She looked back at her list, saw the name. “It’s listed in public records. I printed the list so you could see.” She circled the name. “That’s good work, Beau.”
“Maybe. The thing is, they’re not a very big company. In order to participate in projects over a million dollars, they had to qualify under the Texas Facilities Commission Small Contractor Participation Assistance Program. Which apparently they did.”
“So how big a contract did they get?”
He picked up the printed paper, looked down at the name she had circled. “That’s the weird part. The job was only worth two hundred thousand dollars. The company won’t actually net anywhere near that.”
Cassidy frowned. “I don’t get it. If Vaughn wanted a favor, why would he pick something with so little value?”
Beau’s head tilted back and he stared up at the ceiling. Then his gaze, dark with frustration, zeroed in on her. “Don’t you get it? We screwed up. There’s no way this is the favor Vaughn wanted. Hell, maybe Senator Watson’s death really was an accident. We’ve got to go back, start completely over.”
Rounding the partners’ desk, he sat down heavily in his chair, a mixture of disappointment, regret, and worry all etched into his face.
“You think we’re on the wrong track,” she said, not willing to give up yet.
He sighed. “We must be. Killing two people—possibly three—over a low six-figure trenching contract doesn’t make any sense.”
Cassidy’s shoulders slumped. He was right, dammit. If there was a favor involved, it had to be something worth way more money than that.
“Okay. We’ll leave it for now. We still have an audio bug in Vaughn’s car and a GPS tracker on his bumper. We’ll stay on top of them, monitor them twenty-four hours a day ifthat’s what it takes. We aren’t giving up until we find out if Malcolm Vaughn is the man behind the murders.”
Beau propped his elbows on the desk and leaned forward, his expression a little less tense. “You’re right. If Vaughn’s our man, we’ll catch him.”
Cassidy turned back to her computer, clicked up the screen showing the GPS locator. The address for the current location appeared on the screen.
“This is Vaughn’s office,” she said as Beau got up and padded around the desk behind her. “His Mercedes is parked in the parking lot. We’ll check it every half hour until he leaves. Then we follow his route, see where he goes.”
She pulled out her cell phone, but the audio signal wasn’t alerting. “We’ll keep a closer eye on this, too. If he calls anyone, we’ll know it. We’ll phone the device and listen in on the conversation. One way or another, if Vaughn is guilty, sooner or later, we’ll catch him. If he’s guilty, Malcolm Vaughn is going down.”
Chapter Thirty
Three days passed and nothing. The house was overrun with security people. Along with the extra team Will Egan had brought in, Beau had hired a bodyguard named Frank Marino, a redheaded former police sergeant who had worked for Linc. When Marino wasn’t prowling the grounds, he was staying in the studio apartment at the other end of the house.
The only good news was the purchase of Missy’s house in Pleasant Hill had closed, and Missy, Josie, and the baby had already moved in. Josie was looking for someone to help with the baby part-time but hadn’t found the right person yet.
There was lots going on in the world outside the house, but inside, Cassidy was becoming claustrophobic.
“I can’t take this anymore,” she said glumly, sitting with Beau at the breakfast table Thursday morning. “I’m going to go bat-hat crazy if I have to stay in this house one more day.”
He chuckled. “I’m happy to take you back to bed, honey, keep your mind off your troubles for a while.”
A little sliver of heat washed into her belly. She’d love nothing more than to spend the day in bed with Beau, butwith a killer hunting them, they had work to do. She was hoping there was a safe way to get out of the house.
She managed a grudging half smile. “You did more than your share this morning, and I have to admit it worked—for a while. But it’s not fresh air. Why don’t I take your guy Marino with me down to the office? I called earlier. Jase is back in town and Rome might be there. Maybe one of them has heard something that’ll help us.”
“You don’t think they would have called? And who’s this guy Rome? The former gangbanger who gave you the car door opener, right?”
“Yes, and Rome might need it.” She seized the excuse like the last breath of oxygen in a roomful of poison air. “I really should take it back to him. What do you say?”
The corner of Beau’s mouth edged up. “I say we hang on to it a little longer, just in case. But if you want to get out, we’ve got good people around us. We’ll take Marino along and I’ll go with you.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
He didn’t say a word, just cocked a black eyebrow, reminding her that someone was trying to kill them.
“Okay, fine. We’ll both go. The Ferrari’s back, all patched up and ready to hit the road.”
“Be smarter to take the BMW. Blends into traffic better. The Jeep would be best—too bad it’s red.”
