I smiled at the dog. I had stopped by the neighbor’s house earlier this morning to pay the teenage dog sitter and ask her about the house alarm. She said she’d made sure to set it every night when she left. If that was true—and who knows for sure with teenagers—that meant the intruder from last night had somehow disarmed it. And disarming complex alarm systems was not the mark of a common criminal.
“Thank you for bringing her over, Alex. I hope it’s not too much trouble having Lizzie around here.”
“No trouble at all. We love her. Did you get any rest last night?”
“Some.”
“Good. Carol, can I ask you a question about your financials?”
“Of course.”
“I went to see Craig Kinney this morning.”
“Craig is a sweet man. So is his wife, Marcy.”
“He sends his condolences. We went over your finances. I just wanted to get a jump start to make sure you’re in good shape. Everything looks very solid, by the way. You should have no concerns. But Craig didn’t seem to know where Joe got the money that he invested in my company. It wasn’t part of your financial portfolio. Do you have any idea why Joe would’ve kept that money separate from his other finances?”
“No, but I’m sure Joe had a good reason. He was always very particular when it came to our money.”
“Did Joe ever mention anything about an account in the Cayman Islands?”
Carol shook her head. “Joe never wanted me to be too involved or concerned with our money. He always said it was his role to carry that burden. So I let him all these years. I’m sorry that’s not much help to you now.”
“It’s okay. What about the name Ethan Tucker?”
“Doesn’t sound familiar.”
“Do you remember anything about the lawsuit settlement where Joe got the money he put into my company?”
“What lawsuit settlement?”
“Joe told me he got the money from a client case a long time ago.”
“Oh, I didn’t know that. But if you want to know about a particular case, you should probably talk to Steve Edmonds.”
Steve Edmonds had been Joe’s law partner for nearly twenty years before they shut down their firm a few years ago when Joe wanted to retire.
“Where is Steve these days?”
“He joined one of those big firms. I can’t remember the name of it. Joe called it a meat market. Do you want me to call his wife, Cindy, and find out?”
“No, that’s okay. I’ll find him.”
After rallying the girls inside for lunch, I shut the pocket doors to my home office, circled my desk, and sat in the high-dollar executive chair my in-laws had purchased for me as a gift this past Christmas. It was one of those fancy ergonomic numbers that perfectly supported all areas of my back. Joe had bought one for himself. After commenting how much I liked it, I found one waiting for me by the Christmas tree with a big red bow on it. That’s just how my father-in-law always worked. He’d pull his shirt right off the moment I needed it. He’d drop everything to come help me fix a water leak. He’d spend his whole weekend assisting me with installing new landscape lighting. I could always count on Joe.
Sliding open the middle drawer of my desk, I found where I’d stored Joe’s cell phone. After powering it up, I began scrolling through his contacts for the name Ethan Tucker. Joe had called him an old friend. So I was surprised when I came up empty-handed. Joe did not have the name in his phone.
Opening my laptop on my desk, I did a quick search grouping Joe Dobson with Ethan Tucker. But nothing appeared with that direct connection. I hopped onto LinkedIn and searched for Ethan Tucker in Dallas. Several matches popped up, including candidates like a lawyer, an accountant, a banker, and a financial adviser. I started with the lawyer, searched online for the law firm where he worked, found the main phone number listed on their website, and made my first cold call. A friendly woman answered.
“Clareview and Marshall, how can I help you?”
“Hi, I need to speak with Ethan Tucker, please.”
“May I ask who’s calling?”
I thought about that for a moment, then said, “Joe Dobson.”
I figured if this was the same Ethan Tucker who’d wired the money, giving my father-in-law’s name might actually get me on the phone with him. Otherwise, I could easily get brushed off. I didn’t want that to happen.
“One moment,” she replied.
I stared at the lawyer’s profile page on the firm’s website. He was probably in his midforties. Curly hair and kind of pudgy. Undergrad at Virginia Tech. Law school at Georgetown. Specialized in corporate securities.