Page 12

Eleven

She lay at his side, dark hair spread over the sheets like shimmering sable, the softness of her flesh against his.

She lay sleeping, and Jude wished that he didn’t need to wake her up, or, at the least, if he had to wake her up it was just to stay and play.

She was…magic.

He remembered their first meeting. His confusion about the entire situation. His own sense that she might be a beautiful young woman, but…

And Vicky, of course, despairing that he just wasn’t seeing the real situation.

That made him smile. Well, in truth, he hadn’t seen it—until he had understood everything that had happened. And while he could maneuver his way through files and life on a computer, manipulating algorithms, truly understanding the roles of servers and sites and more were beyond his expertise.

And still…

First, he had slowly fallen in love with her mind. The rest, wanting her…

That was nature, that was the chemistry that seemed to burn between them, more brightly every minute they spent together.

He didn’t want to move. He wanted to watch her sleep, love the contours of her face, remember the feel of her flesh, the way she had moved against him…

He knew they’d both been deeply into their work through the years, that they hadn’t had the time to give to relationships what others might, and if they had started out in relationships, often the demands—and ever the fears—of their jobs had made others leery, and thus…

Something waiting to end before it began.

He had at least sixty seconds, maybe even two minutes, before he had to wake her, creep back to his room, and take five minutes to shower and dress for the day.

In those moments he just looked at her, and remembered how he had slunk down the hall like an errant teenager, when they had hushed one another as they laughed, warning one another with fingers to their lips that they’d prefer their private lives be private.

He hadn’t been seen.

She’d been so quickly in his arms. It hadn’t been a parking lot; there were no observers. Maybe it was partially that the human being was an animal and sometimes, no matter how moral and ethical a man might hope to be, instinct kicked in, and thankfully…

Their instincts were shared.

He could look at her hair and still feel its silky softness beneath his fingers, see her naked shoulder and know the wonder of touching her. Laughter, passion, urgency, clothing strewn everywhere, those first moments, that first time together, then the shower and the feel of more heat cascading around them and every moment, touch, caress, kiss, intimacy that followed.

She stretched slightly in her sleep.

He eased himself from the bed, reaching for his clothing. He trusted himself, he trusted them both, naked or dressed. They’d had so much of the night, and then when perhaps he should have slunk back to his room, there had been a silent determination that he would not, that the time together after was just as beautiful, holding one another, drifting to sleep at last…

Naw.

He might trust Vicky, but he didn’t trust himself.

He slipped out of bed and hobbled quickly into his clothing.

Then he leaned over her, gently touching her shoulder, shaking her, feeling the brush of her hair.

“Vicky, Vicky, I’m so sorry. We’ve got to be out of here in ten, pick up the warrant, head to Wharton, Dixon, and Smith with it, start serious interrogation there.”

She groaned softly.

Perplexed, he touched her shoulder with a little more force.

But she sprang to a sitting position, grinning. Her hair wild around her, her eyes bright, her very existence pure temptation to him.

“I’m aware of the time!” she said, laughing. “I need a two-second shower, clothing. I’ll beat you to the kitchen!”

“Like hell you will!” he told her.

He grinned and hurried out.

And crashed right into Aidan.

“Not that I’m the fashion police, Jude, but…”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going to clean up. Just had to make sure that Vicky was awake,” he told Aidan.

“Oh,” Aidan said. Jude wasn’t sure if he meant it to be a question or an observation.

“Today, the law firm, and of course you’re up and on this,” Jude said.

“We’re coming with you, you know—getting in there when you hand over the necessary papers,” Aidan reminded him.

“Of course you are. You and Cary are king and queen of algorithms!” he said quickly, passing him and hurrying to his own room. “Oh! You’re ready to go, then. Don’t forget to feed the dog!” he called over his shoulder.

In his room he hopped in and out of an almost boiling shower, dressed, and hurried back out. On to work. Another day on the job, questioning, people, lies, stories, denial, same old, same old…

Okay, well, nothing on this job tended to be same old, same old. While some tricks were tried and known, criminals of any kind were adept at finding new tricks.

