“What’s Dean going to do?” Lucy said.
“I told him I don’t trust the man, and I think he should be cautious. Dean is honestly way smarter than me.”
Nate laughed out loud. Bandit shot his head up and thumped his tail against the floor.
“Shut up,” Sean said, tossing a couch pillow at his friend. “I can admit when someone is smarter than me.”
“Have you considered that Carson isn’t behind this?” Lucy asked.
“Yes,” Sean admitted. “JT is making sure that there’s no fallout on us from the human-trafficking sting. But so far all is silent on that front. And Kane says Jose Flores is keeping clean. If Kane believes it, it’s true, because he thinks the worst about pretty much everyone.”
“Then put it out of your mind for now. Enjoy the time with Jesse. I’ll probably be working most of the weekend, but I’ll grab a comp day next Friday to make up for it. Think you can get tickets to the Rangers or the Astros? We can make a weekend of it.”
Kane and Jesse came into the living room grinning. Kane handed Nate another beer, even though he hadn’t asked. They exchanged a look, and Lucy wondered what they’d talked about before she got there. Nate didn’t have close family—his parents were both dead, they’d been much older when they adopted him. His adoptive sister was substantially older and they rarely talked. When he sought out his birth mother he learned she’d died of a drug overdose long before he found for her. He’d adopted the Rogans. Both Sean and Kane welcomed him without reservation and treated him like a brother.
“Want to go to a baseball game next week?” Sean asked Jesse. “I know you’re more into soccer, but—”
“I love baseball.”
“Well, the Rangers are outside Dallas and the Astros are in Houston.”
“Aren’t they like hours away?”
“Not by plane.”
“Like, we can fly in your plane just to see a baseball game?”
“We’ll do something else, too, make a weekend of it.”
“Totally cool. You coming, too, Lucy?”
“I wouldn’t miss it. My brother Patrick played in college. I went to almost all his home games.”
“Can Kane and Nate come, too?” Jesse asked. “It’ll be my last weekend here, unless I can convince my mom to let me stay another week.”
Lucy looked over at Sean. His face fell. Not because he didn’t want his brother and Nate to join them, but because he didn’t want to think about taking Jesse home.
“Sure,” Sean said. “The more the merrier. And then you guys can go off and do stuff so I can spend quality time with my wife.” He wrapped his arm around Lucy and kissed the top of her head.
“I can’t,” Kane said. “I’m flying down to Arteaga on Wednesday to pick up Siobhan.”
“Nate’ll come,” Sean said.
“I will? Who’ll watch Bandit for you?”
“We’ll figure something out.”
“I’ll think about it. Bandit and I like our time alone.”
“Yeah, I know—I find dog hair on the guest bed.”
“I’ll wash the comforter next time.”
“You’re ruining my dog.”
Nate leaned over to the golden retriever. “Don’t listen to him, Bandit. He’s just jealous because you love me more.”
Sean rolled his eyes.
Lucy said, “I have an early day, and I’m dragging. Have fun, don’t call it an early night on account of me.”
She went upstairs. Sean followed a minute later. “You okay?” he asked.
“I’m good.”
“You seemed—I don’t know, upset that I called Dean.”
“No, more Madison.”
“What?”
“What if you’re right and Carson did hire someone to tail you? Why wouldn’t she tell him that you called?”
“I don’t know—I don’t think she will.”
“But you don’t know.”
“What do you think will happen?”
“I don’t want to give Madison any reason to keep Jesse from you. You are so amazing with him, and he’s really thrived here. He worships Kane—I know partly because of what happened last year, but partly because Kane’s as good with him as you are. I couldn’t bear to see your heart broken again.”
“I’m okay, Luce,” he said and kissed her. “I don’t trust Carson, but I’m not going off the deep end. I know I can’t investigate him. It pains me, but I’m keeping my hands clean. But we both have to be diligent here. If Carson is not involved—if the tail was something else—we both need to be careful.”
“I will be. Promise. Now go downstairs. I’m going to shower then crash. I wasn’t kidding about the early morning.”
