Page 4

Three

“You do know this fellow’s family may have no idea about what he was doing,” Jude reminded Vicky.

She nodded, staring straight out the windshield of the car. He was doing the driving today and she couldn’t help observing the new and old of the city that had grown from America’s oldest European settlement. “I’m not expecting much from them, either. I’m more worried about whoever paid or arranged for this man to kill Marci if she escaped the house. I mean, I’m assuming that’s why he was there, for cleanup if necessary. They may go after his family, thinking he might have chickened out on killing himself. And you can’t threaten a second round of minions if you don’t carry through with the first.”

“Whoever is manipulating this may not know the man didn’t die,” Jude reminded her.

Vicky shook her head. “We live in the information age. With all the events going on yesterday, I’m sure the news has picked up the tragic story of Marci’s ‘accidental’ death, whether they had access to the scene or not. So, they will know they accomplished their goal, but when they don’t hear from their man…”

“Why kill the family if he accomplished his goal?” Jude asked. He looked her way quickly. He was concerned but not worried . “Vicky, there really shouldn’t be a reason that anyone would go after his ex-wife. What other information do we have? You were texted the address—anything else?”

She looked at him grimly. “Two children, five-year-old Chloe and seven-year-old Justin.”

“We’re almost there. It’s going to be all right.”

She nodded. “Right. Not that much time has passed. Maybe…it’s early. The kids are probably in school, but they might not have started out for the day yet. They need to be in protective custody, Jude.”

“Right. We have safe houses in the area. They’ll be fine.”

The address led them to a section just on the other side of the oldest part of town, a small home but one that offered a Victorian charm from gables to pillars and the small balcony porches on the second floor.

Vicky was unbuckling her seat belt and opening the door before the car was fully in Park. He hurried to join her as she walked up the little tile path to the house.

She knocked quickly, drawing out her ID and calling to the woman inside. “Mrs. Hutchins, we need to speak with you! We’re law enforcement and—”

“Show me your badges!” they heard. There was a peephole in the door. Obviously, Jessy Hutchins was being careful.

Why? Is she always smart and wary? Or has her ex given her a reason to be nervous?

They both held up their IDs so she could read them.

The door opened slowly.

Jessy Hutchins was a tall slim redhead, an attractive woman in her late twenties or early thirties. Or she would have been attractive if she weren’t so fraught with tension; her features were drawn into a taut knot of apprehension.

“What? What is going on? I… What did I do?” she asked anxiously. “Or…”

“Or what did Samuel do?” Vicky asked gently.

“I… Sam! Is he okay? He’s not a terrible person. I mean, he’s a good person, we just started fighting so much, and I… He’s a good father… Oh, dear God! Please tell me that he’s okay. He’s not—he’s not…” the woman began as tears streamed at the catch in her voice.

“He isn’t dead,” Jude told her. “But he is fighting for his life in the hospital.”

“No!” Tears slid down her face as she stared at them, not wanting to believe what she was hearing.

“Money! Money was tight. And Chloe needs therapy. At first, he kept assuring me he was onto something…he didn’t like it but…he didn’t understand yet quite what the job was, he was just confused, but then… I think he was worried and then horrified and scared , and then he said he didn’t like what he was doing but he had no choice, and then he called to tell me I needed to be careful, and…now you’re here!” Jessy said.

She was shaking. Jude could imagine that someone had approached the man with a job—just something a little illegal maybe, but one that could give him what he needed for his child.

But then he’d been told what the job was, and if he didn’t follow through correctly, if he gave anything away…

His family was dead.

“What is going on?” she whispered.

“We don’t know. But we are afraid you and your children might be in danger. And we’d like to set you up in one of our safe houses where you’ll be under guard and secure.”

“But what happened to Sam?”

Jude glanced at Vicky. She was already looking at him.

The hardest part of the job was dealing with stricken family members. They all learned that lesson, and it was never easy because empathy was a natural reaction. But they couldn’t allow themselves to become too personally involved.

“All right, we believe what you’re saying is exactly what happened,” Vicky said gently. “Someone told Sam they had a job for him that was a little illegal, and it would be explained. Then—”

“Then he was threatened by someone powerful enough to scare him, and—” Jude continued.

