Cold Secrets (Cold Justice Book 7)

by Toni Anderson

  “Did they ever come to your room, Becca?” he asked gently.

  Her fragile shoulders hunched together. “One did. He told me not to tell the others or I’d be sorry.”

  “The tall, younger one?”

  She shook her head.

  “The older stocky one?”

  She nodded. “His name was Cho.”

  It was the first lead they had on the men’s identities. He made a mental note to put a bullet through the guy’s dick should they ever cross paths.

  Becca looked wrung out, and he didn’t want to exhaust her further. Or maybe he was protecting himself from hearing more of what she’d been through.

  “We should probably get in touch with your parents so we can tell them you’re okay,” he said gently.

  This suggestion was met with her knees once again being drawn up to her chest and her face pressed against them.

  So far she refused to tell them her parents’ names or her family name. There were a surprising number of “Rebeccas” in the missing person database, and none of them matched this kid.

  “They won’t blame you for what happened.”

  She remained stubbornly silent. She wasn’t giving anything away.

  “Did you run away from home?” Part of him wanted to tell her he was sure that her parents missed her and wanted her back, but he’d seen too many cases where that simply wasn’t true.

  Why even have kids if you couldn’t be bothered to take care of them?

  She shook her head and looked toward where the light from the streetlamps slanted through the window.

  “Don’t you want to go back home?” he asked quietly.

  She nailed him with eyes that had seen too much. “Can’t I just go home with you?”

  “It doesn’t work like that, Becca.” His voice came out harsher than he meant it to, and her bottom lip wobbled. He forced himself to gentle his tone. “I’m not allowed to take you home. You need someone who’s going to be with you all the time and knows how to take care of you properly.” Forget the fact he was a single guy and she needed healing and help and schooling. “But I’m going to make sure you get somewhere safe and are looked after properly from now on.”

  He checked out their sterile surroundings as he turned off his recorder. “And I’m gonna treat you to a day out doing anything you want to do. A water park, Disney. The movies? You name it, as soon as you get out of here, we’ll do it.”

  Her eyes lit up, and he hoped he wasn’t making a promise he couldn’t keep. Agent Curtis knocked on the door and slipped inside the room.

  “See you later, kiddo.” He forced himself to ignore Becca’s pleading expression. He couldn’t afford for her to become dependent on him. He nodded to Curtis as he left the room and wished he didn’t feel like he was about to throw up whenever he thought about what these people had done to that little girl.

  The full might of the Federal Bureau of Investigation was being leveled against this organization. They wouldn’t evade justice for long. Lucas intended to make sure they never operated on these shores again. Maybe then it would be safe enough for Becca to go home.

  * * *

  “Offender motivation seems obvious,” Ashley stated, looking at photographs of the crumbled ruins. “Kill as many witnesses and destroy as much potential evidence as possible.”

  “They did a hell of a job,” agreed Mallory.

  “And if they didn’t destroy it,” Ashley added, “they slowed down collection and analysis by about a year.”

  Mallory ran her hand through her short hair and made it stick up. “By which time they’ll be so far underground we’ll have no hope of finding them.”

  “Hey, did Lucas Randall ever say what his related case was down in North Carolina?” Ashley was itching to explore an angle someone hadn’t thought of yet.

  “No, I’ll ask him for more details. Right now we have lots of possible leads but nothing much to go on.” Mallory twisted her lips. “Typically, Asian organized crime families are harder to penetrate than the others. First off, there’s the language thing. You said you speak some Chinese?”

  “A little Cantonese,” Ashley admitted, squashing the sense of guilt she felt.

  “Which will be advantageous because my language skills suck.” Mallory tapped her pen on a pad of paper. “Human trafficking has been on the rise over the last few years. It’s more lucrative while being perceived as less dangerous to the criminals than dealing drugs. This setup feels a little sophisticated for most groups currently known to be established in the US.” She yawned widely, and Ashley gave her the side-eye.

  Mallory had nearly miscarried on New Year’s Eve and since then their boss, Assistant Special Agent in Charge Lincoln Frazer, had taken on an almost tyrannical role in making sure she didn’t overexert herself. Ashley had her orders and didn’t want to think about the repercussions for her FBI career if anything happened to Rooney, or the baby, on her watch.

  “I’ve set up ViCAP searches for similar operations in the US—underground brothels, prostitution rings, people smuggling, Asian perpetrators, explosives.” Ashley glanced at her watch. “Wanna head back to the hotel and grab some dinner?”

  “Sure.” Mallory stretched out her back showing off her slightly rounded stomach.

  No one could really tell she was pregnant unless they already knew.

  “I think Lucas might be hiding something,” Mallory stated as she swung her coat around her shoulders.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “I’ve known him since we were kids and he’s got a good poker face, but that’s how I know he’s holding something back. The effort to look like he’s revealing nothing is a huge red flag to me.” Mallory’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Maybe they have a witness. Maybe someone else survived that explosion?”

  “If that’s true,” Ashley said, packing up her laptop, “it’s probably better if everyone thinks he or she is dead.”

  Mallory shook her head in annoyance. “You’re right. My brain is fried. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “You and Randall were close?”

  Mallory nodded slowly. “We didn’t date if that’s what you’re asking. Our parents are friends so we virtually grew up together. At the Charlotte Field Office he was my mentor and taught me the ropes, but I haven’t seen him much since I transferred to Quantico.”

