Best Laid Plans (6 page)

Sean hadn’t thought he’d like San Antonio when Lucy was first assigned here, but the city had quickly grown on him, and he and Lucy could be happy here—if he could help her overcome whatever was truly bothering her so deeply that it disrupted her sleep nearly every night.

His cell phone rang while he was finishing his morning workout in the small gym he’d added downstairs. He put a towel over his neck and grabbed his phone. He recognized the number and his heart sank. He could no longer put off this conversation.

“Rogan,” he answered.

“Sean, it’s Clive Devlin.”

“I was expecting your call.”

“Funny, I was expecting yours.”

“I got your message, but I had to assess a few things.” Sean walked down the hall to his office.

“I understand, especially if your answer is yes.”

He hesitated. “I can’t take the assignment.”

Devlin didn’t say anything for a minute. “If it’s the money, name your price.”

“It’s not the money, it’s the time.” He sat down at his desk and booted up his computer. “I can’t be gone for the next two weeks.”

“I can work around your schedule. I know New York is quite a ways from Texas, but—”

“Dev, I appreciate the offer. Truly, I wish I could say yes, the job would be a challenge and I love a good challenge. But right now, I can’t leave. Call my former partner, Patrick Kincaid. He’ll be able to help you.”

“You’re the best at handling this kind of sensitive situation.”

“I would drop almost anything for you, Dev. But right now—I have to be home.” If Lucy knew that he’d turned down a job because he was worried about her, she would be furious. She’d insist she was fine and try to hide her nightmares from him. He hadn’t told her about the offer, so she wouldn’t know he’d declined.

Devlin said, “I won’t push it, but there’s no one I’d want more than you on this project.”

“Patrick used to be the e-crimes expert at San Diego PD. He and I founded RCK East a couple years ago, and he’s now running the office. He was good before he became my partner, now he’s better. I taught him most of my tricks.”

Devlin laughed. “From you, high praise.”

“I’ll let Patrick know you’ll call.” He sent an email to Patrick with Dev’s information.

“Is there something wrong? All you have to do is ask.”

“I appreciate that, but it’s personal.” He cleared his throat and continued. “Patrick will call me if he needs to. I just forwarded you his contact information. You’re in good hands.”

“I wish they were your hands, but I understand. Take care of yourself, Sean.”

“You too, Dev.”

Sean hung up. He wished his decision didn’t feel so wrong.

He needed to find something to do locally. Money wasn’t the issue—he had a flush savings. If he took a couple big jobs a year he’d be fine. But he needed to challenge himself. Lucy had told him that he’d be bored if he didn’t have a puzzle to work out, and he’d told her he had plenty of things to keep him occupied. But she was right. He was bored. When he’d been a kid, boredom had gotten him into all sorts of trouble. He liked to think that now that he was thirty, he wouldn’t fall into the same bad habits. But he didn’t lie to himself: boredom had gotten him suspended from many schools, expelled from Stanford after he hacked into a professor’s email, and nearly cost him his freedom when he hacked into a bank while at M.I.T. The challenge of solving complex puzzles coupled with the thrill of straddling—and occasionally going over—the legal edge still excited him.

When he first moved to Texas, he’d put some feelers out to local companies, not only in San Antonio and Austin but all the way in Dallas and Houston. He’d had a couple of temp jobs, but most of the businesses wanted to hire him to run their day-to-day security. He didn’t want to work nine-to-five, be responsible for staff, have an in-house office, or wear a suit. It would be fun for a week or two, but once he got the operation up and running, he’d be bored again.

Maybe he needed a new approach. It was an election year, and he was well trained in event security. With his high-security clearance and contacts at the Secret Service as well as the FBI, maybe he could get on with a candidate or venue to run security for debates or speeches or rallies. He really didn’t like politics and had never met a politician he trusted with a dime of his money, let alone the national treasury, but such an assignment wouldn’t bore him because it would be different each time.

And more important, he would be at home with Lucy every night.

CHAPTER FIVE

The head of HWI’s security was a tall, broad-shouldered man by the name of Gregor Smith. Barry had called ahead, and Smith was waiting for them when they arrived. Gregor was fifty, looked and talked like a cop, and was the first private security chief Lucy had ever met who carried a gun on his hip.

Why did an accountancy firm need an armed security chief?

“Let’s go to my office,” he said. He bypassed the security checkpoint, which included a metal detector.

Smith’s office was on the second floor of the six-story building just inside the outer freeway loop. Though spacious, the offices were functional and efficient, neither cheap nor opulent. The atmosphere subtly said,
You can trust us with your money.

“Thank you for seeing us on short notice,” Barry said.

“Harper Worthington was one of the best men I’ve ever known. I’ve been here for ten years, been the head of security for the last six. Anything you need, it’s yours. I already spoke to Harper’s administrative assistant. She’s on her way in to help pull any information or files that you need. But first—I need to ask—is this a homicide investigation?”

“Mr. Worthington died under suspicious circumstances, but there’s nothing to suggest homicide,” Barry said. “We’re awaiting the autopsy report, but even though we’ve expedited this case, lab work could take a few days.”

“What happened? Harper was supposed to be in Dallas last night.”

Barry didn’t answer the question. “The FBI is particularly concerned about any potential security breaches. Mr. Worthington didn’t have his cell phone on him when he died, and though his office key card was still in his wallet, we don’t know if and when he last used it. Since HWI has several sensitive federal contracts, we need to ensure that no information has been leaked.”

“I’ve already started an internal audit, cancelled Harper’s key card, and frozen his access. The last time Harper used his key card in this building was when leaving the parking garage Wednesday afternoon. We require the key card to both enter and exit the garage. We have scanners at all entrances that read the key cards whenever employees walk in and out of the building or into restricted areas.”

