jensen. I want to know where every member of Phillips’s board was this morning, staff too. Anyone who had eyes and ears on this investigation.”
Ric clenched his injured arm. “You have Dottia’s cell phone, right?”
“In my pocket.” He grasped the man’s phone and checked the call log. “Last call was to Russell.”
“Was he warning his old friend we were about to arrest him or Jensen?”
“Or was he telling him he knew who’d orchestrated the crimes?” He pressed in the man’s private number and learned he was with the Dottia family near the Bel Air area. Without hesitation, Russell gave Alex the address.
“Jensen never made it to the office this morning,” Russell said. “I intended to call you earlier, but then I received the news about Howard. Jensen’s wife hasn’t seen him since yesterday morning.”
“When did his wife contact you?” Alex said.
“A text while en route here. She wanted to know if I’d heard from him.”
“We’re headed your way.” Alex pressed End and called the LA office, relaying the conversation and asking for Jensen to be picked up. He slipped the phone back into his pocket. “Jensen Phillips is our person of interest.”
“You don’t think the Phillips men are in this together?”
“Russell has nothing to gain. Jensen stands to inherit a conglomerate. Money says it all.”
“Then why aren’t we looking for Jensen instead of talking to Russell?”
“While the LA team is running him down, Russell may know where he’s at or have the information we need to end this.”
On the way to the prestigious area where the Dottia family lived, the LA office forwarded the restaurant’s security cams. Alex pulled the rental car into a convenience store parking lot. They watched footage of a man wearing a loose jacket and a Dodgers baseball cap pulled over his face approach Dottia’s car. He pulled something from his pocket and placed it under the car. He kept his back to the camera.
“There’s our bomber,” Ric said. “Caucasian. Trimmer build than Phillips. Spry too, indicating a younger man.”
“Like Jensen?”
Ric’s silence on that point said it all. “With the timing, the bomber must have followed Dottia here. Russell knows more than what he’s saying, and he’s got to be covering for his nephew. Those two will have an alibi for this morning b
ecause neither would soil his hands.”
Ric spoke through his pain. “I disagree,” Alex said. “Nothing’s indicated Russell was preventing us from being informed of his staff’s actions. If I’m right, he’ll be honest about his conversation with Dottia.” Alex scrolled through the dead man’s previous calls. “He called his wife twice before that.”
Ric’s face tightened, and he grasped his wounded arm.
“Can you take anything over-the-counter for pain?”
“Nope. Ice works. I’ll pack it later. I want to talk to Mrs. Dottia and Russell Phillips.”
ALEX DROVE inside a gated community to where a Spanish colonial with a tiered fountain entry and stone courtyard reminded him of Howard Dottia’s success story. The man had stressed hard work and sacrifices to build Phillips Security into the business it was today. Those around him would reap the benefits. Alex vowed that his killer would not be one of those people.
Parked in the massive stone driveway were a Porsche, an Escalade, a Mercedes, a Lamborghini, and two BMWs. Dottia had lived well only to have someone murder him. Maybe a friend.
The agents walked past mature landscaping and flowering bushes to a massive carved double door entry.
“I’m ready to cuff Russell Phillips,” Ric said low.
Alex studied his wounded partner. “You’re not thinking clearly. Have you considered Russell Phillips could have been set up? Hold off judgment until we question him. Find out what Dottia said.”
Ric moaned. “You could be right. I’m reacting to my arm instead of my brain. I’d think modern medicine would have found a painkiller I could take by now.”
“We’ll finish here and get back to the hotel. By then we should have heard from Houston. Maybe they’ve changed their mind about the return home tomorrow. You know how I feel about that.”
“Running with our tails between our legs.”
“And nothing to show for it but two bodies and few answers.” Alex zeroed in on their fact-finding mission. Two possible witnesses were dead, and someone definitely wanted them off the case.