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“How’d he pay?” Quinn asked.
“Credit card. We’re checking with the credit card company now. If the guy’s an idiot, then he’ll have used his own. Unfortunately, chances are it’s a pre-paid deal that’s registered to a fake email. Jenny said the phone order came in just after eight this morning, and she sent them out on their 9:30 a.m. delivery route. I checked with the phone company, and they have that call coming in from Sheridan, Wyoming. Another cell that pinged near a rest area on I-90.”
Quinn frowned. If you followed I-90 all the way west, it took you right into Seattle. From there, it was one ferry ride—or two, depending on which route you took—to Hudson.Fuck.
“Hang on,” he said, moving to his desk phone. As soon as the call connected, he said, “It’s O’Conner. Call me back and make it private.”
Within seconds, his cell phone rang. He pressed the speakerphone button. “O’Conner.”
“You summoned?”
“I’ve got you on speakerphone with Deputy Chase and Alex—”
“Hey, doll, how are you?” Joe crooned.
Quinn continued before Alex could respond. “Alex has been getting phone calls at the house. Chase traced them.” He relayed the dates, times, and locations of each call. “The last one included a subtle personal message. Then, around eight this morning, a man near Sheridan, Wyoming placed an order with Petal Pushers to be delivered toAlex. NotNatalie. The delivery address was Roxie’s café. The flower selection and personal note included with them clearly indicated Woodsworth’s involvement.”
He paused to take a breath. Adrenaline coursed through his veins. The sensation was familiar, but this time, its cause wasn’t the thrill of a new investigation; it was pure rage.
Somewhere out there, a bastard had the balls to threaten Alex.
Quinn wouldn’t stand for it.
“Someone’s on the move, Buchanan, and I want to know who the fuck it is.”
“Well, it’s not Woodsworth, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m in Boston now, and he’s still locked up nice and tight here.”
“Visitors?”
“Only one. His lawyer. Last visit was two days ago. No one else.”
Scenarios and possibilities raced through Quinn’s mind. “Does he have internet access?”
“Yeah, Woodsworth has access. But no, that’s not it. We’ve been monitoring that.”
“Phone calls?”
“Again, only his lawyer.”
“It’s the lawyer then.” He slapped his desk. That had to be it.
“Strike three, Connie. Sorry. We’ve got an ear on all the lawyer’s conversations, both in person and over the phone.”
Alex’s eyes narrowed in confusion.
“What is it?” Quinn asked her.
“Isn’t wiretapping a person’s conversations with their lawyer illegal? Even if you’re the FBI?” Alex shook her head. “Not that I care about Preston’s rights or anything, but aren’t you going to get into trouble for doing that?”
“There are a number of federal provisions and technicalities that give us the okay,” Joe answered. “Off the record, of course.”
Quinn leaned back in his chair and scrubbed his hands over his face. He was close. He could feel it in his gut. But where was that damn missing piece?
“So, who is it then, Buchanan? It has to be someone connected to Woodsworth. A cellmate? A cellmate’s contact, maybe?”
“I don’t know. I’ll see what I can find out. Hey, Connie, I have to go,” Joe said in a rush. “I’ll look into things and let you know. Good work, Chase. And Alex?”
“Yes?”