But that was work, and his work was a passion, something he embraced.

He just wasn’t sure he’d ever be the same again. She was different from anyone with whom he’d ever been close or intimate before. For now…

Compartmentalize; that part of life had to go behind a closed door right now.

“As if I’d forget to feed a dog!” Aidan announced as Jude reached the kitchen. As promised, Vicky was already dressed and ready, already there; she grinned at him and handed him a to-go cup of coffee.

“Thanks,” he told her.

She smiled sweetly and innocently. “My pleasure!”

He thought that he saw Aidan smirk. His imagination? Or had they—or just he—been far more obvious than he had thought?

But until last night…

Well, he’d intended total professionalism. And, of course, they could still be the ultimate professionals.

Maybe even better.

Cary was waiting with her own coffee near the door.

“As far as law enforcement goes, we’re still scrambling into the computer age. There are limits on the time we can take… But here’s the thing: everyone has a laptop these days. I have a feeling that what we’re looking for is going to be on someone’s private computer and they’ve been working all night to get all the warrants we’re going to need,” Cary said.

“Oh! The phone, Jude, Vicky,” Aidan added. “We’re hunting down the origin of the pictures on Samuel Hutchins’s phone, but as expected, the phone was a burner—sold by dozens upon dozens in northern and central Florida. And still, we may discover where it was purchased. I doubt if a credit card was used, but a salesperson just might remember who bought it. And none of this means that it’s a wash as far as giving us anything. While the team at headquarters is on it, most importantly, the last tower it pinged off is about a mile from the law firm. Your hunch may be right on the money. Anyway, Cary and I are all set to go. Ready when you are.”

“Let’s move,” Jude said.

Clover whined, as if realizing his human companions were all leaving for the day.

“Guard, boy!” Aidan told the dog, and the animal instantly sat, and almost appeared to nod.

Even Clover knew that it was time to work.

As it happened, they didn’t need to head in to get the warrants; a young agent from the field office arrived just as they were leaving, ready to hand them to the group. Jude knew him. He was Randy Jenkins, just six months out of the academy, assigned down in Florida, a good young cadet who was learning the local ropes as he moved along and, naturally, getting the “runner” jobs as he earned his way up the ranks.

Jude thanked him and introduced him to the others.

Randy was happy to greet them, and Jude quickly realized the young agent had done his homework on all of them. He welcomed Vicky “back home” and went on to tell Aidan and Cary how much he knew about their work and admired them.

It was a nice moment and Jude didn’t rush it.

It was going to be a long day. But he knew, too, that the pressure wouldn’t all be on them; Arnold was sending out a team.

They were heading to a law firm; the computers would be plentiful.

“Well, I’m just the runner today,” Randy said, aware that they needed to move. “But I’m afraid that all the king’s horses and all the king’s men may not be enough. I mean, I think that whoever is doing this is smart—smart enough not to be using a computer at work.”

“I’m sure that Arnold is working on warrants for personal computers as well. And the smartest person, not realizing that a warrant is on the way, might have a laptop on them,” Vicky told him.

“Maybe, and anyway, I wish you luck!”

They waved goodbye to Randy and headed for the car they were using.

“Do you think that this is for money? Or do you think that something bigger is in store?” Cary asked, settling into the back seat.

“I don’t know. But apparently that is something they’re worried about at the top,” Jude told her.

“Think any of them walk around with guns?” Aidan asked.

“Again, who knows?” Jude said. “But Vicky and I are armed, and I think I would bet that the entire place isn’t in on it. Cybercrime is a different animal. Murder from a distance, as it’s proving to be.”

“We can bet that Marci Warden wasn’t!” Vicky said.

“Right. But maybe the fact that she wouldn’t get in on it was what got her killed,” Aidan said.

“I do believe that will prove to be true,” Jude said.

