“Burger place—I can afford a better meal than fast food,” Lucy said. She’d lost the bet—the warrant hadn’t come through yet, and they were already ten miles over the L.A. border.
“Sure, but they have the best burgers I’ve ever had. I just have to remember the name. Anyway, hold on.”
He picked up his phone. “Wham-bam! Got the warrant.”
“Call Gillogley,” Lucy said. “We can then hit the law office first.”
“You don’t want to talk to Donovan?”
“I do, but the last call Danielle made to her ex-husband has been bothering me. I’d like to locate Danielle Sharpe immediately—interviewing Cindy Donovan will help for the prosecution, but it’s not going to get us closer to finding Danielle.”
He handed her his phone. “Her number’s there, you can forward her the warrant.”
Lucy called Sandra Gillogley. “Ms. Gillogley, my name is Lucy Kincaid, with the FBI. You spoke to my associate earlier—SSA Kenneth Swan.”
“Yes. Are you here?”
“On our way in traffic. The warrant just came through. I’m hoping I can forward you the digital copy and we can expedite getting the name of the lawyer you referred Danielle Sharpe to. It’s imperative we find her soon.”
“Why?”
Lucy glanced at Ken.
He said, “I didn’t give her details. Go ahead.”
“She’s wanted for questioning in three homicides.”
“Danielle?”
It didn’t sound like she believed it.
“I can’t give you more details, but we are following up on evidence uncovered in a recent investigation. Will you give us the information or are we going to have to see you in person?”
Lucy didn’t usually get testy with people, but she didn’t like people who stonewalled just for the sake of maintaining a level of power over others.
“Send it to me, I’ll call you back after I read it.”
Lucy hung up. “What a piece of work,” she mumbled and forwarded Gillogley the warrant.
“She’s just doing her job.”
“No, she’s being deliberate. I know people like her—they need to always have the upper hand. She doesn’t need a damn warrant to give us the name of a friend she referred an employee to. She just wants to feel important and intellectually superior to others.”
“Never stop profiling people, do you?”
“I’m not a profiler,” Lucy said.
Her phone rang. It was Max.
“Hi, Max,” Lucy answered.
“You sound irritated.”
“Lawyers.”
Max laughed. “Well, at least you didn’t say reporters in that tone. I just e-mailed you information about a similar case in San Jose that fits the timeline. Boy, kidnapped from his bedroom, wrapped in a blanket with his stuffed animal. Father having an affair, mother working late—she was a nurse and worked twenty-four-hour shifts—but there are two key discrepancies. First, the babysitter was shot and killed. Second, the autopsy specified drug overdose—same narcotic found in the other victims.”
“We can possibly exhume the body, though proving suffocation might be difficult. Inconclusive at best.”
“The body wasn’t found for three weeks. Buried in a wooded area behind the house, three miles away.”
“I take it the boy liked the woods?”
“I have no confirmation on that—something to talk to the parents about. But I think you’re missing the key point.”
“What?”
“She shot and killed the babysitter.”
“We don’t know that it was Danielle.”
“You said there would be another victim between Tommy Porter and Chris Donovan—this could be the one. And get this—my staff, as fabulous as they are and as careful as Danielle Sharp is—learned that she worked for a start-up company in the Silicon Valley, as the assistant to one of the lawyers. Jonah’s father was that lawyer. Read what I sent, if you disagree, be prepared to have a damn good reason.”
Max hung up. And she thought Lucy was testy?
Maybe she was. “Max’s staff may have found another victim,” Lucy said. She didn’t have time to bring up the e-mail because Gillogley called back on Ken’s phone.
Ken answered. “This is Kenneth Swan. You’re on speaker with me and my partner, Agent Kincaid.”
“My friend is Archie Frank, a partner with Duncan, Fieldstone, Frank and Devereaux. I do a lot of audit work with him. I gave him a list of three legal secretaries who had tax backgrounds, which is what he was looking for, and we ran into each other at a holiday function a year ago. He told me he’d hired Danielle and she was just what his office needed—meticulous, focused on the fine details. That’s all we discussed related to Danielle.”
“When did he hire Danielle?” Lucy asked.
“I didn’t ask; he didn’t say.”
Lucy really didn’t like this woman. She was more specific. “When did you refer Danielle to Mr. Frank?”
“I don’t recall. I would say it was two years ago, before April but after New Year’s. I don’t keep records of every call or referral.”
Ken said, “What’s the address?”
“Their offices are on North Brand, in Glendale.”
Ken suddenly swerved over three lanes and exited the freeway, making Lucy dizzy.
“Agents?”
“Here,” Ken said. “I almost missed the Glendale exit.”
I’m sure there would have been another, she thought. Lucy couldn’t wait to get out of the car.
“Exact address?” Ken asked.
Gillogley read it off; Lucy wrote it down but suspected Ken had memorized it.
“Should I expect you today?” the lawyer asked.
“We’ll call you back and let you know. Is this your cell phone?”
“Yes.”
“Keep it with you.” Ken hung up. “That should give her something to stew over.”
Other than his driving, Lucy liked Ken. He was chatty, but didn’t expect her to talk or share. He was easygoing, but could play hardball. He was smart, but also fun.
Why couldn’t she have a boss like Ken?
You could, if you wanted to move back to San Diego.
She couldn’t. Even before this week, she didn’t want to, and now she knew it would add more stress and conflict in her life. She and Carina might be able to get along, but Sean would be much happier working with Patrick in D.C. or Jack in Sacramento. Lucy had seriously been thinking of requesting a position in the D.C. or Virginia office. She had one more year to get through here, but after working with Dillon again on this case, she realized how much she missed him and Kate.
But she loved San Antonio, and the only reason she’d been thinking of leaving was because of the conflict with her new boss. She didn’t want to run away because a situation became too difficult. She ran into trouble and danger head-on, why couldn’t she manage her professional life in the same way?
Ken was back on the phone. “Hey, I need the second warrant—the one to get Danielle Sharpe’s employment records, personnel file, address, whole nine yards. Where is it?” He listened a minute. “You have ten minutes, we know where she works. If she’s there, we’re arresting her—if she’s not, we need all her data and it’s a fucking law office. They’re not going to give us shit without a warrant.”
He hung up. “I explained exactly what I needed, and they put it all in one warrant—Archie Frank will laugh us out the front door.”