“He was afraid he was going to be caught. Even if he kept his mouth shut during any kind of interrogation, you might be in danger,” Vicky said. She looked at Jude again and then at Jessy. “I’m so sorry, I can only imagine how painful and frightening this is, but we believe he was dealing with very dangerous people. He knew that and felt he couldn’t risk being interrogated.” She caught Jude’s eye once more, and he knew they were in agreement.

The woman needed the truth.

He nodded and turned his attention to Jessy Hutchins, speaking quietly and gently. “We believe your ex-husband truly loves you and the children. He attempted to take his own life rather than take any chance that you or the children might be in danger,” he said.

“Oh, God,” she whispered. “Then he…”

“He may make it. The doctors are optimistic,” Vicky told her.

“I have to see him!” Jessy said.

Jude shook his head. “Right now, whoever is doing this will assume he’s dead. At the very least, they’ll believe—or know—that their main mission was carried out as planned. We have agents watching very carefully at the hospital, and we’re taking you and the children to a safe house.”

“But if they believe—”

“Mrs. Hutchins, we’re talking about saving lives here,” Vicky reminded her.

“Of course!” the woman said, looking aghast as she stared back at them. “Of course, what am I thinking? Fine—”

“What’s a safe house?”

Jude turned. The little boy peeping around the corner to hallway had to be seven-year-old Justin, of course. He was a cute kid with shaggy sandy hair like his dad’s. And an inquisitive little face.

Explaining the situation to an adult was hard enough!

But Jude didn’t need to worry. Vicky was already on her way over to him, smiling as she knelt to his height. “Justin, right?” she queried first. “I’m Vicky. Your dad is sick at the moment, and I’m afraid you can’t see him right now. But we want to take you to a place where you’ll be able to see your dad as soon as possible.”

“What’s the matter with my dad?” Justin asked.

“He’s just recovering from some stomach troubles,” Vicky supplied. “So—”

“We’re going to a safe house place,” Justin said. “Mom, we need to pack, right?”

“Yes, we do!” Jessy said.

“Can I have friends over?” Justin asked.

“I’m afraid not,” Jude told him.

“That’s okay. I can play on my tablet,” Justin said. “Right, Mom?”

“Of course—” Jessy began.

“No, I’m afraid not,” Vicky began.

Justin was seven. He immediately appeared to be devastated.

“But,” Jude said quickly, “we’re going to get you a brand-new state-of-the-art tablet, and it will be so, so cool!”

“Oh, wow!” Justin said. “And Chloe, too?” he asked.

“Of course. Chloe, too,” Vicky said, looking over at Jude.

Nice to feel that some of my moves and words are appreciated! he thought.

Then Jude looked at Jessy and told her, “No phones, computers, tablets, or anything electronic. We’ll supply you with a burner phone and—”

“Get down!” Vicky suddenly shouted.

She threw herself over little Justin as she hit the floor; Jude covered Jessy Hutchins with his bulk, bringing them both to the floor as well.

They barely made it. The front windows of the house exploded inward as the thunderous sound of automatic gunfire sprayed bullets across the walls.

Jude quickly rolled off Jessy, warning her to stay down as he crawled to the front of the house in time to see a blue van disappearing down the street. It was filthy, being covered in dirt and dust that, of course, obscured the license plate.

It would be impossible to chase. He pulled out his phone and called it in quickly to Aidan, knowing Aidan would have every law enforcement officer and agent in the area looking for the dirty blue van.

Jessy was sobbing. Justin was trying to reach his mother.

Vicky was up. “I must find Chloe!” she whispered to him as she quickly made her way down the hallway.

The little girl. Just five years old. He winced but headed out to the front yard. Sirens were blaring. The agents who had been assigned to take Jessy Hutchins and her two children to safety had arrived along with three patrol cars from the local police. He quickly explained the situation; the patrol cars left the matter of the house in the hands of the FBI and went in search of the van he described.

The agents were David Sanchez and Ella Goldman, and they already understood the situation.

“They’re shaken, of course. And I haven’t seen the little girl myself yet, but…”

“Oh, no, since the shooting?” Ella Goldman asked him. She spoke with empathy but had the look of someone who had been around—and she had been, he knew. He’d worked with her before. She wasn’t particularly tall, about five-five, but her face showed lines of past tension, of having been on the job a long time and her dark hair was drawn back severely.

She’d managed to be all the right things, kind and tough as nails all in one.

He shook his head. “Ella, I’m not sure yet. Vicky Tennant is on it.”

Ella closed her eyes and winced. “Oh, dear lord—”

“It’s all right!”

