Defending Justice: A Justice Team Novel

by Misty Evans

  Unbelievable. “Come on, Lockhart. You’re a smart guy. With all this evidence you still think I murdered Annabelle?”

  Lockhart turned on his heel and started back to his parked car down the block. “Agent Sinclair?” he yelled over his shoulder as he walked away.

  “Yeah?” Taylor called.

  “Get the hell back to work already!”

  She gave Beck a half-smile. “Told you he was reconsidering your guilt.”

  “He sure has a funny way of showing it,” Beck said.

  “Beck?”

  He turned to find Jackie in the doorway, papers in hand. He knew the look on her face. “What is it?”

  “There’s something here you need to see.”

  “I’m off.” Taylor waved and hopped down the steps, heading for her vehicle. “I heard nothing, I saw nothing, I know nothing.”

  Beck followed Jackie inside. “What’s up?”

  “The 10-K numbers for DTC are totally screwy compared to the tax returns. I’m not an accountant, but Dikko’s either falsifying the SEC forms or the tax returns. Which totally jives with what Natalie told us about Annabelle being uncomfortable with what she found during DTC’s audit.”

  “Maybe we should pay a visit to the DTC offices. Ask Rachael some questions and see if she’ll slip up.”

  “Exactly what I was thinking. It’ll at least take my mind off Natalie.”

  He had other ways to distract her, but she needed to work. Needed to follow the yellow brick road until she felt stable again on her home turf once more. Interviewing DTC employees, scoping out the place, anything to keep her mind off the shooting, would do the job.

  “Hey,” he said when they got back in her office. He pulled her into his arms and was relieved when she melted into him instead of pulling away. Lockhart’s warning rang in his head. “I need to be the voice of reason here. There’s somebody out there taking shots at you. Maybe it would be best for you to stay here. Or go back to my place. I can grab Chessie and go to DTC.”

  Now she did draw back. “Fat chance, buster.”

  Stomping over to her desk, she reached into the top drawer and took out her gun. “Let’s do this.”

  * * *

  Jackie and Chessie once again left Beck in the car. The poor guy wasn’t happy with her, but putting him in front of Rachael might spook the already nervous woman. Well, Jackie supposed she’d have to make it up to him later.

  Privately.

  Heh, heh, heh.

  Feeling guilty over leaving the hunkster behind, they’d wired Jackie so he could listen in. This attempt at eavesdropping came with an added bonus. The listening device tucked in her ear allowed Beck to ask questions or make inquiries. Even if he couldn’t be in the room, they’d use his experience and instincts to trip Rachael up.

  Either the woman knew her husband was defrauding the government or she was blind as a friggin’ bat. Right now, Jackie wasn’t sure which, but she intended to find out.

  Beck’s voice erupted in her ear. “Can you hear me?”

  Lordy, that was loud. Jackie paused five feet from DTC’s entrance and rifled through her purse. “Yes.” She kept her head down to avoid any busybodies from inside seeing her lips moving. “Can you hear me?”

  “Yeah, all good. Be careful.”

  “We will.”

  After all the time apart – and the vitriol between them during her prosecutor days – they’d somehow fallen back into the easy rapport they’d shared on their first night together. Why did it have to take the brutal murder of a woman to bring them both to their senses?

  Who knew? Certainly not Jackie. And she couldn’t spend too much time dwelling on it. There’d be time for that later. Once she got Beck cleared of murder, maybe they could give a shot at this couple thing. Spending time together. Learning each other’s habits. And whether they could tolerate them enough to deal with it for a lifetime.

  If that’s what he wanted. For all she knew, this could be some sort of twisted attorney-client worship going on. She’d seen it before.

  But...nah. Not Beck. A career in law enforcement clued him in to the risks associated with what they were doing. How it might affect his chances of beating a murder charge.

  Jackie took the last step toward the DTC offices and peered up at the one-story, squat brick building. Compared to the Travathian’s home, this was downright generic.

  What am I doing?