“I love you, Lucy.”
She smiled and kissed him. “I know.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
On Friday morning, Lucy drove back out to Helotes with Leo to talk to Paul Grey’s widow. Leo had given a status report to Lucy’s boss, Rachel Vaughn. Though Leo was technically part of the counter-terrorism squad, because he was the SWAT team leader for the San Antonio office, he worked with all units as needed. Lucy had never worked this closely with Leo on a case, and she liked his style. He reminded her a bit of her mentor, Dr. Hans Vigo, though Leo was former military and looked like it. He was easygoing in many ways, but dogged. He worked logically—point A, to point B, to point C. He wasn’t one to dwell on what-ifs, which was perhaps Lucy’s only problem with her temporary partner. She liked running through different scenarios, bouncing around ideas to see what fit and what didn’t.
However, she would take Leo as a partner over almost anyone else since Nate was on leave. She’d been an FBI agent for just over eighteen months, and while there were ups and downs, she finally felt like she was in her groove in the office. She and her new boss had gone through a rough patch (understatement) but had developed a cordial working relationship. Lucy never saw them being friends—she still walked on eggshells around Rachel, keeping their communications completely professional.
Lucy missed Ryan Quiroz, a seasoned agent who’d transferred to the Austin Resident Agency at the beginning of the year so he could be closer to his two young sons. There had been several new agents who’d joined the Violent Crimes Squad to fill open slots, and Lucy was most often assigned with Jason Lopez—who had come from the Phoenix office with Rachel. Jason had previously been tasked with spying on her, and Lucy was trying to get past that but found it harder than she’d thought. Trust was so important in their work, and that was the one thing that she needed to figure out with Jason and Rachel.
“You’re quiet,” Leo said as he drove.
She smiled. “Not enough coffee.” She didn’t want to share her office problems with Leo.
“We’ll pick up something on the way back. I saw Nate come in this morning. Shrink debrief. He seemed to be doing good.”
“He is, just irritated with mandatory leave. You know how he is.”
“Yeah, he’s still a soldier at heart. He mentioned that he was over at your place. Having friends helps. Before you and Sean moved here, Nate didn’t really connect with anyone.”
That surprised Lucy. Their friendship had been easy and comfortable from the beginning.
“Sean’s brother Kane is visiting, and he and Nate talked. Worked through whatever was on Nate’s mind. Kane is good at that.”
Because they were going against commute traffic, they made good time reaching the suburb of Helotes. Diane Grey had made coffee and offered it to them. Lucy was going to decline, but Diane said, “Please—it makes me feel better to just do something. My son is still sleeping—I didn’t have the heart to wake him up. He’s having a hard time with Paul’s death and everything that happened with Charlie—I just can’t believe any of this. Charlie was his best friend.”
Leo said, “Coffee would be great. And a private place to talk?”
“Of course.”
She brought a tray into a den off the living room that had likely been her husba
nd’s office. She closed the doors and went through the ritual of pouring coffee and handing out mugs. “I fell asleep in here last night. It still smells like Paul.”
This was going to be so much harder than Lucy thought. Telling Diane that her husband was dead had been difficult. But suicide? It was worse.
Leo said, “Late yesterday Agent Kincaid and I talked to Julie Peters, the chief deputy coroner and one of the finest pathologists in the state, who completed your husband’s autopsy. She called in the medical examiner himself to confirm her findings. They’re ruling Paul’s death a suicide.”
Diane stared at him. “No. No.” She shook her head empathically. “Paul would never in a million years kill himself. That doesn’t make any sense whatsoever. I want to talk to this woman. She’s absolutely wrong.”
“You can review the report, and Ms. Peters will go over it with you if you would like,” Leo said. “But the evidence is conclusive.”
“But—but you said that Paul was found in Charlie’s house, you said that he’d been shot somewhere else and brought to Charlie’s house. See? That doesn’t make sense. Were you wrong then? Or maybe you’re wrong now?”