The call came from the door; he saw Vicky there, stepping out to join them.

“That little girl had some kind of instinct! She got scared when you and I arrived, Jude, so she hid in the closet. She’s fine. They’re just grabbing a few things and they’ll be ready.”

“We’ll follow you to the safe house and watch for anything around us,” Jude said.

“This is so strange,” David Sanchez said, shaking his head. He was a young agent, probably a few years younger than Jude, dark-haired, serious. “We’ve been briefed, of course. But I don’t understand. If someone was trying to kill Marci Warden, and it wasn’t an accident—which given the circumstances was most likely murder—the woman is still dead. And if Samuel Hutchins was sent in as cleanup, as far an anyone knows, he’s dead, too. Why go after his family if he carried out his assignment?”

“Appearances,” Vicky said. “Fear factor. A real warning that things must be done exactly as ordered or no quarter will be given.”

“But who would want to work for them if they know they’ll die if the slightest thing that goes wrong could be a death sentence?” Sanchez asked.

“Desperate people,” Vicky said simply.

“Or those experienced criminals they’ve brought in from elsewhere, perhaps promised that a plan they’ve wanted put into action for a long time might be carried out as well,” Jude said. “For the moment, we’ve just got to get these guys here to safety and then get on it.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Ella said. “Maybe I can help with the packing.”

“Jessy is good—they’re about ready,” Vicky said.

Jessy appeared in the doorway as they spoke, just peeking her head out.

“Let’s move,” Jude murmured.

The four of them went into the house. First, the agents brought out the three bags Jessy had so quickly packed. Jessy also swore to them she’d made sure all electronics had stayed behind. Then with Jessy at David Sanchez’s side, Justin with Jude, and little Chloe between Vicky and Ella, they made it out to the agency vehicle David was going to drive. They loaded the family and then were quickly back on the road again. Jude and Vicky followed closely behind, keeping a close eye out for any signs of trouble.

The safe house had a driveway that led behind a high stone wall and security gates. When the group in front of them was through, Jude turned to Vicky.

“Okay?”

She nodded.

“But you were right,” he said. “Your instincts are great. I’m not sure what might have happened if we hadn’t been there.”

His phone rang; it was Aidan.

Jude answered it through the Bluetooth connection in the car, causing Vicky to murmur, “Your technology at work!”

He shrugged as he answered Aidan. “We’re both on,” he said briefly.

“Cops found the blue van, abandoned, of course,” Aidan said.

“And you’re going to tell me it was stolen from someone recently,” Jude said.

“You got it. Reported stolen from in front of the house of a Mr. Joseph Kramer just last night. An APB was out on it, but…obscured plates, the dirt actually darkening the color of the BOLO…”

“Naturally,” Vicky murmured.

“But I’m heading out with a team. I doubt we’ll find fingerprints or anything helpful, but…we’ll get into the Hutchins’ house as well, collect the bullets… You never know. We may find something helpful…anything.”

“Thanks, Aidan. Keep in touch.”

“Right.”

“Cary will be at the computer, searching IPs, you name it, and…”

His voice trailed.

“And what?”

“She’d never do anything illegal, of course,” Aidan said.

Jude grinned. “Of course not.”

Cary was probably hacking into Marci Warden’s legal firm, or perhaps the judge’s private accounts, or those belonging to the men who were killed on the Lucky Sun .

“We all know that you two would never dream of anything illegal,” Jude assured him.

“Keep us posted, too,” Aidan told him.

“Oh, wait, anything new from the hospital?” Vicky asked.

“Nothing new, but the doctors believe they are getting the situation under control and they may be able to bring him out of it and keep him stable as early as tomorrow,” Aidan said.

“And the hospital is well-covered. People who know enough to make sure that the hospital staff are really the hospital staff?” Jude asked.

“Yes, absolutely,” Aidan said. “Federal, state, country, city—the best of the best are being brought in on this. I’ve been assured.”

“Great. So. We’ll let you in on our plans as soon as we’ve solidified them,” he said.

They ended the call and he looked at Vicky again.

“Where do we start?”

“Marci Warden’s legal firm,” she said. “And—” she shrugged “—from there, well, it is a beautiful day. We can head out to the island and discover what we can at the wreck site.”

“Do you dive?” he asked her.

“I do.” She frowned. “What do you think we’ll find in the water?”

