The Scarecrow

“No, they said as little about the investigation as possible.”

“Standard procedure. What about the search warrant? Didn’t it lay it all out?”

She shook her head.

“The warrant was issued by a grand jury that has a blanket mandate to investigate Internet fraud. The use of the trunk murder site fits under that. It gave us camouflage.”

“Good.”

“We did our part, Jack. You guys didn’t do yours.”

“What are you talking about?”

I noted her use of the word we.

“You’re asking if the Unsub, who may or may not be in this place, is aware that Western Data might fall into a greater focus. The answer is yes, but not because of anything the bureau did. Your newspaper, Jack, in its account of Angela Cook’s death, mentioned that investigators were checking the possible connection to a website she had visited. You didn’t name the site but that only leaves your competitors and readers out of the loop. The Unsub certainly knows the site and knows that if we are onto it, then it may only be a matter of time until we put it together and show up here again.”

“We?”

“Them. The bureau.”

I nodded. She was right. The story in the Times had blown it.

“Then, I guess we better go in before them shows up.”

We got out and I grabbed my sport coat out of the backseat and put it on while on my way to the door. I was wearing the new shirt I had bought the day before at an airport shop while waiting for Rachel to land. I wore the same tie for a second day. Rachel was wearing her usual agent outfit-a navy suit with a dark blouse-and she looked impressive, even if she wasn’t an agent anymore.

We had to push a button at the door and identify ourselves through a speaker before being buzzed in. There was a small entrance area and a woman sitting behind a reception counter. I assumed she was the person who had just talked to us through the speaker.

“We’re a little early,” I said. “We have a ten o’clock appointment with Mr. McGinnis.”

“Yes, Ms. Chavez will be showing you the plant,” the receptionist said cheerfully. “Let’s see if she’s ready to go a few minutes early.”

I shook my head.

“No, our appointment was with Mr. McGinnis, the company CEO. We came down from Las Vegas to see him.”

“I’m sorry, but that’s not going to be possible. Mr. McGinnis has unexpectedly been detained. He is not on the premises at the moment.”

“Well, where is he? I thought your company wanted our business, and we wanted to talk with him about our particular needs.”

“Let me see if I can get Ms. Chavez. I’m sure she will be able to speak to your needs.”

The receptionist picked up the phone and punched in three digits. I looked at Rachel, who raised an eyebrow. She was getting the same vibe I was getting. Something was off about this.

The receptionist spoke quietly and quickly into the phone and then hung up. She looked up and smiled at us.

“Ms. Chavez will be right out.”

“Right out” took ten minutes. A door finally opened behind the reception counter and a young woman with dark hair and dark features stepped out. She came around the counter and held her hand out to me.

“Mr. McEvoy, I’m Yolanda Chavez, Mr. McGinnis’s executive assistant. I hope you don’t mind my taking you around today.”

I shook her hand and introduced Rachel.

“Our appointment was with Declan McGinnis,” Rachel said. “We were led to believe that a firm of our size and business would merit the attention of the CEO.”

“Yes, I assure you that we are very interested in your business. But Mr. McGinnis is home ill today. I hope you understand.”

I looked at Rachel and shrugged.

“Well,” I said. “If we could still get the tour, we could then talk to Mr. McGinnis when he’s feeling better.”

“Of course,” Chavez said. “And I can assure you that I’ve conducted the plant tour several times. If you can give me about ten minutes, I will show you around.”

“Perfect.”

Chavez nodded, then leaned over the reception counter and reached down for two clipboards. She handed them to us.

“We first have to get a security clearance,” she said. “If each of you could sign this waiver, I will go make copies of your driver’s licenses. And the letter of introduction you said you had.”

“You really need our licenses?” I asked in mild protest.

My concern was that our California licenses might raise a security flag since we had said we were from Las Vegas.

“I’m afraid that is our security protocol. It’s required of anyone taking the facility tour. There are no exceptions.”

“Good to hear. I was just making sure.”

I smiled. She didn’t. Rachel and I handed over our licenses and Chavez studied them for indications they were counterfeit.

“You’re both from California? I thought you-”

“We’re both new hires. I’m doing mostly investigative work and Rachel will be the firm’s IT person-once we reconfigure our IT.”

I smiled again. Chavez looked at me, adjusted her horn-rimmed glasses and asked for the letter from my new employer. I pulled it out of the inside pocket of my jacket and handed it over. Chavez said she would be back to collect us for the tour in ten minutes.