Too Far Gone

by Allison Brennan

  “And cars don’t drive themselves,” Lucy said. She understood Ash’s frustration that they were pushing, but it had become urgent in light of Cassidy Roth’s parallel investigation and tampering with the crime scene. “We may have a witness to the suicide, but according to our sources the witness searched the car after Grey killed himself.”

  “Did she take his phone?”

  “We don’t know if she took anything,” Leo said.

  “His gun is missing, his phone, and according to Mancini his laptop. But the car itself is a mess—the blood and biological matter in the vehicle needs to be processed, but it was sitting out in the heat and humidity for days. I confirmed that the body was transported in the trunk—whoever moved Grey’s body put it in the trunk, tried to wipe down the blood from the driver’s seat and window. They wore gloves and the steering wheel was wiped clean with Clorox wipes. There were some prints on the passenger door and glove box that don’t match anything in the system.”

  “Could be Cassidy,” Lucy said.

  Leo said to Ash, “Can you compare the prints with Cassidy Roth’s? Our ERT unit has some of her belongings from when we served the warrant.”

  “I’ll call Jackson, see what I can get. Is this important? Because I’m not done with the car.”

  “It is,” Leo said.

  “Fine. Oh. There’s one thing I found that’s really odd. It was taped under the steering column.” Ash opened a box and showed them a tiny vial that contained a lone pill. It had been bagged. “The only prints on the vial are Paul Grey’s. I haven’t tested it yet, but it appears to match this.”

  He opened another box of evidence and showed them a baggie with three white pills.

  “Aspirin?” Lucy said.

  “Maybe not. These three came from the pocket of McMahon’s slacks when he was shot. They were deep inside, stuck in the seam at the bottom of the pocket. Remember how there was a bottle of aspirin that disappeared with the other evidence? Well, sometimes I’ll put mints in my pocket when I don’t want to carry around a tin. I need to be careful with the lone sample because I don’t know what I’m testing for. I’m going to talk to Julie Peters, get some thoughts from her. But I’ll have something for you in a day or two. Tia said to be meticulous, because the buck stops here. She’s already been pulled onto another case.”

  “We appreciate it, Ash,” Lucy said.

  “Why don’t you think this is aspirin?” Leo asked.

  “Because the external markings are not any approved brand. Every pill that is manufactured has a unique mark, to identify it for a variety of reasons. This mark on the surface looks almost identical to a major brand, but it’s not.”

  “A forgery?”

  “Possibly. Which could cause a huge stink all the way up to the FDA, but I still have work to do. Verifying that this isn’t a legitimate marking will take time, but I can do that while I’m running the tests.”

  “And it was affixed under the steering column.”

  “Yep. Definitely odd, and a good place to hide something. Now out, please, so I can do my job.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Leo and Lucy arrived back at FBI headquarters at three thirty that afternoon and Leo went in to debrief ASAC Abigail Durant and SSA Rachel Vaughn. Lucy called Sean again to see how he and Jesse were doing. He said everything was fine, but she heard the strain in his voice. Lucy rarely left work early, but she was looking forward to going home and kept one eye on the clock.

  Leo approached Lucy’s desk. “Garrett Harrison is here.”

  “In the office?”

  “Yes. I had him brought back to the small conference room next to my office. Let’s see what he has to say.”

  They walked down the hall and entered a conference room that was the size of a normal office—meaning it was cramped with a table that sat eight. A whiteboard had been mounted on one wall, but there was nothing else in the room except a phone.

  Garrett Harrison was an attractive, well-groomed fifty-year-old with a full head of gray hair and dressed impeccably in an expensive and crisp suit and tie. He didn’t look uncomfortable in the attire, or being here in the FBI office. He did look tired, however.

  Leo introduced himself and Lucy. “Thank you so much for coming down this afternoon. We would have been happy to meet with you at your convenience.”

  Garrett nodded, then said gravely, “I spoke to my wife on Friday. If I could have changed my meetings, I would have been here sooner, but I had a critical seven o’clock meeting in New York this morning. I came directly from the airport.”

  “We tried to reach you at your hotel, but the information your office gave us was inaccurate.”

  “I don’t know why—my itinerary is available in the system. I was at the Grand Hyatt, where I always stay.”

  Leo and Lucy exchanged looks. “We were told something else. Have you spoken to your office?”

  “I have. But I would like to hear from you what happened to Charlie. My wife sent me news stories and we talked, but I am having a difficult time reconciling the man I knew and called friend with a man who took fifteen people hostage.”

  “And you didn’t know we were looking to talk to you.”

  “Not until this morning when my wife told me you left a message at the house. She told me Friday about Charlie, but I didn’t know you wanted to talk to me immediately.”

  Leo seemed to accept that answer. “Charles McMahon took fifteen people hostage on Wednesday morning at Java Antonio and he turned his gun on SWAT when they went in. He was shot and killed. It was a justified action. No hostages were injured by Mr. McMahon or police action.”

  “How is Lisa? I want to reach out to her, but I thought it best that I learn from you what happened and why you want to talk to me.”

  “Lisa has family,” Leo said, “who have been a terrific support for her, but I’m sure she can use a friend.”

