“I don’t know, but maybe I can find out.” Chase rose from behind his desk, his attention fixed on Beau. “The people who work for me, they’re family. You can believe I’ll stay on this. I know Jase is digging around. Rome and Lissa know about the contract. They’ve got their ears open for anything that might be useful. I’ve warned them to keep it low-key. With luck, something will turn up.”
For the first time, Beau seemed to relax. He stood up and extended a hand, which Chase shook. “Thanks.”
“Stay safe. Both of you. I’ll be in touch.”
As they walked out of the building, Frank Marino waited beside the front door. He was a lean man, fit and watchful. Cassidy didn’t miss the swell of a pistol in the shoulder holster beneath his jacket. The man took his job seriously and she was damned glad he did. She and Beau were also armed.
“No sign of trouble?” Beau asked.
Marino’s gaze went to the upper stories of the buildings lining both sides of the street, scanning for a shooter who might have a sniper’s nest in a location above. “None so far.”
Beau followed his gaze, then looked down at Cassidy and gently touched her cheek. “I don’t think going to lunch is a good idea.”
She sighed. “Not when we know for sure there’s a hit out on us.”
“Let’s go back to the house, take another look at Vaughn’s movements. We’ll send Frank out for something to eat. He always seems to be hungry.”
She nodded, checked her phone. No audio alert. “Vaughn isn’t talking.”
Beau’s features hardened, tightening the scar along his jaw. His eyes were a fierce shade of blue. “Maybe not, but nobody’s perfect. Sooner or later, Vaughn’s going to screw up. When he does, we’ll be ready.”
* * *
Vaughn’s mistake came at nine P.M. that night. It started when the GPS signal pulsing from beneath the bumper of his car began to travel from his office along the streets of the map on the computer screen.
Standing behind Cassidy, Beau watched the moving red dot as Vaughn’s Mercedes headed for home the way he usually did this time of night. But halfway there, Cassidy’s iPhone alerted to sounds inside the car.
She flashed Beau a look, picked up her cell and dialedthe audio bug, which made a silent connection to the device hidden under the dash. She set the phone on speaker.
Beau heard a ringing inside the car, not Vaughn’s usual cell phone ringtone, but something different. “It’s another phone,” he said as Vaughn answered.
“I’m listening,” Mal said to the caller. Silence while the person on the other end of the phone was speaking. “I told you I’d take care of it,” Vaughn said. More conversation, then, “All right, if you think it’s necessary. But it’ll take me half an hour to get there.”
The line went dead. The pulsing image on the computer screen slowed, then turned around and began to move in the opposite direction.
“He’s meeting the guy on the phone,” Beau said, his pulse beginning to thrum.
“It could be anyone,” Cassidy reminded him, looking at him over her shoulder from her chair in front of the screen. “We shouldn’t get our hopes too high.”
“Vaughn took that call on a different cell phone. If he’s up to no good, probably a disposable. I can’t wait to see where he’s headed.”
It took thirty minutes for the Mercedes to arrive at its destination, and Beau’s nerves were on edge the whole time. The car slowed, then stopped, the device still pulsing, but no longer moving.
“He’s out in Westlake,” Beau said, studying the map, locating the small town northwest of Fort Worth. “That’s some of the most expensive real estate around. What’s the address?”
“It’s 1555 Ottinger.” Cassidy went to Google Maps, pulled up a satellite image of the house, and Beau whistled.
“Got to be twenty or thirty acres,” he said. “Property’s gated. House looks to be seven- or eight-thousand square feet. In today’s market, place like that has to be eight or nine million.”
“Hang on a minute, let me see who owns it.”
Beau waited impatiently as Cassidy went into county records and cross-referenced the street address with the ownership parcels.
“The owner’s name is Luca Aaron Reichlin. Sole and separate property. No other name on the tax rolls.” She looked up. “Ever heard of him?”
Beau shook his head. “He’s got to have some very big bucks to live out there, but no, I’ve never heard of him.”
“We need to know who this guy is.” Cassidy turned back to the computer and Googled his name. Nothing. No newspaper articles, nothing on PeopleFinder, nothing on Whitepages.com.
