Cold Secrets (Cold Justice Book 7)

by Toni Anderson

  The mayor surprised him. “He’s right, Pete. You should let them go. Monitor them. See if you can get someone on the inside.”

  No chance. But they might be able to set up a surveillance unit, or turn someone using the right amount of pressure.

  “Fine, let them go.” The commissioner pressed his lips together. “But I want these people caught.” He met Lucas’s gaze over the heads of the others. “Before anyone else dies.”

  The entourage trailed out as Fuentes checked his cell. The man grunted. “Sloan wants us back at the field office.” He looked up. “Hey, who was the hottie from the BAU?”

  Lucas shook his head in exasperation. “Ashley Chen.”

  “Not the Asian chick. The pretty one with the short hair.”

  “Asian chick?” The anger that shot through him took him by surprise.

  Fuentes grunted. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those politically correct idiots.”

  Lucas tamped down his annoyance because he had to work with this guy when all he really wanted was to smack him in the face. “The other FBI agent was Mallory Rooney.”

  “The senator’s kid?” Fuentes looked intrigued.

  “I’d advise against hitting on that particular agent,” Lucas told him. “She’s like a sister to me.” He gave the guy a hard look. “Plus, she’s engaged.” Not to mention pregnant, but that was her business.

  Fuentes lip curled. “It’s still up to her, right?”

  Lucas snorted. “Sure is.” Mallory didn’t need his protection. Guys had constantly asked her out in Charlotte, and she always brushed them off. The woman could look after herself—not to mention Alex Parker was a hell of a mood killer.

  Lucas smiled. “You know what, you’re right. Do what you gotta do, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “You ready to head back?” The other agent looked disappointed he hadn’t managed to rile him further.

  Lucas examined the faces of the men in the interview room one last time, second-guessing himself. Damn, he was tired. He hadn’t slept last night nor the night before. He checked his watch. “Not yet. I want to talk to the traffic division here. I’ll hitch a ride back when I’m done. Thanks.”

  He watched Fuentes walk away and pulled out his cell. It rang three times before Alex picked up.

  “Lucas? Can I call you back?” Alex said tersely.

  “I’m in Boston working the Chinatown brothel bombing.”

  “You seen Mal? Is she okay?”

  Lucas heard the panic underlining the words. He knew it cost Alex to give Mallory the freedom she needed to do her job.

  “She’s fine. I have a favor to ask.” There were voices and shouts in the background, then it went quiet as if Alex had gone into a different room.

  “What is it?”

  “We’re struggling to ID these goons,” Lucas admitted. “We have the madam’s cell phone, but the geeks from HQ can’t crack it. Agent Chen offered to try and help get in—”

  Alex muttered something unintelligible.

  “I was wondering if you could work your magic with the cell data and figure out the phone numbers for the three men who escaped. They used a signal jammer within the brothel itself. You might be able to use that information to ID them.”

  There was silence for a few seconds, then a groan of frustration. “I’m neck-deep in a situation here. We have it under control but we’re trying to find the source of the intrusion.”

  Lucas kept silent. He knew his friend could never refuse a cry for help. If Alex had a flaw, that was it.

  “Fine. Send me the information and I’ll see what I can do in the few seconds I have free while running this case. I want you to do something for me in return.”

  “Anything,” Lucas offered.

  “Keep an eye on Ashley Chen.”

  Lucas blinked in surprise. “You don’t trust her?”

  Alex didn’t answer.

  “Is it because she’s Asian?” Lucas pushed. If she had family in China she’d be vulnerable to manipulation if the gang threatened them.

  “It isn’t the Asian thing.”

  But Lucas knew from their work together Alex was deeply suspicious of state-sponsored spying by the Chinese and North Korean governments—not to mention the Russians.

  “You found something suspect in her background?” he asked.

  “I didn’t find anything suspect in her background—that’s what bothers me.”

  “You’re not making sense, buddy.”

