“I’m here.”
“The room is clear. There are seven of us-Lucy, myself, the SAC Elizabeth Hart, ASAC Brian Candela, and Agents Marty Strong, Tara Fields, and Dale Martinelli.”
“Your need-to-know team is quite large,” Sean said over the speaker.
Hart spoke up. “With all due respect, Mr. Rogan, I didn’t want to agree to this conversation at all, but Agent Armstrong convinced me to trust you. Please get to the point.”
“Certainly, Ms. Hart. Agent Sheffield visited Paul Swain in prison on December twenty-third. I read the report, and it said that Agent Martinelli was part of the task force, so you’re probably familiar with the Swain sting.”
“Correct,” Hart said.
Strong interjected, “Why would she meet with a known drug dealer? Victoria worked white-collar crime.”
“She went to Swain because in the course of her investigation of pirated DVDs she uncovered something bigger. Swain wasn’t as forthcoming about what it was. I was hoping you’d all know why she was meeting with Swain, what she was doing in Spruce Lake, and how long she’d been involved with Jon Callahan.”
Silence, this time of the stunned variety.
“You’re pulling this out of thin air!” Strong finally said.
Martinelli said, “She wasn’t even an FBI agent six years ago during the sting. How would she know Swain or any of the people in Spruce Lake?”
“I know how,” Lucy said.
Everyone looked at her. She hesitated, not liking the attention.
Sean said over the speaker, “Shoot, Lucy. What do you think?”
“Agent Sheffield was undercover investigating the theft of intellectual property from Studio One. When I read her messages about meeting with the lawyers, it clicked. Studio One is a client of Jon Callahan’s law firm in Montreal. They specialize in intellectual property, copyright, and other business matters. If she met with the lawyers, one of them could have been Callahan.”
“That’s a long, convoluted stretch,” Strong said.
“It’s the only connection she has with Spruce Lake,” Lucy said. “And it would explain the photo of her and Callahan.”
“Why would she get involved with a drug case without running it through the office?” Strong said.
Candela said, “Victoria was a good agent, but she had a history of acting without thinking.”
Strong slapped his hand on the table. “That’s not fair, Brian! We gave her a lot of leeway with this op because it was fucking movies!”
Martinelli said, “The Sacramento FBI office recently had several large stings taking down three separate pirating operations totaling more than one hundred million dollars. All the same signs were here. She might have thought she could bring us something bigger.”
“Not on her own,” Strong insisted. “Not like this.”
“Are you too close to this?” Candela asked quietly.
Strong took a deep breath but said nothing more.
Hart said, “Our emotions are running high. Victoria was extremely bright, but she also was a maverick. None of that matters right now-we will find her killer. As far as I’m concerned, we’re investigating the disappearance and murder of one of our own people. No judgments until we solve this thing. Is everyone clear?”
Everyone nodded their assent. Lucy felt ill, the mantra, There but for the grace of God go thee, running through her head. She could see herself following a trail that she believed in, especially if no one agreed with her. Especially if she knew justice and human lives were at stake.
“I might have an answer for you,” Sean said, “but you’re not going to like it.”
“Theory?”
“Educated guess. Swain said one thing that is now perfectly clear. I asked him why Callahan wants revenge on Bobbie Swain. His answer? She killed the woman he loved.”
“That’s bullshit, Rogan,” Strong said.
Noah disagreed. “It explains everything. Sheffield’s connection to Spruce Lake, and why she was killed.”
“How does it do that?” Strong demanded. “A lover’s spat?”
There was more to Marty Strong’s feelings for Victoria Sheffield than being a colleague, or even a friend. Lucy said, “Let’s assume that Sheffield met Callahan through Studio One.”
Strong cut her off. “That’s a damn big assumption.”
“Let her finish,” Noah said with authority. Lucy glanced around at the others at the table and realized that though everyone else had both seniority and jurisdiction over Noah, he commanded the meeting.