  Oh, she knew. The levelheaded, career girl in her had taken a nasty tumble into the land of the stupid. Insanely stupid. Actually, no. She couldn’t even claim stupidity. She’d known all along getting involved with Beck, her client and the father of her lost baby, was a mistake that might have devastating consequences.

  Somehow, she’d done it anyway.

  Jackie, Jackie, Jackie.

  Chessie stepped ahead and set his hand on the door. “You ready for this?”

  Did she have a choice? They needed to find a killer and save Beck’s rear. His extremely fine rear that Jackie wanted her hands on every day. And evening.

  “Ready,” she said.

  Her investigator held the door open for her and she stepped inside only to find an empty desk in the reception area. One red light flashed from the phone, but other than that, zero activity. No stacks of paper on the desk, no blotter, no nameplate.

  She scanned the small room where four cheap chairs lined the wall across from the reception desk.

  Chessie rolled his bottom lip out. “Guess they don’t get a lot of foot traffic.”

  “Guess not.”

  He moved to the archway leading to what looked like a hallway. “Hello?”

  A few seconds later, a male voice responded with an “Oh, hey. Sorry. We weren’t expecting anyone. Can I help you?”

  Chessie moved back and the man belonging to the voice appeared in the doorway. He wore a pair of black dress pants with a pressed white shirt over shoulders that might double as the side of a building. A fact he was obviously aware of given his erect posture and a focused gaze Jackie had often seen on S.W.A.T. guys. The I-will-kick-your-ass confidence was hard to miss.

  He met Jackie’s appraising eye and his full lips quirked.

  Relax, stud, I’ve got my own hunk.

  Chessie held his hand out. “I’m Chesley Morton from DelRay and Associates. This is Jackie DelRay.”

  After shaking Chessie’s hand, the hottie’s gaze came back to Jackie. “DelRay. You’re the one defending the FBI agent.”

  “I am,” she extended her hand. “And you are?”

  “Roane Hodges.”

  Jackie repeated the name to herself, hoping Beck was already doing an Internet search on his phone. Roane shook her hand, releasing it quickly and without any suggestive squeezing that told her just what a manly-man he was.

  “Nice to meet you,” Jackie said. “Are you an employee?”

  “Consultant,” he said. “I help with the government contracts.”

  Interesting. Exactly what he consulted on, she’d have to find out. She studied the slope of his shoulders, his thick forearms. Muscular guy.

  Like the one who’d broken into her house.

  Could this be him? Her mind ticked back a few nights. To the man throwing her against the wall. The wiry muscle.

  Different.

  The intruder was leaner, not as jacked. And he was shorter than Roane by a good three inches. Still, Roane deserved a look, and a quick background check.

  “Got him,” Beck said. Of course, among his other talents, he was psychic. “He’s not on the employee list I pulled. Probably because he’s a consultant. I’ll see if Taylor can run his name.”

  “Mr. Hodges,” Chessie said, “Is Rachael here?”

  “Yeah,” he jerked his thumb. “She’s in her office on a call. Have a seat and I’ll see if she’s done.”

  Chessie pointed to the empty desk. “Receptionist off today?”

  “No receptionist. Usually there’s no need. Rachael has an assistant who answers phones. She’s out on a
n errand.”

  “Carly Ingrams,” Beck said. “She’s on the list.”

  Jackie led Chessie to the guest chairs and the two of them sat, patiently waiting while Roane checked on Rachael. A minute later Rachael appeared in the archway with Roane behind her. Her protector. Except something was...off.

  The distance.

  If roles were reversed and it had been Beck standing behind Jackie, he’d have stayed close. Beck would have made sure everyone understood he’d offer support as necessary. Roane? He stood a foot back, creating plenty of space for Jackie to form her own assumptions about his dedication to his employer.

  Had Chessie noticed that too? Or was she hallucinating? Hoping for something, anything that might offer up a clue to what Rachael knew of her husband’s misdeeds.

  “Hello,” Rachael said in a tone that dropped the temperature a digit or fifty. “I’m in the middle of something. I do wish you’d have called.”

