Best Laid Plans (7 page)

Debbie had made an attempt to put herself together—tailored gray business suit, crisp white shirt, and her black hair pulled tightly back into a bun. But she wore no makeup and her eyes were red and swollen, though dry. Lucy noted that she wore two different-colored pumps, one black and one navy. The only jewelry she wore was a gold wedding band and a small diamond ring.

“Thank you for coming in so quickly,” Barry said. He glanced at her wall and said, “You were in the Air Force?”

“Yes, sir. Six years.”

“And Texas A&M?”

“Yes—on the GI Bill. I graduated with honors in finance and business administration. Mr. Worthington recruited me right out of college, and I’ve been with him for five years.”

She typed on her computer.

“How far back do you want his schedule?”

Barry didn’t answer right away. He sat down, so Lucy took the other chair. “You tell me, Ms. Alexander. Did you know Mr. Worthington had a round-trip ticket to San Antonio from Dallas last night?”

“No, sir,” she said.

“Is that odd?”

“Yes. I handle all his travel arrangements. But it’s also odd because Mr. Worthington is frugal. He is willing to spend money, but he doesn’t waste it. He’s efficient.”

“Has he done anything like this before?”

“No,” she said, then glanced away, her brows furrowed.

“Do you remember something?”

“It’s personal.”

“It’s important that we know everything that relates to Mr. Worthington’s life, particularly during the last few weeks,” Barry said. “There may be extenuating circumstances. But it’s clear from our investigation, even though we’re just getting started, that his behavior last night was out of character.”

“Behavior?”

When Barry didn’t explain, Debbie said, “Three weeks ago, he canceled a lunch with one of his top clients. He never canceled on anyone, unless it was an emergency—and when I say emergency, I mean serious, like when Jolene’s appendix ruptured last year. But three weeks ago, he left work early and said he wasn’t feeling well.” She stopped abruptly, and seemed conflicted about whether to speak.

“Anything you tell us is important to determine his state of mind last night,” Lucy said. “Especially if it’s out of character.”

“It’s hearsay.” Debbie glanced from Lucy to Barry. “My husband saw Harper entering a dive bar on North Zarzamora. A place you go when you don’t want anyone to see you. Donny is a therapist who works with disabled veterans. It was a chance sighting—Donny was working with a vet who is severely scarred and didn’t want to leave his apartment.”

“Did you ask Mr. Worthington about it?”

“No, of course not—he’s entitled to his privacy. It was just out of character. And then, after that, he started working later and on weekends. He often worked late, but rarely worked weekends.”

“Print out his schedule for the last four weeks,” Barry said, “and we’ll also need his phone records, personal and business.”

“Of course. Anything that will help.”

Lucy asked, “How was the Worthingtons’ marriage?”

Barry shot her a glance, but she ignored it.

Debbie said, “If you’d asked me three weeks ago, I would have said idyllic. He was so proud of Adeline and all that she’s accomplished.”

“And now?”

“Why is this important?” Debbie asked.

“It’s not,” Barry said. “We’re just trying to get a sense of who Harper Worthington was and why he would feel the need to use the services of a prostitute.”

She stared at him in stark disbelief. “He wouldn’t,” she said.

“Evidence suggests differently.”

“I don’t care what your evidence shows, he’s not that kind of man. You can ask anyone who knows him, his friends or even his business competitors, and no one will believe you. They will all agree that he’s a man of faith and integrity.”

She sounded personally offended. Harper Worthington had instilled a deep loyalty in his staff, Lucy realized. Then why did his wife have a different impression?

Debbie continued. “If there were problems in their marriage, Mr. Worthington wouldn’t seek out companionship elsewhere. He would work it out. It’s what he did with everything.”

“Would he talk to his daughter?”

“No, not about his marriage.”

“Why?”

“This isn’t relevant.”

“Let us be the judge of that,” Barry said.

Debbie bristled, but said, “Jolene and Adeline didn’t really get along. Jolene was a daddy’s girl for a long time, and Harper adores her. It was the two of them. Harper did everything for Jolene, and she has a great respect for her father. Jolene simply didn’t have the opportunity to get to know Adeline because she was away in college at the beginning of their relationship, and that caused some friction.”

“Between father and daughter?”

“Oh, no. If Jolene had told Harper not to get married, he wouldn’t have. She wanted him to be happy. The friction was between Jolene and Adeline. You know how some fathers think their daughter’s boyfriend will never be good enough to be a husband? That’s how Jolene was with Adeline, that no woman would be good enough for her father. But as far as Harper was concerned, Jolene had no issues. She kept them private. They both were very private people.”

“Then how do you know about them?” Lucy asked pointedly.

“I’m observant. And since Jolene married Scott last year, she’s mellowed out.” Debbie frowned. “That probably isn’t a polite thing to say.” She pulled a file folder from her drawer and put all the papers she’d printed out inside and handed it to Barry. “Schedule and phone records.”

Gregor Smith walked into Debbie’s office. He went over to her and squeezed her shoulders. “Why don’t you go home?” he suggested.

She shook her head. “Donny is working today. I don’t want to be alone.”

“If you need anything, let me know.” He then turned to Barry and Lucy. “Our tech guy has some information about Harper’s phone that I think you should see.”

*   *   *

The IT department was in the basement. Their servers were state-of-the-art and they didn’t skimp on staff. “Corporate espionage has moved high-tech,” Smith said. “It’s becoming rare for competitors to come on-site to steal secrets—they’re far more likely to use cyberspace.”

He knocked on the window of a glass-enclosed office. A young tech in jeans and a polo shirt with the HWI logo on the pocket swiveled in his chair. “This is Todd,” Smith said. “He’s the one who ran the report. I’ll let him share the information.”

