Chapter Four

Tess Angelhart

Tess Angelhart's favorite cases involved brain work over field work, so corporate espionage was right up her alley—most of the time.

Corporate espionage.

She loved the way the words rolled off her tongue. There was something fun and diabolical about corporate espionage. She loved the legal aspect, the analysis, the brains behind a good white-collar scheme. Her second favorite were heists—not violent robberies, but a good old-fashioned heist where the bad guys took weeks to set up the perfect theft, often without anyone knowing until long after the goods were gone. Solving those made her feel like an old-time detective, Pinkerton or even Sherlock Holmes.

She much preferred cerebral cases, where she could spend most of her time researching and putting together information, thinking about the hows more than the whys. She'd rather interview an expert or scour a library or courthouse archive for days, than sit here...in a car...with her brother...for hours.

She read through her notes—reviewing how she tracked Jennifer White to this short-term rental, mulling over who she would be meeting with, what exactly she was selling, how the plan was structured. Though she had far less patience than Jack, she thought she was holding her own, at least until Jack spoke.

"Stop," he said.

"I'm not doing anything."

"You're fidgeting."

"Am not."

He didn't respond.

"I'm restless," she admitted. "Do you think I got it wrong? That she's not meeting the buyer here?"

"You got it right," Jack said. "Stop second-guessing yourself."

She didn't think she was wrong. If there was one thing she was good at, it was research. She had been an investigator in her mother's law firm for nearly ten years, so she knew how to find information. But she was used to working in the courthouse, pulling cases, reading filings, tracking people on paper. She was good at interviews and talking to witnesses, getting people to tell her things they probably shouldn't.

But patience? Not her superpower.

"You should have brought Lulu instead of me," Tess said. Their youngest sister was more patient than even Jack.

"She has a paper due tonight."

Luisa Angelhart—only family called her Lulu—was a college student. Late to the college scene because she spent six years in the Marines, but got a free education out of it. Maybe because of her personality, or maybe because of her military training, Lulu could sit on a stakeout for however long it took and never complain. Tess thought she actually enjoyed it.

The short-term rental that Jennifer White had reserved in the name of a shell corporation was located on a quiet street on the north side of the Phoenix Mountains, in pricey Paradise Valley. Tess didn't know who owned the shell corp—yet. They would have to go on-site in Nevada to pull the papers. Right now they assumed it was under Jennifer's control, but it could have been reserved by the buyer if Jennifer was guilty of selling company secrets.

She also didn't know why Jennifer was meeting with someone here. Why not meet at a hotel? At a bar? The trailhead of the preserve where there were no security cameras? Why here?

She'd brought up those questions to Jack when she found the rental yesterday; he'd told her they would follow the facts. He didn't question. He observed, investigated, learned, deduced. He had been a police detective, after all. He'd told her more than once that all answers came through gathering information, and information came from observation, interviews, physical evidence, and the experience to interpret all of the above.

The CFO had uncovered evidence that someone in-house had downloaded proprietary information. Over the last week, Angelhart Investigations had run basic background checks on every Desert West employee, plus analyzed computer logs and data. Jennifer White was the only employee who could have downloaded the data, though they didn't have hard proof. Based on her odd behavior of late, Tess suspected they were on the right path, but the CFO wanted solid evidence.

Yes, Jack was right: they needed to follow the facts. But did following the evidence have to be so mind-numbingly boring?

Her brother said, "Here she comes."

They were in Jack's black truck up the street from the house, tinted windows providing some degree of concealment. At this angle, no one approaching the house would be able to see them.

Jennifer's practical late model white Honda Civic pulled into the driveway and partly disappeared behind a collection of saguaros that decorated the front yard. She approached the garage door, where she typed on a keypad and the door rolled up. A moment later, she pulled into the empty garage. Shortly thereafter, the door came down.

"Now we wait to see if she's meeting with anyone," Jack said.

Great, more waiting.But Tess kept her mouth zipped. Of course, she was meeting with someone. Why spend a thousand bucks a night for a rental only twenty minutes from where you lived?

The house was locked up, blinds closed against the desert heat. There were no other vehicles on the property, but there was no way to know if someone was already inside—perhaps dropped off by Uber before she and Jack arrived. Because the house backed up to the mountain, there was a possibility that someone could access it on foot, and there was no easy way to keep an eye on both the house and the mountain. There were no cars parked on the street near the house. The houses in the neighborhood were on large lots set back from the road, with trees and walls for privacy.

