dozens of US companies with an obvious interest in rare earth materials. And there are hundreds more around the world. So this agent has a big job, and we’ll stay one step ahead of her.”
“But you think she’ll come here and question us?” The crease in Harlan’s brow deepened.
“Yes.” Shawn made up his mind. “We’re all going to relocate to the Washington facility. So pack a few bags before you fly up today. You’ll be there for a while.” Getting away from their well-known headquarters seemed like a good move.
Both men were silent for a moment.
“For how long?” Harlan asked, obviously unhappy. He had family in town.
“Until we have what we need and this investigation goes away.”
His special-ops man shook his head. “What if it doesn’t? What if the FBI gets too close to the truth?”
“We’ll take care of the agent. Only this time, you’ll be more thorough.” The thought was repulsive, but he was in too deep to take chances. Fortunately, the mining facility in central Washington seemed like an ideal place to mulch a body and make it disappear forever.
C HAPTER 9
Wednesday, March 18, 9:05 a.m., San Jose, California
Bailey drove to the dead man’s address again, hoping to catch his widow at home, and got lucky this time. She’d made the trip to the upscale neighborhood yesterday afternoon and also checked in with the local bureau, but neither had been productive. Today she needed to make some progress. Mrs. Bowman opened the door, and Bailey did her usual quick assessment: excessive makeup and jewelry this early in the morning indicated she was insecure, but her eyes were inquisitive, indicating at least some curiosity, if not intelligence. The widow might be capable of killing her cheating husband, but pushing him out of a plane wouldn’t have been her style. Bailey held out her hand, gave a charming smile, and included her first name to soften her first impression. “Agent Andra Bailey. I need to ask a few questions.”
“Again? I’ve talked to a cop and someone from the FBI. I’d really like to be left alone.”
“I’ll be brief. I promise. And I’ll ask different questions.”
Amy Bowman let out a long sigh as she stepped aside to let Bailey into the oversized house. They took seats on barstools at the edge of a massive kitchen.
“How are your kids?” Bailey asked, keeping her voice low and warm.
“They’re struggling.” Mrs. Bowman blinked back tears. “I sent them to school because they wanted to go. But they’re also seeing a counselor.”
“That’s good.” Bailey had never lost one of the few people she loved, so she didn’t know how grief would feel. But she was about to find out. A longtime friend was terminally ill. Bailey hoped her brain would reject grief the way it did pain, fear, and stress. “Let’s get the hard question out of the way. Did you kill your husband because he was cheating on you?”
Anger flashed in the widow’s eyes. “No! That’s a heinous accusation.”
Technically, it hadn’t been an accusation. But Mrs. Bowman’s body language indicated she was telling the truth. Her hands stayed in her lap, she made reasonable eye contact, and she didn’t overexplain.
“Had your husband received a job offer recently?”
“Yes, why?”
“Tell me everything he said about it.”
Mrs. Bowman shook her head. “Nick said he couldn’t talk about it, but that it would mean a lot of money. He acted like it was a big secret and he only had a short time to decide.”
That seemed unusual. But the tech industry was weird and paranoid—with good reason. They liked to poach one another’s employees. But Bowman had been a metallurgist who worked outside the tech hub in Silicon Valley. “Tell me exactly what he said about the company.”
The widow sat up straight. “What are you saying? You think a competitor killed him because he didn’t take the job?”
“So he turned it down?”
“I don’t know. Nick had pulled away from me. I
“But you think she’ll come here and question us?” The crease in Harlan’s brow deepened.
“Yes.” Shawn made up his mind. “We’re all going to relocate to the Washington facility. So pack a few bags before you fly up today. You’ll be there for a while.” Getting away from their well-known headquarters seemed like a good move.
Both men were silent for a moment.
“For how long?” Harlan asked, obviously unhappy. He had family in town.
“Until we have what we need and this investigation goes away.”
His special-ops man shook his head. “What if it doesn’t? What if the FBI gets too close to the truth?”
“We’ll take care of the agent. Only this time, you’ll be more thorough.” The thought was repulsive, but he was in too deep to take chances. Fortunately, the mining facility in central Washington seemed like an ideal place to mulch a body and make it disappear forever.
C HAPTER 9
Wednesday, March 18, 9:05 a.m., San Jose, California
Bailey drove to the dead man’s address again, hoping to catch his widow at home, and got lucky this time. She’d made the trip to the upscale neighborhood yesterday afternoon and also checked in with the local bureau, but neither had been productive. Today she needed to make some progress. Mrs. Bowman opened the door, and Bailey did her usual quick assessment: excessive makeup and jewelry this early in the morning indicated she was insecure, but her eyes were inquisitive, indicating at least some curiosity, if not intelligence. The widow might be capable of killing her cheating husband, but pushing him out of a plane wouldn’t have been her style. Bailey held out her hand, gave a charming smile, and included her first name to soften her first impression. “Agent Andra Bailey. I need to ask a few questions.”
“Again? I’ve talked to a cop and someone from the FBI. I’d really like to be left alone.”
“I’ll be brief. I promise. And I’ll ask different questions.”
Amy Bowman let out a long sigh as she stepped aside to let Bailey into the oversized house. They took seats on barstools at the edge of a massive kitchen.
“How are your kids?” Bailey asked, keeping her voice low and warm.
“They’re struggling.” Mrs. Bowman blinked back tears. “I sent them to school because they wanted to go. But they’re also seeing a counselor.”
“That’s good.” Bailey had never lost one of the few people she loved, so she didn’t know how grief would feel. But she was about to find out. A longtime friend was terminally ill. Bailey hoped her brain would reject grief the way it did pain, fear, and stress. “Let’s get the hard question out of the way. Did you kill your husband because he was cheating on you?”
Anger flashed in the widow’s eyes. “No! That’s a heinous accusation.”
Technically, it hadn’t been an accusation. But Mrs. Bowman’s body language indicated she was telling the truth. Her hands stayed in her lap, she made reasonable eye contact, and she didn’t overexplain.
“Had your husband received a job offer recently?”
“Yes, why?”
“Tell me everything he said about it.”
Mrs. Bowman shook her head. “Nick said he couldn’t talk about it, but that it would mean a lot of money. He acted like it was a big secret and he only had a short time to decide.”
That seemed unusual. But the tech industry was weird and paranoid—with good reason. They liked to poach one another’s employees. But Bowman had been a metallurgist who worked outside the tech hub in Silicon Valley. “Tell me exactly what he said about the company.”
The widow sat up straight. “What are you saying? You think a competitor killed him because he didn’t take the job?”
“So he turned it down?”
“I don’t know. Nick had pulled away from me. I
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