Lucy continued. “They’re working on the pirated DVDs and over time, Callahan tells her his concerns about Spruce Lake. It could be that she didn’t take him seriously, or thought he was exaggerating, or wanted proof before coming to her boss. Whatever her reasons, she went to Spruce Lake one or more times to gather information.”
Sean interjected. “That holds with what I got out of Paul Swain. He wants to destroy his sister for sending him to prison; Callahan wants to destroy her for killing Agent Sheffield.”
“Hold it,” Martinelli said. “Why not come to us? Even if we accept the theory that Victoria was investigating drug running on her own, when she was murdered, why wouldn’t this Callahan come to us? Unless, of course, he’s in on it.”
“But,” Lucy said, “there’s no other way she could have found out about Spruce Lake except through Jon Callahan.”
“We don’t know that,” Martinelli said.
Lucy did. Nothing else made sense. The theory she and Sean developed-most of it separately, she realized-worked.
Hart spoke up. “I’m inclined to agree with Lucy and Mr. Rogan.” All eyes turned to the boss. “What I’m about to tell you is classified, but in light of this situation, you need to know. Roberta Swain Molina was in protective custody in Florida six years ago after her husband was murdered and she was left for dead by a rival drug cartel. She provided our office with key information and physical evidence that led to the takedown of her brother’s drug business in Spruce Lake. Paul Swain had been one of the largest methamphetamine manufacturers distributing into Canada.”
Sean said, “There’s an alternate theory that Bobbie Swain orchestrated the hit on her husband.”
“She nearly died that night,” Hart said. “I know her background. Her mother died when she was a baby. She’d been grossly abused as a child, and finally escaped one violent family for another, marrying into the Molina cartel.”
“I take it,” Sean said, “you haven’t been keeping tabs on her over the last few years?”
“There was no reason to. She just wanted to have a normal life.”
“You might need to go back and fact-check,” Sean said.
“Excuse me,” Hart said, “I know more about this case than you do. You believe a convicted felon over an abused woman? Do you know what he did to her?”
Sean said, “After she got her brother Paul out of the picture, she walked in and took over.”
“That’s a serious accusation.”
“I don’t make it lightly.”
Noah spoke up. “The situation is certainly volatile right now, and I think we should assess the intelligence we have and run Bobbie Swain through our contacts at DEA. We all know that they don’t volunteer information, but if we have a name, we can get answers.”
“Brian,” Hart ordered, “take care of it.”
Lucy noticed that the SAC had lost some of her polish. Was it because Sean challenged her, or because she was having second thoughts about her assessment of Bobbie Swain?
Lucy asked, “Do you have her interview on tape? A file with her transcript?”
“Yes. Why?”
“I’d like to read the file on Bobbie Swain, as well as the sting six years ago. It might help us figure out additional connections.”
Hart told Martinelli to pull the files, and said, “Whether Bobbie Swain had ulterior motives in turning in her brother-over and above her tragic upbringing-is irrelevant since everything she told us we w
ere able to prove.”
Noah said, “And what better way to get revenge and advance her own agenda. Right now, you have a dead federal agent who may have knowingly or unknowingly stumbled into a major drug operation. Paul Swain, believe him or not, has power outside the prison. He knows his sister turned him in. If she’s innocent, she’s in danger. If she’s guilty, she’s in danger. But more important, something big is going down in Spruce Lake, and a whole lot of innocent people are in danger.”
Lucy’s phone vibrated, and while Noah and Hart discussed facts and conjecture, she read the message from Sean.
It scared her. Not because Sean put her in an impossible situation of keeping information from the FBI, but because of the very real threat to his life.
Do not tell the Feds Bobbie Swain is in Spruce Lake. If they come in with their suits and attitude and cut her even an inch of slack, it will be a bloodbath. I don’t trust Paul Swain, but I have other evidence to back up what he said. I fully believe that Jon Callahan has a dangerous plan of revenge, and it has to do with whatever is going down tomorrow. Paul is counting on it-he’s using Callahan. I’m on my way to find him, because I think he’s the only one who knows where Ricky might be. I promised Swain I would protect his son.