  Alex exhaled a long breath. “Every detail of her life is accounted for and it all fits together perfectly. It’s like the whole thing has been choreographed.”

  Lucas grunted. “You don’t think the FBI checks this stuff when they hire people?”

  “Of course they do. I checked it, too, couldn’t find a damn thing wrong, but…” Frustration and exhaustion were rampant in Alex’s tone. Lucas knew how the guy felt.

  “It’s because she’s working with your true love.”

  Seconds ticked by before Alex spoke again, his voice low and vehement. “Everything I care about is up in Boston, Lucas. The fact I’m not there protecting her and our baby makes me crazy, but I know I have to let Mal do her job. There’s something about Ashley Chen I don’t trust. It might be paranoia on my part.” A stint in a Moroccan jail would do that to a guy. “It might be that she’s damn good with computers. But whatever it is, I’m grateful you’re up there watching Mal’s back.” He sounded more like the Alex Parker Lucas used to know.

  “I’ll keep an eye on her.” He wasn’t sure which agent he was referring to as they hung up.

  He had a case to solve, the lives of three ruthless bastards to fuck up, and a sex trafficking network to shut down. Everything else paled into insignificance. But the fact he was still glad of an excuse to spend time “keeping an eye on” Agent Ashley Chen told him more than he needed to know about his own flaws and weaknesses.

  Chapter Four

  A few hours later, Lucas knocked and entered the private hospital room. It was late enough in the afternoon that the sun had gone down and the room was dimly lit, revealing a slight figure covered in blankets, lying still on the bed.

  He and Sloan had decided the secret of Becca’s survival was too vital to trust with anyone except those who absolutely needed to know. With the FBI stretched as thin as Saran wrap, and Boston PD known to be less than reliable at keeping secrets within their ranks, Lucas had offered to hire private security from Alex Parker’s firm. He’d even offered to pay for their services out of his own pocket. Sloan vetoed any plan that involved civilians. Instead, she’d spoken to a friend at ATF and two of their agents were guarding the girl around the clock. Becca had been switched to a smaller facility to prevent anyone from connecting her to the bombing. The doctors and nurses treating her were sworn to secrecy.

  The scrape of a chair told him ATF agent Teresa Curtis was still at her post. Lucas gave the woman a nod and murmured, “If you wanna take a break for half an hour, I’ll be here.”

  “Sure,” she agreed, stretching as she stood. “I’m going to go grab a Starbucks and check in with my husband. The coffee here might be free, but it sucks. Can I get you anything?”

  Lucas shook his head.

  He walked Curtis to the door, spoke quietly so as not to disturb the sleeping girl. “How’s she doing?”

  “Refuses to talk to anyone about what happened or where she came from, but said she’d talk to you.” The agent’s eyes met his. “But she’s doing a damn sight better than I would be if the roles were reversed.”

  “She’s a tough kid.”

  “She’s had to be. Look”—she touched his arm—“I know you’ve been getting flak from some of your G-man buddies, but you did the right thing.” Her eyes were earnest. “She’d be dead without you. Remember that when your fellow idiots give you shit.”

  He grimaced. “A lot of people died—friends of theirs—not to mention the cops and the other captives. I get their position.”

 
; “You’ve got a dose of survivor’s guilt. It’s understandable. But no one expected they’d blow that joint.” She snorted softly. “You going in there saved two young girls’ lives and let us know the perps got away. Now we know they’re on the run and we have people who can ID them. That’s on you.”

  Okay. Maybe she was right. The Boston Field Office and local cops had dropped the ball on certain aspects of this case, but the knowledge he’d failed to save all those people ate at his gut.

  After Curtis left, he walked over to the bed where Becca lay tucked beneath the sheets. Both of her lungs had been damaged in the blast, and she was being fed oxygen through tubes in her nose. Her other organs appeared healthy, which was good news. The doctor had put her on IV antibiotics for a uterine infection and had ordered blood tests for various diseases and STDs.

  If Lucas never discovered the results of those tests, he’d be just fine.