“I’m hoping that Arnold has a really, really big team arriving,” Aidan said, studying his notes as he sat by Jude. “There are a lot of attorneys—and even more paralegals—in this firm. We have the big three—Wharton, Dixon, and Smith with Wharton being the head of their corporate law division. You’ve got Mr. Lee Chan heading up maritime law. They also specialize in personal injury, a division headed by Mr. Barton Clay. Last but never least, the division that deals with criminal law, A. Taylor, ‘Ms.’ A Taylor. Each division has a paralegal and at least two attorneys working under the head.” He paused, shaking his head. “Wow. We are one litigious society! But hmm. The team should be there before we are—we’re arriving a few minutes late. Traffic, not us!” he added.

“Not to worry too much—we’re there,” Jude said.

They exited the car. Vicky was staring at the building, frowning.

“What?” he asked her.

She shook her head, but a slight frown creased her brow.

“Attorneys and support staff are all supposed to be there today, right?” she asked. “And we’ve just received the warrants, but they knew we were seeking them, right?”

“What’s wrong?” Aidan asked her. “This is going to be a long, long—long, long, long—day. We need to get started.”

“I don’t know. There’s something about the building and the possibilities of sabotage if whoever is doing this is in there now has been forewarned we’re coming.”

“We’re getting full cooperation from Nathaniel Wharton. But not even he knew for sure that we’d make it by this morning,” Jude reminded her.

“All right, sorry, strange sense of foreboding,” Vicky said. “But, Aidan! You’re right. Long, long, long, even longer day. Ready to move!”

They headed for the building. Entering, they discovered that there was a cluster of people waiting for them, members of the local cyber division.

He knew most of them and introduced them to Vicky; they had all met Aidan and Cary before during various state endeavors and meetings.

They caught the elevators to the firm’s floor. When they entered, the young woman who had taken Marci Warden’s job was sitting at the reception desk, just as she had been the first time they had come.

“Hi, Nancy!” Vicky said cheerfully. She turned and announced pleasantly to everyone there, “Nancy Cole is new on the job. Naturally, the firm had to replace Marci quickly.” She paused. “But, of course, Nancy’s computer was Marci’s computer, so…” she added softly, before trailing off.

As her voice trailed, the blonde woman stood, a look of combined horror and fury on her face.

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing, coming in like a football squad!” she announced. “But I’m going to inform Mr. Wharton—”

“Oh, Mr. Wharton knows we’re coming,” Jude informed her. “In fact, I’ll just head in and find his office so that we can speak with him and supply him with the warrant papers.”

“You got warrants!” the woman said. “That’s impossible. That’s illegal!”

“Look at that, will you?” Vicky said pleasantly. “She’s the receptionist—and she thinks she knows the law. Oh, well, thankfully, there are real attorneys here. People who do understand the law—and what a warrant means!”

Nancy didn’t need to reply to that; the door had opened. Barton Clay had just entered with his pretty wife at his side.

“Hey!” he greeted them. “My wife and were going to grab a meal together today. What’s going on?” he asked.

“Sir,” Jude said politely, “we have warrants for the firm’s computers.”

“Oh! Well, yeah, of course.” He turned to his wife. “Honey, run back and get Nathaniel out here for these people, will you? I figured you’d be getting warrants. After we spoke, I’ve realized myself everything that’s happened… Anyway, whoever wants my office, you’re welcome to come along with me now.”

Before anyone could move, Belinda Clay returned with Nathaniel Wharton.

The older man immediately nodded and Jude walked over to him to take his hand. “I knew you were coming, of course, I just wasn’t sure when. I believe everyone is in and, Barton, you’re even back from that settlement meeting. So, Special Agents! Please, make yourselves at home here, just tell our people what you need and we’ll get going. Because, trust me, if anyone here is responsible in any way for Marci’s death… I want them prosecuted to the full extent of the law!”

“Thank you, sir, we’re also horrified that a young woman so needlessly lost her life,” Jude assured him. “And, while our cyber crew works, we’d like to interview your people.”

“You have the list. You may have my office and I’ll get Dixon to give you his space, too. In fact, you can start with Dixon and me, and then Celia Smith.”

“Celia is okay after her fall into the grave?” Vicky asked.

“She’s fine,” Wharton said dismissively. “But I warn you, she’s a bit old-school and she thinks you’re entirely crazy to believe that someone sabotaged Marci’s house or that the other accidents were anything other than accidents.”

