Chosen for Power (Women of Power, #1) (16 page)

“That’s right. Oh, and you can kiss my ass.” Bree shot Agent Wallace a cold grin as he simply stood up and walked out the door shaking his head.

Mallory smiled sweetly at the agent as he took a seat across from her at the table. Out of habit, she ran her finger over her great-grandmother’s pearls and waited to destroy the son of a bitch who dared hold her best friend for a crime she didn’t commit. But through her years in security, she found the best way to learn things from men was to act like a simpering mess. She didn’t understand it, but it worked. It also scared the dickens out of them when she turned serious.

“Miss Westin, you’re Miss Simpson’s best friend and head of security,” Agent Wallace started again. He’d been talking for thirty minutes, laying out different allegations. “How did you not see this coming or did you help her purchase this weapon?”

Mallory looked at Agent Wallace and smiled again. She even threw in a bat of her eyelashes. “First off, Agent Wallace,” Mallory’s soft Southern voice floated melodically through the air, “Elle would never shoot the President. Secondly, if I were helping her, I wouldn’t have her buying a twenty-two rifle. For crying out loud, that’s such a weak gun you’d be better off using a paintball gun.”

“So you know your guns?”

“You do know I run a security firm, right? I would hope the Secret Service would be able to figure that out.” Mallory batted her lashes again and smiled.

“We just figured you ‘ran’ a company your daddy bought you like so many other bored socialites.”

Mallory tossed her head back and laughed. “Oh, Agent Wallace. I’m so disappointed in you. Your research on me is just as shoddy as on the picture. A picture that looks surprisingly familiar to video captured by First Peachtree of a woman claiming to be Elle trying to steal millions of dollars.”

“Or of Elle setting up her escape cash for after she shot the President.”

“Elle has bank accounts all over the world. She has way more than two million dollars at hand. If she really wanted to escape, she could pull together a lot more money than that. Now, let me tell you what’s going on.”

“You think you know?”

“I think I have a better grasp on it than you.”

“Do tell.”

“Someone is out to destroy Elle and Simpson Global. What better way than the press release, the attempted theft, and when none of that worked, having the Secret Service arrest her. Funny. Normally the Secret Service doesn’t allow pictures to be taken at the time of arrest.”

“What are you talking about?”

“As you know, my daddy, the senator, knows a picture can take you down. So what better way than to have the Secret Service arrest your competition? All you need is the picture. It doesn’t even matter if you’re innocent. The damage is already done. A friend at the six o’clock morning news just sent this to me. They’re running it in a segment set to start in five minutes.”

Mallory slid her phone across the table to show Agent Wallace his picture and other agents escorting Elle from her building in the middle of the night. Gone was the southern belle, gone was the ditzy socialite, and in its place was a tight and strong voice with a demeanor to match. “You might want to have them pull that, since it’s identifying agents and all.”

Agent Wallace leapt from the table and hurried from the room.

Shirley’s head nodded and her chin fell to her chest. She’d been sitting too long and decided to just rest her eyes. Images of hunky half-dressed Secret Service agents filled her mind. They were ripping off their shirts as they danced around her. One reached out and caressed her arm. She may be old, but there was still fire in the furnace. Oh yeah, he could touch her all he wanted!

The agent shimmied and then reached out and placed his fingers to her neck. “Oh, thank God. She’s alive.”

That wasn’t a sexy thing to say. Shirley tried to rewind the dream and have him touch her someplace else when she was shaken awake. Her eyes popped open and one of the agents from her dream appeared before her.

“Damn,” Shirley sighed.

“Sorry, what was that, ma’am?”

“I said, 'Damn.' I was hoping you’d be naked.”  The agent’s face went blank and he stood staring at her for a moment. “Well, are you going to start talking or should I get back to dreaming about you naked and dancing for me?”

The agent straightened up. “Excuse me for a second,” he mumbled before heading back out the door.

“Hmph. Woke me up for nothing,” Shirley complained to herself.

A minute later, the door opened again and the agent walked purposefully in the room and took a seat across from her at the table.

