A Deeper Fear

by Allison Brennan

  “Monday. She lives locally but wanted a suite so she could meet with clients. She’s been with us every year we’ve held the conference here—at least since I’ve been manager.”

  “You know her personally.”

  “Friendly, not friends. Ms. Dupre is very good to the staff, so we try to accommodate her on what she needs—such as a complimentary safe.”

  “Doesn’t every room have a safe?”

  “She needs a larger one. As you can imagine at a law enforcement conference, there are some items that need to be secured every night. Most vendors either bring their merchandise to their rooms or take equipment off-site, but because Ms. Dupre and Pride Tactical have been with us for so long, I make the larger hotel safe available for her use.”

  “Did she put anything in it last night?”

  “Yes, when the vendor room closed, she put in her demo models. I expected her to retrieve them this morning, but then I saw on the schedule that she was giving a presentation in the main ballroom, so figured she wouldn’t open her booth until after.”

  They exited on the tenth floor, the concierge level. When they reached Ellen’s door, the manager took out his master swipe and opened it. Lucy had him stand back and she entered, cautious, her hand on the butt of her gun.

  The room was empty.

  The bed was made, though it looked like someone had lain on the bedspread, a slight indention on both the cover and the pillow farthest from the door. Lucy looked in the closet—it was the closest door—no one. The bathroom was empty. She looked under the bed. It rested on a solid platform. She then motioned that the manager could enter, and she went into the bathroom to do a better search of Ellen’s belongings, visual only—no searching of drawers or luggage.

  She had no prescription bottles on the counter. Her toothbrush and toothpaste were laid out on top of a washcloth next to the sink. The clothes in the closet were hung perfectly—a dark-gray pantsuit and a black pantsuit—plus two polo shirts, one black and one dark purple, with the Pride Tactical logo on the pocket.

  The suitcase was open on the suitcase stand, and had her underwear and workout clothes in it, all neatly folded. Black sneakers and low-heeled black boots were on the floor of the closet.

  Lucy thought back to what Ellen had been wearing last night—dark jeans, black polo with a logo Lucy hadn’t been able to fully see, and a dark blazer.

  “Agent Kincaid?” the manager said, slightly apprehensive.

  “When was this room last cleaned?’

  He checked his tablet. “Yesterday, ten a.m.”

  She called Jack.

  “Kincaid,” he answered.

  “It’s Lucy. She’s not in her room, didn’t sleep here. She left at five p.m.”

  “She’s not in the tactical van. Marc says it doesn’t look like it’s supposed to, but he’s not a tech guy. He thinks something’s missing, doesn’t know what.”

  “Sean would know,” she said.

  “Call him.”

  “You call him. I need to do something.” She ended the call before he argued with her. She didn’t want to talk to Sean right now. She was angry with him, upset, and worried—and she didn’t even know if he would answer her. She thought it would be worse if she needed to talk to him, about something important like this, and he declined her call.

  She looked at the manager. “Can you please tell me about your security? I’d like to look at the footage from last night.”

  “Of course,” he said and they walked out.

  “Don’t let anyone into Ms. Dupre’s room—not housekeeping, not staff, no one until I clear it,” she said.

  “What happened to her?”

  “I don’t know, but I’ll find out.”

  * * *

  Sean almost sent Jack’s call to voice mail, but he knew if he did he’d have worse to deal with later.

  “Yep.”

  “We need you at the convention center.”

  “Sorry—I know, I was supposed to be there for Ellen’s demo, I overslept.”

  “Ellen’s missing, the tactical van may have been robbed but Marc can’t tell for certain. The drone is gone.”

  “I’m coming.”

  “How long?”

  He winced. It would come out anyway. “Two hours.”

  “Where the fuck are you?”

  “Tahoe.” He ended the call before Jack said anything else.

  He hadn’t overslept—he’d barely slept at all. He’d spent his first hour playing blackjack and parlayed a hundred bucks into two thousand. Then he went to a high-stakes poker table and ended up walking away eight hours later with over twenty thousand.