“We know that the cars and the boat were hacked,” Jude reminded him.

“I know that, and you know that. Celia is just behaving old-school.” He lowered his voice and grinned. “She’s a bit of a tyrant, that one. But you should see that woman in a courtroom! She is hell on wheels, the kind of attorney you want in your corner.”

“All right, sir, thank you. Aidan has a list of the attorneys and their assistants. I believe that Cary is going to start right out here with what was Marci’s computer and Aidan will get the other assignments going. Shall we?” Jude asked.

“We’ll head to my office and if Special Agent Tennant comes along, I’ll escort her to Dixon’s office where they can talk, and then, Special Agent Tennant, he’ll leave that space to you,” Wharton told them.

“That’s great. Thank you,” Vicky said.

He nodded to Aidan who nodded in return, ready to divide his team of cyber sleuths and cover everything they knew about—and/or could discover—in the offices.

Yet even as they walked along the hallway, Wharton asked the question that was paramount for them as well.

“Say that someone here is involved in this—would they be using their desk computers here, or would they be using a laptop that isn’t part of the firm’s equipment?”

“Well, sir,” Jude told him. “One of the reasons we were hoping to keep our arrival with the warrants unknown was so that anyone who has been using a private computer for hacking into other systems wouldn’t know that they’d need to keep their personal property at home.”

“Ah, but what if they have them hidden in cases, or—”

“Sir, read the warrants. We have the right to search the offices and persons here as well.”

Wharton nodded. “Good. Now, I’m hoping, of course, that you find nothing. That no one in this firm is involved in any way. To be honest, I’m anxious to have that proven. And while I completely understand your educated suspicion that someone here must be involved, I’m praying that no one used this firm, and I would love to have my faith in my partners, my attorneys, and our support staff completely restored. Whatever it takes.”

“Thank you, sir. But, of course, you realize that such a thing could happen. A communication with Paul Sands, say, could give us an idea of what was going on with him and his firm. The slightest cyber clue can go a long, long way, sir.”

Vicky waved to him as she headed into Dixon’s office.

Jude thought dryly that if they were just in the middle of a Sherlock Holmes mystery, the game would be afoot!

He spoke with Wharton for another ten minutes or so. Of course, it was always possible for the person in charge, apparently doing everything in their capacity to cooperate, could still be the power behind a crime. The criminal personality tended, throughout the cases he had worked, to veer in one of two directions—filled with charm and humor or so dark and evil that their every move seemed to be driven by hatred.

As in a man like Carlos Rodriguez.

And sometimes they did have to lean in on gut instinct and if he was any judge of human behavior at all, everything about Wharton was legitimate.

“If someone here is guilty of doing this, who would you think it might be?” Jude asked Wharton.

Nathaniel Wharton had insisted that Jude take his chair behind the desk. But he hadn’t sat himself in one of the swivel business chairs facing it.

Hands folded behind his back, he paced for a minute until he stood before one of the windows that looked out over the city of St. Augustine.

“You know, this office…the views are exquisite. I can see the old fort—I can see Matanzas Bay. It was years ago and, of course, I had no idea how many high-rises would join this one, but I chose these offices so carefully. Anyone frustrated could look out on the beauty of the view and take a deep breath and maybe feel a little bit renewed. Now…you can see Old Town there, and even the outskirts and I think in that area you can even see what was Marci’s home. Looking out far enough across the bay, you can see the opposite shoreline and, I believe, the jetty where Quincy’s boat slammed and blew. Of course, you can’t see all the way to Tennessee, and that was…”

“Different? But then, not,” Jude said.

“But people can despise a judge. A man known to have sold drugs—out on a yacht with questionable people on board. Marci never hurt anyone in her life!” Wharton told him, shaking his head.

The man either beat the hell out of Brando as far as being an actor went, or he cared deeply. Cared as much as a parent might about the loss of a child.

“Marci knew something. Something she shouldn’t have known. And while whoever is doing this is brilliant with a computer, they may realize that others might put it together when that many accidents happened.”

