This is going to be one of my longer stories as I like this world so much. I have a few chapters plotted out in my head, so look for regular updates.
Chapter Eleven:
I was in my office, the place I hate the most, filling out authorization paperwork when there was a knock on the door.
"Come in," I said.
"Hey," Spencer said.
My heart was starting to maintain a regular rhythm whenever he appeared. It had been a week and a half since he set up a workspace down here and we were getting closer every day. The place was full of Caltech, Harvard, and MIT grads, but no one matched my intelligence the way Spencer did. We were constantly finishing each other's thoughts and building on ideas. Having Spencer around was a dream in more ways than one.
"What's up?" I asked.
"A Paul Wexford says he knows you and needs to speak with me," he said.
"Paul is my morning barista," I said. "What would he want with you?"
"Let's find out," he said.
We walked in companionable silence to the elevators and took it to the executive level. I waved to Phyliss as we entered Spencer's office.
Paul whistled.
"Fancy digs up here," he said. "With a great view of the city."
"How can we help you Mr. Wexford?" Spencer asked.
"Please, it's Paul. And its about how I am going to help you. I think you got a traitor in your midst."
"How do you know?" I asked.
"Someone came in right after you and asked for a latte. He started chatting me up like he was a regular and claimed he was looking for information on you Ness and your connection to Spence Reid, for a story he was writing about Jensen Tech's brightest engineer."
"That makes no sense," I said. "Only trade journals know my name and no one goes to my haunts looking for information about me."
"I had a feeling something was off about him, so I asked his name and what site he worked for. He said I wouldn't know it, and his name didn't matter, and then he tried to flirt with me for more information. I made up an excuse to clean the other counter and took this picture for you."
Paul handed us his phone. My heart dropped.
"I know this scumbag," I said. "John Hawke. He used to work for me until cyber caught him stealing designs and trying to sell them on the black market."
"How long ago was this?" Spencer asked.
"Two years ago," I said. "I heard he was desperate for work and trying to use what he learned here at other companies and even less reputable companies wanted no part of it."
Spencer used his phone to copy the photo.
"Thank you, Paul," he said. "Can I offer you a pair of tickets to the Jensen Gala?"
He looked at Spencer.
"All I did was what I thought any good citizen would do and you're offering me a ticket to the most sought-out event in town?"
"We now know there is threat to look out for," Spencer said. "I hope you'll take them."
"Oh, I will. Thank you."
"See Jean one floor down and she'll make arrangements."
"Thank you again," he said. "I like the way you run things around here."
Paul gave me a meaningful look and walked out.
"I have known Paul for five years," I said. "He's your typical Hollywood screenwriter. He has sold a couple that have never gone into production. I also think he genuinely likes his job no matter how much he complains."
"He seems like a nice guy," he said. "What is the story with Hawke?"
"What else is there to know?" I asked as my voice shook slightly. "He just stole ideas."
"Your body language suggests otherwise," he said. "Was it consensual?"
For all the talk of equations and theorems, I had forgotten the guy was still a trained profiler.
"It was and then it wasn't," I said. "I said. He had just started when he put the moves on me after a holiday party and its that fuzzy line between consent and going along with it. We kept at it until he introduced his wife six months later who had been serving in Iraq. I tried to end it, and he got violent with me. I was relieved to find an excuse to get him fired."
"Did Jensen know?" he asked.
"I think he suspected something as he often offered to be a sounding board if I needed one. But no, he only knew about the attempted theft."
I realized I was on the verge of tears.
"Does he still have any friends here?" he asked.
"Not that I know of," I said. "But that doesn't mean he still isn't in contact with anyone."
"Vanessa," Spencer said. "It's going to be okay. I'm going to alert security and hopefully this issue will be taken care of quickly."
"Okay," I said.
"Why don't you go out and get some air?" he said. "Maybe a cup of coffee."
"I appreciate it, Spencer."
"Anytime, Nessa."
He looked like he wanted to hug me, but we both knew that was a step too far, even as much as we both wanted it. Not now, anyway.
I walked out of the office determined to keep the vow I made as I watched security take John Hawke's things out: I would never let him take over my head again.