  Winning was cathartic. He’d walked away when he was too tired to focus. But he didn’t end up in bed until five that morning . . . and now Jack was calling him at eight.

  He jumped in the shower to wake up, then dressed in the same clothes he’d come in wearing. He put a hundred-dollar bill on the pillow for housekeeping, then left.

  Chapter Five

  Detective John Black showed up at the hotel just after nine that morning.

  He was a tall, imposing cop—over six and a half feet was Lucy’s guess—and he clearly knew both Megan and Jack.

  “John, thank you for coming,” Megan said and shook his hand. “This is my sister-in-law Lucy Kincaid, from the San Antonio FBI office. She’s here for the conference.”

  “Kincaid,” John said with a nod. “You said possible missing person.”

  Megan said, “Ellen Dupre, owner of Pride Tactical. She missed a six o’clock meeting this morning and didn’t show for her eight a.m. presentation of a new surveillance drone her company developed. The drone is also missing.”

  “I had the hotel manager let me into her hotel room for a welfare check,” Lucy said. “She didn’t sleep there last night. The last person to see her was her partner at approximately nine thirty last night.”

  “Partner—you mean her ex-husband.”

  Lucy forgot that everyone seemed to know one another.

  “Did you take Marc’s statement?” John continued.

  “Just basic information.”

  Jack said, “Marc and I went to the tactical van this morning. Ellen wasn’t there, and neither was the drone. He thinks that something else is wrong inside the van, but he doesn’t know what’s missing. I called my partner Sean Rogan, who helped Ellen develop the drone software. He’s on his way here now.”

  “Okay. Let me know when he arrives, I want to walk with him through the van. No one goes inside it without me. Let’s talk to Marc, get a firm time line, and I’ll start the process to trace her phone.”

  Jack said, “We can do it faster.”

  “I’m aware that RCK has shortcuts, but we don’t know what’s going on here, Jack, so we use the system.”

  Megan said, “Lucy, you go with John—Jack and I have known Marc and Ellen for years, it’s better to have an impartial cop work this.”

  Lucy didn’t quite know what to make of that. Did they think there was a chance Marc was guilty of . . . something?

  “Agreed,” John said, and motioned for Lucy to lead the way to where Marc was pacing in the vendor room. A man was talking to Marc, but stopped and looked at them when she and John entered.

  “Where’s Jack and Megan?” Marc said.

  John showed his badge. “Detective John Black, Sac PD. You’ve met FBI agent Lucy Kincaid.” He looked at the man standing with Marc.

  “Steven Decker,” he said. “I’m with NorCal Tactical Gear, friends of Marc and Ellen.”

  John made a note.

  “We need to look for Ellen!” Marc said. “This isn’t like her. Tell them, Steven.”

  “Ellen is never late,” Steven agreed.

  “That’s why I’m here,” John said. He was calm and had a commanding presence.

  “I told Jack and Megan everything,” Marc said. “I shouldn’t have to go over this again, we’re wasting time.”

  “I’m a senior detective with Sacramento PD
, and we’re in the city of Sacramento. You want things to happen fast, talk to me. You want to delay, keep arguing.”

  Marc looked frantic, but he focused on John.

  John said, “You last saw Ms. Dupre at nine thirty last night. Where?”

  “In the tactical van. We were talking about the presentation today, and she stayed because she wanted to test the night-vision camera. We planned to meet at six this morning—she didn’t show.”

  “You came here and she wasn’t in her room?”

  “No—breakfast near here. She was late—she’s never late. I waited fifteen minutes, tried calling her, she didn’t answer, so I went to her house in South Land Park. She wasn’t there. I called her at least half a dozen times, called the office—we have a warehouse and office in West Sac. No answer. I came here, because she had a room here—but she didn’t answer when I knocked. She didn’t show up at her presentation. Something happened to her!”

  “Did you go inside her house?”

  He hesitated. “Yes, why?”