“Is your work that sensitive?” Barry asked.

Smith nodded. “We have banking information for all of our clients, confidential tax returns, court documents, audit material. While most of the business runs on computers these days—and we have state-of-the-art computer security—we also have hard copies of all our reports archived in a temperature-controlled, fireproof vault. In addition to potential financial fraud, corporate espionage and insider trading are always a threat. Consider if a business had information about a pending court decision or an audit—they could use that information for illegal personal or professional gain.”

Smith pressed a few keys and said, “Harper arrived at our Dallas office at seven thirty-seven
A.M.
Thursday morning. He left there Friday evening just after four.” He clicked again. “His schedule has him having dinner with a client and his daughter, Jolene, at six on Friday.”

“We’ll need the client’s contact information,” Barry said. “Did you know that Harper Worthington flew into San Antonio last night and planned on returning to Dallas before this morning?”

Smith shook his head. “I would never have believed it if you hadn’t told me. It’s completely out of character. And it’s not on his schedule.”

Barry asked, “May we have a copy of his schedule?”

“Of course—his assistant, Ms. Alexander, will print out whatever you need.”

“Because of Mr. Worthington’s security clearance, and the fact that he was involved with a prostitute, we’re concerned about his travel and—”

Smith interrupted Barry. “Harper was not using a prostitute.”

“We have a witness.”

“Your witness is mistaken,” Smith said without hesitation. “Harper would never hire a prostitute. I want to know who this witness is. If that rumor gets out, Harper’s reputation will be tarnished. His business—hell, I don’t care about his business. I care about what it would do to his daughter. What it would do to his impeccable reputation in the community. It’s simply not true.”

Lucy’s ears perked up. “You seem confident,” she said, speaking up for the first time since introductions.

“Because I am confident. It’s not something I can put my finger on specifically, but I was an MP in the army for twelve years, then a cop for ten years in Corpus Christi. I trust my gut, and my gut tells me Harper is everything he appears to be. Harper was a religious man. Not a wear-it-on-your-sleeve holier-than-thou hypocrite, but quietly religious. He didn’t swear. He rarely drank, and when he did it was usually with a client. He raised his daughter after his wife died of cancer. He didn’t even start dating again until Jolene was in college. In fact, before he met Adeline I don’t think he saw anyone regularly. His entire life was HWI and Jolene.”

“And his wife?”

“He loved Adeline, but when they married, he didn’t change much. He still worked from seven in the morning until six in the evening, four days a week. He would attend her local campaign events, but he hated traveling to D.C. and only did it if there was something important to Adeline, like when she received an award from a humanitarian group last year. He supported her career wholeheartedly—he’d encouraged her to run for office in the first place when his friend Roy Travertine died. But Harper is San Antonio born and bred, and he loved it here. Adeline accepted it. They were sweet together. She’d sometimes surprise him and come by the office in the late afternoon with a treat, usually ice cream from Amy’s. Harper loved ice cream.”

Smith had been all professional and straightforward, but for the first time there was a crack in his demeanor. He averted his eyes for a moment and stared at the computer screen.

Lucy said, “I know this is difficult for you. We are very sorry for your loss.”

Smith nodded. “I need to call the staff. When are you releasing the information?”

“The congresswoman asked that we let her do it,” Barry said. “We advised her to do it today before the press does it first.”

“I’ll call Adeline and work with her. And Jolene—does she know yet?”

“Adeline called her,” Lucy said.

“On the phone? I guess she’s still in Dallas. Does Scott know?”

“Who’s Scott?” Barry asked.

“Jolene’s husband. He’s a surgeon here in town, but if he’s not on call he usually travels with Jolene. I’ll call him.”

“Mr. Worthington’s cell phone is also missing,” Barry said.

Smith frowned. “That’s not good. I changed his password, but I’m more concerned about his emails. I can erase the phone remotely, but they may have already pulled down what they need—” He snapped his fingers. “Was this a robbery? We have GPS on all our phones.”

“That would be helpful,” Barry said.

Smith typed again on his computer. “I sent a note to our tech chief, he’ll take care of any security issues related to the phone and determine its location. It shouldn’t take long.”

“I appreciate your cooperation,” Barry said.

“Then tell me this—why do you think Harper was with a prostitute?”

“I can’t share the details of an active investigation,” Barry said. “Suffice it to say, there is both a reliable witness and physical evidence that Mr. Worthington was with a prostitute last night.”

Smith shook his head. “I understand that you’re doing your job, and I will do mine and ensure that no sensitive information has been compromised. But I want to make something perfectly clear: Harper Worthington was a good man who ran a good business. He would never enlist the services of a prostitute. And I sincerely hope you do everything in your power to protect his reputation. Not just for his company, but for his family. If what you say is true, that Harper flew into San Antonio last night, then you need to find out why. Because it sure as hell wasn’t to have sex with a hooker.”

*   *   *

Debbie Alexander, Harper’s administrative assistant, met Lucy and Barry in the outer office of Worthington’s suite of offices in the corner of the top floor. Like the rest of the business, the offices were spacious and minimalist, but there was a little more personality here—a large old map of Texas framed on one wall, pictures of Harper with staff and friends, business recognition plaques, and certificates of appreciation. HWI had sponsored a Little League baseball team and a girls’ softball team for the past fifteen years and all the team pictures were framed on one wall.

“Let’s go to my office,” she said. Her office was large and functional with multiple workstations and doors on either side, one labeled
Harper Worthington, CEO
. Instead of looking out to the freeway like the security office, she had a view of a man-made lake and a small park. She sat down at her desk and turned on her computer.