Touch of Red (Tracers #12)(77)

“What about the drugs in Samantha’s car?”

“Like we said at the beginning, that could be a plant to throw off investigators.”

“I think you have a long way to go to prove all that,” Alex said.

“We’ll get there,” Sean said. “Wait until we get a warrant for the judge’s phone and computer, and we can start connecting all these dots. I’ll bet he has a pair of shoes with a herringbone tread pattern and an empty sheath from that hunting knife we recovered. We need to search his home, his car, his office.”

Alex didn’t look convinced as she packed up her laptop. “I’ve got to get back to Delphi. I’ll let you know when I dig up more, but I figured you guys would want to know about this.”

Sean got to his feet. “Thanks for coming in.”

“I’ll be in touch.” She walked out.

Sean turned to Callie. “I knew this was going to happen today. I fucking knew it when I got up this morning.”

“Sean.”

“What?”

“Nothing’s happened yet. And this isn’t enough for a warrant.”

“Are you kidding? I bet we have something by lunchtime.”

Callie stood and put her hands on her hips. “Sean, think. We still don’t have conclusive evidence that Eric Mahoney is our guy.”

“Did you listen to a word Alex said?”

“Yes, I did, as a matter of fact. She said those emails were pulled from two locations, and one of them happens to be the courthouse.”

“Exactly.”

“Yeah, and who else has a reason to be in and out of the courthouse? Bradley Mahoney. The lawyer. Who practices law in Burr County, among other places, and also happens to be the judge’s nephew. Who’s to say that guy didn’t sit down at some clerk’s computer to check his email? Or duck into his uncle’s office to use his computer? Or, for that matter, it could be anybody. Right now we have no way of knowing exactly who was actually sitting at that computer terminal logging on to the Gmail account that’s receiving extortion messages from JMJFlowergirl.”

“I can’t believe you’re dragging your feet on this. Don’t you want to arrest this scumbag? He’s probably still operating this whole scheme.”

“Yes, but I want to do it by the book.”

“We are.”

Callie crossed her arms. “Is it or is it not possible that some other person besides the judge could have logged on to an email account from a computer at the courthouse?”

“Sure, it’s possible.”

“So, until we know for sure that Eric Mahoney is our killer, I don’t think this is enough. And I think we need to tell that to Rachel. She’s not even aware that one of the suspects we’ve looked at is an attorney who is in and out of that same courthouse.”

Sean stared at Callie. He couldn’t believe she was putting up this much resistance.

“At the very least,” she said, “we need to get corroboration from another source, such as the DNA on that drinking glass that Brooke is testing.”

“Brooke is not testing anything. Her lab is. And I don’t want her involved in this.”

“She’s already involved. And we’d be a lot better off if we have those results back so we know for certain we’re right before we rush out and execute a warrant in the office of a sitting judge. This is a sensitive case, Sean. It could be a career wrecker if we botch this up. Why do you think Brooke went to all that trouble to get us that drinking glass?”

Sean ran his hand through his hair. “God damn it.”

“I don’t care if you think I’m being a pain in the ass. You’re going to thank me if it turns out that DNA doesn’t match and we’re targeting the wrong guy.”

Ric poked his head into the conference room. “Rachel’s all over it. She said she’ll have something for use within two hours.”

He left, and Sean looked at Callie and said, “Go to Delphi and track down those DNA results.”

“And where are you going?”

“To the courthouse to sit on this judge.”

Sean swung by his desk to grab his jacket and was rushing out the door when Marjorie flagged him down.

“Sean, don’t go anywhere.”

He glanced at his watch.

“There’s someone here to see you,” the receptionist said. “Farrah Saunders? She says it’s urgent.”

Sean switched directions and headed for the lobby. “Where is she?”

“I put them in conference room A.”

“Them?”

“She’s got someone with her.”

Sean crossed the bull pen to the conference room, where Farrah stood outside the door. She wore a black pantsuit and had her hair in a messy bun, and Sean could tell by the look on her face that she was in crisis.

“What’s going on?”

“I have a question for you.” She gazed at him and swallowed nervously. “Is Eric Mahoney the target of your investigation?”

Sean glanced at the closed door. “I can’t discuss an ongoing—”

“Sean, please. I need you to be straight with me here. Is the judge a suspect?”

Sean paused for a moment. “Yes.”