No Good Deed

by Allison Brennan

  Greg handed Noah a folder. “I wanted to talk to you in person about Agent Dunbar’s murder.”

  “I would have come to you.”

  “I have a meeting at headquarters this afternoon, and when I saw the report this morning, I wanted to share the findings in person.”

  That piqued Noah’s interest. “Different than we thought?”

  “Not the manner of death. Agent Dunbar was a healthy thirty-four-year-old with no sign of alcohol or drug abuse. There was a legal limit of alcohol in his system, likely from the two drinks he consumed on the plane for which we found receipts in his wallet. There are two important items. First is the ballistics report.” He paused, nodded toward the folder. “Page four.”

  Noah opened the file and turned to the ballistics report. The top half of the sheet was technical comparisons; a box at the bottom listed whether the gun had been used in a commission of a crime.

  “The gun that killed Agent Dunbar was used in the San Antonio shooting two weeks ago,” Greg said.

  “The shooting that Agent Kincaid was involved with?”

  “Yes. A witness under SAPD protection was shot at outside a hospital. An SAPD detective was hit and critically injured.”

  “Okay,” Noah said slowly, not quite sure where Greg was going with this. “Same gun. That connects Dunbar’s murder to San Antonio.”

  “The detective was shot with two guns,” Greg continued. “The initial report indicated that the witness had been the target while Agent Kincaid and Detective Mancini escorted her out. But at the request of AD Stockton, a computer analysis indicated that Agent Kincaid was the primary target. The bullet that hit her in the back—in her vest—came from the same gun that killed Agent Dunbar. I can’t think this is a coincidence.”

  Noah didn’t say anything for a long minute. He hadn’t seen the analysis, and Rick hadn’t told him. He’d known Lucy was there during the shooting, but had never been told she’d been targeted—or that she’d been hit.

  Greg continued. “There were two shooters, two guns. Detective Mancini was hit by both shooters. Three points of entry, two serious.”

  “She’s out of the woods, last I heard.”

  “Yes. I followed up with the San Antonio office before coming up here to see you. They clarified a few things from the initial report as well, which helped me put together this information.”

  “The shooter, unless he was a total idiot, had to have known we’d compare ballistics. That we’d make this connection. It’s two federal investigations, they couldn’t have even assumed local law enforcement would be slow to process evidence.”

  Which meant that the shooter wanted them to make the connection.

  “The other key point is that my best ERT unit went through Agent Dunbar’s town house with a fine-tooth comb. The killer was inside waiting for Agent Dunbar. No prints, but several hairs that didn’t match Agent Dunbar were found on a chair in the den. We contacted the cable company and learned that a sporting event had been watched for two hours while Agent Dunbar was still on the plane.”

  “He knew enough to wear gloves, but may not have realized that hair sheds.”

  “Unfortunately, there’s not enough to get a DNA sample—it was natural shedding, no bulbs attached. But the hair is like a fingerprint, so I can compare it to another sample and give you a likely match.”

  “So the killer arrived first—but knew that Agent Dunbar was coming home.”

  “That is my opinion, yes.”

  “Shot Dunbar with the same gun used two weeks ago in a San Antonio shooting against another federal agent. He could have driven, but Agent Dunbar didn’t make his flight arrangements until Friday afternoon.”

  “It’s possible, however unlikely, that someone could drive through from San Antonio to DC in twenty-four hours.”

  “Were there signs that the killer slept there? Ate there?”

  “No.”

  Dunbar had made his flight arrangements while on a phone conversation with Noah on Friday around four in the afternoon. If the killer had known Dunbar’s plans that night, he could have easily arrived on Sunday afternoon and still taken a few hours off for a nap. Still …

  “Can you pull all travel from San Antonio, Dallas, and Houston terminating in Dulles or Reagan National from Friday evening until Sunday afternoon? And flag for individuals who checked a firearm?”

  If he traveled privately, they’d never find him, but if he used a commercial airline they’d have a chance.

  “Already done,” Greg said. “The list is the last page of the report.”