…
"Big courtroom for a will hearing," Jensen's lead lawyer Frank Ramon said to me as we entered.
I had been invited to the hearing as I was the executor and personal witness to what conspired afterwards. Looking across the aisle, I saw Carina dressed in a way that thrust her chest outwards as far as possible out of her short black skirt and blazer combo. Liam Harris was dressed in a suit that was flashy and cheap-looking. He was also checking her out whenever she wasn't looking. They gave us the large room because it promised to be a circus.
Everyone rose, when the judge came in and sat down. I didn't know judge Philip Aft from any of my work so what would happen here was a mystery.
"We are here to discuss the disputing of Jacob Jensen's last will and testament," Aft said. "What reason is there to dispute the will Mr. Harris?"
"I have records showing that Jacob Jenson, was not of his right mind at the time," Harris said. "Depositions from employees who state he was acting out of character at the time and nothing like the Jacob Jensen who would cut his beloved son and daughter out of his will."
"Would you care to look at these names Mr. Ramon?"
He brought a piece of paper up with him.
"I'd like to present my own evidence."
The judge looked at the document.
"Mr. Harris, all the people who you deposed were fired from the company with three months of the will's signing. Unless you have any witnesses, who are in good standing with the company, I can only assume, these three people came forward only in hopes of a payout."
"Your Honor," Ramon said. "I have no additional evidence."
An associate stepped forward with another document.
"A clean bill of health record signed three days before the will was sent to the court," he explained.
"That doesn't mean anything," Harris said. "He could have contracted a disease that ate at his brain right afterwards!"
"Mr. Harris," Aft said coolly. "You're making more of a fool of yourself than usual. Do you have any additional evidence as to why the will should be contested?"
"I stand by my witnesses. It doesn't matter that they were fired. They saw what others refused to see!"
I watched Sophia Tulane. While Carina looked desperate, Sophia seemed calm and collected, in her conservative turquoise pants suit. The woman always struck me as a snake and I had a bad feeling she was up to something.
"Therefore, I find no evidence to further dispute the validity of Jacob Jensen's last will and testament."
"What!?" Carina screamed.
"We got a bad judge, I'm sorry," Harris said in low tone.
"Watch it Mr. Harris. I have perfect hearing."
"I paid you twenty thousand to get that will overturned!" Carina screamed. "I'll kill you!"
"That's double his usual rate," Ramon muttered.
"Your honor she didn't mean that," Sophia said softly. "I'll get her out and calmed down."
"I will not calm down momma," she cried. "He lost me my inheritance!"
"We'll figure something out," she said soothingly. "I promise. We'll get what is rightfully yours, one way or another."
The last sentence sent chills down my spine.
"Your Honor," I called out.
"I heard it too Mrs. Cade," he said. "I am ordering a restraining order put in effect immediately. You, your mother, and your brother if and when he gets out, are not permitted within a thousand feet of Spencer Reid or any Jensen personnel for a year and subject to renewal."
"But-But what about the Gala?" Carina cried. "That is my daddy's pride and joy."
"Carina," I said carefully. "You have not been invited since you threw a glass of wine at a rare Van Gough painting three years ago and August brought a drug dealer as a date two years ago. Uncle Jacob just has been too polite to say anything whenever you have shown up."
The look Carina gave made me fear for my life. She was all smoke and no fire I knew rationally, but she knew how to be scary when she was mad.
"Judge can you formally dismiss this circus?" Ramon said.
"Case dismissed," he said. "Court is adjourned."
"TRAITOR!" she screamed at me as she sobbed. "BLOOD TRAITOR! YOU ARE NO LONGER MY COUSIN! YOU ARE NO ONE! YOU HEAR ME! NO ONE!"
Sophia dragged her out of the courtroom as Aft was about to raise his gavel.
"Would you like to go out for a drink?" Ramon asked.
"No," I said distractedly. "No thank you. I'm meeting Spencer for dinner."
"I heard about Hawke," he said. "If he or any other disgraced personnel show their faces, they will be escorted out of any premises Spencer Reid might be at, Gala or otherwise. Everything is going to work out fine."
"I hope you're right," I said as I thought of the chilling words of Sophia Tulane.