If anything happens, know that I love you.
Martinelli came in. “We have a problem.”
A chill ran through her body. Lucy joined everyone in looking at the agent. He said, “The disk and computer files are gone.”
“Gone? Misplaced? Checked out?”
“Gone. But the last person logged in to look at the Paul Swain sting operation was Victoria Sheffield.”
THIRTY-ONE
Patrick was behind the wheel driving to Spruce Lake while Sean got to work on his laptop. “I really hope the Feds don’t screw this up,” Sean said.
“You were being difficult,” Patrick said. “Maybe you need a lesson in diplomacy.”
Sean glanced at him. “What was I wrong about?”
“Nothing, but you could have pulled out your charm.”
“Maybe,” he said without conviction. “So Victoria Sheffield took the disk of Bobbie Swain’s accusations two days before she met Swain. Who else knew she had the information? And what was on the disk that could get Bobbie thrown in jail?”
“You’re missing something,” Patrick said. “That letter from Ricky’s mother was written over five years ago. Sheffield took the disk five months ago.”
“The question is, did she take it for Jon Callahan or for Paul Swain? What might be on it?”
Patrick considered. “FBI interview, supposedly friendly. They’d ask her tough questions, as well as the same question in different ways to see if her story changes, but if they considered Bobbie Swain a victim, they wouldn’t have pushed too hard.”
“Would they verify the information?”
“They did-they got a warrant based on her testimony and arrested nine people involved in drug trafficking.”
Sean snapped his fingers. “If there’s an appeal and the warrant is deemed illegal, what happens to the convictions?”
“Well, any evidence obtained because of the warrant could be thrown out. Could be, Sean. It’s fruit from the poisonous tree. But in a situation like this-with a widespread drug network and multiple meth labs-they most likely had other evidence to back them up.”
“Unless Paul Swain wasn’t on the radar until Bobbie put him there.”
“I’m not a lawyer, Sean. But I’d imagine that if she told the truth about her brother’s operation, it didn’t matter what her motivation was. Bad guys cut deals all the time. They do it to get reduced sentences, to get off, to save their life.”
“She didn’t cut a deal.” Sean didn’t know why it bothered him so much. Bobbie Swain was, as Abigail wrote, a monster. “Looking at the timeline-she kills her husband, injures herself, goes to the police a changed woman. They feel sorry for her, she gives them the sob story about how she was raised by a brutish father and abusive brothers and she wants it all to stop. They take down Paul Swain and in walks Bobbie, free and clear.”
“Except she didn’t. She wasn’t in town.”
“She was running things, nonetheless.”
“That’s going to be hard to prove.”
“She’s here now.”
“Tread carefully, Sean. We don’t have any proof that Bobbie Swain has committed a crime. There’s a lot of circumstantial evidence, but nothing solid.”
“The witness who saw two figures near Weddle’s house.”
“Who couldn’t identify them in a lineup if she tried. She admitted she saw them from behind.”
“If we can place Swain in Potsdam.”
“Circumstantial. You’d need to have physical evidence that she was in Weddle’s house.”
“And you wonder why I’m not a cop. You know she’s guilty.”
Sean saw a new message on his email. “Dillard came through. Here are Jimmy Benson’s phone records.”
He scanned the numbers and compared them to a list he had compiled. “On Wednesday, Ricky called him at ten-thirty-one a.m. One minute, probably left a message. Benson returned the call two hours later. They spoke for three minutes.” That made sense-Benson was on duty, he’d probably been at the lodge putting out the fire when Ricky first called. “According to Dillard, he left early Wednesday afternoon, taking sick time. We don’t know where he was from then until he showed up at the Lock amp; Barrel. The bartender didn’t remember when he came in, but he left shortly before seven. He made one call after he left the bar. Jon Callahan. Two minutes.” One more thing to ask him about.