“We don’t have all the answers, but we will find them,” Leo said. “Someone did in fact move your husband’s body. We know that he died between eight p.m. and midnight on Monday, and his body was moved at some point before dawn Tuesday morning. We don’t know who moved his body or why.”
“But—I don’t understand.”
She sounded so lost—far more lost than she had yesterday when her anger fueled her responses.
Grief was a complicated emotion.
“Does Paul own a gun?” Leo asked.
She nodded, tears falling.
“Do you know where it is? What kind?”
“A small gun. I don’t know anything about them, I don’t know what kind. We have a gun safe.”
“Would you mind checking? I’ll go with you.”
“He—I—” She stood, at a loss for words. Leo walked out with her.
Lucy’s heart went out to Diane Grey. Learning of your husband’s death had to be horrific; knowing he committed suicide was soul breaking.
They returned a few minutes later, Diane leading the way, her face a mask of shock. Leo walked behind her and caught Lucy’s eye and shook his head.
“He killed himself?” Diane whispered to herself as she sat back down, her hands clasped between her legs.
“Diane,” Lucy said, her voice low and calm, “Agent Proctor and I want to find out exactly what happened. Paul’s car is still missing, his cell phone is missing and we haven’t been able to locate it through GPS, and his behavior was odd on the day he died.”
“H-how?” She was trying to pull herself together, but her expression was still of disbelief.
“Yesterday you indicated that you knew about the fight between Paul and Charlie two weeks ago.”
“Yes—but only because Paul had a cut on his face and a bruised jaw. He had to tell me.”
“The night Paul died, he went to the same bar and paid for the damages. Even though the bartender said Charlie was the one who started it, that Paul was only defending himself, Paul told the bartender it wasn’t Charlie’s fault.”
“They were friends. I guess—I don’t know. Paul has a good heart. I guess he wanted to help Charlie.”
“He was at the bar just before seven on Monday. According to his schedule, he put a five thirty appointment on his calendar to meet with someone with the initials C. R. We believe that person is Cassidy Roth. Do you know her?”
“Cassidy? Yes, not well. She worked for the division, but mostly for Charlie. She was … well, she had few social graces.”
“How so?”
“She was blunt. She could be mean, but not on purpose. It’s hard to explain. Paul said she was on the autism spectrum, but honestly, I don’t know. Sometimes I think that’s an excuse for poor manners. She was a very smart girl, just didn’t know how to interact with people who weren’t as smart as she was. She worshipped Charlie. I said something to Lisa once—it was a barbecue at her house, we were there, Cassidy, a few other people. I said Cassidy had a crush on Charlie. Lisa said no, she already nipped it in the bud. I pushed—because it was an odd thing for her to say. But evidently, Lisa had a conversation with Cassidy and was about to establish some boundaries, when she said she realized that she had nothing to worry about.”
Leo asked, “Do you know where Cassidy lives?”
“No, I’m sorry. Lisa might.”
“Do you know what your husband was working on at Clarke-Harrison?”
“He never talked about work, other than in the general sense. Especially after Charlie was fired. Paul took over the entire division, and he didn’t want it—not like this, at any rate. Charlie and Paul complemented each other. Paul was quiet and studious and liked sitting at his modeling computer working through complex problems and analyzing data. Charlie was the big-picture guy, he could explain to anyone—even if you didn’t understand the science behind it—what they were doing and why. He was passionate about their work, everyone loved him. That’s why we were all shocked when he was fired. But … well, with Lisa leaving him, I guess Charlie just … I don’t know. I really don’t. I haven’t seen him in months. I know Paul changed, too … he grew more distant, and wouldn’t talk about Charlie, so I just dropped it. But he was spending more and more time at work, and I know it’s because he had to do Charlie’s work as well as his own, and it was too much. Maybe that’s why he … he…”
Her eyes drifted over to Paul’s desk. Lucy followed her gaze. A family picture was there, of Paul, Diane, and their son.
“How did Charlie’s termination affect Paul?” Lucy asked.
“He was upset. He had to work longer hours, often into the night, and he was tired. Cortland Clarke said they were looking for a replacement for Charlie, but two months later and they still don’t have anyone.”