  Becca’s eyes opened slowly, and her face lit up with a smile. “Hey.” Her voice was croaky.

  Her hair shone like polished wheat in the lamplight and if she ever saw the sun he figured her face would turn into a mass of freckles. She was lovely, but even if she hadn’t been, someone, somewhere should be missing the hell out of this kid.

  “Hey, yourself. Feeling better?” He was careful not to get too close. He didn’t know if he might do something to trigger a flashback of the abuse she’d suffered. So far she’d proven remarkably resilient.

  One day, everything that had happened to her would probably hit her and she’d have to deal with it. But the only thing that mattered right now was surviving.

  “I’m still a bit sore.” The gash at her temple had been stitched and was starting to heal. She rubbed her chest. One of the nurses had donated a pair of Iron Man pajamas that were slightly too big. They weren’t very girly, but Becca seemed to love them. “How’s Mia?”

  “She’s good. With her mom and dad.” Inwardly he winced. Mia barely had a scratch on her. He’d been almost as lucky, just a few bruises from getting up close and personal with the unyielding stone of the garage floor.

  Becca had been less fortunate, and it didn’t seem fair on top of everything else she’d suffered. Her fingers clutched nervously at the sheet. Lucas didn’t think she was scared he’d take advantage of her, but it would be a long time before she trusted anyone again—especially men.

  Sloan was right. Until they caught these perps her life was in danger. He needed to get as much information out of her as possible to help make that happen. Although he was trained in interview techniques, he wasn’t sure how to question a young girl about being part of the sex slave industry. He cleared his throat. “I was thinking it might be a good idea to get a professional in here to talk to you. The FBI has—”

  Her knees pulled up to her chin and her expression turned mutinous. “I don’t wanna talk to no one.”

  “You’re safe now, Becca, but to keep you that way we have to catch these guys and get all their friends off the streets and into prison where they belong.”

  Her eyes grew wide and scared, but her lips remained tightly sealed.

  “You need to talk to someone,” he insisted. “We need to know what happened. We need every scrap of information to help us find these guys. A psychologist could—”

  “I’m not talking to no shrink.”

  “What about your family?”

  The grip on her knees grew tighter.

  “Or Agent Curtis?”

  “You. I’ll talk to you.” Her blue eyes held such trust he couldn’t look away.

  “Okay,” he said slowly, “but these are difficult questions I have to ask. Questions I’d struggle to answer. Let me call Agent Curtis to be here in case you get scared.”

  She grabbed his sleeve. “No. Just you. I don’t want anyone else to hear this. Just you.” She blushed so hard her ears turned red. Then she realized she was touching him and shrank away. His heart broke a little.

  “Okay. We can do it your way but I have to record the interview.” He took out his cell phone and turned on the voice recorder, setting it on the bedside table out of her line of sight. “It’s important that people know I don’t coerce or coach you on what to say. We just want the truth, okay? Only the truth matters.”

  She nodded. Unclenched her fingers. “What do you want to know?” Those eyes of hers looked about a thousand years old.

  There were so many things he wanted to know and all of it was ugly. He figured he’d start off easy.

  “Any idea why they kept some girls locked up in the rooms downstairs, and others in dorms?”

  She shifted nervously and bit her lip.

  “Hey,” he said softly. “They can’t hurt you now, Becca.”

  Her frown told him she wasn’t convinced. And no wonder, since last time he’d said those words they’d almost been blasted out of existence.

  “Were the girls who were kept locked up in rooms special in some way?” He was guessing, but he didn’t want to lead her too much.

  Her lips were bloodless as she pressed them together. “They kept certain girls separate for certain men. Those were the people locked up on the ground floor.”

  He leaned a little closer. “So there were specific men who came to see you?”

  She nodded. “I was told that I had to do exactly what they wanted, and I had to smile and use my manners and say ‘thank you.’”

  He wanted to gag.

  “Madam told me that the more the men said I was a good girl, the more things I’d get for my room—like a blanket and a TV.” Her face flamed with embarrassment.