“I never know what we’ll find anywhere,” he said with a shrug. “A boat wrecked horribly on a jetty. Whatever didn’t splinter into a thousand pieces or blew up may still be at the bottom of the bay.”

“Police divers were in the water,” she told him.

“They were probably hoping to find someone alive—not thinking the yacht might have been hacked. Hey, I’m from here, remember? Cops and coast guard alike spend a lot of time grumbling about the drunk boaters out on the water all the time. Anyway…”

“It’s a nice day. You just want to go diving,” she said.

He saw she was grinning. He grinned as well.

“Might as well mix business with pleasure. But…”

She frowned, turning to him as he set the car into motion again to head for the law firm.

“What do you think we can find? If I—and other minds above my pay grade—believe the yacht’s navigation and controls were hacked, what could be in the water?”

He turned to her in response, grimacing.

“The elements of the navigation and control systems—proof that they were hacked.”

“I wonder if that’s possible.”

“Hey! It’s the technological age. We have a few magical technical analysts among our numbers, and you of all people—”

“I can manage my way through many things in the computer age, but I am far from a magician!” Vicky told him.

He grinned. “Thankfully, Aidan is a magician. All worth a good try, fighting in the technological age with technological weapons.”

“So, you do get that.”

“I get it. I get it. And we’re here,” Jude said, pulling into a parking space.

He looked up at the building. It was a large modern facility with windows on its many floors that let in the sunlight of the day.

“The firm has floors seven to twenty—including what they call the ‘penthouse,’” Vicky said, reading from her phone. “Wharton, Dixon, and Smith are the partners. Nathaniel Wharton, Donald Dixon, and Celia Smith. The firm has been around for thirty years, always the same partners. Twenty attorneys in all, specializing in just about everything including family law, marine law, personal injury, and criminal law.” She winced, glancing at him. “This could take some time.”

“Concentrate on the biggies.”

“Okay, so…partners and heads of the departments.”

“Right. A good start, anyway. Divide and conquer or go after them together?” Jude asked.

“Let’s see what kind of resistance we get when we go up,” Vicky said.

“There’s a plan. I’ll let Aidan know where we are. Just in case we disappear into a computer,” he wisecracked.

Vicky groaned. He made the call, and they headed in. It was a busy building. The lobby was filled with people coming and going.

But they quickly located the elevators. Jude found himself staring at the call buttons, interested in the other businesses with which the firm shared the building.

“Typical,” Vicky murmured.

She looked at him, inclining her head in a nod. “Dentists, another law firm, cosmetic surgery, investment firm, two more doctors, and…”

“Sledge Incorporated,” Jude supplied.

“Wonder what that is,” she murmured.

He laughed. “Easy.”

“We drop in on the way out?”

“Easier than that. We ask Cary or Aidan.”

“Of course!”

The elevator arrived. Jude noted it was equipped with cameras—as he assumed all the hallways in the building would be.

They arrived at reception—at the desk where he believed Marci Warden would have sat.

Had she not been killed by an electric knife in a house run amok.

A young blonde was there today. She was barely in her twenties, Jude thought, but very attractive.

An excellent face to welcome people to the firm.

As once Marci Warden’s had been.

“Hello! Welcome to Wharton, Dixon, and Smith. How may I help you?”

They both produced their credentials.

She looked at them as if stunned. “I, um, I’m sorry—I don’t understand.”

“Really?” Vicky asked sweetly. “The woman who sat in this chair just yesterday is dead and—”

“Oh, I know! I know. And I’m so sorry. I didn’t know Marci, but what a terrible accident! I…got rid of the AI in my house—I’ll turn my own lights off from now on!” she said. “And, of course, the entire firm is in mourning…we’re at half-staff, so…”

“How about we start with Mr. Wharton, Mr. Dixo,n or Ms. Smith?” Jude suggested politely.

The blonde winced. “I’m afraid Mr. Wharton isn’t in today. He hired Marci years ago, and I believe he is truly brokenhearted. As are so many! We are a family here.”

“A family. But you didn’t know Marci?” Vicky said.

The blonde lowered her head. “I just started. I mean, I’d seen Marci… I saw her when I applied for an assistant’s job here. I was on the list, and this morning I was called in and…”

“Okay. Who called you in?” Jude asked.

“Ms. Smith,” the young woman said.

“Then you can point her office out to us, please,” Vicky said.