Lucy hadn’t thought of that, and when Leo glanced at her, eyebrows arched, she realized he hadn’t either.
Why hadn’t the company replaced the head of the division?
“Did they ask Paul to take over?”
“In a way—but they said it would be only temporary. Still, Paul never told me about interviews or anything. Is that why—is that why Paul k-k-killed himself? The stress? Why couldn’t he talk to me? Why would he—oh God, what am I going to tell JJ?”
The tears came then, and Lucy slid over to where Diane sat and put an arm around her. “Can I call someone for you?”
The doors opened and young JJ Grey stood there. “Mom?”
“I just need time,” Diane said. “Please—come back later? I need to be with my son.”
“We’ll call first,” Leo said, and he stood up. “We’re sorry for your loss, Mrs. Grey.” He put his hand on JJ’s shoulder. “Take care of each other,” he told the boy and walked out.
Leo slid into the driver’s seat and checked his phone. “I have a couple messages. Hold on.”
He listened and wrote down an address. “Cassidy Roth.” He listened to another message, then hung up. “So I left a message for Cassidy at CHR this morning, and then had Zach follow up. She’s out sick, has been all week. But Zach got her address from human resources. Much more forthcoming than Cortland Clarke. And Tia has a possible location for where McMahon was living. She and Jason are headed there now. She’ll call us if they find anything.”
Leo drove back to San Antonio and to an older neighborhood just beyond the downtown proper. The neighborhood was well maintained, with neatly trimmed lawns and lots of old trees providing both shade and charm. Each property had a small house in the front with a carport, and a long driveway to a nearly identical house in the back with a one-car garage. They had been built post–World War II, and several houses boasted American flags or veterans stickers. Not a surprise—the air force base wasn’t far.
The address they had for Cassidy was 11440—but the house in the front was A and th
e house in back was B.
They knocked on the house in the front. A small dog immediately began to bark.
“Settle down, Poppy!” an elderly voice said. There was shuffling, the dog continued to bark, and then they heard a chain slide across the door. The door opened, the glass screen separating the old woman from Lucy and Leo.
“May I help you?”
She had pale-blue eyes behind huge glasses.
“We’re sorry to bother you,” Lucy said, “but we’re looking for Cassidy Roth.”
“Cassidy lives behind me.”
“Thank you, we’re sorry to intrude.”
“She’s not home.”
“When did she leave?”
“I don’t know, I don’t keep track of her comings and goings. She’s a young kid. Is something wrong?”
Leo said to Lucy, “I’ll check it out. See what you can learn.”
Leo walked toward the back and Lucy smiled at the woman. “I’m FBI Agent Lucy Kincaid. Do you have a minute to talk?”
“FBI! Oh my. Poppy! Enough of that!”
The woman stepped out and closed the screen behind her. “Let’s sit out here, shall we? It’s going to be so hot today, but right now it’s quite pleasant.”
The woman motioned for Lucy to sit in one of two chairs on the tiny porch.
When they were settled, Lucy asked, “What’s your name, ma’am?”
“Emmaline Granger, you can call me Em. Everyone calls me Em.” She waved to a neighbor who was walking his dog. The man waved back and smiled.
“Em, call me Lucy. Cassidy isn’t in any trouble, but we really need to speak to her. Do you know the last time you saw her?”
Em sighed and considered. “I can’t right say. Monday is garbage day, and Cassidy took my garbage cans out and brought them back. She’s a good girl. Keeps this place spotless. The grass trimmed.”
“She takes care of your home for you?”
“Well, it’s hers. She owns the property—both houses. I moved in here three years ago, and hope to never leave. She’s never raised the rent on me, either. I offered her fifteen dollars more a month last year when I got an increase in Social Security, but she wouldn’t take it. She gave me a complicated answer about her mortgage and interest and dollars per square foot or some such thing. I didn’t understand what she was talking about. Now I just don’t offer anymore, but I make her cookies and pies when my arthritis isn’t too bothersome.”
Too Far Gone Page 13