  “You’re good.”

  “My people are good. It’s a long list. Three hundred and nine people traveled and checked a firearm in the forty-eight hours prior to Agent Dunbar’s arrival from Texas to DC or Dulles.”

  It was a lot of people to sift through, but Noah would give odds that the killer flew. Airports didn’t hassle people with guns if they declared them and checked them with baggage. He surmised that the killer would have taken a flight earlier than Dunbar, but the same day. He could work back from that. He had people who could split the list and give him the likeliest suspects.

  “Thank you, Greg.”

  “There’s more. Dunbar’s laptop.”

  “Is it missing?”

  “No. And it’s password-protected. No one tried to break the password. However, someone copied the entire drive on Sunday night, starting at eleven thirty-six. It took about twenty minutes.”

  “Everything on his computer?”

  “Yes. He cloned the hard drive.”

  “So we don’t know what the killer wanted.”

  “I would guess that he knew he couldn’t break the password, but he had to have a bit of skill to clone the hard drive—or have someone walk him through it.”

  “What can he do with a cloned hard drive if he doesn’t have the encryption?”

  “Give it to someone who has the ability to break the password or go in through a back door. Time or talent.”

  “I need the information from his laptop.”

  “I copied the hard drive to our secure server. You can access all of Agent Dunbar’s data, emails, Internet searches, files, what he accessed, everything through the intranet. I gave you permission, so your login and password will get you in.”

  “Can the killer use the hard drive to breach our intranet?”

  “No—our system doesn’t allow any caching of data or passwords, though if Agent Dunbar saved any files to his laptop, those might be compromised. I have an agent dedicated to reviewing data for potential security leaks.”

  “What did they want so badly that they would kill for it?”

  “If my people see anything, you’ll be the first to know. But—to be honest—I don’t think the killer knew that we’d know they copied the data.”

  Noah frowned. He was computer-savvy, but he didn’t know what Greg was talking about.

  He explained. “Dunbar’s laptop was put back into its case and turned off. It appeared undisturbed. If the killer didn’t care if we knew, he or she could have easily taken it or left it on the desk—just like the killer doesn’t appear to care that we connected the gun to a crime in San Antonio.”

  “They may have known that we have GPS on all government computers.”

  “Plausible.”

  But Noah’s thoughts went back to the gun used to kill Agent Dunbar. The same gun was used to shoot two law enforcement officers; more, it had been intended to kill one FBI agent and did kill another FBI agent. A subtle threat, but it was a threat nonetheless.

  The data … maybe they simply wanted to know what the FBI knew about Dunbar’s money-laundering investigation. Or maybe they were looking for something specific. “Thank you, Greg.”

  He nodded and stood. “If I can do anything, let me know.”

  Greg left, and Noah logged into the FBI intranet and pulled up Dunbar’s cloned hard drive. This was going to take a long, long time.

  But first—he needed to talk to Lucy.
If the gun that had attempted to kill Lucy had been used to kill Dunbar, Noah couldn’t discount that it was a deliberate threat and they planned on taking out another FBI agent.

  And they very well could go after Lucy again.

  * * *

  Finally Tobias picked up his phone.

  Nicole was furious. “Where the hell are you, Toby?”

  “A lead.”

  “You idiot! Bring back my flash drive now.”

  “You’re going to love me again, Nicole. I just needed to verify something, and then I’ll know how to get our money back.”

  My money. It’s MY money!

  Tobias was just a front man, and if he was going to go off the rails like this when every law enforcement agency was looking for her, he was going to pay the price.

  “What are you doing?” she asked through clenched teeth.

  “I know how they took our money. The feds.”

  “How?”

  “Just trust me for once,” he said. “You always listen to Joseph, you never listen to me. I ran this organization while you were in prison.”

  “You got Elise arrested, you got your photo captured at the airport—”

  “I wore a disguise. They don’t have a good photo.”