“So, sonny, have you decided if you’re talking or dancing yet?” Shirley asked him as she looked him over. He’d do. Not as handsome as her late husband, God rest his soul. But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t enjoy seeing him rip his shirt off and shake his gun about. It’d been a real long time since she’d seen one of those, well, except on the internet.

“Talking. We’re talking. I’m Agent Wallace. I just have a couple quick questions. What would Elle do if someone made her mad?”

“Mad? How so? I mean she deals with pig-headed old coots every day. They make her mad, but she usually just keeps her head down and does her job better than them and shoves it politely down their country club throats. Now, if she really gets mad, she turns into her mother.”

“I don’t know what that means. But I have met her mother.”

“Then you know. She gets that look and tightens her lips a little and then proceeds to lecture them like they are dumber than dirt.”

“Ah, got it.” Wallace laughed as she saw the blush stain his cheeks. “Has she ever been violent? I know she’s taking self-defense lessons.”

“Only because that shitbag, excuse my French, of an ex-boyfriend is back and the last time she saw him, he grabbed her. She didn’t like feeling helpless. But, she doesn’t own a gun and wouldn’t even know how to shoot it if she had one in front of her. She’s always used her words for her defense.”

“I’ve heard about the bank and the theory that someone is impersonating her.” He slid a picture across the table. “What do you think?”

Shirley looked at the picture. Something wasn’t right. It looked like Elle, but it didn’t at the same time. “I don’t think that’s her. I can’t tell you why; it’s just a feeling. But something’s not right with it.”

“Anyone new in her life or anything stand out to you from the past couple of months?”

“Well, she met Drake. She had to fire that hussy Hailey Duveaux for playing hide the salami with half of her clients. Besides that, it was nothing out of the ordinary until that press release came out. But my money is on Hailey. She was madder than a wet cat when she was fired.”

“Thank you for your help. I’ll be back in a while if I have any more questions.”

“I have a question, Agent Wallace.”

“Yes?”

“Are you married?” Shirley grinned to herself as the young agent shook his head and he hurried from the room. Poor boy, he’d be eaten alive by the women she grew up with.

Allegra Simpson sat quietly in the interview room. The blinds were open on the interior windows so she watched the agents as they worked at their desks. It wasn’t like she could do anything else. It was almost seven in the morning and she had been sitting for hours waiting for Agent Wallace to get to her.

A nice agent who had brought her some coffee told her that Elle was under investigation for threatening to kill the President. It was stupidest thing she’d ever heard and was sure Elle would be waltzing out in no time. However, as she sat there for the past three hours, she hadn’t seen Elle once and that worried her.

Finally a young man stopped outside the door and looked at a file. He looked up and out into the room. Allegra followed his gaze and saw Hailey strutting into the office in a skin-tight dress and five-inch heels. Hailey was flipping her hair and Allegra could see her fawning over the agents from across the room . . . and see them falling for it.

Allegra shot from her chair and ripped open the door. The agent reading the file nearly fell through the now-opened door, but caught himself before knocking her over.

“Where do you think you’re going, Miss Simpson?”

“To have a word with the woman behind this.”

The agent kept an impassive face but simply raised a brown brow out of amusement. “You think we’re just going to let you see your sister?”

“Who said anything about my sister? No, I’m going to see that floozy over there making a puddle out of your agents. Real professional of them by the way.”

“You think Miss Duveaux is behind this?”

“You bet I do. Look at them, pathetic. It’s like the sight of breasts flips a switch in their heads and they revert to cavemen.”

Men surrounded Hailey as she crossed her arms, pushing her breasts up for the agents’ viewing pleasure.

“They’re interviewing her.”

Now it was Allegra’s turn to raise an eyebrow in mock amusement. “Really? It takes four agents to interview her while I’ve been waiting three hours for one agent? That’s it, I’m calling my lawyer.”

“Come in, have a seat first.” Agent Wallace ushered her to a chair and sat down opposite her. “I promise you, they are interviewing her. They’re allowing her to feel as if she’s in control.”

“Is that what you’re doing? Trying to get me to feel a bond with you so I talk more openly?”

“Yes, but you’re also the last person I have to interview and quite frankly, I have a feeling you aren’t going to tell me anything I haven’t already learned.” Agent Wallace ran a hand over his face and sat back in his chair. “You’re the fashion one, right?”

