Wounded at Work Page 9

  “I’m convinced of it,” Coop agreed. “Get busy.”

  Thirty minutes later, Dirk let out a yelp of surprise.

  “What?”

  “Here’s a deposit for twenty-five thousand dollars your great-great-grandfather made not too long after he went into business. I don’t see where the money came from.”

  “If it came from Reed’s ancestor, he may have a claim.”

  “Not necessarily, Matt. There’s nothing here that tells us the money came from your great-great-uncle. We need to find where the money came from before we jump to conclusions.”

  After another hour they had found nothing.

  “This doesn’t look good.” Matt slammed another piece of paper into the box.

  Coop looked over at Matt. “Our search has just begun. And though most of these trunks may hold nothing but old clothes and trinkets, there’s still a lot of paper to look at. We’ll weed through it all.”

  “I’m getting hungry, and your wives are probably wondering where you are. Let’s take a break.”

  Dirk threw another paper into the box. “We’ll keep digging, Matt. Don’t give up.”

  Coop followed with a couple more. “It’s here, I can feel it.”

  “You guys are something else. I know if there’s anything to be found, we’ll find it.”

  “I have Marshall searching the Net for everything he can find on the company that made your great-great-grandfather a billionaire. Maybe the truth is right under our nose.”

  “You just gave me an idea, Coop.”

  They stood. Coop stretched. “Must be getting old. What’s your idea?”

  “Remember my case last spring when my team caught a super-hacker? He works part-time now for the FBI. I’m going to put him on it. If it’s out there, Sam will find it.”

  “Good idea. The more eyes on this, the faster we’ll find what we need.”

  They slapped Matt on the back and left.

  Matt let out a relieved breath. He would grab a bite to eat and get back to the attic. If he couldn’t wear himself out on the punching bag, he’d do it by weeding through the mountain of papers.

  It was a good way to not think of Carrie.

  Chapter Ten

  The next morning, Matt didn’t stop at his brothers’ PI firm. He was too busy with his case. And if he saw Carrie, what would he say? I’m sorry? How the hell could he be sorry for a simple kiss he had thought about all day yesterday and most of the night?

  Though the memory of the kiss lingered, he had second thoughts about pursuing Carrie in a romantic way. She was a beautiful woman, but he’d known that since the first day they met. At first, she was just another employee in his brothers’ firm. Then she became almost a member of the family and a good friend, now he was thinking of her in a different light. What if they became romantically involved, and after a while Carrie decided she wanted nothing more to do with him? What then? For the last three years she hadn’t missed a Christmas, Easter, or any other holiday with the family. She’d stayed over many a Saturday night at the homestead after their get-together and had Sunday lunch there as well. What would a break-up do to her? Knowing Carrie, it would break her heart.

  He couldn’t chance that. Wouldn’t.

  He’d find a way to apologize and forget it.

  When he stepped into his office, his thoughts went immediately to his case. He’d talked to the prosecutor earlier to see if they could give Rosa Garza a break, since her handlers were in the sex-slavery business. After a long discussion, it was agreed there would be no prostitution charges brought against her and she would be sent back to Mexico. It was the best he could do.

  Sweeney knocked on the door and was inside before Matt could turn around. “Did you come up with anything?”

  “I checked the scene of the body dumps again. It’s obvious the women were not killed where their bodies were found. We need to find where the murders took place.”

  Matt rubbed his forehead. “The place of the murder isn’t as important as the why. Check the neighborhood where Rosa Garza was picked up. Talk to the neighbors. Interview every single one. Bring them in if you have to. They had to have seen men coming and going. Let’s find out if they saw something else. Get some help if you need it.”

  Carl waved and left. Matt went to work. But instead of hunkering down at his desk, he went upstairs to see Sam.

  Sam had refused to work for the FBI until they agreed to bring in the equipment he needed. When Matt opened the door to the large room, six computers were running. Numbers and letters flew so fast across the various screens it made Matt’s eyes cross. Where was Sam? Then Matt saw him in the corner, sitting in a chair and reading a Tech magazine. “What the hell, Sam? I thought you were working on my case.”

  Sam continued his perusal of the magazine. “I am.”

  Matt walked over and glared at the man sprawled in the over-large chair. “You don’t look very busy to me.”

  Sam carefully placed the magazine on a nearby table and looked up. “No. But my machines are. They do all the work.”

  True. But you had to know how to program them. And Sam was one of the few who did. But Matt’s nerves were on edge and his patience low. “Any progress?”

  “I would have told you if I had anything.”

  Matt sank into the only other chair in the room, his glance going to the computers then back to Sam. “I need information or I’m at a stalemate. I have no last names on any of the victims. I don’t know where they were killed or why. And I sure as hell don’t know who killed them.”

  “I put their first name and photo into the system with their approximate ages, their original hair color, height, plus the color of their eyes. I should have names any time now.”

  “That will be a big help. How long do you…?”

  Sam glared, so Matt shut up and changed the subject. “I would like to hire you for a job.”

  “For the FBI, you mean?”

  “No. This is personal. I presume you don’t discuss your clients with anyone.”