  Lucas felt like someone was holding a blowtorch to his temper. They needed more people trying to trace the johns who’d visited the brothel. He wanted every one of them locked up and made to face public scrutiny of their behavior.

  “You think that maybe when you feel a bit better you can work with a police sketch artist? Make pictures of the men who came to your room?” he asked gruffly.

  She shrugged and her eyes drifted away. “Sure.”

  “How many were there?”

  Her eyes fixed on her toes, which wiggled under the covers. “For a long time there was just one.”

  Interesting. “Did he have a name?”

  She drew back a little. “He told me to call him ‘Daddy.’”

  Oh, man. If he ever found the guy he’d beat him until the sonofabitch was unrecognizable.

  “Six months ago others started coming.”

  “How many?”

  “Four different men including the first one.” She gnawed on her knuckles and wouldn’t meet his eyes. Her voice climbed higher. “Some of them hurt me.”

  He gritted his teeth so hard he heard them crack.

  Her lip wobbled but she held it together. “Sometimes they wanted to sleep in the bed with me and stay all night. I hated that. Over the last few weeks there were more men. People like you who I’d never seen before.” She swallowed tightly, but then emotion spilled out. “I think that’s why they took Mia, because I wasn’t good enough anymore…I think it was my fault.” She sobbed, hiding her face in the sheets covering her knees.

  Lucas couldn’t speak. If he did, he’d probably howl. He turned and fetched a glass of water from the bathroom and avoided his reflection in the mirror, reminding himself he was an experienced law enforcement officer and former soldier. He’d seen plenty of death and destruction, but this prolonged violation of a child who should have been protected…

  Dear Jesus.

  What sort of people did this? Deviants who passed themselves off as normal but inside were wretched excuses for human beings. He splashed water on his face, wiped himself dry on a paper towel and went back into the room.

  “I need to say something, okay?” His gaze held hers. She pressed her lips together nervously. “You never did anything wrong. Ever.”

  “You don’t understand.” Shame crossed her features.

  “Tell me.”

  She eyed him nervously, like he’d be angry wi
th her. “I hated what they did, but…some of them made it feel okay.” Her cheeks remained bright pink as she tried to hide her face. “I didn’t want to like it, but they did something to me, or maybe there’s something wrong with me…”

  His heart broke for her. He was so unqualified for this job, but she wasn’t talking to anyone else. She needed a child advocate, a lawyer, a goddamned parent.

  He cleared the knot in his throat. “Becca, you have nothing to be ashamed of. Sex is supposed to feel good, but it isn’t for kids. It’s for consenting adults. It’s about trust and intimacy and grown-up physical acts and emotions a kid shouldn’t have to deal with. You endured a terrible situation and did what you had to do to survive. These men knew it was wrong to touch you, but they did it anyway. They’re the worst kind of predators.”

  How the hell did anyone counsel a thirteen-year-old on sex?

  “You never have to let anyone touch you like that again. You own your body.” Fury raced through his veins and made his voice shake. “When you grow up, you get to decide if you want to have sex with another consenting adult or not. And sex can be a good thing. A wonderful thing. Especially if it’s part of a loving and healthy relationship. But it isn’t for kids. And no one should be forced or coerced into having sex. That’s rape. Everything that happened to you was rape. Don’t ever let anyone convince you otherwise.”

  Judging from her wide eyes he might have been a little too vehement.

  She pulled in a shuddering breath and some of the tension went out of her. He decided to shift the conversation back to the men they were looking for, rather than those who’d used her. He wanted to strangle those bastards with his bare hands, but he wanted the traffickers more.

  “How many men helped Mae Kwon? The madam who ran the place.”

  “Is she really dead?” Becca asked in a small voice.

  “Oh, yeah.” He nodded. He’d been to the morgue and seen her corpse.

  A look of relief washed over the blue irises. “Two men lived in the house, but another turned up a few weeks ago.” She looked at the other side of the room as her fingers clenched the sheet.