airport to the White Knight Motel just as the taxi driver had said.
“He made one call at ten fifty, to another company cell phone registered to Jolene Hayden. That’s Mr. Worthington’s daughter.”
Todd enlarged the screen. Lucy leaned over. There was a dot at the White Knight Motel, then a red line leaving the motel. “At twelve fifteen, the phone pinged here.” He had a dot at an intersection about three blocks from the motel. “I connected the motel with the location, and this is the most likely route by vehicle to get to that intersection. It would only take a minute.”
“What about on foot?” Lucy said. The driver had said the girl had left on foot. “What would it take, five to seven minutes or so?”
“Yeah, about that.” He tilted his head.
“And then the red line is thicker, why?” Lucy asked.
“Oh! Well, the phone was pinged at multiple locations between here”—he pointed—“and ended here, two point six miles away, at twelve twenty.”
“A car.”
“That’s most likely.”
“What’s at that location?” Lucy asked.
“A hotel—a real nice executive hotel.” He wrote down the name and address and handed the piece of paper to her. Barry took it out of her hand.
“Where is the phone now?” Barry asked.
“Still at the hotel,” Todd said.
Smith said, “I’ve already locked out the phone, in case anyone attempts to access any of Harper’s or HWI’s private files. We would need the phone to determine what might have been accessed on it, such as contact information, but Todd verified that the phone hasn’t been used to access company files or emails.”
“Do you have the phone backed up to a cloud server?”
“No,” Smith said. “That kind of security is marginal at best, and we have too much sensitive information. We have an intranet that employees can access from home with a login and password.”
Barry excused himself to take a call. Lucy complimented Todd on his program. “This is useful.”
“I hope you find out what happened to Mr. Worthington.”
“We will,” Lucy said with confidence. She had a modicum of guilt over what she’d first thought of Harper Worthington. With this additional information, she didn’t know if what appeared to have happened really did happen. But she trusted the evidence wherever it led them. Like Julie Peters said, the dead don’t lie.
“Agent Kincaid?” Smith said.
“Yes?”
“Your name is familiar,” he said. “You wouldn’t be related to the Kincaids at Rogan Caruso Kincaid, would you?”
“My brothers are those Kincaids,” she said, not surprised that HWI’s head of security knew of RCK. “Jack and Patrick.”
“Jack Kincaid. Hot damn.” He grinned. “God, I love that man. He saved my ass more times than I can remember. I did have to arrest him once—but that was long ago, and not my choice.”
“Arrest him?”
“I was an army MP for twelve years.” He snapped his fingers. “Of course, you’re Rogan’s girlfriend. I tried to hire that kid when I heard he was moving to San Antonio. Turned me down flat.”
“Sean only consults.”
“That’s what he said. He has high-security clearance—I might be able to use him on this forensic audit.” Lucy didn’t quite know what to say to that—would that be a conflict? She didn’t think so, but she didn’t give him any push in either direction.
“Didn’t I hear that Jack got married or something?”
“Yes—to an FBI agent in Sacramento.”
He smiled. “Good for him.” He shook his head. “Wow. Jack Kincaid’s sister.”
There was a bit of hero worship going on, but Lucy wasn’t surprised. Her brother had led an amazing life both in the army and then out of it as a mercenary. There was a nearly twenty-year age difference between them—he’d already enlisted in the army by the time she was born—but they’d become close over the last few years. He’d taught her everything she knew about self-defense and getting her life back
“He made one call at ten fifty, to another company cell phone registered to Jolene Hayden. That’s Mr. Worthington’s daughter.”
Todd enlarged the screen. Lucy leaned over. There was a dot at the White Knight Motel, then a red line leaving the motel. “At twelve fifteen, the phone pinged here.” He had a dot at an intersection about three blocks from the motel. “I connected the motel with the location, and this is the most likely route by vehicle to get to that intersection. It would only take a minute.”
“What about on foot?” Lucy said. The driver had said the girl had left on foot. “What would it take, five to seven minutes or so?”
“Yeah, about that.” He tilted his head.
“And then the red line is thicker, why?” Lucy asked.
“Oh! Well, the phone was pinged at multiple locations between here”—he pointed—“and ended here, two point six miles away, at twelve twenty.”
“A car.”
“That’s most likely.”
“What’s at that location?” Lucy asked.
“A hotel—a real nice executive hotel.” He wrote down the name and address and handed the piece of paper to her. Barry took it out of her hand.
“Where is the phone now?” Barry asked.
“Still at the hotel,” Todd said.
Smith said, “I’ve already locked out the phone, in case anyone attempts to access any of Harper’s or HWI’s private files. We would need the phone to determine what might have been accessed on it, such as contact information, but Todd verified that the phone hasn’t been used to access company files or emails.”
“Do you have the phone backed up to a cloud server?”
“No,” Smith said. “That kind of security is marginal at best, and we have too much sensitive information. We have an intranet that employees can access from home with a login and password.”
Barry excused himself to take a call. Lucy complimented Todd on his program. “This is useful.”
“I hope you find out what happened to Mr. Worthington.”
“We will,” Lucy said with confidence. She had a modicum of guilt over what she’d first thought of Harper Worthington. With this additional information, she didn’t know if what appeared to have happened really did happen. But she trusted the evidence wherever it led them. Like Julie Peters said, the dead don’t lie.
“Agent Kincaid?” Smith said.
“Yes?”
“Your name is familiar,” he said. “You wouldn’t be related to the Kincaids at Rogan Caruso Kincaid, would you?”
“My brothers are those Kincaids,” she said, not surprised that HWI’s head of security knew of RCK. “Jack and Patrick.”
“Jack Kincaid. Hot damn.” He grinned. “God, I love that man. He saved my ass more times than I can remember. I did have to arrest him once—but that was long ago, and not my choice.”
“Arrest him?”
“I was an army MP for twelve years.” He snapped his fingers. “Of course, you’re Rogan’s girlfriend. I tried to hire that kid when I heard he was moving to San Antonio. Turned me down flat.”
“Sean only consults.”
“That’s what he said. He has high-security clearance—I might be able to use him on this forensic audit.” Lucy didn’t quite know what to say to that—would that be a conflict? She didn’t think so, but she didn’t give him any push in either direction.
“Didn’t I hear that Jack got married or something?”
“Yes—to an FBI agent in Sacramento.”
He smiled. “Good for him.” He shook his head. “Wow. Jack Kincaid’s sister.”
There was a bit of hero worship going on, but Lucy wasn’t surprised. Her brother had led an amazing life both in the army and then out of it as a mercenary. There was a nearly twenty-year age difference between them—he’d already enlisted in the army by the time she was born—but they’d become close over the last few years. He’d taught her everything she knew about self-defense and getting her life back
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