No Good Deed

by Allison Brennan

  “Sam’s lover left and she made coffee. He didn’t stay for coffee; it was dark. He wanted to get home, shower, change into new clothes before going to work. He doesn’t have anything of his in this house, because the relationship just started. Or, I should say, resumed sometime after Nicole was arrested.” How did she know that Sam and Brad had been lovers in the past? Had Brad told her? Or had she picked up on it by watching them together? She didn’t remember but was confident it was true.

  “Sam showers, gets out, Nicole is here, right where we are. She shoots Sam in the knee, then she talks to her. She’ll need to talk to her. To gloat. To brag. To tell Sam that she’s better, that she’s going to win because she’s smarter than Sam, smarter than the whole DEA. She doesn’t need information, because she still has someone inside. But Nicole is better than Sam, and she’ll want Sam to know it. Rub salt in the wound, because Nicole likes to feel smarter than everyone else. Ha, ha, you didn’t even know you had a fox in the henhouse, Sam, did you?” Lucy said, mimicking Nicole gloating.

  “Sam pulled herself up, because she wanted to appear strong, but she knew as soon as she saw Nicole that she was dead. What would Sam have said or done? She might have pleaded for her life. Sam didn’t want to die. She limped forward several feet—” Lucy stared at the blood behind Sam, at the distinct pools, the smears.

  Nicole knew that Brad had been here. She’d been watching. Lucy would need to talk to Brad to confirm the time line. Brad leaves, Sam makes coffee, gets in the shower, gets out, bang! Knee blown out. Thirty minutes, tops. Probably less.

  “Nicole could have killed Brad, but she doesn’t want to yet. She wants to make him suffer, but she also considers him a worthy adversary. Worthy, but not as good as she is. When Brad gets angry and emotional, he makes mistakes. She enjoys watching Brad make mistakes.”

  “Brad?” Nate said.

  “He was here last night.”

  “Did he tell you that?”

  She shook her head. “I just know.” Except he’d mentioned in passing that he’d talked to Sam after leaving Sean and Lucy last night. He just hadn’t said he’d stayed all night.

  “Brad will be pulled from the investigation. He could be suspended.”

  Lucy ignored Nate. The last person she wanted to hurt was Brad, but he had to come clean about his affair with Sam. It established a time line, and his DNA would be all over the place. The ERT would process every inch of Sam’s house, and if he lied he would be fired.

  What did Nicole really want to accomplish by killing Sam Archer? Had this always been her plan? Payback for having her arrested? Or was it something more? Did this vendetta go back only three months … or longer? Did Nicole hate Sam, or was this murder a psychological attack on Brad? If so, why Brad? Was this personal … or professional? Did Nicole stay in town for some practical reason before she could disappear, or was she here solely for a personal vendetta?

  Lucy shook her head. She didn’t see it. Not yet. Neither reason stood out as being right. Nicole was too smart, too methodical, to remain in San Antonio just to seek revenge on people she didn’t like—people she thought betrayed or hurt her, or those who destroyed her criminal enterprise. Yet … there was something personal about this murder. A gloating. A you can’t catch me, I’m smarter than you all vibe. She enjoyed it—there was no doubt in Lucy’s mind that Nicole found a thrill in killing Sam Archer—but she didn’t kill indiscriminately. There was a purpose to Sam’s murder. A reason for every crime Nicole committed.

  She needed Brad’s files. All of them. And every case Nicole worked on. There was an overlap somewhere in the past. Brad might not even know. But smart killers like Nicole didn’t wantonly kill people. They had a reason. Tom in McAllen was killed because he found the evidence against her, and Nicole needed to use him as an example.

  Go after me, I’ll end you.

  Yet Nicole didn’t take him out personally. She would have been hard-pressed to be in McAllen late last night and here early this morning. Besides, the security was tighter closer to the border. Most likely, Nicole sent one of her minions to kill Tom. Same for Logan Dunbar, who was killed before she escaped. Those may have been simple revenge kills.

  You mess with my operation, I kill you. But you’re not worth my time. I have people. I have power. See? Snap my fingers and you’re dead.

