Mortal Sin (10 page)

He didn’t understand what Lucy Kincaid saw in the
FBI, or why she wanted to be a cop in the first place, being forced to work within stringent rules that protected the bad guys more than they protected the innocent. But she wanted it—and there was nothing he admired more than deep passion.

He’d been enamored with Lucy Kincaid from the night Patrick first introduced them, a month ago when they flew out to sign papers on the new RCK East house and close escrow. The three of them had eaten pizza on the floor of the empty kitchen. Perhaps it went farther back than that. To the first time he’d seen her, when she came to visit Patrick and Jack in Sacramento more than a year ago. He’d watched her through his window, the way she moved, the way the jeans she wore hugged her long, lean legs.

Of course the first thing that attracted him was her looks. Neither tall nor short—he’d peg her at five foot seven, but with legs that made her seem taller—physically, she was just his type. An hourglass figure, curvy in the right places. Athletic. And when she relaxed, Lucy had the most beautiful smile. But it wasn’t just a perfectly proportional body that enticed Sean, it was the whole package: her long black hair, her large brown eyes, and her brains. Her intelligence, passion for justice, and determination put Lucy Kincaid in a league all her own.

He knew about her past, of course. What Patrick hadn’t told him he’d learned through his own research. Nothing that wasn’t public—he wouldn’t do that to Lucy. And how she persevered after going through Hell showed the world she would never act the victim or martyr.

Looks, brains, and commitment. Lucy was dedicated
to the future she was making for herself—of seeking justice for those who couldn’t do it for themselves. He admired her drive.

Focus was one thing that Sean lacked. At least, that’s what Duke always told him. That he’d tried everything in college because he didn’t know what he wanted to do. Which was partly true. He understood Lucy’s need to learn new and different things, her moving from the sheriff’s department to Congress to the morgue.

He only wondered if she would grow bored with the FBI, hampered by its slow process, the excruciating paperwork, and all those rules. Sean wouldn’t survive under such conditions. Lucy—maybe. And while he understood her motivation and he admired her dedication, he would have loved to have recruited her for RCK. She would be such an asset to the company.

But more than anything, Sean wanted to make her smile. He wanted to show her that there was more to life than 24/7 work. That those who worked hard should play hard, that she deserved to have fun.

But she wouldn’t have fun until the situation with Morton was settled.

Sean continued reading the files Jayne had sent, and began to plan.

Only minutes after Lucy Kincaid left the FBI office and Noah went back to his desk, Abigail exclaimed, “Eureka!”

“Gold?” Noah asked.

“If you’re looking for a sleazy, flea-infested motel, then yeah, gold. The Triple Tree, outside Dulles. The manager said a guy matching Morton’s description paid cash for three nights on Thursday. He signed in as Cliff Skinner—Morton’s cousin—and never checked out.” Abigail grabbed her keys. “I’m going to check it out, get a confirmation on the ID, see if he left any belongings in the room, last sighting, the works.”

Noah glanced at his messages. “The SSA in Denver called while we were in with Kincaid. I’ll see what she’s found. Call when you’re done and we’ll compare notes.”

“You should have the full list—names and current contact info—on Morton’s associates before the end of the day. I dropped Rick Stockton’s name when staff balked at the amount of work needed to make the file current. Worked wonders.”

“Good—I want to clear this as soon as possible.”

Abigail leaned against the side of his cubicle. “You know, I might not be all that sad if we didn’t close it.”

Noah stared at his new partner. He didn’t like the direction of this conversation. “Morton was a scumbag, but we need to know who killed him. Punishment is up to the U.S. Attorney and the court system, not us.”

“We’ve done what Stockton wanted—cleared an active FBI agent, Kate Donovan. We know she didn’t do it, and nothing in her finances suggests she paid a hit man.”

“Not all hits are for money.”

“You’re going dark side here. Donovan doesn’t work in the field; she can’t let someone off in exchange for a hit, or screw with an undercover op.”

“All I’m saying is that there are a lot of unanswered questions. Morton was up to something—there’s no other reason he would come to D.C. in violation of his probation unless there was something big going down. We need to know what that is. There’s more here than a simple murder.”