Sean glanced at the time. “It’s nearly four. Let’s regroup at the lodge, and I’m going to try to convince Callahan to come to us. If that doesn’t work, we’re going to the bar. Funny how both times I showed up there, he arrived within fifteen minutes.”
His cell phone rang. “Hey, Duke,” he answered.
“I set off a big alarm, so expect the weight of the federal government to come crashing down pretty quick.”
“What happened?”
“I ran the bullet casings as soon as I got them this morning. I cut some corners that I probably shouldn’t have, but nothing I haven’t done before. I got a call from ATF.”
“ATF?” The Rogan-Caruso-Kincaid agency rarely worked with Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms. While they had high-ranking contacts at the FBI, in the military, and in Homeland Security, they had no go-to person in ATF.
“They didn’t tell me anything, but they had a lot of questions. How I obtained them, who gave them to me, where had they been recovered, when-I told them shit, because to be honest, the guy who called was a prick and refused to answer my questions. However, I sent him to your pal Noah Armstrong. I hope he can get the answers.”
“They were common casings.”
“That’s what I thought too, so I called in a favor with a friend of mine at the FBI lab. Emailed him pictures of the markings, and he told me the bullets were manufactured exclusively for law enforcement.”
Sean considered that revelation. “That doesn’t surprise me,” Sean said, almost relieved. “I told you about the corrupt deputy.”
“Maybe you’re right, but that doesn’t really explain why the ATF jumped down my throat less than three hours after I uploaded the technical data.”
“Thanks.”
“I don’t need to tell you to be careful, Sean.”
“Believe me, I’m watching my back on this one.”
SAC Hart didn’t want a copy of the remaining Swain file removed from the office, especially considering the missing documents, but she allowed Lucy to read it in the conference room. Lucy took extensive notes. She would much rather have watched or listened to Bobbie Swain, but the written statement was almost as good. On the surface, Bobbie said all the right things, tears timed just right to elicit sympathy.
Lucy had a difficult time reading the file and thinking that a woman had faked abuse. And maybe she had been abused. But it wasn
’t sexual, and Bobbie Swain stated as such.
Noah stormed into the room, Candela in his wake.
“Lucy, are you ready?” Noah’s tone was severe.
“What happened?” she asked.
“The ATF called me. Bastards.”
Noah kept his emotions close to the vest, like she did, and had always acted supremely professional. But right now, he looked as if he wanted to hit something.
He said to her and Candela, “The bullet casings from the sniper yesterday morning? Issued to ATF. They refused to give me any information, but demanded plenty. I had a few choice words with the jerk when he ordered me not to return to Spruce Lake.” Noah shook his head. “He has no authority. After ten years in the Air Force I’m not easily intimidated.”
Candela said, “They must know who shot at Lucy and Sean Rogan.”
“Damn straight they do. But I also played them. Sean’s brother Duke gave me the heads-up about the ATF-he ran the casings against the database, then was locked out. Duke didn’t tell them anything, not even where the casings came from. The ATF agent slipped by letting me know he knew where they were found. So I called Rick Stockton and told him I needed a favor.”
Rick Stockton was a high-ranking assistant director stationed at FBI National Headquarters.
Lucy said, “I’m not following.”
“Based on the tone of the call, I suspect they have an undercover operative in place.”
Candela now looked as angry as Noah sounded. “They’re not supposed to run an undercover op without informing our office. Excuse me, I need to talk to Elizabeth.” He left Noah and Lucy alone in the conference room.
“If the sniper is an ATF agent, why would they shoot at us?” Lucy recalled that the bullets all hit the ground-it was something Sean thought odd at the time, but now it made sense. “That’s a dangerous plan to chase us off. Sean returned fire; he could have killed the guy.”
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