“Good.”
She wasn’t lying. While she would do anything for Brad Donnelly, a man she liked and respected, she didn’t like working drug cases. What Brad and his people did was difficult, dangerous, and largely unrewarding. Because of their proximity to the border, the DEA had additional concerns and worked closely with all federal and local law enforcement agencies. Gun running, human trafficking, drugs—sometimes Lucy wondered why they had to have multiple agencies when the problems overlapped so much.
“I learned something interesting while you were talking to Juan,” Barry said. “James Everett has been a big supporter of Adeline Reyes-Worthington from the beginning—until last month when he endorsed her opponent.”
“How does that connect with him calling in a prostitute?”
“It doesn’t, but it’s an odd coincidence that Worthington’s phone ends up in Everett’s hotel room.”
“How do you want to handle this?”
“Don’t bring up the prostitute, at least at first,” Barry said. “I want to see what he says when I tell him about the phone. We have no proof that the girl is underage, or that he had sex with her. And truly, no judge is going to put him in prison because he paid for sex—even if we can prove it. I want to see how fast he calls in one of his lawyers. Then, when I give you a signal, flip over your note pad and show him the photo of the girl.”
Lucy was listening to Barry, but she was also thinking about why Jane Doe would take Worthington’s phone and leave it in Everett’s hotel room. “What if Everett hired her to steal the phone? Maybe she had nothing to do with Worthington’s death—he could have been dead when she got there. She grabs the phone and delivers it.”
Except, why set up the scene to make it look like Worthington had sex before he died?
“Why would he leave it in a room where it could be traced back to him?” Barry asked. “Let’s pretend we didn’t see the security tapes. We traced the phone’s GPS to James Everett’s hotel room. Let him tell us how it got there.” Barry changed the subject. “Did you tell Juan about your boyfriend?”
“He already knew. Sean called him.”
Barry didn’t say anything. If he expected Lucy to say something more, she had no idea what it was, so she kept quiet.
Barry reached into his pocket and tossed her a folded sheet of paper. “That’s the information from the warrant we served on the hotel this morning—Kenzie took care of it while we were interviewing Jolene Hayden. Confirms everything we knew from the security footage, plus the time he registered and when he was in his room.”
Lucy read over the information while Barry drove in silence.
Ten minutes later, they arrived at the sprawling complex where James Everett’s development company took up one four-story building in the multi-building, square-block office park on the outskirts of San Antonio.
Everett made them wait for twenty minutes before his secretary led them to his private office. She closed the doors behind her. Everett continued to sit behind his desk looking through a stack of papers. He was in his late forties, thick around the middle, had thinning gray hair, and wore an expensive suit. He barely glanced at them. “I have a meeting in ten minutes. I don’t see how I can help you. I knew Harper Worthington, but we weren’t close friends.”
Barry said, “When did you last see Mr. Worthington?”
“Months ago. I don’t remember when.”
“And his wife, Congresswoman Reyes-Worthington?”
Everett didn’t say anything for a second and looked up from his papers. “A few weeks ago. Maybe a month or so. Why is this relevant?”
“We’re retracing Harper Worthington’s last few days.”
“And as I said, I haven’t seen him lately.”
“Were you registered at the Del Rio Hotel this weekend?”
Everett didn’t answer the question. He rolled his gold pen back and forth between his fingers. “Why do you need to know?”
“Just following up on a lead.”
“I really don’t see why it’s important for you to know where I’ve been.”
Barry said, “Harper Worthington’s cell phone was found on Saturday in a room at that hotel. The last registered guest was you.”
“Impossible,” he said.
“According to hotel records, you checked in Friday afternoon and checked out Saturday morning.”
“So?”
“Housekeeping found the phone. How did it get in your room?”
“I have no idea.”
“According to the GPS logs, it arrived at the hotel at approximately twelve thirty Saturday morning. An hour after Mr. Worthington died.”
Everett didn’t say anything for a long minute. He then said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I’m not going to answer any more questions without my lawyer present.”