Best Laid Plans (Lucy Kincaid, #9)

Lucy interrupted. “Where did the girl go? Did she have a car? Did she leave on foot?”


He pointed between the office and the main building. “She ran down that path. Told me she had to go, her boss would beat her.” He shook his head. “Where’s her family? How do girls do this? So many, too many, and bad men beat them. I don’t understand.”

“Go home and hug your children,” Lucy said and gave him her card. “We have your contact information, and may be following up with you after you talk to Detective Mancini.”

Barry said, “Ask him if Worthington had a bag with him when he picked him up at the airport.”

She did, mentally hitting herself that she hadn’t thought of it.

“No bag. He said he was flying in for this meeting and flying out tonight. He didn’t even have a briefcase.” The driver paused. “He made a call. Left a message for someone.”

“Do you know what he said?”

“I didn’t want to pry. It sounded personal. I heard him say, ‘I’ll see you at breakfast.’ But that’s all.”

*



Lucy and Barry approached room 115 as the crime scene techs were telling Julie she could take the body.

“There’s not much we’re going to get from here,” one of them said. “We bagged the vodka and cups, the wallet, printed the door, nightstand, bathroom knobs, dresser. But we’re getting dozens of prints. We’ll bag up the bedding if you need it.”

“Better to be thorough,” Barry told them.

Lucy concurred. If this was a suspicious death like Julie thought, they had to treat it as such from the beginning. There was no going back to collect evidence after the fact, especially in a place like this.

“Did you find a cell phone?” Barry asked.

They hadn’t and they’d conducted a thorough search. There was nothing in his pockets. His wallet had three receipts tucked away, two from today and one from yesterday, all from Dallas businesses. Barry asked for copies to be emailed to him as soon as they were processed, but he also wrote down the names and addresses from the receipts. There were no flight stubs in his pockets or wallet, and no return ticket. Not unusual if he used a mobile boarding pass. Barry stepped out of the room to take a call.

Lucy watched as Julie and her crew zipped up the body bag, then she followed them to the coroner’s van where they loaded the body and slammed the door shut. Julie turned to Lucy. “I’m cutting into the guy at eight A.M. sharp. Come if you want.” She climbed into the van and waved good-bye.

Lucy didn’t see Barry, so she watched the crime scene techs finish bagging potential evidence. They chatted among themselves while they worked. She’d been where they were. She’d collected evidence and processed scenes. It was methodical and organized, and the routine soothed her.

Harper Worthington had been in Dallas until last night, when he’d flown in late, apparently to have sex with an underage prostitute. Worthington lived in San Antonio, his business was in San Antonio; why would he come to his hometown for sex when it would have been easier for him to find a no-name motel in Dallas?

And Julie was right about the money—Worthington could afford a much nicer place, and considering he’d paid hundreds of dollars for the flight, why not fork over a hundred bucks for a halfway decent dive? There were motels and hotels closer to the airport. This made no sense. Except that it was anonymous. But if he wanted to remain anonymous, why stand out by giving the taxi driver two hundred dollars to return?

Barry approached her. “Let’s go.”

“We should talk to the manager.”

“I did.”

She glanced up at him. “I would have joined you.”

“It was routine. And you’re better with these lab rats than I am.”

“I used to be one,” she said. “What did he say?”

“Nothing that helps.”

She mentally counted to ten so she didn’t snap at her partner. “How did Worthington pay for the room?”

“He didn’t. Manager didn’t even see him. I got a basic description of the girl, but the taxi driver had more detail. Not much to go on, but maybe Mancini has a photo for him to ID.”

“Prostitutes don’t pay for the room. And if he didn’t recognize her, she wasn’t a regular.”

“These kinds of places thrive on anonymity. I pressed, he couldn’t give me anything.”

“If she’s in the system, we’ll ID her,” Lucy said. “There were prints on the vodka bottle and his wallet.”

“We need to notify his widow before the press gets wind of this,” Barry said.