Best Laid Plans(70)

“I caught that, too. Is that five?”

“That I’ve seen.” Or sensed. “Not government, because they would have answered the door if there was a legitimate threat.”

“And we would know. Congressional protection in the district falls under our jurisdiction.”

“Why does she feel she needs a private security force?”

“I intend to ask her.”

Mr. Contreras came through the foyer with two men, both dressed in lightweight suits without ties, appropriate for the warm, humid weather.

The shorter man was an attractive Hispanic male in his late thirties. The taller man looked very familiar to Lucy, but she couldn’t place him. She stared, trying to remember where she’d seen him. Six feet, sandy blond hair, light eyes—a bit husky, but not overweight. He worked out. No one introduced them, and both men left quickly.

Dammit, where had she seen him? It wasn’t recent, but she was usually very good with faces. Maybe he just seemed familiar because he reminded her of someone else.

Contreras didn’t say a word, but escorted Barry and Lucy back to the office with the large picture window overlooking the rose garden.

“Mr. Contreras told you that today isn’t a good day.” Adeline looked both tired and frustrated.

Barry said, “We have news about your husband’s death, and as a courtesy, we’re informing you first. However, if you would prefer to hear about it on the news, Agent Kincaid and I will leave.”

Lucy was surprised at the sharp tactic. Barry’s voice was calm and reasoned, but his words were certainly confrontational. It was a terrific approach, and she’d originally had him pegged as a less subtle agent. Which proved that you really didn’t know someone until you’d worked with them.

Adeline frowned, but sat at her glass desk. Interesting, considering that their first meeting had been less formal, on the couch.

Barry remained standing, so Lucy followed his example. Barry said, “As you know, your husband’s death was initially ruled as suspicious. The coroner’s office has confirmed that we’re now investigating a homicide.”

There was no reaction from Adeline. Either she was in complete shock or denial, or she already knew Harper Worthington had been murdered.

“Have you received any threats?”

“The Capitol Police investigate such matters. They haven’t found anything viable.”

“Then why do you have so many private security guards on your property?”

“I’m a federally elected official who has taken some unpopular stands. Just a precaution.”

“They weren’t here on Saturday.”

“Perhaps you didn’t see them.”

Adeline’s entire body was a band of tension. If she was wound any tighter, Lucy thought, she might snap and bounce off the walls.

“I thank you for taking the time out of your busy investigation to inform me that my husband was murdered. Now, go find his killer. That is your job, correct?”

“We need to confirm some information, Mrs. Reyes-Worthington,” Barry said. He pulled out his note pad, slowly and deliberately, and with equally deliberate fashion flipped through multiple pages, obviously skimming his notes. Lucy knew he read much faster than that, so this was another tactic. Something Adeline had done had set off Barry’s instincts as well as hers. What?

She didn’t ask how he was murdered.

Barry said, “According to our investigation, your husband flew to D.C. with you on May fourth and spent four nights at your residence there.”

“Yes.”

“He was going to return on the ninth with you, but instead returned a day earlier and went to his office in Dallas.”

“He told me he had work to catch up on, something unexpected. I didn’t question him. Both of us have demanding jobs.”

Barry turned back in his notebook. “When we first met, you indicated that he had a doctor’s appointment in early May, and had been preoccupied since. We spoke with his doctor, and Mr. Worthington was last in for a checkup last fall.”

“I told you that Harper said he had a doctor’s appointment.”

“Do you remember what day?”

“No.” She paused. “It was after he came back from D.C. Maybe he has another doctor. Maybe that’s why he went to Dallas. He was obviously keeping something from me.”

Adeline wasn’t agitated or rattled. At the most, she was frustrated that they were asking her questions. She straightened her spine—even more than it was—and said, “I have a funeral to plan. I have a meeting with my lawyer. I have government business to attend to and a campaign to run. Let me know when you find out who killed my husband.”

Barry nodded to Lucy. She pulled out a piece of paper—the one with the dates—and placed it on Adeline’s desk. “Do you know what these dates mean?”

Adeline didn’t touch the paper, but looked down at the list. “No. Some are familiar—the first one is the day I won my election. The others don’t hold any significance for me.”

Next Lucy put the parcel number list in front of Adeline. “What about these numbers?”

“I have no idea what those are. What is going on?”

Lucy didn’t respond. She picked up the papers and put them back in her folder. Adeline was lying, but Lucy didn’t call her on it. Her phone vibrated in her pocket, but she ignored it.