Nathaniel Wharton nodded gravely, shaking his head. “What can I answer for you? How can I help?”

“Well, you can tell me if you suspect anyone,” Jude told him.

But the man shook his head again. “I personally interviewed everyone working here. I couldn’t begin to point to someone who might do this.”

Jude gave him a shrug and a rueful smile. “Perhaps you could send in Celia Smith.”

“Right. Okay, Celia is…as we said. Fierce. But being fierce doesn’t make one homicidal.”

“I know that. We’re interviewing everyone here,” Jude assured him.

“Right, of course. And, if it’s all right, I think I’m going to run downstairs for a coffee. Yes, we have a little kitchen here and a coffeepot. But the place downstairs does a mocha with an extra shot of espresso that is out of this world. Can I get you one?”

Jude laughed. He could use one.

But under the circumstances, he’d buy his own when the time was right. He shook his head and smiled, thanking the man.

Wharton headed into the hall.

Apparently Celia Smith was already there. She was arguing with Wharton, her voice hard and strident.

“I will not talk to that woman, Nathaniel! She pretends she’s FBI, she pretends she knows things… Someone just picked her up off a runway or maybe even when she was working the streets, thinking she could be used to sway stupid men. I don’t believe she’s real for one minute—”

“Celia, you’re wrong. I’m not an idiot. I researched the people investigating us. She was top of her class at Quantico and she’s worked serious cases for several years now. But you don’t need to speak with her. Special Agent Jude Mackenzie is in my office—you can speak with him.”

“This whole thing is ridiculous, Nathaniel! That supposed cyber tech is in my office now, tearing apart my computer, looking into affairs that should be confidential! I’ve had it! I say we sue immediately. We have—”

“Celia, talk to the man for two minutes!” Wharton said. “The way you’re behaving, you’re making it look as if you’re guilty as hell of something.”

“Of being an attorney who represents her clients one hundred percent. Nathaniel, please, I can’t believe that our people—”

Jude stepped out into the hall, arms crossed over his chest, a smile on his lips. “All right, Ms. Smith. Please. I have one question. If Barton Clay is head of the department that specializes in personal injury, why did you step in when the case involved Captain Quincy—and what is the relationship that this law firm has with Paul Sands, the man representing Carlos Rodriguez, the man who admittedly paid to have the judge killed, though he didn’t mind bloodying his hands with his daughter-in-law and letting his son take the fall for it?”

Celia Smith stared at him, shook her head, and started walking away.

“Celia!” Wharton said.

“I’m going down for a good coffee, just like you were doing, Nathaniel. If Special Agent Mackenzie wants to wait, I’ll be happy to explain my expertise!”

She headed down the hallway. Nathaniel looked at Jude and followed her.

Jude decided to follow them. What the hell? He wasn’t that big on mocha but a large cup of coffee with two shots of espresso would be good.

The glass enclosed conference rooms seemed to be filled. People couldn’t work at their computers while the cyber team was investigating them, and the majority didn’t seem to care—they just took physical files with them into the other rooms.

They passed many of the firm’s personnel as they traveled through the hallway to the reception area.

One door was open, and he could see that Barton Clay had remained in his office, watching as his computer was inspected, but apparently not very interested.

His wife was there, and he was telling her just to go home.

“I don’t know, Barton!” Belinda was saying. “Maybe Celia Smith is right on all this. They’re disrupting the entire day and if this gets a lot of publicity, it could hurt the entire firm. Don’t get me wrong—I’d never side with Celia Smith. Her just deciding she was going to take a case from you was wrong! But…”

She broke off, aware that Jude had stopped in the hall.

“Oh!” she groaned, seeing Jude. “I’m sorry. I mean, I know you have your job to do, except… I mean, seriously? You think a lawyer might be doing this? Accidents do happen.”

“That they do,” Jude said. “But when they happen too often and they seem to be connected, well, I do apologize, but we must look into it.”

Belinda gave him a smile.

Barton just shook his head.

“You are just doing your jobs and it’s fine. And if word gets out, the word is going to be that we were cleared of any wrongdoing, so, in my mind, sir, you have at it!” Barton Clay told him.