  Sam Archer wasn’t a simple revenge kill. Sam’s death was a calculated move.

  Elise’s comments from two weeks ago came back to Lucy.

  My brother and I always win.

  What did that have to do with Nicole? That Nicole, too, always wins?

  “She shot her in the knee and gloated,” Lucy repeated, getting back into the scene in front of her. “Then stomach. Sam was on the ground, unable to move. Nicole could have left her there, to bleed to death, but that would be foolish. There’s no guarantee that someone will die from a gut wound, and Nicole may have said something that she couldn’t risk Sam living long enough to repeat. Because that wouldn’t be in the plan. She has to keep the endgame to herself, but she had to tell someone because she’s egotistical that way. Proud of herself. So she walked in—”

  Nate put his hand on Lucy’s shoulder as she was about to step into the bathroom. She shook her head, clearing her mind. She’d been in Nicole’s shoes, had felt that sick pride oozing through her veins.

  “She crossed the floor. Shot her in the head. Made sure Sam couldn’t talk.”

  She couldn’t tell from here how many times Sam had been shot in the head. But she knew.

  “Three times. She shot her three times in the head.”

  Just like the drug dealer Ramos.

  Ha, ha, you can’t catch me.

  Lucy turned to Nate. She looked into his dark eyes and was relieved that she didn’t see worry or pity there.

  Then she noticed Hans Vigo on the other side of the master bedroom. How long had he been there? Why hadn’t she sensed him watching her?

  “Nicole killed Sam Archer the exact same way she killed the drug dealer five years ago,” Lucy said. “And there are going to be more deaths in her past. Exact same way. Disable, gloat, kill. She has to make sure that the people she kills know that she’s smarter, better, than they are. That she fooled them. It’s important to her to be seen as superior. To be feared and, in a sick way, admired. She’s going to kill again. She’s not far away, and she’s not going anywhere until she’s finished.”

  “Finish what?” Hans said.

  “I don’t know yet.”

  But they had better find out—and soon—or more people would die.

  * * *

  Lucy pulled Hans aside while ERT processed the scene. “I need a few minutes alone with Brad.”

  Hans didn’t say anything at first. Lucy thought he was going to argue with her, then he asked, “Do you trust him?”

  “Yes,” she replied unequivocally. For a split second she thought, Why? Why did she trust Brad? Because he’d been a victim? Because she’d saved his life? Because he’d become a friend? Could she have been played all these months?

  But she didn’t pursue that thought. In her gut she trusted Brad. The same way she trusted Nate. The same way she trusted Ryan and Kenzie. Maybe it was her psychological training, or maybe it was her instincts, but if she doubted everyone she worked with, she’d never be able to work in law enforcement again.

  But if he lied to her, she would have Hans take his badge. Because while there may be a legitimate reason—in Brad’s head—for him to lie, she would never be able to trust him again.

  Brad was squatting behind the tactical van, his back against the bumper, his head down near his knees. It couldn’t be comfortable, but grief was numbing.

  She stood directly in front of him. “Brad.”

  He looked up. His eyes were red and damp. “I want to see her.”

  “No,” Lucy said. “Not like this.”

  “Damn you.” But there was no venom in his voice.

  “What time did you leave?” she asked.
>
  He didn’t say anything for a moment. Then, “Five forty.”

  “How long were you involved?”

  “Since Nicole cut the plea. Sam and I watched her in the courtroom—and I was angry. She shouldn’t have been allowed to make a deal. Her remorse was an act. I knew it. Sam tried to calm me down, we were drinking, and…” He didn’t have to say anything else.

  That was a little over a week ago.

  “And before last week?”

  “It was a long time ago. When we were working in Phoenix. She wasn’t my boss then.”

  “Nicole knew.”

  Brad shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe she did. I didn’t talk about it. Sam didn’t talk about it. It was over long before she became my boss. I cared for her, Lucy. Sam and I—we had a history, but we were friends.”

  “Nicole knew,” Lucy repeated. “She knew about your past relationship with Sam, and she knows you were here last night.”