“You got me there. Maybe he left a diabolical master plan for world domination in his motel room.” She winked.

“Let me know if you find it.”

After Abigail left, Noah picked up the phone and called SSA Monica Guardino.

Guardino answered the phone brusquely, and it was obvious by the background noise that she was in the field.

“Armstrong in D.C. returning your call.”

“Your dead guy was a prick, just want you to know.”

“I know. What did you find?”

“Morton was re-creating his old enterprise,” Guardino said. “His cousin Mr. Skinner, being cooperative after I
pointed out he could be considered an accessory, said Morton maintained a studio apartment his probation officer didn’t know about. We popped the lock, found a high-end computer and dozens of boxes of pornography—DVDs and photographs mostly—including some photos that I’d wager my pension are of underage girls. But the kicker is, our e-crimes expert says Morton was downloading the DVDs and preparing them for Internet file sharing. Something about minimizing file sizes for bandwidth issues. The whole how-tos and why-fors are a bit over my head, but I trust my guy. I can hook you up with him—”

While Noah was technically competent, high-end cybercrimes were beyond his scope. “If you could box up everything and send it to me, I’ll have our cybercrimes team go through the files with a fine-toothed comb.”

“Already started boxing the files.”

“Excellent. Any chance you can get it on a military transport today?”

“Where’s the urgency? Isn’t this a low-life scumbag murder? Hardly a top priority.”

“It’s top priority for Assistant Director Rick Stockton,” Noah said.

“Well, shit, Armstrong, you didn’t say the director’s office was involved.”

“I appreciate your help,” he said. “I owe you.”

“I may take you up on that. But I have more,” Guardino continued. “Morton was broke. We went through his finances—he had less than three hundred dollars in his bank account. His cousin paid him for working in his autobody shop, but not much more than minimum wage, and all his money is accounted for. Nothing in or out that is suspicious.”

“Any sign he had money stashed elsewhere?” Noah asked. “He’s well-versed in money laundering.”

“No luxury items, no trips, no cars. The only thing he spent money on was this computer system, and it’s in line with what he earned. He even had the receipts in his file cabinet.”

“So was he going to run his operation from there?” Noah wondered out loud.

“Can’t say, but he definitely had something going on. You want us to boot up the computer? See what we can find?”

Noah considered letting Denver work that end, then decided against it. He didn’t know what was on the computer, and while he trusted the field offices completely, after talking to Lucy Kincaid this morning he wanted to keep any files that may have her information as private as possible. The fewer people who saw them, the better, if Morton had anything on her he’d planned to exploit.

“No, but thanks.”

“Good—it looks like it’ll take a shitload of time.”

Time. How was Noah going to convince the cybercrime squad that this case was a priority?

“Thanks, Monica, I appreciate the help. Let me know when the transport is scheduled so I can send an agent to collect the evidence.”

“Bring a truck,” she said with a half-laugh. “We’ll dig around a little more, but I think this is the bulk of what he was up to. If you need me, call.”

After Noah hung up on Denver, he called Rick Stockton. He was surprised when the assistant director himself answered.

“This is Special Agent Armstrong,” Noah said. “Do you have time for an update?”

“A few minutes,” Stockton said.

“The Denver regional office found a computer and files of pornography; much of it they suspect is illegal or child porn. On the surface it looks like Morton was trying to re-create the enterprise he ran with Adam Scott six years ago. I asked Denver to box everything up and send it to me on a military shuttle.”

“Good. We need to confirm exactly what he was up to and who he was working with. The last thing I want is another Trask Enterprises. We’re overloaded as it is.”

“I’m concerned that this case is going to take a lot of manpower, and my cybercrimes unit is swamped right now.” During the last staff meeting, Noah had listened to the SSA of cybercrimes relate their multitude of cases, many of them involving children in jeopardy. Unless there was something similar in Morton’s data, Noah couldn’t in good conscience pull them, even if he had the clout. “I don’t feel comfortable pulling weight when they’re dealing with extremely time-sensitive crimes.”

“Agreed,” Stockton said. “What about Kate Donovan? Is she in the clear?”