  Jackie stepped forward. “My apologies.” Not really, but whatever. “We have a few more questions for you.” She shifted her gaze to Roane then back to Rachael. “It’s of a personal nature.”

  After a brief pause, Rachael nodded. “Of course. Come back to my office.” She faced Roane. “We’re fine. Thank you.”

  “Sure,” he said. “I’ll be in my office.”

  Jackie and Chessie followed Her Highness down the hall. At the third office, Roane hooked a right and Jackie peeped inside. A pole in the corner held an American flag. Not an altogether unusual sight considering DTC’s government work, but…

  Roane.

  His build, his posture. His confidence.

  Military? Could be. No doubt Beck would find out.

  Rachael led them into her nicely appointed office and Jackie’s feet sunk into a Persian rug as she made her way to the leather guest chairs. A giant oil-painting adorned one wall, anchoring a sizeable cherry bookcase that matched the desk. The oversized marble sculpture of a bird in flight was a nice touch, but rather than giving the office a warm, homey feel, it screamed wealth and over-consumption.

  Unlike the reception area, the Travathians had spent some money here, but similar to their home, it was more a statement, a collection of material things rather than a love of art.

  Rachael took a seat behind her desk and keeping her face strategically stoic, folded her hands. “How can I help you?”

  Getting right to business. Excellent.

  Jackie pulled copies of the financial reports from her briefcase. “I wanted to show you these. See if you could explain them?”

  Her gaze still on Jackie, she took the reports. “What is it?”

  “DTC Financials.”

  Rachael blinked. “My husband handles the money.”

  “Your signature is on them.”

  “Well, of course. I’m a partner.”

  “Then maybe you can explain why, when Annabelle did her audit, she discovered the inventory valuation for last year had been inflated.”

  This revelation gave the woman pause. Gotcha. Explaining that away wouldn’t be so easy.

  Slowly, she glanced down at the stack of papers in her hand. “Inventory valuation?”

  “If you look at the 10-K form, you’ll see the totals don’t jive with the 10-Q.”

  Blink, blink, blink.

  “Go get her, Jackie,” Beck said in her ear.

  If his freedom wasn’t on the line, Jackie would have laughed at the amount of blood draining from Rachael’s face.

  She shuffled through the reports, then shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

  “The 10-K is the annual report,” Jackie said. “The 10-Q is quarterly. Quarterly reports are less detailed. When Annabelle did the audit, she discovered inconsistencies related to DTC’s inventory. It appears your company’s gross profit has been, shall we say, overstated. Obviously, if DTC is submitting false reports to the government, well, that’s not a good thing.”

  Rachael shuffled through the papers again, shaking her head. “I...I have to talk to Dikko.”

  “You do that. While you’re at it, ask him how much jail time you could get for financial fraud since all these inflated numbers drove the price of DTC stock up.”

  “Ha!” Beck said. “You’re a beast.”

  Jackie fought a smile. Really, there was nothing to be smiling about in this whole mess.

  “That’s ridiculous,” Rachael said.

  “It’s true.” Chessie circled a finger. “Your husband put the screws to you here, lady. You gonna let him get away with that?”

  Rachael’s head snapped up, the panic clearly taking over. “I have to speak with my husband. You need to leave.”

  Jackie stood, slinging her briefcase over her shoulder. “Sure. Call me when you’re ready to get yourself out of this mess.” She waved a hand. “You can keep those copies. I have another set.”

  They headed for the door, but—wait—Jackie angled back. “My client is facing a murder charge. I’m not about to let an innocent man go to prison. At the very least, based on the financial fraud we’ve barely scratched the surface on, I can destroy DTC. Never mind the connection to Annabelle’s discovery of said fraud. Be smart here, Rachael. I’m coming for you. And your husband.”

  Seventeen

  Beck winked at Jackie as she and Chessie got back in the car. “You’re sexy as hell when you’re threatening people. I’m totally turned on right now.”

  “That?” She cocked her chin at the building. “That was nothing. Wait ’til I channel my mother. She taught me all the best tricks to scare people.”