The blonde glanced toward the back. “Well, let me give her a call—”

“That’s all right, we’ve got this,” Vicky said, starting toward the rear hall.

“Wait! You can’t just—”

“Feds. Yes, we can,” Jude said pleasantly.

The blonde leaped to her feet, running like a gazelle ahead of them, bursting thought the door with the plaque that designated the office as belonging to Celia Smith.

They let the blonde precede them, entering directly behind her.

“Ms. Smith, I am so sorry—” the blonde began.

“We do apologize, but we are racing against time!” Jude interrupted.

Celia Smith was in her early sixties, Jude surmised, with her hair cut short and kept at a shimmering white-blond color. It didn’t appear she went out of her way to seek cosmetic surgery or turn back the hands of time; she was an attractive and well put together older woman.

“Nancy, it’s fine. I can see you were given little choice!” Celia said. She didn’t rise; she remained behind her desk, studying Jude and Vicky curiously. “How may I help you?”

There were chairs in front of her handsome highly polished desk.

They took them.

Comfortable, nicely upholstered chairs, not the usual business rollers. But the entire office was impressive. It also offered a large viewing screen, accessible, he imagined, for information on important cases. There was a handsome sofa across the room with two matching—once again, comfortable—chairs. And the upper walls were lined with pictures of the partners and the heads of the law firm’s various departments.

“We’re here about Marci Warden,” Vicky told her, producing her badge again as they sat.

The woman looked truly stricken.

“Marci!” she said softly. She looked down, wincing, and looked up again. “You must realize…we’re in mourning for her here. Many of my colleagues… Well, I’m afraid the law doesn’t take holidays, so we needed to have a skeleton crew in, at the least, and still…”

“We’re so sorry for your loss,” Vicky said.

Celia Smith nodded.

Then she looked up at them, frowning. “We heard it was a terrible, terrible accident. That she lost control of her electric knife and she had water on at the same time and… A truly and horribly tragic accident!” She shook her head. “You think it was something else?”

“What was she working on?” Vicky asked.

“Working on? She was our receptionist, a wonderful one,” Celia said, “but she didn’t handle any of our cases. She directed people to the right departments, the right attorneys. Oh, and she planned the business luncheons we had on our penthouse level, a few parties…but nothing else at all!”

“All right, then. How about your infrastructure?” Jude asked.

“Our infrastructure?” Celia countered, confused.

“Have you had any difficulties with your computer systems, with work being lost—have there been cases where the other party knows things they shouldn’t?” Vicky asked.

“No, not that I know about. And if there were any problems, I know our attorneys would come to either me or one of my partners,” Celia said.

“No difficulty with malware of any kind?” Jude pressed.

“No, our people know what they’re doing,” Celia said.

“You must have a department here for technical analysts, right?” Vicky asked.

Celia shook her head. “No, we, um, call in our national experts when we have a problem. You see, many of our people grew up with computers and technology—they’re very savvy all on their own.”

“Well, we’d like to speak with your most ‘savvy’ people and the heads—” Vicky began.

“That’s impossible,” Celia said.

“Oh?” Jude asked.

“None of them are here today. I’m not trying to be argumentative. We loved Marci. But I just can’t understand how what happened could have been anything other than…tragic. But if you want to speak with the heads of our departments, I’m afraid you’ll need to find them at home or come back,” Celia said. She seemed sincere.

Jude smiled.

“We’ll do that,” he said.

“You said your employees are young and cyber savvy,” Vicky told Celia. “We’re going to need a list of them, please.”

Celia suddenly sat back, shaking her head, pursing her lips.

“You’re forgetting something,” she told her.

“What’s that?”

“We’re a renowned national law firm, emphasis on the word law. I was trying to be helpful, but now you’re digging into things that may be harmful to this company—”

“Not as harmful as they were to Marci Warden,” Vicky said.

“Warrant. You want to harass my employees, you’re going to need a warrant!” Celia told her.

“And you said you wanted to be helpful,” Jude said.

Celia let out an impatient breath. “Marci died because of an accident! A tragic one, and my people are in mourning. We should leave it to you all to turn it into something else entirely. Please! Get the hell out of my office or I promise you, I’ll be bringing a harassment suit against your entire department!”

Vicky looked at Jude and smiled. “So helpful! She clearly cared very much!” she said.

“Right,” Jude agreed, shaking his head.