Tess didn't think that computer nerds were particularly sneaky in physical cloak-and-dagger games. Online, sure, but climbing halfway up a rocky mountain when it was ninety-four degrees and rattlesnakes were basking in the sun? Nope.

Jennifer had arrived alone. What was she doing? A staycation? It was a nice place—not large, but from the photos she'd seen online, there was a pool, jacuzzi, gourmet kitchen. White could afford the place, but why when she literally lived in one of the nicest condo complexes in Scottsdale, right across from Fashion Square? Maybe the setup here was to make the buyer of Desert West data more comfortable? Or maybe she simply wanted more distance from her personal life.

Jack said, "Stop."

"I'm not doing anything."

"You're still fidgeting. If she's meeting someone, they'll be here soon."

"We have different definitions of soon," she grumbled.

Tess ignored the smirk on her brother's face. Jack had been a cop for fourteen years—the last six as a detective—before leaving the force. He was used to stakeouts. Waiting. Watching. Being bored out of his mind.

"I'll never understand how you do it," she mumbled. "How many times were you called into Father O'Connor's office for being disruptive in class? Mom called you the energizer bunny because you couldn't sit still."

"School was boring."

"This isn't?"

"I grew up. Now I mentally entertain myself."

She rolled her eyes, looked up at the roof as if asking God for understanding and patience.

A car slowly came up the winding road and Tess leaned forward. A lone driver, male. Jack already had his camera in hand and had taken several shots of the late model white Tesla.

"Model X," Jack said.

Tess knew next to nothing about cars. "Is that good?"

"Expensive."

The Tesla turned into the driveway of the target house. Jack kept the camera on the vehicle and continued to shoot photos as the driver got out.

The man was approximately six feet tall, slim, with sandy blond hair that touched his collar, dressed in khaki's and a light blue polo shirt.

"Bingo," she said.

In order to catch Jennifer White red-handed, they had to identify the man she met with. This would allow them to compile a more detailed report and hopefully uncover what White was up to. The stakes were high; the CFO had to decide whether to fire her or prosecute her for stealing company secrets. Although the evidence was circumstantial, Tess was confident they were building a solid case. The most important thing was to identify the buyer and document the money trail.

Another car came up the road less than two minutes after the Tesla. Tess first thought a resident, though there were only a dozen houses up the road from them before the street dead-ended into the mountain. There was no maintained trail access from this road, though someone fit could hike into the preserve if they cut through a yard or used a drainage ditch.

The black Jeep looked familiar. It did a one-eighty in front of the house, the faded Army decal on the rear window telling Tess exactly who was driving. Jack swore under his breath at the same time as Tess said, "What the hell?"

Their sister Margo parked two houses down, her Jeep barely visible from their vantage point.

Tess glanced at Jack. "You need to find out what she's doing."

"Let's see how this plays out."

Margo had intentionally turned her back on Angelhart Investigations three years ago. Their paths rarely crossed in business, and Tess only saw her sister at family functions, where Margo usually arrived late and left early. Her choice, Tess thought bitterly. She chose to walk away, and Tess wasn't going to feel bad about it.

Even if she missed her irritating, compassionate, stubborn, smart, spontaneous, independent, distrustful sister.

"Hey," Jack said.

"I'm fine," she mumbled.

He shot her a knowing look, then said, "She's walking around back."

"Why is she here?"

Jack didn't respond because, of course, he didn't know. No one knew exactly what Margo was up to these days.

Margo struggled because she worked too often for free, but when she did make money, it was either taking a dangerous bounty assignment or an adultery investigation. Through the family gossip chain, word was that Margo was on retainer for one of the big divorce law firms in Phoenix. Fit right in with her sister's cynical view of family and marriage. A view completely unjustified, in Tess's opinion. They had everything they needed even if they didn't always have what they wanted, and never felt unloved. And their parents had been married for nearly forty years and still loved each other.

Even though their dad was in prison.

Margo circled the house, a camera around her neck. What a miserable job, taking sex pictures. Was the man married? Did his wife hire Margo? Jennifer White was single, twenty-six. Maybe she was dating a married man, giving him company secrets.

Tess wished everything had been different. That she could just pick up the phone and call Margo, go out for drinks and talk like they used to. But three years ago Margo had burned the bridge. Tess could forgive her—that was how they were raised—but Margo would never ask for forgiveness because she didn't believe she'd been in the wrong.

Margo suddenly started running toward the back again, a determined look on her face. Tess lost sight of her.

Jack said, "Something's up."