“She was out of town, and no way she or her husband could have killed Morton. Her alibi checks out and there are no signs suggesting she or any of the Kincaid family took out a hit on Morton. Lucy Kincaid claimed she didn’t even know he was out of prison, and I believe her.”

“How would you feel turning the computer evidence over to Kate?”

Noah leaned back in his chair and frowned.

“Kate Donovan?” he asked unnecessarily. “While so
far everything checks out, I can think of ways she could have had a hand in it—”

“What do your instincts tell you?”

“I prefer to deal in facts, sir.”

“So do I, but sometimes absolute definitive proof is unattainable. Her alibi checks, her financials check, and she knows more about Trask Enterprises and Roger Morton than anyone in the Bureau. She can assess the data and route it to the appropriate field agents. She’s not working in the field while teaching at Quantico; she can devote her time to this. I can flex my muscles with the cybercrimes squad, but they won’t be able to devote the same time to it.”

“Understood.” Noah didn’t know how he felt about bringing a former suspect into the investigation.

“I’m not suggesting you let her into every facet of your investigation,” Stockton continued. “That’s your call. But as far as the computer data and tracking goes, she’s the best we’ve got, and she’ll work it till it’s done. Better yet, she’s part of the Quantico cybercrimes unit and has access to the fastest computers we have.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good work. Shoot me and Hans a brief summary via email, and call me if you need anything.”

“Yes, sir.” Noah hung up. He wasn’t wholly comfortable with Rick Stockton’s suggestion—which sounded more like an order—but he didn’t see any other option.

Reluctantly, he called Kate Donovan. When she answered, he said, “It’s Noah Armstrong.”

“Is Lucy okay? When did she leave?”

“Yes, and nearly an hour ago.”

“Are you sure she was okay?”

“I didn’t turn the screws on her; it was a straightforward
and civil interview.” Noah had been impressed with the lady. She’d held up well on the surface, even when the questions touched on sensitive areas. But she’d been tightly wound, and he wondered just how well she’d
really
held up. She was a private, controlled person, and in Noah’s experience, they were the type who exploded big when it was least expected.

“When I said I wanted her to have an attorney, I didn’t mean that she had anything to hide,” Kate explained.

“I know that, Kate. I’m calling about a different matter. The Denver office found a computer and extensive collection of pornographic files, including child porn, in Morton’s apartment. It’ll be here tonight, but my cybercrimes team can’t get to it immediately, and there may be data on his computer that will give us an idea of why he was here and who might have killed him.”

“You’re going to have to push cybercrime. That’s Robeaux, right? I know him well. I’ll call him—he’ll do it for me.”

She spoke with complete confidence in her ability to have her will be done, and Noah smiled in spite of the feeling Kate acted as if this was her case. “He’s good, I agree, but his unit is overwhelmed right now. Rick Stockton authorized you to be the point person on this. I’d like to bring the evidence to Quantico tonight.”

“Me?” She paused. “So you cleared me.”

“Your alibi checks; so does your husband’s.”

“And Lucy?”

“I believe her.” Her alibi—that she was home alone—would be virtually impossible to prove.

“When will the material be here?”

“I’m not sure—late. They’re still boxing it.”

“Let me know when, and I’ll send a team from Quantico
to the airfield to retrieve the evidence, log it in, and secure it in our lab. We’ll start first thing in the morning.”

“Thank you.”

“No thanks needed. I want to know exactly what Morton was up to, and I swear if he has a partner I’ll find out who he is and lock him up for the rest of his life.”

The last thing Lucy wanted to do was go to WCF Friday afternoon, but neither did she want to go back home and feel sorry for herself. She made herself stop at a nearby deli and eat. She hadn’t been able to eat anything that morning before going to FBI headquarters. She hoped she’d done the right thing because truly, she had nothing to hide. She hadn’t killed Roger Morton, though she couldn’t have honestly said she
wouldn’t
have if he’d confronted her.

Her stomach was still in knots from her hour-long interview with Agent Armstrong. Both he and Abigail Resnick had been professional and they didn’t seem as though they thought she had anything to do with the murder, or that she knew anything about Morton’s activities even six years ago. She just wanted to keep the past buried, but it came back and slapped her in the face once again.