  Another glare. When the FBI ran a background check on Sam, they found no close friends, no family, and no girlfriends. He led a quiet life with nothing but his computers for company. He tended to his business, that Matt christened PI by Computer. Personally, he thought the hacking into banks, and the one time onto a plane, was Sam’s way of putting a little excitement into his life.

  “Okay. Here goes.” Matt told Sam about the way his cousin was trying to claim half of the Montgomery Trust and how the claim had to be refuted or the Trust would be forced to cut their charitable gift-giving in half. “I want everything you can find on Montgomery Enterprises, from as far back as you can go. I think the claim is bogus, but we have to prove it and we have little time to do it.”

  “I’ll need time to go back that far.”

  Matt stood. “Do what you can. Do you require a retainer?”

  Sam shook his head. “I know where you work.”

  One of the computers dinged. Sam was up and at the machine before Matt could think. Papers were spitting out of one of the three printers. Sam didn’t so much as give the papers a glance before he handed them over. “This might help.”

  A quick look told Matt they would do more than help. He had the last names of the women killed in Houston and where they had lived. Little wonder no one came forward with information. Neither had been in the area very long. He took another look at the papers. They’d lived in low-rent apartments on the same side of town as Magee’s bar.

  Did they have jobs? He checked further. One had worked at a strip club, three or four nights a week. The other had worked the night shift at a convenience store. “They must have gone to Magee’s on their nights off.”

  “You talking to me?”

  Matt walked over to Sam. “This is great. Send everything to my computer. Then find those black sites and get me some dates and addresses.”

  Sam gave a little salute and turned back to the computer. Matt watched for a minute. “You’re i
ncredible, Sam.”

  “I’ve been told that a time or two.”

  When Matt left, Sam was back in his own world.

  Since Sweeney was busy, Matt would do the legwork and interview the victims’ neighbors. Going to his SUV, he programmed his GPS for the apartment building where Mona Grant had lived for the three months prior to her death, called Sweeney to give him their names, and headed out.

  Only two of her neighbors were home, and surprise—neither knew Mona. One had seen her on occasion, but not for some time. They’d never spoken.

  Two hours later, he drove to Nancy Kendrick’s last known address. This apartment complex was just as run-down as Mona’s had been with just as many hard-luck folks answering their door. Luckily, there were a few more at home. Once again, the neighbors, as well as the office manager, knew little about her.

  One neighbor had seen her bring a guy home one night, but that was it. She was quiet, kept to herself, and caused no trouble.

  The women could have been kin.

  By the time he finished, he was starving, and stopped to grab a sandwich. He was still getting nowhere. But at least Sam had come through.

  He’d try Magee’s once more. At some point, both victims had been customers. They had danced and drank there. There could be others who saw them and knew something worthwhile. It was worth another trip.

  Carrie would not be there, he told himself over and over. Surely, she had moved on to follow other clues. The thought of her out there where a serial killer could possibly get his sights on her made him nervous.

  When he pulled into the parking lot he removed his jacket, put his FBI shield in his pocket, and walked inside, but not before he spotted Carrie’s bike.

  The place was crowded. His eyes raked the room. Carrie sat at a table in the corner with four men. She was dressed in her signature tight jeans, T-shirt, and knee-high boots. Even from here he could see the men salivating. He fought the urge to go over and knock their heads together, pull Carrie to her feet, throw her over his shoulder, and get the hell out of here.

  Little good that would do him. She would call him a Neanderthal and never speak to him again.

  Benjie was serving up drinks as fast as he could open bottles. Two tired-looking waitresses circled the room to take orders. Three couples shuffled on the miniscule dance floor while an old country favorite blasted from the jukebox.

  His teeth clamped so tight his jaws hurt. One kiss, and he could easily relate to the damned song. He ignored Carrie and went straight to the bar. “Beer.”

  One was slammed down in front of him in seconds. “What do you want, Mr. FBI man?”

  Matt took a few swallows before answering. “I’m still working the same case. And I’m still waiting for you to tell me what you know about the victims.”

  Benjie leaned over the counter. “Look, mister. Besides being busy, I don’t know any more than what I told you. Now, why don’t you leave, before you scare the customers away?”

  “Why would I do that? I haven’t flashed a badge.”

  Benjie laughed a big belly laugh. “You’re kidding. Have you looked in the mirror? Every inch of you spells cop. We don’t cotton to your kind. We mind our own business and leave the customers alone.”

  “Then tell me what you know, and I’m out of here.”

  Benjie’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t push it. I don’t know a thing other than what I told you. The girls came in on occasion. They danced. They laughed. They had a good time. That’s it.”

  Why didn’t Matt believe him? What the man said was most likely true, but there was more and he wanted to hear it. “I’ll haul your ass in, if you don’t come clean.”

  Benjie leaned close. “Outside. Five minutes.”

  Matt threw a bill on the counter and left. The fact that Carrie was a few feet away, acting like some over-sexed biker-babe, turned his insides into knots. He moved into the shadows beneath a large oak tree whose branches spread over the cracked sidewalk, and waited.