  “Because I need to know whether to send an officer for a welfare check.”

  “I have a key.”

  Marc sounded defensive, and there wasn’t a reason for that.

  Lucy said, “Marc, Detective Black wants to help, but he needs all the information you have. It helps to know exact times, conversations, anything Ellen may have said that had you concerned. For example, did she say anything about being worried about security for the drone?”

  Marc rubbed his eyes, took a deep breath, and said, “No. I was late last night. Steven and I were in the bar talking and I lost track of time.”

  John looked at Steven for confirmation. He nodded, and John made a note. “Then you went to the van,” he prompted Marc.

  “Yes, I got there about nine ten. I was supposed to be there at nine, and Ellen was always of the mindset, If you’re not early, you’re late. I’m always late . . .” His voice trailed off.

  “Anyway,” he continued, “she was irritated, we were going to run the tests together. But we talked, and then she said she wanted to check a couple other things, and we planned the breakfast.”

  “What time did you leave the van?” John asked.

  “About nine forty, take or leave five minutes. I got home at ten fifteen, and I live in Arden Park.”

  “What did you talk about in those thirty minutes?” John asked. “All business?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Yes.”

  Why was Marc acting like he was hiding something?

  “Some business. Um . . . about . . . I, um, told her I wanted us to talk about getting back together.”

  “Back together?” John asked.

  “We were married. Divorced five years ago, but . . . it’s complicated.”

  “You still own Pride Tactical?” John said.

  “We’re partners. How does this help find Ellen?”

  “What was her mindset when you talked to her last night? When you told her you wanted to get back together?”

  “Who cares?”

  “Was she upset?” Lucy prompted. “Did this come out of left field or was it something you’d been discussing for a while?”

  “She wasn’t upset,” Marc said, emphatic. “It was her idea that we go to breakfast this morning to talk about it. Just because we were divorced didn’t mean we weren’t still friends.”

  “I wasn’t suggesting—”

  “Yes, you were!”

  Lucy said calmly, “Jack told me you were all friends, my point is that maybe Ellen needed time to process the information if it was unexpected.”

  “Not to the point that she would miss her presentation! Something’s wrong. I know it.”

  “Was she worried about anything else?” John asked. “Maybe nervous about the presentation? Could she have uncovered a glitch and felt embarrassed or wanted to test it elsewhere?”

  “No, it functioned as intended. The only thing she was doing last night was recording a demo with the night-vision camera. The tech is state-of-the-art—I mean, nothing that hasn’t been done before, but different. I—I’m not the technical person. But I knew from talking to our clients that they were eager for something like this, light, quiet, extremely responsive—particularly when serving warrants. Our drone would save lives, both law enforcement and civilians.”

  Lucy asked, “Was she having problems with anyone? Maybe not work-related, but personally?”

  “Not that she told me. And we talk every day.”

  “Is there someone else she might confide in?”

  “Me!” Marc exclaimed. “Her best friend,” he added quietly. “Grace Hotchkiss. She’s a pediatric surgeon at Mercy. If anything was wrong, and Ellen didn’t want to tell me, she’d talk to Grace.”

  “Do you have her contact information?”

  “I’ll call her.”

  “I need her number.”

  Marc clearly didn’t like the direction of the conversation, but he pulled out his phone and read off Grace’s phone number.

  “We’ll contact hospitals,” John said.

  “I called the hospitals, she’s not there!”

  “We’ll check again,” John said. “In the meantime, I’m going to ask Megan to take you to Ellen’s house. You said you have a key?”

  “Yes—but I told you, she’s not there.”

  “Megan can look for any clues as to where she might have gone.”

  “Oh. I—okay.”

  John sent Megan a text message, asked a couple more questions, then Megan came in and retrieved Marc, took him out of the room.

  John turned his attention to Steven Decker. “You said you were friends with both Marc and Ellen.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you had drinks with Marc last night before he saw her.”

  “Yes. For about an hour. Here at the hotel.”

  “What did you talk about?”

