“I don’t think so. I confronted him that morning at his car, at CHR. He agreed to meet with me that evening. I laid everything out and he said he knew what I needed to help Charlie.” He’d also told her that her calling in sick had drawn attention to her, and that she might not want to go to work for a couple of days. Was that a warning? Maybe. She didn’t know. She didn’t trust Paul, but at the same time, she didn’t not trust him.
“And?” Vince pressed.
“He said he would go back to the lab when everyone left and bring me proof. We were supposed to meet again at ten. When I saw his car there I was so optimistic, that he had everything I needed, and then he … he just … killed himself.” Her voice faded. She couldn’t tell Vince everything about that night. How she searched Paul’s car for the information he had promised to bring. It wasn’t there. How she’d hacked his phone, looking for proof of anything that would help. Then she’d left Paul there … just left him dead and hoped that someone would find him before morning.
She’d avoided Charlie because he knew about her meeting with Paul, and how could she tell him that his best friend and colleague had killed himself instead of helping to save Charlie?
“Vince, think about this, okay? At the very end of March, Charlie had a huge argument in the main lab with Cortland Clarke and Paul. It was about the clinical trials for the XR-10 memory drug. He insisted that there was a problem with the results, but Paul and Ms. Clarke said no, that Charlie was mistaken. Then Clarke agreed to let Paul review the data—which later he insisted was fine. But after that meeting, Charlie started getting sick—headaches, paranoia, memory loss. I know you saw the same thing I did.”
“I thought it was because he and Lisa were separating.”
“This all happened before that.”
“But people don’t just separate spontaneously. It was only two weeks.”
“Because Charlie had changed. He’d become belligerent. Yelled at people. Maybe—maybe he hit Lisa or one of the kids. Lisa is pretty tough, she’s not going to let Charlie do something like that.”
He frowned. “I don’t know.”
“Think! There has to have been something that happened, something Charlie said to you before he went way down the rabbit hole, or something Paul said.”
“That’s the thing, I can’t remember much about what happened around the time Charlie was fired. It’s all a blur. I don’t even remember letting Charlie into the lab. I sort of remember a conversation with him—where I told him I would look for the files—and that’s it. My head hurt and I was popping hydrocodone.”
“You don’t remember,” she said bluntly.
“I’m not lying!”
“I believe you.”
“You do?”
“Charlie couldn’t remember anything that happened for weeks, but he was getting worse. He had problems remembering anything that happened, even the day before. He could drive, recite the alphabet, work through complex math problems in his head, remember his wedding day and all the stats from the Texas Rangers, but he couldn’t remember anything related to CHR or what he was working on or what drug might have caused this. Because he was poisoned. I’m certain of it. Only, I think he had to have been continually poisoned and I haven’t figured out how when he lived like a recluse. He’d even moved out of his house into a crummy apartment downtown.”
Vince didn’t say anything for a second. “I think you’re right. I still can’t remember anything except vague things that happened those two weeks in May before I was fired, but I’m getting better now that I’m off the pain pills. I can finally focus. We need to go to the police.”
“What are they going to do? To them, Charlie is a criminal, someone who took people hostage and shot at a cop. They don’t care why, they just care that it’s over and only Charlie died in the process. I need proof, and we don’t have proof. CHR will deny everything, say it’s sour grapes because both you and Charlie were fired and we’re grasping at straws. I have a friend of mine running a bunch of tests on Charlie’s hair samples to see if we can isolate the drug. But until we do that, I can’t go to the authorities. If we tip off CHR they’ll destroy any evidence they have.”
“What do you want from me?”
“You already helped. You confirmed my suspicions. Now I need to get answers.”
“Be careful, Cassidy. If you’re right and someone at CHR poisoned both Charlie and me then you could be in danger.”
“I’ll be careful.”
She had one idea, and now she had to figure out how to implement it. How could she get into the lab without using her own ID?
* * *
Lucy and Leo arrived at Hogtied at one thirty that afternoon. Lucy really wanted to get back home; she was worried about Sean and Jesse, and she was beginning to feel the effects of the accident, particularly in her back, which was sore and stiff. She took three ibuprofen and hoped it would take the edge off.
“Last stop of the day,” Leo said. “That’s the second time you’ve taken pain pills.”
“They’re over-the-counter.”
“You should have taken the day off.”
“I’m okay. But I’m not going to object to going home after this.”
They walked into the cowboy bar. Country music—real country music, not the pop version of country—played out of an old-fashioned jukebox. There were peanut shells on the floor, a stage in the back, and a dance floor that looked well used. The bar itself was old, solid wood, and the bartender looked just as ancient and solid.
Leo introduced them. “We’re looking for a girl who may have been in here last night or earlier today.”
“Y’all have to be more specific,” he said with a thick Texas drawl. “We get a lotta ladies in here.”
Leo showed the bartender Cassidy’s driver’s license photo.
The bartender nodded. “Left an hour ago, or thereabouts.”
“Alone? Was she with anyone?”
“She chatted with a guy for ’bout half hour or so, they had their heads together, then she left.”
“Is he still here?”
“Nope, paid his tab, left right after her.”