  He slowly stood up. “How could she?”

  “We’ll wait for the coroner’s report, but my guess is Sam was dead thirty minutes after you left.”

  Brad drew in a breath that sounded more like a sob.

  “Why didn’t she kill me, too?”

  “Because she either needs you for something or wants you to suffer.”

  “I’m going to break her neck.”

  “No, you’re going to do your job. And if you can’t do your job, Hans is going to take your badge.”

  “You’d do that to me? You’d take this case away from me?” He tried to sound angry, but his voice was twisted in anguish. He stepped toward her, his hands fisted at his sides, using his height and strength to intimidate her. Maybe in the past it would have worked, but Lucy didn’t flinch or step back.

  “Nicole knows you, Brad. She knows that when you get emotional you make mistakes. You take risks. If you think you have any secrets from Nicole, you’re wrong. What she didn’t learn directly from you, she found through other means. Assume that she knows every woman you’ve slept with, every friend you’ve had and lost, every case you worked. Why was she in the DEA for fifteen years? Because it was her life playing both sides. She has to change gears, and that makes her mad even though she always knew this day would come.”

  “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

  “You have to trust me, Brad. If you can’t trust me, then I’m putting you into protective custody.”

  “You don’t have the authority.”

  She raised an eyebrow and stared at him. She didn’t have to say anything.

  “I need air.” He stepped away from her.

  “I’m going to ask Ryan to take you home.”

  “I don’t want to go home!”

  “Take a shower, hit a wall, break a window. I don’t care, but you have got to pull yourself together so you can be more help than hindrance.”

  “Who the hell do you think you are, telling me what to do?”

  Lucy knew Nate was watching them from only a few feet away, and she felt the tension rolling off him. Nate was usually so much better at keeping his emotions in check. The last thing she needed was Nate stepping in and pushing Brad’s buttons.

  “You’re a rookie, Kincaid. I’ve been a DEA agent for seventeen years. You weren’t even in high school seventeen years ago. I know how to do the fucking job!”

  “I need you to calm down,” she said, her voice low but deadly serious. “I can’t talk to you about Nicole until you get a grip, and when the ME arrives and takes Sam Archer’s body out of that house, I don’t know that I can trust you not to do something stupid.”

  “How dare you.” But his eyes flickered to the house. “I’m not leaving.” He paused. “I want to see her.”

  “Brad—”

  “I’ve seen worse.”

  “Not someone you loved.”

  He turned to Lucy, surprise in his eyes. “That’s the thing. I didn’t love Sam. I cared for her. I was attracted to her. But maybe if I loved her like Sean loves you, I wouldn’t have left this morning. I wouldn’t have been worried about someone finding out we were sleeping together. I would have sensed that something was wrong and stayed. I might have been able to catch Nicole. But I let Sam kick me out, and I was okay with that. And now she’s dead.”

  Brad took a long, deep breath, then exhaled. “I won’t interfere with you. And I’m sorry for what I said.”

  “It’s forgotten,” Lucy said. She hesitated, then said quietly, “A man I had been involved with was killed. I didn’t love him, but he loved me. I cared for him, like you cared for Sam. But I couldn’t be for him what he wanted. And he died, partly because he loved me. The guilt wasn’t something I expected, but it was there, and it ate at me for a long time. Living in the past is suicide—a slow, painful death. Don’t go there. You can’t change your feelings and you can’t change the past.

  “But I need to know everything, no matter how small, how irrelevant you think it is. Be prepared to share—no secrets. When we’re done processing the scene, I need you to be in the right state of mind.”

  He nodded. “Can you give me a minute?”

  She squeezed his forearm. “You’re not in this alone.”

  He put his hand over hers, then sat heavily on the bumper of the truck.

  Lucy walked over to where Nate and Ryan were standing next to an SAPD sedan. “I’ll take him home,” Ryan said. “Did you know?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Not because he told me, but when I walked in—I knew it was Brad who had been there. Let him stay.”

  “But you said—”

  “He wants to see her. When the ME has her bagged, I’ll walk him over.”

