“Who is they, Lucy?”
She didn’t know if he was being rhetorical or not. His tone was odd. “Siobhan thought that someone with access to her rental car took the SD card from her camera. That would mean either the deputy who arrested her, the teenager who chased her from the house, or someone they called. Dobleman was there, he could have easily returned, pulled the SD card, realized he could be identified.”
“Why not grab the whole camera?” Noah asked.
“They did,” Lucy reminded him. “Later that night, with her computer.”
“Why not take the camera from her car?”
Lucy didn’t know.
“Maybe they were tracking her,” Nate suggested. “Didn’t know where she was staying. Once they did, they grabbed everything.”
“We have to assume they know what we know—who we have on camera, the connection between Siobhan and the de la Rosa sisters.”
“That’s a big leap,” Noah said, but from his expression he was considering it.
“They dropped all charges against Siobhan,” Lucy said. “It wasn’t even us being there; they had made that decision before we arrived. Maybe it was because of Rick’s call … or maybe because they were worried that federal attention would get them in trouble. Maybe it’s all Deputy Jackson, and he admitted to fondling Siobhan and inciting her to hit him.”
“Logical. And the sheriff did seem upset with her deputy, and apologetic.”
“A guy like that must have other complaints against him,” Lucy said, “or when they realized Siobhan was a photojournalist, they didn’t want the bad press.”
“Dobleman is an obvious ID,” Noah said. “He has a military record, and anyone with half a brain would know we’d have access to basic military records. He could be laying low. Or simply working for Jasmine and unable or unwilling to come home.” Noah nodded to Nate. “I want to talk to that security guard at the gate.”
The guard had no information because they didn’t log when residents came or left. He agreed to call Noah when Dobleman came home and to tell the other guards, but they couldn’t count on that information, or that one of the guards wouldn’t give Dobleman a heads-up that the FBI was looking for him. Plus, once Dobleman came home and saw Noah’s card he might bolt.
Or not. Because what did they really have on him? Nothing. He didn’t have to talk to them and they had no reason to arrest him. Yet.
Noah got back on the phone and asked Zach to work with ICE on the immigration status of Soon Li Dobleman—if they were in fact married—as well as if she had a job, when she arrived in the country, and if there were any flags.
Nate drove to the property management company atop a high-rise in downtown San Antonio not far from the Riverwalk. But once they got up to the twelfth floor they realized that the office was a small one-room suite. A young woman who looked more like a model than a receptionist, with blond hair swept up into a chignon and an impeccably fitted black suit and white blouse, said, “May I help you?”
Noah flashed his identification and handed her a copy of the warrant. “We would like all files related to those two properties.”
She didn’t appear flustered by three FBI agents coming in with a search warrant.
“I’m sorry, I can’t help you.”
“The warrant grants us the right to those files.”
“I’m sure it does, but we don’t keep any property records on site. Everything we have is digital, and I don’t have access to the database.”
“Then what do you do here all day?”
She didn’t answer. She handed Noah a business card. “This is Direct Property Holdings’ law offices. They will, I’m sure, handle your request promptly.”
Noah nodded to Nate and Lucy. Lucy said, “Ma’am, if you would please step away from your desk, we need to inspect your workstation.”
“Of course,” she said and rose. She was taller than Lucy, and that’s when Lucy noticed she wore four-inch spike heels. “May I go to the ladies’ room?” she asked.
“Not right now,” Noah snapped. After the big fat nothing at the Dobleman residence and now this front office, he was clearly angry.
Nate searched the desk. The computer was password-protected. “Password, ma’am?”
“I’m sorry, I can’t share that information.”
Noah turned to her. “Our warrant—”
“Says you can have two files, which are not in this office. As I said, our lawyer will be happy to provide you with the files. But your warrant doesn’t grant you access to the computer system, which has information that isn’t covered by your warrant.”
This woman was definitely not a receptionist. She was a gatekeeper.