  Leo then told Mr. Harrison everything they knew about McMahon, including his erratic behavior that predated his termination. He concluded with Paul Grey’s suicide.

  Harrison didn’t speak for a long minute. “You think,” he said carefully, “that Charlie’s behavior is directly related to something that happened at my lab.”

  They hadn’t said that, but that was certainly their theory, and Harrison was astute to pick up on it.

  “We do,” Leo said. “In the course of our investigation, we’ve spoken to Mr. Vince Paine, who was terminated by CHR in May. He has experienced many of the same symptoms as Charlie, including memory loss and severe headaches. He is, however, getting better, and while he can’t remember much from the month leading up to his termination, he doesn’t have a continuing memory problem. Charlie’s problem was escalating and getting worse. We’re looking for Cassidy Roth, who worked for him, but she hasn’t been to work in a week.”

  “Ms. Roth? She’s one of our most diligent employees.”

  “When she wasn’t at her house, we called human resources and learned that she called in sick last Monday. We need to find her. We think she has information pertinent to this investigation.”

  “What you’re saying is that you believe that my company is to blame for Charlie’s behavior.”

  “No,” Lucy said. “But perhaps someone in the company knows more than they’re telling us. Cortland Clarke and the lawyer Mr. White were not very helpful when we interviewed them.”

  “Cortland is paranoid about our proprietary formulas leaking out. Corporate espionage is a serious problem in the medical research field.”

  “We understand that issue,” Leo said, “and we have no intention of damaging your company’s reputation, but if something happened—an accident in the lab, for example—it could have been a contributing factor to Charlie’s actions. We need to know what happened and hopefully prevent anything like this from happening again. It could have been an honest mistake and these results were unexpected.”

  Harrison said, “I loved Charlie like a brother. He was a good man, smart as any
thing, one of the few people I respected for not only his brain but his character. I didn’t want to fire him. It was one of the hardest things I’d ever had to do. I urged him to take a sabbatical, but he refused. He got belligerent with me, hostile even. I told him to take a vacation, get out of town, work things out with Lisa. It escalated from there and I had no choice.”

  He sounded pained.

  “I liked Paul, he was good at his job, but he wasn’t Charlie. He didn’t have the vision or the natural talent. Paul was good with data, but not making that leap—from the evidence to the possibilities. I tried to talk to Charlie a few weeks ago, before I left on my business trip, to find a way to get beyond what happened, but when I finally tracked him down he was a shell of the man he once was. I was certain he’d started taking illegal drugs.”

  Lucy pulled out the photo of the man who slipped out of Java Antonio before the hostage situation. “We believe this man was talking to Charlie immediately prior to the events on Wednesday, but we haven’t been able to identify him or interview him. Do you know who he is?”

  “Of course. That’s Franklin Clarke, Cortland’s brother. He works for CHR.”

  “In what capacity?”

  “Security.” Harrison looked from Lucy to Leo. “What do you need from me?”

  “Access,” Leo said. “We want to know exactly what Charlie was working on at the end of March or early April, which is when his behavior started to change.”

  “I will get you that information. Give me twenty-four hours.”

  “That would be extremely helpful.”

  “I may also be able to get Cassidy for you.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. “If I may? I have her number; she will take my call.”

  “Would you allow us to trace it?”

  “Certainly.”

  “Great—we just need a few minutes to set it up.”

  Yancey set up the trace program on Harrison’s phone, and he called Cassidy on speaker.

  She answered on the fourth ring.

  “Hello?”

  “Cassidy, it’s Garrett Harrison.”

  “Dr. Harrison. Hello.”

  She sounded surprised and respectful.

  “I returned to town today and was told that you have been out sick for more than a week. Are you okay?”

  “Yes, yes I am, thank you. I didn’t want to make anyone else sick. The flu.”

  “I understand, and appreciate that. I’d like to talk to you in my office. It’s about Charlie.”

  “I know about Charlie.”

  “You were his most trusted researcher, I thought we should get together. I lost a good friend, and I’m trying to understand what happened.”

  “Me too,” she said quietly.

  “I’m in the office now.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Tomorrow morning. First thing, nine a.m.”

  “All right,” she said cautiously. She sounded suspicious. Why would she sound suspicious? There was no way she could know that the call was being traced. “I have to go.”

  “Cassidy—is everything okay?” Harrison asked.

  “Fine. Tomorrow. Goodbye.” She hung up.

  Lucy looked at Yancey. He shook his head. “She turned off GPS on her phone. I did get a ping in New Braunsfel, but that’s as good as we’ll get.”

  “Thanks,” Lucy said as Yancey packed up his equipment.

  “She didn’t sound like herself,” Harrison said.

  Leo said, “We believe she’s trying to find evidence of what happened to Charlie on her own, which could put her in danger. We really want to talk to her, so would you mind if we came to your office tomorrow?”

  “Not at all. I’ll expect you.”

  Harrison left and Lucy said, “I feel like we’ve made a huge advance just having him helping us.”

  “He wants answers, just like we do. I was very concerned that he would put protecting his business ahead of finding the truth, but he seems genuine.”