  “It was too close, dammit! Toby. Please. You have to come back to base. I killed Sam Archer this morning, we need to lay low. Our people in Santiago are closing in on Kane Rogan. He’ll be dead by the end of the day.”

  “Don’t have him killed, not yet,” Tobias said.

  “Why?”

  “Leverage.”

  “We don’t need him as leverage. He’s dangerous.”

  “Can’t you trust me just this once?”

  “Not unless you tell me what you’re hiding.”

  “I know who stole the money.”

  “Who?”

  “Trust me, Nicole.” He hung up.

  Nicole stared at the phone. Tobias had hung up on her. How. Dare. He.

  She screamed and threw the cell phone against the wall. “I don’t believe this!”

  “Let me take care of him,” Joseph said quietly.

  Nicole was livid. She didn’t know what to do. She paced the large room, trying to think like her cousin. Except she couldn’t. Why would he do this to her? The risk he was taking … it was too great. He needed to tell her everything—everything he knew—so they could plan.

  “Not yet,” she said. “I’m going to call Uncle Jimmy.”

  Joseph didn’t say anything. She pulled a backup phone from the drawer and turned it on. Looking at Joseph, she saw his concern. “I have to,” she said. God, she sounded like a whiny child. She was reverting back twenty years to when she was scared of Uncle Jimmy and Aunt Maggie.

  She was in charge now. Tobias would fuck this up if she couldn’t rein him in.

  “He’ll never agree,” Joseph said.

  “I’ll convince him that Tobias has fucked up. He has to know. But I can’t kill Tobias without Uncle Jimmy’s blessing, it’d be suicide.”

  Joseph took the phone from her hand. “Not if we don’t pull the trigger.”

  “How?”

  “The only reason Tobias is still alive is because you have protected him, cleaned up after him, stopped him from being the idiot we both know he is. When left to his own devices, he makes mistakes. And the one thing I know about Kane Rogan and his people? They don’t play by the same rules as the feds. Let Tobias go after him.”

  “Do you think that’s what he’s doing? Trying to get Kane Rogan?”

  Joseph hesitated. “Honestly, I don’t know. But if this whole thing is his idea? You can be confident he’ll screw it up.”

  She sighed and turned off the phone. “Twenty-four hours.”

  Joseph kissed her. “And he forgot one very important fact.”

  “What?”

  “Lyle brought us the flash drive with all the information from Agent Dunbar’s computer. But the original cloned hard drive is still with our people.”

  She smiled and threw her arms around Joseph. “You’re brilliant. One of the many reasons I love you. Let’s get it.”

  “You need to stay here.”

  “But—”

  “Like you told Tobias—you killed Samantha Archer. Even if the feds don’t know you pulled the trigger, everyone is looking for you. I can’t risk losing you when we are so close to freedom. I’ll retrieve the hard drive. I have four men on patrol. If anything happens while I’m gone, let them fight. Let them die. Take the exit route to the jeep near the dry creek bed. I’ve maintained the safe house outside Rock Springs. There are provisions, money, passport, and a cell phone in the jeep, plus more at the safe house.”

  She stared at him in awe. “You are amazing, Joseph. You always think everything through.”

  He caressed her cheek. “You taught me.”

  She shook her head, tears in her eyes. Tears because this man would do anything for her, he would die to protect her, and she loved him for it. “From the beginning, you’ve always been the one who thought ten steps ahead. Tobias would have screwed this up years ago if it weren’t for you.”

  “And you.” He kissed her forehead. “There was a time when Tobias did everything you said, and we succeeded. I may be able to plan for emergencies, but you had the vision from the beginning. Even Jimmy didn’t have a complete plan. We’re going to get through this, we’ll get the money, and we’ll be free to set up our own operation, under our own rules.”

  “We’ll never be truly free from answering to Jimmy, even if Tobias is out of the way. And what if Tobias is right about Elise? What if she does manage to get out?”

  “I’m certain she will. Elise is nothing if not predictable.”

  Nicole laughed. Certainly he was being sarcastic.