“Do you have his credit card receipt?”
“Yep. He ain’t a regular, but I’ve seen him around now and again. Sort of sticks out, soft hands, pale skin. Most of my customers work outdoors, ya know. But he was okay, didn’t cause trouble.”
The bartender turned around and retrieved a small slip of paper from the cash register. “I need that for my books, so I’d be much obliged if y’all just take a picture.”
Lucy did, then handed it back to the bartender. She looked closely. Vincent A. Paine. She showed Leo.
“They in any trouble with the law?” the bartender asked.
“We don’t right know yet,” Leo said, his Texas coming out through his voice, though Lucy rarely heard more than a light accent when he was working. “Let’s just say she’s a material witness to a possible crime, and we’ve been looking for Mr. Paine. You wouldn’t know where he’s living?”
“Can’t say. We’re not a big town here, but we get people from all ’round the hills, ’specially weekends when we have live music. I got a feeling, now that I think on it, he might know one of the girls in our regular band. They play Friday nights. I recall that’s when I usually see him around.”
“Was he here last night?”
“Can’t right say, but I don’t think so. But likely the week before.”
“Would you mind giving us her name?”
“Well, I don’t have a problem helping out law enforcement, but I don’t really know what’s with what here, and I ain’t looking to jam up any of my friends.” He glanced from Lucy to Leo. “How ’bout if I ask her to call you? Or you can just come back Friday and see her then.”
Leo handed the bartender both his and Lucy’s cards. “Please talk to her. And if you see Mr. Paine again, I’d greatly appreciate a call.”
“He’s not a dangerous fellow.” It wasn’t a ques
tion. “He’s one of those, whatchacallit, nerdy types. Glasses and skinny and educated. Raised well, I’ll tell ya, polite as they come. I’ll call, just want you to know what’s what.”
“Sure do appreciate it,” Leo said. “And if you can pass those cards on to your musician friend, that would be real helpful.”
Back in the car, Lucy asked, “Why didn’t you play hardball with him? There’s no reason he couldn’t give us her name and number.”
“Because I know folks like him. He’s old school, longtime Texan. He’ll give her our contact info, find out what’s going on, and tell her to call us.”
“You sound confident.”
“You have your strengths, I have mine. She’ll call no later than Monday. If she doesn’t, we’ll come back on Friday. Coming any earlier to play asshole feds isn’t going to give us squat.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Sean ran his facial recognition program in the background to identify the golfers Kane photographed with Vasquez while he analyzed the blind account information from Jesse’s phone. Locating it would be next to impossible … but not impossible. He might be able to trace it with a virus, if he could break the coding of the tracker program. It was possible, he thought, if he had Madison’s cooperation.
The alarm beeped once.
Sean glanced at his tablet, hit VIEW on the front camera. He’d heightened the settings so that if anyone stepped onto the property, he would know.
Jack. He wasn’t alone.
Madison was with him.
Shit.
Sean went to the door and took a deep breath. Why was Madison here? Jack wouldn’t have brought her without giving him a heads-up, would he? Why hadn’t he texted him when they landed?
Jack knocked and Sean opened the door. Sean didn’t say a word. He didn’t really trust himself right now.
They entered and Jack said, “We were on the same plane.”
Sean closed the door.
“You could have texted me,” Sean mumbled.
“Where is Jesse?” Madison demanded.
“Playing video games.” Sean motioned down the hall. “End of the hall to the right.”
He felt defeated. Lost. Madison hesitated, then brushed past him and strode down the hall.
Sean went to the kitchen. Jack followed and asked, “What have you learned?”
“I know how we were tracked. The parental tracking app on Jesse’s phone. Every time Madison—or someone with access to her phone,” he added pointedly, “checked Jesse’s location, the information was sent to a blind account. I tried to track that account but it’s fluid. I sent everything to Stockton, but it can only be tracked real-time.”
“Where’s Lucy?”
“Working.”
Jack frowned.
“She’s fine. She has a complicated case, she can’t step away. And what can she do here? Worry with me?” Sean looked out the window, but wasn’t looking at anything specific. “So you brought Madison here.”
“It was either bring her or she’d come here without me. I didn’t know she was on the plane until I saw her at the airport. I’m sorry I didn’t give you a heads-up, Sean. I should have.”
“This whole situation is fucked, Jack, and I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do.”
Sean was rarely at a loss, but since last night he didn’t know how to talk to Jesse or Madison or convince either of them that Jesse was safest here, with him.
And though Sean wanted Carson Spade to be guilty, it simply did not make any sense that Spade would go after Jesse. Even if just to scare him, or scare Sean. Was it to get them back into WITSEC?
If they go back to WITSEC, you’ll never see Jesse again. At best, once a year.
Is that what Carson wanted? Simply to hurt Sean? Sean wouldn’t put it past him.
Still, it didn’t make sense. There were less dangerous ways to get Jesse away from Sean.
Spade had been a criminal; he still was, as far as Sean was concerned. He did a lot of things that made no sense considering he had a wife who loved him and a stepson who used to admire him. For money? For power? Or because he hated Sean for helping take him down? For exposing him as a criminal to the people who loved and trusted him?
