Chapter Forty-One

Margo Angelhart

Discord worked.

It took a bit of finesse, but finally Jennifer responded to my message on the chat platform.

How do I know you are who you say you are?

"Got her," I said to Logan. We both sat behind his desk at his computer in his Scottsdale office. "What's something that I can tell her so she knows I'm here with you and I'm one of the good guys?"

"Tell her I'm here and I'm still upset that she surpassed my ELO at online chess."

I typed it in and a minute later, she responded.

Jennifer: You're with Logan?

Margo: Yes. We're sitting in his office. He hired me to find and protect you.

Jennifer: Why?

Margo: He's worried because he hasn't been able to reach you, you're not returning his calls or messages.

Jennifer: I don't want to drag him into this.

Margo: You already did when you showed him the data from Desert West. I don't care about that right now. I know who you really are.

No response. "Can you trace this?" I said to Logan. "Like, trace her IP address so we know where she is?"

"No. I mean, I could try, but she'll have a VPN, which is difficult to trace."

I had to trust Logan on that; tech was not my strength. I refocused my attention on convincing fake Jennifer to trust me.

Margo: Your name is Virginia Bonetti. Jennifer White was your best friend until she was killed when you were both freshmen in high school. Your family moved from Orlando to Miami. I don't know why—yet—but you don't think it was an accident, like the fire investigators determined. I also have your mother's autopsy report.

No response. I waited a beat, then continued.

Margo: You told Logan that someone was following you. I tracked down the individual to a local PI, who I believe was hired by your father. I know you're scared—I can help you. Logan will help you.

No response. What other angle could I use?

Margo: Someone saturated Logan's house with nitrogen to knock you out in order to steal your laptop. That's our best guess. They could have killed you. Then last night, someone set fire to the Desert West building after they wiped the system. Three people were inside.

Jennifer: Are they okay? Was anyone hurt?

Bingo!

Margo: Not seriously. But someone at Desert West is trying to cover their tracks. I don't know if you're in danger from your father, but you are definitely in danger from this guy. Do you suspect someone specific?

No response, but I hoped she was thinking.

Jennifer: If I'm wrong, I could ruin his life.

Margo: I will prove it one way or the other. Call me, Jennifer. Let me help you.

I typed in my cell number and waited. She didn't respond to my Discord message, nor did my phone ring.

"Dammit!" I said. Where had I gone wrong?

"I'll try to trace the connection," Logan said. He started typing and code flashed by, making my head pound. I stood and paced.

"I might know where she is," I said. "Not specifically, but she had books on Arizona history and had marked Bisbee. Plus, she has nearly every J.A. Jance book—she writes mysteries about a cop in Bisbee. I can go down there, ask around, but if I'm wrong it's going to waste a full day."

"Hmm," he said as if he barely heard me.

Two minutes later, as I seriously considered jumping in my car and driving to Bisbee, my cell phone rang.

"Who's this?" Jennifer said.

"Margo Angelhart."

"Okay. Don't put me on speaker. Logan's in the room with you, right?"

"Yes."

"I don't want to hurt him."

"Okay."

This was a very strange call. I almost stepped from the room, but then Jennifer started talking fast, and I didn't want to miss anything.

"Last month I started looking at this report that seemed off to me. I brought it to Mr. Tucker's attention, but he was distracted—he's going through a divorce and has been kind of out of it for months. He told me to do whatever I needed to do, but I don't think he understood the seriousness of the situation. I found a secret account. Pennies of every transaction were sent to the account, and I couldn't figure out why. The account wasn't in our annual audit, so I knew something was wrong, but I didn't know specifically what was wrong. It's not unusual to have automated splits—like your cell phone bill will have a few pennies going to state taxes, to federal taxes, to different surcharges. That's all automatic—some are a flat fee, some are a percentage of your total bill, which is calculated automatically by the program. So on the surface, the line item isn't suspicious."

Her clear explanation helped me visualize the situation.

"But," Jennifer continued, "I couldn't figure out where this money was going or why it was diverted, so I downloaded the source code. I didn't think about calling Logan then because he's so busy." Her voice grew even quieter, as if she was afraid Logan could hear. "Then... I saw his wife."

Suddenly, I had part of the answer I was looking for, even before Jennifer spoke.

"Where?" I asked.

"At the airport. She was with someone I work with."

"Tucker?"

"No—no, of course not."

Tucker was logical, I thought. "Then who?"

"Brad Parsons," she whispered. "He's the assistant CFO. They were—um—involved."

"Okay." I avoided Logan's questioning gaze. "And then?"

"Mr. O'Keefe had said once that Brittney married Logan for his money and Logan would eventually figure it out. I learned later, from Mr. O'Keefe's personal assistant Gwen, that Brittney had worked at Desert West, and that's how she met Logan. She implied that Brittney had been involved with Brad first, but he didn't make the big bucks. Her words. I wasn't around then and you know how gossip is, so I didn't think about it. But after the airport, I was angry and suspicious. I didn't immediately think it was Brad, but when I was looking at the data again and traced the programming to Mr. Tucker's office, I thought it had to be Brad."

"Not Tucker?"

"No. The coding came from his computer, but after hours, and Mr. Tucker doesn't come in at night."

"Do you have proof?" I asked bluntly.

"I have all the data on my laptop, but I can't prove Brad created the account or the code. I hoped that Logan could. But I should have told him everything from the beginning. I don't want to hurt him. He's a really good guy and he gave me my first real job."

Logan was trying to get my attention; I ignored him.

"You told Logan that you were scared, that you thought someone was following you. Do you think it was this Brad?"

"I don't know. Two men followed me at least twice, I just got a weird vibe. They were watching me last week—I saw them once outside work, and once outside my condo. I got paranoid—you said you know what I did."

"Yes."

"I've done a good job covering my tracks, but my father is resourceful. I thought maybe they worked for him...but after what happened Sunday, I thought Brad might have hired them to get my laptop. The evidence of what was going on. So—I really don't know who hired them, but it freaked me out and after being drugged, I had to get away."

I asked Jennifer, "Where are you now?"

She didn't say anything.

"Jennifer, I can help you. You're in danger, and you can't hide forever. If you need to disappear, I can even help you with that." With a little money from Logan Monroe, I thought. "Are you in Bisbee?"

A gasp. "How do you know?"

"Good guess." Nice to know I hadn't lost my touch when I searched her apartment. "Tell me where, and we can be there in a couple hours. You don't want to come back here alone until we know what's going on."

"I'll send you the address."