“Hi,” Todd said and cleared his throat. “Um, the cell phone was off from nine oh-five
P.M.
until ten twenty-seven
P.M.
, likely because Mr. Worthington was on the airplane. He turned it back on while at the airport.” He brought up a screen on his computer. It was a map of San Antonio with a yellow line cutting through. “I mapped his route based on cell tower pings—we have tracking software in all our phones.” It was clear from the map that Worthington had gone straight from the airport to the White Knight Motel just as the taxi driver had said.

“He made one call at ten fifty, to another company cell phone registered to Jolene Hayden. That’s Mr. Worthington’s daughter.”

Todd enlarged the screen. Lucy leaned over. There was a dot at the White Knight Motel, then a red line leaving the motel. “At twelve fifteen, the phone pinged here.” He had a dot at an intersection about three blocks from the motel. “I connected the motel with the location, and this is the most likely route by vehicle to get to that intersection. It would only take a minute.”

“What about on foot?” Lucy said. The driver had said the girl had left on foot. “What would it take, five to seven minutes or so?”

“Yeah, about that.” He tilted his head.

“And then the red line is thicker, why?” Lucy asked.

“Oh! Well, the phone was pinged at multiple locations between here”—he pointed—“and ended here, two point six miles away, at twelve twenty.”

“A car.”

“That’s most likely.”

“What’s at that location?” Lucy asked.

“A hotel—a real nice executive hotel.” He wrote down the name and address and handed the piece of paper to her. Barry took it out of her hand.

“Where is the phone now?” Barry asked.

“Still at the hotel,” Todd said.

Smith said, “I’ve already locked out the phone, in case anyone attempts to access any of Harper’s or HWI’s private files. We would need the phone to determine what might have been accessed on it, such as contact information, but Todd verified that the phone hasn’t been used to access company files or emails.”

“Do you have the phone backed up to a cloud server?”

“No,” Smith said. “That kind of security is marginal at best, and we have too much sensitive information. We have an intranet that employees can access from home with a login and password.”

Barry excused himself to take a call. Lucy complimented Todd on his program. “This is useful.”

“I hope you find out what happened to Mr. Worthington.”

“We will,” Lucy said with confidence. She had a modicum of guilt over what she’d first thought of Harper Worthington. With this additional information, she didn’t know if what appeared to have happened really did happen. But she trusted the evidence wherever it led them. Like Julie Peters said, the dead don’t lie.

“Agent Kincaid?” Smith said.

“Yes?”

“Your name is familiar,” he said. “You wouldn’t be related to the Kincaids at Rogan Caruso Kincaid, would you?”

“My brothers are those Kincaids,” she said, not surprised that HWI’s head of security knew of RCK. “Jack and Patrick.”

“Jack Kincaid. Hot damn.” He grinned. “God, I love that man. He saved my ass more times than I can remember. I did have to arrest him once—but that was long ago, and not my choice.”

“Arrest him?”

“I was an army MP for twelve years.” He snapped his fingers. “Of course, you’re Rogan’s girlfriend. I tried to hire that kid when I heard he was moving to San Antonio. Turned me down flat.”

“Sean only consults.”

“That’s what he said. He has high-security clearance—I might be able to use him on this forensic audit.” Lucy didn’t quite know what to say to that—would that be a conflict? She didn’t think so, but she didn’t give him any push in either direction.

“Didn’t I hear that Jack got married or something?”

“Yes—to an FBI agent in Sacramento.”

He smiled. “Good for him.” He shook his head. “Wow. Jack Kincaid’s sister.”

There was a bit of hero worship going on, but Lucy wasn’t surprised. Her brother had led an amazing life both in the army and then out of it as a mercenary. There was a nearly twenty-year age difference between them—he’d already enlisted in the army by the time she was born—but they’d become close over the last few years. He’d taught her everything she knew about self-defense and getting her life back together after she killed her rapist when she was eighteen. She loved everyone in her family, but there was a special bond between her and Jack and she never wanted to lose it. Maybe that was why she’d bonded so quickly with Sean’s oldest brother Kane when she met him two months ago. He reminded her of Jack.

Barry ended his call and gave her a quizzical look. He didn’t tell her what the conversation was about, but said instead, “Mr. Smith, thank you for your time. We’ll contact you if we need additional information. When you’re done with the internal security audit, please let me know.”

“Of course,” Smith said. “And keep me apprised of your investigation.”

“As much as we can.” Barry was already walking away.

Lucy thanked Gregor and Todd and quickly followed Barry out of the building. “What happened?” she asked. “Where are we going?”

“Julie Peters called. She wants us at the morgue.”

“She has cause of death?”

“She would only say it’s suspicious.”

Barry glanced over at her as they got into the car. “I would strongly suggest that your boyfriend not insert himself into this investigation.”

“What?” She was confused.

“I heard your conversation with Gregor Smith.”

“I didn’t bring Sean up.”

“I know,” he conceded, “but it could make things sticky if someone from HWI is involved in Worthington’s death, and the FBI agent investigating the case is sharing a bed with HWI’s consultant.”

He turned the ignition and got on the phone so Lucy couldn’t comment, even if she could have thought of something to say.

CHAPTER SIX

When Lucy walked into the morgue, she relaxed for the first time all day.

She’d interned with the Washington, D.C., Medical Examiner for more than a year while waiting to hear back on her FBI application. The experience had not only been educational, but she’d found she was good at the job. Because she was a certified pathologist, she’d assisted in autopsies and had been so meticulous that her D.C. supervisor wanted her to apply for a full-time position. But Lucy’s goal had been to become an FBI agent.