Sean knew that a guy could do the wrong thing for the right reason. Some people felt trapped and the only way out was to work for criminal organizations. Some people, like Michael Rodriguez, would be killed if they didn’t cooperate with drug cartels. Kids didn’t think they had a choice. People did a lesser evil to avoid a worse crime.
That wasn’t Carson Spade.
Spade was a lawyer and accountant. He came from a solid middle-class family, had an Ivy League education, and could have made a damn good living legally in any number of industries. He chose to work for the cartels. He didn’t work for them by mistake; he didn’t start working for a business and later learn that he was laundering money for drug dealers. He went in eyes open and willing.
That was why Sean would never trust him or believe that he would change.
Madison walked into the kitchen. “I’m taking Jesse back to Sacramento. He’s upstairs packing now.”
Sean turned, stunned. “No.”
“You have no say in this, Sean. You have no rights here. He was nearly killed last night on your watch.”
“Because of your husband!”
“I’m not listening to this. I trusted you, Sean. Against my better judgment, I trusted you with my son.”
“He’s my son, too.” Sean was hollow and torn apart inside. He didn’t know how to stop this from happening. He felt like his life was spiraling out of control and he’d never find his footing again.
“Not legally, Sean. I’ve talked to a lawyer. With your background there is no way a court will give you any rights if I contest it.”
“You promised me I could see him.”
“If Jesse wants to see you, you can visit him in Sacramento one weekend a month.”
“You lied to me for twelve years. You kept Jesse from me, lied to him, lied to everyone! I will fight you on this, Madison.”
Madison glanced at Jack and frowned. “We don’t need to have this conversation in front of your brother-in-law.”
“What? Think your perfect reputation is going to be in tatters?”
“You were a criminal hacker, Sean. You think you have friends in high places who have wiped your files? Think again. My father also has friends in high places, and when the court knows that you were once a hacker, that you have violated the law right and left, that you have a dangerous job, you’ll never see Jesse again.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You can’t deny that you went to Mexico last year and killed people in front of my son!”
“You hired me to find Jesse, and your husband brought him into that dangerous situation. I saved his life!”
“That will not matter, not to the court, especially when I told you not to go to Mexico. You defied me then and put Jesse in danger. I’m his mother. I raised him. I’ve tried here, I’ve really tried, but I can’t do this anymore. It’s tearing apart my family.”
“Did Carson put you up to this?”
“Do not talk to me about my husband. You have no idea how you’ve hurt me.”
“That’s rich, coming from you.”
Bandit ran into the kitchen and stood next to Sean. At least one living creature came to his defense.
“Just stop, Sean. Stop. I’m too tired and upset to have this conversation. Talk to my lawyer. We’re leaving.”
“It’s too dangerous. The men who ran Lucy and Jesse off the road, they tracked Jesse through your parental tracking app.”
“You have no proof of that.”
“I backtraced his phone and found out that every time you checked on Jesse’s location, the information was piggybacked to a blind account. I can prove it—give me your phone and I’ll show you how it worked.”
“You are a liar, Sean Rogan. I haven’t checked on Jesse�
��s location—that app was for finding his phone only, if he lost it. Or if, God forbid, he was missing.”
“You want to see the log? Of the twenty-six times your phone logged in to view Jesse’s location, including an hour before he was run off the road?” Sean wasn’t backing down, not on this. Not when his son’s life was in danger.
“You falsified it.” Her voice sounded strong, but cracked at the end.
“I sent the information to the FBI. They can verify it. Do you want to ask Carson? Do you think your husband is somehow a saint? He’s behind this, and I will prove it.”
“He’s a better man than you. We are leaving.”
“You can’t! Dammit, you’re in danger. Hell, Madison, I don’t care what happens to you. You’re blind when it comes to Carson. But you’re Jesse’s mother and he loves you, and that means something.”
She stood there fuming, her eyes wide. “I don’t give a shit about you, either. And you’re not Jesse’s father, not legally, and after this he’ll realize he can’t trust you or anything you say. I will destroy you, Sean.”
“You’re not leaving here—not without a marshal as an escort. Not without protection. Dammit, Madison! If it’s not Carson, then someone hacked your phone.”
“You’re paranoid.” She turned and started down the hall again. “Jesse! We’re going.”
Sean started after her and Jack stopped him. “You can’t, Sean. You can’t lay a hand on her.”
“I can’t let her leave! We don’t know what’s going on, and he’s safe here.” His whole life was crumbling around him. He couldn’t lose Jesse now, not when he’d just found him. His eyes burned, but he forced himself to get his emotions together. It wouldn’t do Jesse any good if Sean lost it with Madison.
“I’ll go with them,” Jack said. “I’ll protect Jesse with my life. You know that, right? You can’t make this situation worse. We’ll find a way to fix this, but right now you have to let them go.”
Sean didn’t want to, but Jack was right. Madison was Jesse’s mother. She had every legal right and Sean had none.
“I’ll call Jimenez and see if he knows anything. Tell him what’s going on. Have him send marshals to meet you in Sacramento and take custody of Madison and Jesse.”
Too Far Gone Page 22
