Lance scanned the office. Beanie boy had emerged from the locked room and was cruising across the space to an open kitchenette. He could have been in high school. He still had pimples. “How old is Kirk?”
“Twenty-three,” Elliot said. “Kirk earned his PhD last year. He’s brilliant, but he has Asperger’s. Emotionally, he’s much younger, and social communication is difficult for him. He can talk all day about the challenge of delivering high-frequency, 5G spectrum wireless without a sufficient fiber-optic cable infrastructure. But he can’t ask a girl out on a date.”
“Has Kirk ever had any negative interactions with female coworkers?” Lance scanned the people on the other side of the glass. More than three-quarters of the employees in sight were male.
Elliot shook his head. “No. Everyone here is a geek. We all speak the same language, and as long as the conversation doesn’t venture into personal territory, Kirk is fine.”
“Can we talk to everyone on Tim’s team?” Morgan asked.
“Of course.” Elliot rose. “Do you want me to send them in one by one?”
Lance nodded. “Please.”
Elliot hesitated at the door. “You’ll be gentle with Kirk?”
“We will.” Morgan gave him a sincere, close-lipped smile.
“And understand, they will not be permitted to talk about the project,” Elliot said. “It’s a general rule.”
Lance thought, Thank God.
But he said, “Yes. Of course. One more thing. We’d like a list of all your employees.”
Elliot frowned. “I don’t know. I assure you they were all vetted before they were hired. And the sheriff took a list with him. I assume he was checking everyone for criminal records.”
“We know,” Lance said. “It’s always good to have fresh eyes on any investigation. You’d be surprised what can be missed with an overabundance of information.”
“All right,” Elliot agreed. “Everyone who works here signs off on periodic drug and background investigations due to the sensitive nature of the business. I don’t like to violate my employee’s trust, but this is an extraordinary situation.”
“Do you remember where you were last Friday night?” Morgan asked casually. “We need to be thorough.”
“I understand.” Elliot nodded. “I was with my brother at his place.”
“What did you do?” Lance asked.
“Nothing really. He was working on his road bike. I watched. We had a few beers.” Elliot shrugged. “Derek’s girlfriend broke up with him a few weeks ago. He’s been depressed.”
“I don’t suppose anyone saw you there.” Morgan looked up from her notes. “Did you order takeout? Run to a convenience store?”
“No. Sorry. If had known I was going to need an alibi, we would have gone out,” Elliot said drily. “Let me get Kirk for you.”
He left the room. A few minutes later, Kirk shuffled into the conference room, turned his skateboard over, and set it on the table in front of him. Bouncing into the chair Elliot had vacated, Kirk watched his skateboard wheels spin. He flicked quick, almost furtive glances at Morgan and ignored Lance completely.
Morgan gave him a soft smile. “Hi, Kirk.”
“Hey,” Kirk mumbled. His gaze darted from Morgan’s chest to her face, then dropped, and he stared, red-cheeked, at his skateboard.
Morgan began, “We just wanted to ask you a couple of questions about Tim Clark.”
Kirk played with a skateboard wheel, brushing it with his fingers and watching it spin. “Sure.”
“How long have you worked with Tim?” Lance asked.
Irritation flashed across Kirk’s face. His gaze passed across Lance’s face for a quick second, then dropped to stare at the center of his chest. “Dunno exactly. Maybe two years.”
“Do you and Tim get along?” Lance kept his voice conversational.
One of Kirk’s shoulders lifted and dropped. “Sure. Tim’s OK.”
Morgan set her clasped hands on the table in front of her. “Do you know his wife, Chelsea?”
Kirk’s gaze moved to her hands. “Yeah.”
“Do you like her?” Morgan pressed.
Despite her gentle tone, Kirk seemed to shrink, his shoulders caving in as his weight shifted back in the chair. “I guess.” He swatted the wheel of his skateboard three times. It spun with a soft whir.
“Is she nice to you?” Morgan twirled her thumbs.
Kirk seemed transfixed by the movement. “She’s nice to everybody.”
Despite his limited social skills, the kid was bright enough to know he was in the hot seat.