Best Laid Plans (17 page)

Lucy said, “Obstruction of justice is when someone who may or may not have committed a crime impedes the investigation into a crime, whether or not said individual is a suspect.”

“I’m not impeding anything! You haven’t even told me what this is about.”

Barry said, “We did, twice. Harper Worthington’s phone was found in your hotel room. This girl is wanted for questioning as a potential witness. She was seen in the area where Mr. Worthington was found dead, and she was seen an hour later going into your hotel room. Feel free to call your attorney. We’ll wait.”

Everett cleared his throat and shook his head. “No. Absolutely not. I’ll contact my attorney and then arrange a meeting later this week. I’m not going to be bullied by a couple of feds.”

Barry tensed beside Lucy. Barry was a serious, even-tempered agent. The fact that he was getting angry showed just how much Everett was getting to him. But his voice was calm when he said, “If Agent Kincaid and I walk out of this office without the information that we want, I will require you to submit to questioning by five
P.M.
today at FBI headquarters, or I will get an arrest warrant for obstruction of justice and compel you to speak under oath in a public court of law.”

Everett’s face reddened. “You can’t do that.” But he wasn’t looking at them.

Barry didn’t say another word. The longer Barry remained silent, the more Everett squirmed.

Finally, Everett said, “I need five minutes.”

“We’ll wait here.”

Everett couldn’t get out of his office fast enough.

Lucy was impressed. “I just had the best lesson in field interrogations ever.”

“He pissed me off.” He glanced at her. “You kept your cool. It’s easy to get rattled with people like him.”

“The only sign that you were angry was that your lower jaw shifted forward and your neck muscles tightened.”

“You can see that?”

“One of my psych classes dealt solely with physical reactions to emotional stress. It’s easy with a guy like Everett who uses his bravado and pomp to steamroll over people, harder when someone is calm and even tempered like you.”

“Can you tell when people are lying?”

“Usually. Some people are really good at it, though. They tell half truths and use emotion to work for them rather than against them. The best liars are those who are telling mostly the truth, or who have a sociopathy where they believe their own lies to the point that they themselves can’t distinguish between truth and fiction. They’re harder to pinpoint unless I have solid evidence I can use to rattle them.”

“People probably don’t like playing poker with you.”

She laughed, then covered her mouth. “Actually, I’m a really bad liar.”

“Our goal here is to find out who that girl is,” Barry said. “She’s the one who took the phone from Worthington and left it in Everett’s room. Do you think he knew about the phone?”

“No,” Lucy said. “I don’t even think that he cared about the hotel, until you mentioned when the phone was left there. That’s when he started to worry about why we were here.”

Everett returned ten minutes later, along with his attorney—a tall, lean brunette named Miriam Shaw.

“I’m Mr. Everett’s corporate attorney,” Shaw said, “and if I feel that this conversation is treading too far into criminal law, I’ll halt the interview and we’ll make arrangements for Mr. Everett to meet with you once he retains another lawyer.”

“This should have been simple,” Barry said. “Mr. Everett is the one who made it complicated.”

“And you’re the one who threatened him with arrest.”

“Only if he breaks the law,” Barry said. He nodded to Lucy.

She pulled a photo of their Jane Doe from her folder. “We need to find this girl. We know she was in your hotel room Friday night. We need her name and phone number.”

Everett stared at the picture, lips in a tight line.

“Mr. Everett,” Lucy prompted.

“I don’t know,” he said.

“You don’t know what?” Lucy asked.

Shaw said, “My client has just said he didn’t know this girl.”

“Then what was she doing in his hotel room from twelve thirty
A.M.
until four forty-five
A.M.
Saturday morning?” Lucy asked.

“I don’t know,” Everett said.

