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The Finnegan Firm
Tenth Avenue, Nashville
Finley had barely slept last night. She’d kept thinking about that thumb drive. Why would Derrick need to hide whatever data it contained? Matt’s friend at the security company had run Derrick’s image through the Dempsey Pharma system and discovered three instances when he’d visited the company. That alone didn’t prove anything, she told herself. Yeah, right.
Matt had suggested Derrick might have gone to Dempsey Pharma for a potential job interview. But that couldn’t be right either. Derrick had claimed to be a home-improvement subcontractor. He did it all, he had explained. Plumbing, electrical, carpentry work. He worked for various contractors all over the city.
She’d never questioned him about his work. Never considered he might not be telling her the truth.
Was it possible he’d gone to Dempsey Pharma for some sort of maintenance work?
She paced her small office, empty coffee mug still cradled in her hand ... still warm from the second cup of coffee she had chugged.
Maybe he’d seen something illegal and photographed it with his phone. People did that all the time.
Finley shook her head. Why wouldn’t he have told her? And even if he had, what about all the photos of her? Photos taken before they met? More likely he had been hired by Dempsey to keep an eye on her.
She stalled, took a breath. The thumb drive could be nothing.
Whoever had owned that old truck before Derrick could have stuck the magnetic key holder under there. Maybe that person had been hiding something from his or her significant other.
Nothing was ever simple in Finley’s world.
It was possible, she supposed, that Derrick had been collecting data on one of his employers. Bad business went down in the construction world. There were unions and strikes. But the timing was a sticking point for Finley. Derrick had shown up in her life just before the Dempsey trial started. He had hidden those photos of her, proving that he had been watching her before they met. Dempsey’s thugs still watched her after all this time.
The Dempsey connection was the only logical answer, she decided.
You’re saying Derrick worked for Dempsey?
Finley closed her eyes. Hated that annoying internal voice more every day. No. She wasn’t suggesting he worked for ...
But that was exactly what the evidence suggested.
Following that train of thought, if he had been employed by Dempsey and had hidden something that someone, presumably Dempsey’s people, wanted to find, that would explain her neighbor having seen people poking around her house while Finley was in the hospital.
She rubbed at the tension banded across her forehead. She had to stop thinking about the possibilities. It was driving her mad. Matt had called her on her way to work this morning and assured her that thethumb drive was safely in the trusty hands of his cyber guy. Until he got past the password, there was nothing to do.
Except wait.
The sound of Jack’s voice bellowing a good morning as he arrived had Finley heading his way. She dropped her mug off in the lounge and caught him in his office. She had arrived early this morning, and thankfully, Jack hadn’t been far behind her.
“Have you spoken to Winthrop this morning?” she asked.
Jack gestured to a chair in front of his desk. “Sit.”
Finley wasn’t sure she could be still for long, but she’d give it a shot.
“The answer to your question is no.” Jack hung his jacket on the coat-tree in the corner and pulled out his chair to sit. “I called her yesterday after I spoke with you and asked her to come in today for a briefing on what we learned in Atlanta. She’s going to let me know this morning what time she’ll be available.”
“I’m surprised she didn’t demand the details last night.”
Jack settled behind his desk. “She didn’t ask a single question.”
Strange reaction for Winthrop. She was a tiger lady. Always pushing to achieve.
“Maybe she already knows,” Finley suggested.
Jack shot her a look. “We think way too much alike, kid.”