  True to his word, Benjie stepped outside five minutes later and lit a cigarette. “Over here,” Matt called out.

  “Stay there.”

  Matt inched back into the foliage. “What can you tell me?”

  “Don’t come here again.”

  “Why?” It’s not like he wouldn’t show up again because of a bartender’s warning.

  Not looking in Matt’s direction, Benjie stared across the crowded parking area. “Dangerous. Both women were here two weeks before their bodies turned up. The pretty redhead is looking for a blonde who was a customer as well and disappeared. It’s just strange.”

  “Do you know anyone who likes women with red hair and green eyes?”

  “No. Don’t come back.”

  Then he was gone.

  There was no way Matt would leave until Carrie got her butt out of there, so he hunkered down under the tree and waited.

  Every second seemed like an hour. By the time Carrie sauntered out and went to her bike, he was furious.

  He’d just been warned to stay away because the place was dangerous. Yet Carrie carried on as if she were visiting the damned mall. He watched her leave. He started to as well, then he saw a car pull out and follow her.

  Dammit to hell.

  He raced to his SUV and followed the car. They were a damned parade. But he had to give Carrie credit. She didn’t go straight to Doc’s to garage her bike as he expected. Instead, she drove in circles, down one street, up another, until his head spun. He got close enough to see that the license plate of the car was smudged with mud. The guy was a pro. His heart sank. He was hoping the guy was a horny bastard and after a good lay. That, Carrie could handle. This was more serious. His hands gripped the steering wheel until Carrie managed to lose the dark sedan.

  Matt followed Carrie at a sedate distance as she drove to Doc’s to switch vehicles. He was still behind her when she pulled in at her mid-income level apartment complex. It was time they had a come-to-Jesus meeting.

  Her name was above the buzzer.

  He punched and didn’t let up until she answered, opening the door only when he threatened to break it down if she didn’t. She had washed her face of make-up and thrown a robe over her pajamas. She looked fantastic.

  But right now, he was furious.

  “Why do you insist on interfering in my investigation?” she began.

  Matt shouldered his way inside, made note of the neat living space, the small kitchen. Though not a lot of money had been spent on furnishings, they were tasteful, and everything was neat and clean. Just as he expected it would be. “I’m not. Just as with your case, I’m following leads that led to Magee’s. When are you going to realize that two red-haired, green-eyed women, who were regulars at the bar you can’t stay away from, are dead? When are you going to listen to my warning?”

  They were in each other’s face; Carrie’s was red and all-out furious. He wanted to strangle her just as much as he wanted to kiss her. “Hear me out. Benjie warned me tonight. What he told me made me wonder just how deep the bar is into the women’s deaths.”

  “What do you mean?” She stepped back, led him to the sofa where he sat down. She went to the chair opposite.

  He told Carrie what Benjie had said. “He told me, in his own way, that the three missing women disappeared after visiting the bar. We know that, but even the bartender is suspicious. I’m convinced someone from there is involved. And I suspect Benjie thinks the same. Tomorrow, I’m going to put surveillance on the place and see what turns up.”

  “You can’t do that, Matt. It will screw up my investigation. I’m trying to talk to everyone who comes in on a regular basis to see if they have seen or know anything about my missing person. If you put the FBI front and center, everyone will turn deaf and dumb.”

  “Our undercover operatives are the best.”

  Carrie laughed. “Right. I can spot one a mile away.”

  “You’re a professional. You’re supposed to spot them.”

  “I don’t l
ike it.”

  “Which part? The fact that all of the women have the bar in common, or the fact that you have the same red hair and green eyes the killer prefers?”

  “Stop it, Matt. I heard your warning the first time. Get over it.”

  “If you would listen, I wouldn’t have to repeat myself.”

  “I hear you. What part of that don’t you understand?”

  Her voice was up there in the stratosphere. He should stop now before she chewed his head off. He didn’t. “Your stubborn streak could be your undoing.”

  “I’ll take my chances.” She stood. “If that’s all…”

  “You were followed tonight.”

  “Not for the first time.”

  “And that doesn’t bother you?”

  “It bothers me, okay? But until I know who and why, I’m sticking with my investigation.”

  They were at her front door.

  “Telling you to be careful won’t change a thing, will it?”

  Under the light, her eyes held a twinkle of mischief. If only this weren’t so serious.

  “Stop worrying, Matt. I’m a big girl. You saw how I lost the guy. The day I can’t lose a tail is the day I turn in my PI badge.”

  “You’re playing with fire, Carrie.”

  “I prefer warm to cold.”

  She was so close he could see the freckles on her nose. His heartbeat stuttered. His body turned warm. His vision narrowed. The room shrank until there was nothing and no one but the two of them.

  He should turn away. Run. Knowing what he should do and what he wanted to do, were two different things. Try as he might, his feet were rooted to the spot.

  This was Carrie. His friend.

  A sharp stab of pain in his heart made him turn away.

  The spell was broken.

  “Are you okay?”

  “About Saturday night…” He had to get this over with and get the hell out of here.

  She waved a hand. “Don’t worry, Matt. I don’t want to mess up a beautiful friendship any more than you do.”