Coop filed that away. Nervousness wasn’t unusual. Before anyone spoke definitely was.
Burnside strode around the desk, hand extended.
“Well now, this is an occasion.” A genial chuckle followed. “The FBI and the Texas Rangers on the same day.” His gaze lifted to Coop’s hat. “The Stetson gives you away.”
Coop gripped his hand firmly. “Lieutenant Vince Cooper. Pleased to meet you, Senator.”
Morgan moved in next. “Special Agent Morgan, FBI. Organized Crime Task Force.”
“Yes,” Burnside said, pumping once. “I’m familiar with the task force.”
When Coop’s attention drifted to the woman, Burnside noticed. “This is my legislative aide, Shannon Carter.”
She forced a polite smile, gripping the pen as if it might slip again.
Burnside waved them toward the chairs. “What brings you here today?”
Coop remained standing. “We’re investigating the Wilson homicide.”
Burnside’s smile thinned. “The real estate woman. Ugly business.”
Morgan picked up smoothly. “Debra Wilson’s title company handled escrow for several development projects. One appears connected to a commercial property your office supported.”
Burnside sat a little taller in his chair. “I can’t count the number of development projects I’ve supported. They’re good for jobs.”
This was a friendly fact-finding visit that could easily tip toward confrontational if they weren’t careful. He could feel Morgan’s stiffness beside him. Burnside would too. Time to soften the edges.
“This is routine,” Coop interjected, keeping his tone easy. “We only need to clarify a few details.”
The senator studied Morgan a moment longer before addressing Coop. “I’ll need an address.”
He gave it to him.
“Shannon. Is the paperwork here on that one?”
“Yes, Senator.” She crossed to a filing cabinet.
Coop watched her move. She still seemed keyed up. Burnside was the opposite. He leaned against his desk, hands folded, composed and unflappable from decades of practice.
“Tell me something, Special Agent Morgan,” he said conversationally. “Are you suggesting a United States senator might be mixed up in organized crime?”
Morgan held his gaze. “No, sir. We’re just following the paper trail.”
Coop cut in again. “We think someone got mixed up with the wrong people. That’s all.”
Burnside studied them both for a beat then relaxed. “That happens more often than you’d think.”
Shannon returned with a folder and set it on the desk. Coop flipped through the pages, scanning signatures and approval stamps. One name appeared repeatedly in the margins. Not Burnside. Not an attorney or a junior staffer. Shannon Carter. Interesting.
“This all looks in order,” he told Morgan.
The agent nodded, but Coop caught the tightening at the corners of his mouth. He’d noticed the same thing.
“Did you know the Wilsons well, Senator?” Morgan asked.
“Other than the article in the paper, I don’t know them at all. My chief of staff or one of my aides probably handled the transaction and brought the paperwork for my signature.”
“Then you’d have an idea who might have wished to harm Debra Wilson?” Morgan pressed.