  “I concur.”

  “I know you’re worried about Jesse and what’s going on at home, and we’re done here for tonight. Besides, it’s after five. I’ll meet you at CHR at eight thirty tomorrow morning.”

  * * *

  Cassidy hung up on Dr. Harrison and bit her lip. Charlie had trusted him. Cassidy liked him a lot, though he always made her nervous because he was so smart and serious and professional. He was rarely in the office anymore because he worked with labs all over the world to find ways to more cheaply produce their medical drugs in order to decrease the costs.

  She’d known he would be back this week, but she hadn’t expected him today. Why would he want to meet with her? Had Cortland said something to him? Could he have her arrested? Was it a trick? Was he part of the conspiracy into what happened to Charlie?

  She couldn’t believe that—didn’t want to—but she couldn’t risk trusting anyone, not when she was so close to finding the truth.

  She looked down at the blood-spattered report Paul Grey had with him when he killed himself. It was a bunch of numbers that didn’t mean anything to her because there was no context, but there was a file name at the bottom of the sheet.

  She would get that file and with that came the truth. It had to. And she would bring it all to Dr. Harrison—sending a copy to both Adam and Vince, just in case something happened to her.

  But first, she had to get into the building.

  She was waiting outside Nina Okala’s house. Paul’s assistant was new, but because she worked in his division, her badge would be able to access every secure room. Cassidy only had to figure out how to get into the computer system. Paul had written one thing down on a sticky note, and she suspected it was his password. At least she hoped. And she hoped that whoever was behind this cover-up hadn’t already changed it.

  Because if that happened, Cassidy was screwed.

  She was still an employee of CHR, and her login should be able to get her in—as a backup. But she had adopted a lot of Charlie’s paranoia. Maybe she was wrong, and nothing in the system had changed and she could just walk in and get what she needed. It was technically espionage, she thought, because she was forbidden from taking anything out of the building. But if it proved that Charlie was drugged? If it proved that what he did at the coffee shop wasn’t his fault? She was willing to take the risk.

  Ms. Okala arrived home at five thirty. All Cassidy had to do was find a way to sneak in and grab her badge without her knowing.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Late Monday afternoon, Sean ordered two large pizzas from his favorite place that delivered—one with everything and one with only pepperoni for Kane and Jesse, who seemed to have the same taste buds.

  Madison came into his office. “Has Marshal Jimenez gotten back to you? He hasn’t called me.” She was upset about it.

  “He’ll contact us when he has answers.”

  “It’s after five o’clock!”

  “Madison, calm down.”

  “I wanted to go home tonight.”

  “It’s best this way.”

  “For who? You?”

  “Everyone.”

  Madison wasn’t happy to be on virtual lockdown. “Let’s call him, okay?” Sean said. He had a headache; he was over-analyzing these financial reports. Maybe the diversion would be good for him.

  “Jimenez.”

  “John, it’s Sean Rogan. I’m here with Madison. She’s antsy that we haven’t heard from you. I explained to her that sometimes analyzing data can take time.”

  “Yes,” John said slowly, “but we have some information. I was just waiting for more before I called.”

  “What?” Madison said. “Is Jesse safe?”

  “I can’t answer that yet. What I can confirm is that there is an ISP address in Sacramento, California, that has logged in with your information, Mrs. Spade, and checked Jesse’s whereabouts two dozen times over the last four weeks. I don’t know who has that ISP address. I’ve forwarded the information to my local offic
e and they’re working it. There appears to be an automatic piggyback on the data as it’s pinged, but they don’t know where it’s being sent. However, they think they can trace it with enough time.”

  “We don’t have time if my son is in danger.”

  “I’m aware of that, Mrs. Spade. But there’s no way that anyone can trail your son now with his phone because it’s in my possession. We’re working as fast as we can, but this isn’t our normal procedure, I hope you understand. You voluntarily left the WITSEC program.”

  “I know,” she said quietly. “Thank you.”

  “Hang in there, I’ll let you know as soon as I have anything definitive.”

  Sean thanked John and ended the call. “It’s Carson. Why can’t you see that, Madison?”

  “He wouldn’t. Someone could have planted a bug or virus in his computer—if it’s his computer. Maybe it’s RCK tracking him.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Madison,” Sean snapped.

  She stood. “You just don’t understand.”

  He stared at her. “I guess I don’t.”

  She walked out and Sean breathed easier. Jack came in. “Trouble in paradise?”

  “I’m not in the mood, Kincaid.”

  Jack sat in the chair that Madison had vacated. “Anything else?

  “I sent everything to Dean.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  Sean got up and shut the door. “I found the original documents that set up these shell corps. They’re the same structure as all Carson’s schemes. But the signature is different. It’s Madison’s.”

  “She set these up?”

  “I don’t know what the hell is going on, Jack. It’s a different name, but it’s her handwriting. I know her writing.”

  “That’s hard to prove.”

  “Not for the FBI.”

  “You told Dean.”

  “I can’t.”

  Jack sighed. “Didn’t we have this conversation at the RCK meeting in January? You’re married to a federal agent, Sean.”