“Lying to a federal agent is a felony,” Lucy said. She pulled out additional surveillance photos. “This is you registering at the hotel at four thirty-six Friday night.” She slapped down another surveillance photo. “This is you having dinner alone in the hotel bar at seven-ten.” Another photo. “This is you entering your room at nine-seventeen Friday night. You didn’t leave. You purchased two adult videos from the hotel’s streaming service.” She pulled out the photo of Jane Doe. “This girl entered at twelve thirty that night and left at four forty-seven in the morning. You left at seven forty-five Saturday morning after checking out via the hotel’s automated service. Are you still saying that you didn’t know that this girl was in your hotel room at the same time you were?”

“I mean—of course I-I-I knew she was there,” James fumbled. “B-but sex between two consenting adults isn’t a crime.”

Lucy had to bite her tongue to avoid mentioning that paying for sex was still a crime. She couldn’t prove that Jane Doe was underage, or that money had been exchanged. “Then what is her name?”

“Why do you need to know?” Shaw asked. “My client is a married man, and he doesn’t want any publicity about an extramarital affair.”

“Then he shouldn’t have one,” Lucy snapped. She immediately regretted it. It was completely unprofessional.

Barry picked up the questioning immediately. “We need the information because this woman is a witness in a major criminal investigation, and if Mr. Everett does not give us her name, I will arrest him for obstruction of justice until he agrees to give us her name and contact information. And
that
will go on the public record.”

“Elise,” Everett said. “Her name is Elise.”

“Elise what?” Barry asked.

“I don’t know.”

“How did you meet her?”

“A mutual friend.”

“A mutual friend sent her up to your hotel room?”

Everett wiped sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. “It doesn’t work that way.”

“How does it work?”

“It’s complicated.”

Lucy leaned forward. She was familiar with how a variety of prostitution rings were run. “Let me guess,” she said, trying to speak as calmly as Barry did. “You call a number. You tell them what you want, deliver a hotel key and money to a specified location, then wait at the hotel for the girl to show. Am I warm?”

He nodded.

“Give us the number.”

He pulled a piece of paper from his desk note pad and quickly wrote it down. His hand was shaking when he handed it to Lucy.

“That’s it?” he said.

“For now,” Barry said.

“One more question,” Lucy said. “Had you ever met with Elise before Friday night?”

“No. I, um, my regular girlfriend is Bella.”

“Did you ask for someone different?”

He shook his head. “Bella was sick. I don’t want to get her in trouble. You’re not going to get her in trouble, are you?”

His concern for his hooker was odd, but it was clear he was equally as concerned about his own hide.

“No,” she said, and meant it.

On her way out, she saw a picture of Everett with his wife, a young boy, and a younger girl. Picture perfect. She picked it up, then looked at Everett. “You have a beautiful family. Why would you jeopardize your relationship with them?”

“You wouldn’t understand.” He refused to look at her.

“How can you have sex with teenagers when your daughter is about to become one?”

“You’re sick,” he said, fuming.

“I’m not the one who’s sick.”

Lucy put the picture down and walked out.

*   *   *

Barry immediately called Zach and asked him to research the phone number.

“You should also call Tia,” Lucy said. “She may have a database, or the names Elise and Bella might mean something to her. I suspect Bella has the same basic appearance as Elise. These men rarely deviate from their preferred type.”

“Go ahead and call her,” Barry said. “It was a good question. Except for that little judgmental slip, you did well.”

“I shouldn’t have let his attitude bother me.”

“And when I say judgmental, I’m not saying I condone his behavior.”

“I know. It’s the get-more-flies-with-honey argument.”

“Honey wouldn’t have worked on him.”

Lucy almost smiled, then he said, “You shouldn’t have mentioned his family. That was over the top.”

“Men like him will justify anything. Sometimes they need to be called out on it. He likes young girls. He’ll want them younger.” Barry was going to argue, but Lucy said, “Unfortunately, I know a lot about sexual perverts. He’s borderline violent. He controls it now, but soon it won’t be enough to spank the girls, he’ll hurt them. He’ll find out that hurting them turns him on, and he won’t be able to stop. He’s sick, he needs help, but society doesn’t have a redress for perverts like him. Not until he kills one of the prostitutes or goes after his own daughter.”