  “How are you doing, Luce? This has got to get to you.”

  Ryan was wrong. Right now, Lucy had no emotions. Nothing could get to her. And with Sean gone, she didn’t know when she’d feel anything again.

  Hans approached. “An analyst is here—Zach Charles?”

  “He’s one of the best tech guys we have, but he’s not a field agent,” Ryan said.

  “He’s taking Archer’s computers straight to the FBI offices to determine what, if anything, was taken.”

  “She had a security system,” Lucy said.

  “The first responders said the system wasn’t engaged,” Ryan said. “The door was locked, not bolted. They kicked it in—not knowing whether she was dead or incapacitated. We have a team canvassing the neighborhood for witnesses as well as external security cameras. We might get lucky.”

  “We might,” she said. “But Nicole doesn’t care if we know the truth. She’s already wanted for accessory to multiple murders. In fact, she wants us to know.”

  “Why?”

  “To gloat. To instill fear. To prove she has the power. All of the above. Ryan—what about her phone?”

  “I’ll ask the ERT supervisor. Why?”

  “Brad received a text message from Sam at nine this morning. She was already dead.”

  “You’re certain she was dead by then?”

  “Yes. I worked in the morgue for over a year—and based on other evidence, I’m guessing she died between six and six-thirty this morning.”

  “Her phone has GPS,” Nate said. “All government phones can be tracked.”

  “I’ll talk to Zach, get that going immediately,” Ryan said.

  Thirty minutes later the ME brought out Sam’s body. Everyone stopped working and watched as the two deputy coroners pushed the gurney topped with the body bag toward the van.

  “Hold up,” Lucy said and walked over to the body right before it was pushed into the van. She motioned for Brad, who immediately was at her side. “Are you sure?”

  He jerked his head once.

  She turned to the deputy coroner. “Would you mind?”

  The deputy coroner unzipped the bag only enough to reveal the victim’s face. Brad stared, his body rigid. He didn’t say a word. Then he turned and walked away.

  Lucy looked down at Sam’s body. Her head was a bloody mess, he
r face already bloated from the moisture in her bathroom and heat. At close inspection, she could see three points of entry on her right side. The left side of her skull wasn’t even there—evidence to be collected by ERT.

  “Thanks,” Lucy whispered. She waited until the van drove off before she found Hans. “Hans, I need to show you something. A video that shows Nicole killing a drug dealer in the same way she killed Sam.”

  Ryan ran up to her, almost out of breath. “Lucy—we tracked Sam Archer’s phone. It’s in her house.”

  “Impossible,” Lucy said.

  “Whoever sent Brad the text message programmed it to go out at eight-fifty a.m. today. They probably accessed her calendar and saw she had the nine o’clock meeting, and wanted to buy time.”

  “Or mess with Brad,” Lucy said.

  “It’s bagged as evidence. We’ll know what else they got.”

  “Emails, addresses, phone numbers—they could have the home address of every federal agent,” Lucy said.

  “I’ll have the director himself put out a warning,” Hans said. “And Ryan—tell the ERT cyberunit that processing that phone is a priority.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Noah Armstrong was going through the box of information that Agent Logan Dunbar had sent to him prior to leaving San Antonio. It had arrived that morning, and since Noah had no leads and forensics hadn’t come back with anything useful from Dunbar’s townhouse, he hoped there was something here that gave him a direction.

  He didn’t know Dunbar well, had never worked with him except on the Reyes-Worthington investigation, but he had been a good, dedicated agent and his murder was nonsensical.

  No FBI agent should be a target simply for doing their job.

  There was a knock on his door and he was surprised that hours had passed since he’d sat down with the box.

  “Come in,” he called.

  Dr. Greg van Buren, the assistant director of the FBI Laboratory Services, walked in.

  “Do you have a minute, Noah?”

  “Of course. Sit down.” He motioned to the lone chair in his office.

  Greg shut the door behind him. He was in his early fifties and had worked his way up at the lab, from lab rat to DNA specialist to head of the DNA unit to assistant director of the lab when Rick Stockton moved from the lab to headquarters several years ago.