  Beck was pretty sure she was serious. “What do you think Rachael will do now? Call Dikko or go see him in person?”

  Chessie tapped a thumb against the steering wheel. “She’ll confront him face-to-face. I say we hang out and see if she goes to him or makes him come here. Either way, we can follow him, put him on the spot next.”

  “If this doesn’t make him squirm, I’m not sure what will,” Jackie said. “But if he is the killer…”

  She shivered.

  “Yeah, we need to be careful. No threatening Dick—that will be my job.” Beck’s phone buzzed. “It’s an email from Taylor on Hodges.”

  He scrolled through the info and recited the pertinent facts. “Roane Hodges, former Green Beret, got out several years ago, did some consulting for the Defense Intelligence Agency, and works for DTC and a few other contractors.”

  “What did he do for DIA?” Chessie asked.

  “Intelligence, both overt and clandestine.”

  “Interesting,” Jackie commented. “With his military background, he could be our shooter.”

  “Him or Jones Ashley, Jr., who also works for DTC. He’s on the team that designs...get this…helmets. He’s an employee, not a contractor, and is also a former Green Beret. I had Taylor check into him too. Looks like he was dishonorably discharged.”

  That got Jackie’s attention. “For what?”

  “Um…” Beck scanned the file. “Sedition.”

  Chessie stopped tapping. “Espionage-type sedition, or something less extreme like disobeying orders?”

  “Doesn’t say, but since he’s not in prison, I’m guessing it’s not the former.” Beck continued reading. “Now, this is interesting.”

  “What?” Jackie turned in the seat to look at him.

  “Jones was a sniper.”

  She smacked the armrest. “He could be our guy.”

  “There are plenty of former military snipers in this town,” Chessie said. “Current ones too.”

  “What about Roane?” Jackie asked. “Any mention of sniper training in his file?”

  Beck shook his head. “He took a sniper course like most Spec Ops, but he was the Intelligence Sergeant on an A-Team with Jones. Jones was their Weapons Sergeant.”

  Jackie didn’t look surprised. “So they worked together as Green Berets.”

  A beat-up black truck rolled into the parking lot and slammed to a stop, taking up two spots near the back of the
building. Beck recited more of the file Taylor had sent. “Looks like Roane started contracting for DTC about six months before Dikko hired Jones. Maybe Roane got the guy the job?”

  “Might be worth talking to him.” Chessie motioned at Roane who had emerged from the back door. “Since Rachael hasn’t bailed yet, we could follow this character instead.”

  The driver of the truck got out and slammed the door, tossing a cigarette butt on the ground and grinding it out with his boot heel. Roane, walking toward a silver Sequoia, shifted direction and headed for the guy, saying something they couldn’t make out.

  “That’s Jones,” Beck slid forward to see out the windshield, showing Jackie the photo of the man in the file.

  Jones didn’t seem to like what Roane had said and met him in the center of the parking lot with a sneer on his face and his hands flapping at his sides as he talked back.

  “Someone’s not happy,” Chessie murmured.

  Jackie rolled down her window. “I need some air. It’s hot in here, isn’t it?”

  Like she needed an excuse to eavesdrop? Beck smiled to himself.

  They all three strained to hear what the men were saying, but they were too far away. It wasn’t difficult to understand the body language, though, especially when Roane grabbed Jones by the collar of his jacket and pushed him against the black truck.

  “Okay, then,” Jackie said, voice lowered. “Could Jones be the guy who broke into my place? The height is right, but he has that jacket on so I can’t tell by his build. And I thought these two were friends.”

  Roane pointed a finger at Jones’ face, a definite threat.

  “If they were, they aren’t now.” Beck sat forward, analyzing Jones’ movements. “You’re right about his height. Could be him.”

  Jackie cocked her ear closer to the open window. “Do you think this has to do with DTC or is it personal?”

  Jones shoved Roane away and beelined for the building’s back entrance. Roane watched, eyes narrowed, hands on hips.