The Venus Fix

Wednesday Nine days remaining
Forty-Eight

Jordain closed the file filled with résumés from forensic psychologists. There wasn’t one candidate in there who he thought was senior enough for the job. He knew someone who’d be perfect, though. Perfect, except for a million personal reasons. Besides, why would Morgan ever want to leave the institute to work for the NYPD?

It was just that there was no one he’d rather have advising him on the twists and turns the human mind could make.

“Detective?”

Officer Butler was standing in the doorway to his office with a sheaf of papers in her hand. Jordain had given her Leightman’s computer last night and told her to keep the geeks working on it 24/7. He hadn’t expected them to have anything this soon.

“Do you want some coffee?” he asked as he got up to refill his mug. She shook her head. He knew she never said yes, but still he asked.

“Leightman is very definitely a Global client. Global and a few dozen other sites. He’s got a serious habit. Always uses the bob205 handle and-”

“Are there e-mails to the women on his hard drive?” he interrupted.

“Nothing. But there’s always the possibility-and the geeks are looking into it now-that he sent the e-mails we’re looking for and then deleted them. That should take a few more hours.”

“Someone could be setting him up. Like he said.”

“Either way, we’ll find out.”

“You need to find out soon. He is a judge, Butler.”

“You don’t have to remind me…” She hesitated.

“What is it?”

“We did find something you should know about.”

“I don’t like the sound of your voice.”

She shook her head. “You’re going to like what I have to tell you even less.”

“Okay. Enough of the buildup. What is it?”

“Judge Leightman is seeing Dr. Snow. There’s e-mail from him to her setting up appointments. E-mail back from her confirming.”

“Shit.” He thought for a few seconds. One possible way out. “Old e-mail?”

“Current. As recently as last week. Going back months.”

“Thanks. Let me know what else you find, or what you don’t find, as soon as you can,” he said, dismissing her.

Jordain leaned back in his chair and stared up at the ugly acoustical tiles on the ceiling. He hated those white squares with their ugly wormhole patterns.

Oh, Morgan, he thought, how am I going to sit across a table from you and not ask you about this? His fist came down hard on his desk and he felt the impact shoot up through his wrist.