“Yes.”

“And you know your sister would never do anything like this, right?”

“Right.”

“Will it matter if I show you the picture of your sister buying the gun she threatened to shoot the President with?” Agent Wallace slid a picture across the table and Allegra looked down at it. She let out a long breath she didn’t even realize she’d been holding.

“Scary to see this side of your sister, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not that. This isn’t my sister and I can prove it.”

Agent Wallace sat up and placed his arms on the table. “How?”

“See these shoes? They’re super cute, right?”

Agent Wallace looked at the picture. “They’re black, pointy, and have a strappy thing around her ankle, so what?”

“They’re this season’s
it
shoe. They’re over eight hundred bucks a pair. Why is this relevant? My sister wears heels but hates them with a passion. She calls them Satan’s stilettos.”

“I still don’t get it.”

“She kicks her shoes off every second she can. She would never, I mean,
never
own a pair of heels with straps around the ankles.”

“Seriously? This is your proof?”

“Seriously. The ankle strap prevents her from kicking off the shoes. Check her closet, you won’t find those shoes, and you won’t find a single pair of heels with ankle straps.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

Agent Rodrick and Agent Murphy glared at Elle. They’d been firing off questions so fast that her head was spinning. She was beginning to get names, dates, and details confused. They’d been going so long that everything was becoming jumbled in her mind.

“You were mad at the regulations requiring transparency. You were mad that the President was going to cost you millions and you don’t even remember what you were doing when this picture was taken?”

“Stop! Just stop,” Elle cried. She tried to control her breathing as the agents looked on smugly. “I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to get me confused so I’ll admit to this. Have you found Hailey Duveaux? I think she was the one who tried to ruin me in the press for firing her.”

“Or maybe you’re trying to destroy her for bad mouthing Simpson Global—just like you did to Chord McAlister.”

The knock on the two-way mirror stopped Elle from having to respond, thank goodness. A headache of epic proportions was trying to crack her skull open, and the last thing she wanted to do was go into the humiliation of explaining about Chord yet again.

The agents stared her down for a minute and then she was finally left alone in the uncomfortable room. She crossed her arms on the table and placed her head on them. Elle had to be strong. She had to believe the truth would come out. If it was true that the Secret Service was talking to her family, friends, and co-workers, then they had to know by now that she wouldn’t do this. What must everyone be saying? What was this doing to Simpson Global? Maybe it wasn’t public knowledge yet. Maybe it would never be public and her company would be safe.

Elle tried to close her eyes and sleep while she waited, but adrenaline was still coursing through her body. Instead of sleeping, she kept her head on her arms and told herself over and over again that everything would be all right. For hours, she chanted her mantra over and over until the door finally opened.

Agent Murphy opened the door and stuck his head in. “Miss Simpson, come with me.”

Elle rose and followed him out of the interview room and down the hall. She passed other interview rooms and wondered if Drake was in one of them. Before she made it to the office area, Agent Murphy opened another door and gestured for Elle to go in.

The room was a conference room, much like one at Simpson Global. There were five other agents, boards with papers posted on them, the table covered with her things, and a whole wall of dry erase board with her information and all her acquaintances on it. Arrows connected them along with references to pieces of evidence and photos that were attached by magnets.

“The Secret Service receives over nine thousand threats a year against the President, Miss Simpson. Some are easily filtered out. Others we have to investigate, especially when the President will soon be visiting.”

“And you really think I would just send you a letter telling you when, where, and how I was going to kill her?” Elle said with disbelief.

“You wouldn’t believe how stupid some people are. They call us and tell us all the details of their plans and why they’re going to do it. Of course, there are also those who don’t brag and we only find out because family turns them in.  Then there are times they’re overheard at a restaurant, or we hear from undercover agents or police. The point is, we have to figure out which of the nine thousand threats are actual threats that need to be stopped. This is Agent Wallace.” Agent Murphy nodded to the young man who came to stand in front of Elle. “He’s going to explain why your letter was deemed credible.”