  “Business, mostly.”

  “You own a competing business.”

  “Not really. NorCal handles mass distribution of basic PPEs and required equipment. Vests, utility belts, the new Taser holsters that Sac PD bought last year. Pride Tactical is high-end, more expensive, sells in smaller qualities, usually for SWAT teams and private security details, some elite military units.”

  Steven looked from John to Lucy. “Look, Marc didn’t say this, but he should have. I want to buy Pride. I talked to Ellen about it a while back, she flat out said no. But Marc and I have been talking quite a bit, and I told him I would keep their staff and Ellen could work as much as she wants. He was excited about the proposal—I knew he wanted to get back together with her, and he thinks she works too hard. Pride is everything to her—she has done an amazing job building the company. But if Ellen doesn’t want to sell, Marc won’t. Just to get it out there.”

  He had just handed them motive for murder—both Steven and Marc had reason to kill Ellen.

  If she was dead.

  By the slight shift in John’s posture, he had thought the exact same thing.

  John asked, “When was the last time you saw Ellen Dupre?”

  “Yesterday, briefly, at the mixer. Then I had drinks with Steven—we met up at eight. Later, I went out with clients to the Esquire for a late dinner. Got back here about eleven fifteen or so.”

  John took down his contact information and thanked him.

  John and Lucy left the vendor room. “What do you think?” John asked her.

  “We need to find Ellen.”

  “And?”

  “And he didn’t have to tell us all that. It’s almost as if he wanted to cast suspicion on Marc. Or—he thought because Marc didn’t say anything, it would cast suspicion on him if it came out later.”

  John glanced at his phone. “One sec.” He answered. “Marcie, I need a warrant to locate a cell phone. Missing person . . . No, she doesn’t meet the criteria, but there are other circumstances . . . Yeah, I’ll write it all up. I’m sending you her name, number, and provider. Thanks.” He
typed into his phone for a minute, then turned to Lucy. “It won’t take long to get the warrant, it’s limited. If her phone is on, we’ll have a location shortly.”

  “You must have an in with the D.A.’s office to get a warrant that fast and over the phone.”

  “I have a good relationship with the office.”

  “Do you know Megan from work?”

  “We’ve had a couple of cases that overlapped. She’s my favorite fed.” He gave her a half smile. “So where’s this tech guy Jack mentioned? Rogan? I assume the Rogan in Rogan-Caruso-Kincaid.”

  “One of them. Sean Rogan, my husband. He’ll be here soon.” She had no idea why he wasn’t. He didn’t tell her where he was, and Jack didn’t tell her what he’d said, just that he was on his way. “I can call, get an ETA?”

  “He’ll be here when he’s here, let’s talk to the security office. I’m going to want to see footage from last night, when everyone left, if Ellen came back in after she left the van. This could be a robbery or corporate espionage or Ellen ran away when she was bowled over by her ex declaring he still had feelings for her.”

  She’d thought the same thing, but Ellen didn’t seem like the type of person to run from a commitment, like the drone presentation. Did she have plans last night, after Marc left?

  John asked to speak to the security chief, then he got a call. He listened, thanked the caller, then turned to Lucy. “Ellen’s cell phone is still on, and it pinged in the alley between 14th and 15th, off J Street. Not far from here.” He waited until the chief arrived, told him what recordings he wanted to look at, and said they’d return shortly to view them.

  Lucy’s stomach fell. She had a really bad feeling about this.

  They left the hotel, crossed the street toward the convention center, then turned the corner. The Pride Tactical van was parked with a SPECIAL EVENTS plaque hanging from the mirror.

  “SPD never should have given her a pass for three days,” John said.

  Lucy glanced at him.

  He continued. “It’s highly irregular, but the chief likes the gear and the Dupres always let SPD beta-test, then give us a discount.”

  “You know her, too?”

  “Not as well as Jack, because Pride mostly caters to private security and military contractors, and I think your brother was in the army with her at one point. But I’ve met her once or twice.”