  “I’m serious,” Joseph said. “What’s the first thing she’ll do when she gets out?”

  “Make contact with Tobias.”

  “Exactly. And do you think that the feds are just going to let her walk?”

  Her heart quickened. “She’ll lead them right here.”

  “And hopefully, right to Tobias. But we’ll be gone. Her hearing is at one p.m. tomorrow. Come hell or high water, we’ll have our money and disappear, and let the feds have a standoff with Tobias and Elise. Because when it comes right down to it, without us directing traffic, those two will die in a hail of bullets they brought on themselves. They richly deserve it.”

  For the first time since her escape, for the first time in a long time, Nicole thought everything was going to work out just fine.

  Joseph kissed her. “I won’t be long, but remember what I said if our perimeter is breached. Keep your eye on the security cameras; any change, power outage, glitch, strange sounds—head to Rock Springs. Understood?”

  She nodded. “But come back soon. I don’t want to live without you.”

  The night before Nicole left for the DEA training facility at Quantico, they had a family dinner.

  Uncle Jimmy stood at the head of the table at his house in Topanga Canyon. Nicole had moved from the family house as soon as she began college five years ago in order to build her cover. And she’d succeeded, in spades.

  Uncle Jimmy raised a glass. It was Scotch, his preferred drink, and this time he’d opened one of his special bottles, Glenlivet 21 Year Old Archive. Everyone had a glass, even those who didn’t like Scotch. And while this was a family dinner, there were other people at the table. Friends, who were like family. A crime family, Nicole thought with both derision and excitement.

  Because today she was the shining star. Today she’d proved that intelligence and hard work paid off.

  Joseph squeezed her knee under the table. Nicole would never have been able to do this without him. In fact, she’d probably be dead.

  “Nicole, you have made me proud,” Jimmy said. “Your daddy and I came up with this plan years ago, but he thought your brother would be the leader. I knew, though, as soon as you walked through my door that it was you, not Chris. It wa
s you who had the brains to see this through. Today begins a new era for the Hunt family. For years we’ve been relegated to working for others; today, we begin working for ourselves. In less than five years, the others will fall or work for us. What Nicole accomplished is going to make all the difference.”

  Uncle Jimmy raised his glass. “To Nicole.”

  “Nicole!” a chorus shouted from around the table. Some more enthusiastic than others.

  Across from her, next to Uncle Jimmy at the head of the table, Nicole’s mother slowly got to her feet. Her big stomach nearly knocked over her wineglass. Nicole kept her face blank, but she hated her mother and the baby she carried in her womb. She snuck a glance to the other end of the table, where Aunt Maggie sat smiling. Probably high as a kite. How she was willing to share her husband with her sister … and then not bat an eye when Tami got pregnant? She was a forty-five-year-old flake. Uncle Jimmy was a sex addict nearing fifty. And they thought they could be parents? The kid was going to grow up a douchebag. If it grew up at all—with Jimmy’s life, the kid would probably end up dead. Especially if Aunt Maggie didn’t keep her happy pills locked up.

  But that smile on Aunt Maggie’s face wasn’t all bliss. Uncle Jimmy was the face of the operation, but everyone knew—even Jimmy himself—who was the brains. Nicole supposed she’d pop a few pills if she had to share her husband with another woman.

  Nicole was never getting married.

  Joseph took her hand. They’d talked about this, of course. She shared everything with her lover. It had been seven years. Seven years where she’d finally had someone who was hers, all hers.

  She never wanted it to end. But she didn’t need a marriage certificate to prove that Joseph was hers.

  “I’m so proud of you, honey,” her mother said. “Your daddy would be proud of you. He died because of those people…” Then the tears. A flake and a wimp. Who was that baby? Her half sibling, half cousin? Just warped. Fucking warped.

  Jimmy took Tami’s hand. “We all know why we’re here today. We all know what we need to do. For too long the Mexicans and the Koreans and the skinheads and the blacks have controlled the market. It’s time for us, a real family, to be in charge. They won’t know what hit them. Patience has served us well.”