He turned to smile at Celia. “That’s fine. We’ll get a warrant. And well, I didn’t go to law school, but… I do know how to be creative. I can create rolls and rolls of red tape.”

They headed to the door.

“Wait!” Celia called.

They turned back. “I’ll get you a list of our employees with asterisks by those who provide technical help when necessary. If you leave a card, I’ll put together what I can. Truly, I loved Marci. But I honestly believe that—that you’re desperately trying to make her death something it wasn’t!”

“Your help will be greatly appreciated,” Jude said, walking over to her with one of his cards. “Don’t email the information—create the list with a pen or pencil on paper, and we’ll have someone by this afternoon to pick it up.”

She took the card and nodded.

The two of them left the office at last. As they passed the reception desk, the blonde stood and stared at them as if they were deadly aliens who had just arrived from a hostile planet.

He glanced at the nameplate on her desk.

It still said “Marci Warden.”

He smiled and walked back to her despite the look she was giving him.

“Thank you, thank you so much for your help today, Miss…?”

“Nancy. Nancy Cole. And I’m hoping you didn’t get me fired!”

“Then you file a suit against the company for unlawful dismissal,” Vicky said sweetly. “We’ll be happy to testify at any trial! Special Agent Mackenzie, shall we?” she asked.

They headed to the elevator, turning to smile as they departed the law firm at last.

“Well, that was almost worthless,” Vicky murmured.

“Almost?”

“There’s something up with that blonde!” she told him, turning to him.

He frowned. “Little miss sweet, young, and innocent-looking?”

“She was on the phone when we left Ms. Smith’s office. I believe she was telling someone we were here, and we were about to leave.”

“So, who would she be telling?” he asked.

“Someone who isn’t in the building today. Someone mourning the death of Marci Warden with so much sorrow that they had to stay home. And someone who might be dismayed but not shocked to know that someone in the world might suspect there was more to Marci’s death than just technology run amok!”

She stopped suddenly, staring at the wall.

It was covered with headshots—Wharton, Dixon, and Smith themselves at the top of the pyramid of pictures.

Beneath them were the various heads of the department, some alone, several with spouses and presumably their children.

The company dealt with corporate law; Wharton himself was the head of that division. The maritime law division was headed by a Mr. Lee Chan who was appropriately pictured on a boat along with his wife, Gina, and a son who appeared to be about ten named Jason. Next, came the division of personal injury headed by a Mr. Barton Clay pictured with his young and lovely blond wife, Belinda. The firm also specialized in criminal law headed up by a Ms. A. Taylor, a woman of about forty, pictured all by herself.

“Well, we know who we’re looking for!” Jude murmured.

“Interesting—I don’t see what Mr. Dixon and Ms. Smith are heading,” Vicky said.

“Maybe they’re the overseers,” Jude suggested.

“Such a family affair!” Vicky murmured. “And we’re dragging a list out of Ms. Smith!”

“They may be guilty of nothing, and they may be guilty as hell, but…”

“But what?” Vicky asked.

“This is a law firm. We’re going to need to be careful—”

“If they’re guilty—”

“We sure as hell don’t want anything thrown out of court,” Jude finished.

She nodded. But she suddenly turned back to look at the pictures again. “Strange,” she said.

“What’s strange?” Jude asked.

Vicky shrugged. “May have been, may not have been… The lobby was so busy when we arrived, but…”

“But?”

“I thought I saw a couple of the people pictured on that wall in the lobby.”

“Attorneys who weren’t here because they were in mourning?” Jude asked.

Vicky nodded. “Well, one attorney and one wife. The pretty blonde woman… Belinda Clay. I think I saw her come out of an elevator. With another woman, the head of the criminal division. Um.” She paused, turning to study the wall again. “Ms. A. Taylor, as her picture on the wall tells us.”

Jude was thoughtful. “The blonde looked different? Hair up in a braid or a knot or a twist or something. And Ms. A. Taylor… I think you’re right. But she was really different, wearing jeans and a sweatshirt?”

Vicky nodded. “I think we saw them, Jude. I think that was them.”

“Maybe. Again, just seeing them in an elevator…”

“Is not evidence of guilt.”

“And we need to be very, very, careful.”

“Right! You are absolutely right on that!”

Attorneys. They would know how to use the law…

And while he wasn’t sure why, Jude was convinced that someone here knew something.

They were all tech savvy?

Maybe someone was just a bit more savvy than the others.