“Thank you. I’m going to speak with Celia Smith after a major coffee run, and, after that, if you’d like to be next in line—” Jude began, speaking to Barton Clay.

“You bet. This fellow is welcome to my computer, and you’re welcome to my mind!” Clay interrupted.

“I’m heading out,” Belinda said. “Unless…lunch?” she asked her husband hopefully.

He grinned at her. “Sure. If Special Agent Mackenzie finishes with me, I won’t mind stepping out for a few minutes. We’ll be playing catch-up, of course, but I know what needs attention right now and I’ll be on it!”

Belinda shrugged. “You’re a big shot, my love. It will be fine if you step out and since you’re happy to do so…hmm. I’ll play phone games while I wait!” she said, grinning at Jude.

“Fun,” Jude said lightly.

Phones. The place is filled with smartphones. All making use of AI and the internet.

“We’ll move quickly,” Jude promised Barton. He turned to hurry back down the hallway.

Once he reached reception, Jude couldn’t help but notice the pictures of the main employees on the wall.

Would it need to be one of the major players doing all this?

Or just a brilliant paralegal? Someone not even in our sights as of yet?

Nancy Cole was at her desk and looked at him suspiciously. In her mind he was simply the enemy.

“They’re heading down to that coffee place,” she said. “But I guess you know that.”

“Yeah, I’m going to join them. Can I bring you anything?” he asked politely.

She gave him an icy stare. No, of course, she wouldn’t want him getting her anything.

She didn’t bother an answer.

“Suit yourself,” he said, heading on out the door.

Nathaniel and Celia were standing by the elevators.

Celia was still angry; Nathaniel was holding his own, but continuing to try to calm her.

He was going to approach the two, but decided he’d just head down himself. He went to push the elevator call button, but it was already lit.

Well, at least they’d almost finished going down for their special coffees.

The elevator door slid silently open.

“Excuse me, it’s here,” he said.

As he spoke, Belinda Clay followed them from the direction of the offices. She grinned at Jude. “Coffee, why not? Nothing else to do while I wait around.” She moved closer to him and said lightly, “I never went to law school. Most of these guys don’t have two seconds for me or consider a word out of my mouth worth hearing! No, that’s not true. Some of them are nice and, of course, my husband is an attorney, but,” she grimaced with good humor, “sometimes I think even he considers himself a wee bit more intelligent!”

Jude smiled and shook his head. “Oh, I doubt that. A law degree isn’t everything.”

“Oh! It’s here… Finally. You would think in a building like this the elevators would move a bit more quickly. Hey, Mr. Wharton, Ms. Smith! Come on! Elevator is here!” she called.

Celia turned sharply and, shaking her head, started toward the elevator.

The door was about to close.

Jude stepped forward but Belinda Barton had already caught it and held it politely open for the others.

With a sniff and a muttered, “Thanks,” Celia Smith walked on in. Nathaniel started to follow her.

But as he did so, Vicky came bursting out into the hallway.

“Stop!” she cried.

“What?” Jude asked.

“Stop, stop, don’t get in the elevator—” Vicky shouted. “Get off!”

Jude could reach Nathaniel; he jerked the man free from the car. Belinda Clay shouted, “Celia! Get off, come on, please!”

“Belinda!” Barton Clay called, shaking his head and hurrying for his wife.

But Belinda Clay reached for Celia, almost stepping into the car.

Celia Smith had moved to the back of the car; she just stared at them all furiously. “Stop it, stop it, just stop all this nonsense!” she shouted.

“No!” Vicky cried, making a wild run toward the elevator car. “No, no, something isn’t right, there’s something that’s going to go wrong, please, get off—”

Too late.

The door closed with such vehemence that Jude, leaping forward to try to stop it with all his strength, almost lost an arm.

The elevator started downward…

They could hear the whoosh of the speed with which it was suddenly moving.

And they could hear the jolt and feel the vibration of the building as it slammed all the way down into the very foundation of the place.

Then, for a split second, dead silence reigned.

Then the screams began…

From Belinda, from offices throughout the building, and even from the street below.