“Hi, Miss Simpson. If you don’t mind, let me start at the beginning of our process so you can understand how we’ve arrived at our conclusion. First, this email was sent to the general White House contact email.  A White House employee received it and sent it to us. An agent in D.C. ran a quick background on you and up popped the new gun permit application. Then they ran the IP address on the email and confirmed that it belonged to you. A full background was compiled and then sent to our local office here in Atlanta. We visited the gun shop and got surveillance of you buying the weapon. That was more than enough to bring you in.”

“But I didn’t do it. I didn’t send that email,” Elle practically shouted for the umpteenth time. She even threw in a frustrated foot stomp only to be embarrassed as her bunny ears swayed with anger. It was hard to be intimidating in bunny slippers.

“We believe you,” Agent Murphy cut in. “But it took a while to look at all the evidence, compile the statements, and so on.”

“Oh, thank goodness. So, have you found out who it is?” Elle was so relieved she felt as if she would collapse. Exhaustion hit her hard and fast as she watched the men look between them.

“We were hoping you could help us with that.” Agent Wallace held out a chair and Elle took a seat.

“How? I told you everything I know.”

“I need you to think about all the people you come into contact with. Is there anyone jealous of you on a personal or professional level?”

“Not that I know of. I mean, I’m sure some of the other competing businesses wouldn’t cry if Simpson Global collapsed, specifically Titan Industries. But enough to do all this? They want to take my company over, not destroy it.” As soon as she said Titan’s name, an unknown agent started typing away on a laptop.

“What about your cousin?” Agent Wallace suggested.

“Mary? No. I mean, well, she’s Mary. She’s always been a bit of a whiner. And she sighs, a lot. And complains about, well, everything. But, she’s family. She wouldn’t do this. What would be the point?”

“She was pretty adamant that you underestimate her. Plus, she was very bitter that you don’t include her in more business talks as you do with your sisters.  I should also point out that from a distance, she looks a heck of a lot like you. Same size, body shape, hair color . . .”

Elle shook her head. “No way. Mary would never do that. Besides, she’s not tech savvy enough to pull off a good fake I.D. and hack into my email to send these notes.”

Agent Wallace nodded in agreement. “You’re right, she’s not. Let me ask you this. Is there anyone new in your life savvy enough with technology to pull this off? Someone she could be working with?”

“The only person I know besides my I.T. department smart enough to pull it off is Drake. Wait, you think she’s working with Drake?”

“We do. Are you aware he just completed a project for the government that works to trace all IP addresses, even those being masked? And in addition to that work, he found a way to make any IP address impossible to trace? He says he closed the loop, but I’m sure he kept a back door open.”

“I don’t understand,” Elle said slowly as her mind tried to process what Agent Wallace was telling her.

“Criminals use IP generators to hide the originating IP address—your digital identification so to say. Using an IP generator, I can sit here and use a stolen credit card, launder money, and send a threatening email to the President. When it’s traced, it will appear to come from Belize or Somalia—get the picture?”

“And Drake found a way to get through the fake address and instead show that it’s you here in Atlanta?” Elle asked.

“That’s right. During the development of this software, he also figured out a way to be able to hide any IP address. So, it’s not hard to believe he could have either hacked your computer when you were out of the office or simply found a better way to make us believe it was your IP address being used. Was he ever alone with your computer at the office?”

Elle thought back over the past couple of months. There had been numerous times she’d left him in the office with her things. Or when she brought home her laptop and then took a shower or went to work out. Still, it didn’t feel right. “There were plenty of times, but it’s too far-fetched. First, I trust him and even though Mary may get on my nerves, she’s family and she wouldn’t do this. I can’t see them working together. And I don’t understand for what purpose.”

“You’re in charge of a multibillion-dollar company and you wonder what the motive is for a cousin stuck in the shadows and dependent on you for a job? Mr. Charles could have easily exploited your cousin into helping him with the promise of letting her have a piece of the pie after he takes it over. How is it any different from what Chord McAlister did to you?”

Pain struck Elle’s head and her stomach tightened as she pictured Drake using her in order to gain control of her company. Sure, she could imagine it. After all, Drake had sat behind her desk and run the company just a day ago. And Agent Wallace was right—she did push Cousin Mary off a lot.