Before Barry could comment, she called Tia and put her on speaker. “Hi, Tia, it’s Lucy. You’re on speaker with me and Barry Crawford.”

“Hi, Barry. It’s been a long time.”

“Yes, it has,” Barry said.

“I have some info on the girl we’re looking for.”

“So do I. She goes by the name Elise. One of her johns said he usually uses a girl named Bella, but Bella was sick and the service sent him Elise. I have a number if you need it.”

“I know who you’re talking about. Not Elise, but Bella Jones. She works for Mona Hill. I’ll send you Mona’s file—it’s thick. The woman is a piece of work. I’ve tried taking her down a couple of times, but she has friends in high places. I can’t make anything stick, and she walks after paying a fine or time served. If Elise is working for her, Mona won’t flip her.”

“Is Bella underage?” Lucy asked.

“Probably, but I have no way of proving it. Solid fake IDs. You know how it is, Lucy. We only have so much time and resources.”

“Help those who want help,” Lucy said. There were so many young girls exploited in the sex industry that the older girls—over fourteen—were often beyond help. Younger girls, whether they wanted the help or not, were given priority, then came the older girls who sought help. Usually they were arrested for solicitation or drugs and if they showed signs of wanting to get out of the business, Tia would connect them with the right halfway house, get them into school or a GED program, or develop opportunities for them to go home, if feasible.

“If you can nail Mona, I’ll help you wield the hammer. I keep an open file on her, just in case she gets wrapped up in something bigger.”

“What do you have on Elise?” Barry asked.

“I didn’t have her name, but I showed her picture to one of my CIs. He recognized her, said she’s new and not from Texas. Didn’t think she was working for anyone but herself, and definitely didn’t work the streets. I was thinking she was a special order—she’s young, probably fifteen. These girls rarely work for themselves, and none of the girls are chattering about an interloper.”

“Would Mona Hill know about her?”

“Mona keeps her finger on the entire sex trade in southern Texas. If there’s a new girl in town, she knows.”

“That number I have—would you be able to confirm it belongs to Mona?”

“Probably, but I couldn’t say for certain. She uses different numbers for different johns. When she wants to cut someone off, she disconnects the number. But send it to me, I’ll run it.”

“Thanks, Tia.”

“Be careful with Mona. She’ll do anything to protect her organization.”

“What is she scared of?”

“Nothing.”

“Everyone is scared of something,” Lucy said.

“Not true. Read Mona’s file before you talk to her. I just emailed it to you. If you can find a weakness, more power to you. This woman has seen more violence than you and me combined. Prison doesn’t scare her. Death doesn’t scare her. She’s worked herself up from the bottom multiple times. If her business is destroyed, she’ll re-create it elsewhere. San Antonio isn’t her first town. And absolutely don’t let her get in your head.”

“If she’s not scared of anything, then we simply have to shut her down.”

“That might be all you can do. Call me if you need anything else. I’m not afraid to go after her, but I need something solid before my boss will let me take another run. She’s already slipped out of my hands twice.”

Lucy hung up. Her phone beeped with the email Tia had sent her containing Mona Hill’s file. She said to Barry, “I need an hour to read this.”

“If we go down this path, we’re going to be stirring up a hornet’s nest,” Barry said.

Tia didn’t have to be explicit for Barry and Lucy to know that if Mona consistently walked on criminal charges, that meant she had someone in law enforcement or the judicial system on her payroll—either as clients she blackmailed or people she bribed. While law-enforcement agencies at all levels tried to keep their houses clean, there were a few bad apples in every barrel. “We have to do it,” Lucy said. “Elise is new in town, gets tied up with Mona Hill, is at the Worthington crime scene, then leaves Worthington’s phone with her next client—one she’s never been with before?”