The trouble was, no matter what story the Secret Service told her, no matter what kind of nightmare visions she was picturing, Elle’s heart knew the truth. “No. Family is family and Mary wouldn’t do it. It doesn’t matter if she’s bitter or if I didn’t treat her as well as I should. She wouldn’t do it. And Drake isn’t anything like Chord. In my heart, I know it’s the truth.”

“Isn’t that a bit naive of you? You’re a smart woman. Use your head,” Agent Murphy scolded.

“I know it’s naive. I know what you must think of me, but I know it’s not them. Have you looked into Hailey yet?”

Agent Wallace shook his head. “I wish it were otherwise, but we think it’s them. We talked with Hailey and it’s not her. She has an air-tight alibi for the time the gun was purchased.”

“If her alibi is a man, she could have gotten him to lie for her.” No, it had to be Hailey. If it wasn’t Hailey, then she would actually have to consider that it was someone close to her.

“Hailey has a new job at a high-class escort service. She was at a corporate function with the boss. His wife was out of town and she went as his
niece
. There’s video surveillance and pictures in the society pages along with two hundred witnesses.” Agent Wallace sat down next to her and took her hand in his. “You need to come to terms with the fact someone close to you is trying to destroy your career and is not above sending you to jail to do so.”

“But . . . but, Mary surely has an alibi. It can’t be her. I know it can’t be.”

“She doesn’t. We checked your security logs at work and while it shows you were at the office, Mary was not. She doesn’t scan back in until thirty minutes after the purchase of the gun. We’ve also worked this morning with Miss Westin and First Peachtree. Mary was similarly out of the office when this woman made an appearance at First Peachtree. You may not want to believe it, but it’s worth us looking into further.”

“She’s family. I know that sounds strange since families have a long history of acting against each other, but not mine. You can look into her. But it’s not her and it’s not Drake. What’s next? What do I need to do?”

“Your case is being changed from a threat against the President to a case of identity theft. Someone is out there trying to be you. I’d have Miss Westin put added security on you at all times. With your permission, we’d like access to every account you have. Here are our cards. We’ll be in contact, but if you think of something, anything, you call us.”

Elle took the cards and went to put it in her pocket only to realize she was still in her robe. “Sure. I’ll get you all the information on my accounts today.”

Agent Murphy stood and looked down at her. “We’d also appreciate your complete confidentiality on this. I know your friends will want to know what happened, but you are not to mention the roles we think your cousin and boyfriend played. You may break up with him if you wish, or continue your relationship. Either way, be careful. Most identity thieves are someone close to you: boyfriends, roommates, co-workers, or neighbors. And Mr. Charles fits a couple of those categories.”

“I may disagree with you, but I won’t say anything.”

Agent Wallace looked nervously at her and Elle wondered what more there could be. Whatever it was, she had a feeling it wasn’t good.

“There’s one more thing. Someone knew you were going to be arrested and snapped a picture of you coming out of the building this morning. It was about to run on one of the news stations. Luckily we got it pulled before it aired and told the news station that you were assisting us on an investigation. We’ve answered all inquiries and directed your secretary to do the same. So far there have only been a couple calls from the other stations that heard a rumor of your arrest. They seem to be leaving it alone after talking to us. We wanted to trace the photo, but it was a print copy dropped off at the station. We’re trying to find out how it got there, but so far we haven’t been able to get any leads.”

Elle closed her eyes and felt like finding a hole to climb into. “They got exactly what they wanted then. With that picture—and it’s out there now—I’ll be ruined. Simpson Global will take a huge hit in the stock market and the deals we have lined up . . .”

“The Secret Service is standing by you, Miss Simpson. That picture should never have been taken and we will make sure your name is cleared if it pops up anywhere else. If there’s any trouble, call us and our office will take care of it. You’re free to go. Agent Wallace can take you home, but I believe your family is still here and will probably want to do the honors.”

Elle stood up slowly, keeping her hand clasped tight around the lapels of her robe. “Agent Wallace, do you think I’m in danger? I mean, this woman is trying to ruin me. Do you think she’ll be upset when I walk out of here?”