  Ashley felt a sudden pang of loneliness. She didn’t have any close friends. It was easier to keep your distance when you didn’t know what you were missing.

  “He’s single.” Mallory glanced at her from under her lashes. “If you’re interested.”

  “He thinks I’m an idiot,” Ashley said crossly as they walked out the door.

  Mallory snorted. “He thinks you’re hot.”

  The bullpen was eerily quiet.

  “Where is everyone?” Ashley was glad to change the subject. This was the sort of case she’d been dying to work on. She didn’t want to get distracted by a handsome face.

  A lone agent was slumped over her computer. When they walked over to introduce themselves the woman squeezed her temples as if she had a raging headache. Her diamond engagement ring flashed even in the dimmed lights.

  “What’s going on?” Mallory asked as they introduced themselves.

  Agent Brianna Mayfield looked harried and resentful of the intrusion. “An anonymous call came in an hour ago that the three fugitives were seen heading into Conley Terminal—that’s the container port. They sent a photograph that looked like it might be our guys. The harbormaster suspended all shipping activity until each boat is cleared. We have teams from this office, Massachusetts State Police, Boston PD, ICE, and the Marine Unit, searching the area.” The woman leaned back in her chair. “It’s a huge operation and a security frickin’ nightmare.”

  “They need more people?” The soles of Ashley’s feet were practically vibrating with the desire to get down there.

  “Negative. Sloan’s got personnel on rotation so everyone stays fresh. No one
wants any accidents. And she wants anyone following evidence or analyzing data to keep at it, in case this lead doesn’t pan out.”

  “But—”

  “Look,” Mayfield cut her off. “You don’t think I’d rather be out there hunting these lowlifes instead of sitting here running facial recognition programs?” The raw grief etched on her features told Ashley she’d known one or more of the FBI agents who’d died.

  “Of course, you’re right. I’m sorry.” Ashley backed away. “I’m available if anything changes.”

  Mayfield nodded and went back to work.

  Outside the building they turned right on Cambridge Street, their breath forming clouds of frozen vapor as the damp, frigid air enveloped them. Ashley huddled deeper into her jacket, wishing she didn’t smell the tang of the ocean on the breeze.

  “A lot of anonymous tipsters in this case.” Ice made the sidewalk slippery, and they were both careful not to fall.

  “I know who called the hotline about Mia Stromberg,” Mallory admitted.

  “I thought that was confidential?” They crossed the street at a light. People hurried along with their heads down, unsmiling, mood grim. Bostonians were furious about what had been going on in their town.

  “Yeah, it is confidential. A disabled woman who lives in an apartment block overlooking the back of the building called it in.”

  “There was a reward offered, right?”

  Mallory nodded. “A hundred thousand dollars if it led to Mia’s safe recovery.”

  “That’s quite the incentive to be a good citizen,” Ashley noted.

  “Something tells me the caller knew exactly what was going on in that building but was probably too scared to report it.”

  “That money could change her life.”

  Mallory agreed. “In my experience nosey neighbors have better intel than the NSA. She might even have snapped photos.”

  A shiver of excitement moved through Ashley’s bones. “Have the locals questioned her?”

  Mallory shook her head. “Part of the terms of the reward was no questions asked and complete anonymity—just like the lawyer who gave them the password.” Mallory pursed her lips. “Their hands are tied unless she volunteers more information.”

  “Or we tie her to a crime.” But the DA might balk at that suggestion. “How’d you find her?”

  “I could tell you but then I’d have to kill you.” Mallory sent her a smile.

  Ashley’s mouth tightened and she looked away. Everyone turned a blind eye to Alex Parker’s hacking. His firm was often hired to test the security of companies and businesses, so he cloaked his more dubious activities behind pen tests and vulnerability probes. He might be the white-hat version of the breed, but she knew he bent the rules—a lot.

  Mallory eyed her uncertainly. “I know you don’t like him—”

  “He doesn’t like me,” Ashley bit out. “And that’s his problem, not mine.” Dammit, she sounded like a first grader. She forced herself to chill. She wasn’t a teenager trying to fit into the zoo of high school, she was a federal employee with an exemplary record.

  Mallory’s lips tightened. “He’s overprotective—”

  “Hey, look.” Ashley held up her hand, trying to diffuse the situation. “It’s okay. I’m a professional. It’s really not important whether or not your boyfriend likes me.”

  Mallory looked like she wanted to argue but there was nothing left to say.

  The air seemed to turn colder as they walked the rest of the way back to the hotel in silence. Sadness and a familiar sense of isolation settled over Ashley’s shoulders. Just when she was getting comfortable with her coworkers, she was reminded of all the reasons she shouldn’t be.

  Chapter Five

  The silence continued until they entered the hotel lobby. The place was midrange, with tall plants growing in ginormous pots and a small waterfall in the atrium that fueled Ashley with the need to pee. Love hearts were everywhere in a slightly nauseating reminder that Valentine’s Day was right around the corner.

  Most important were the decent security and absence of bed bugs. Anything else, she could deal.

  “Want to grab something before we head back to our room?” Mallory asked.

  Ashley nodded, grateful her co-worker didn’t hold a grudge. No matter the situation with Alex Parker, they still had to work together.

  They went straight to the lounge and looked for somewhere to sit. The place was crowded. According to the waitress, a heavy equipment dealer’s convention was in town.

  “There’s Lucas.” Mallory pointed to where he sat alone in a booth at the back of the bar.

  Reluctantly Ashley followed. She wanted to eat and spend the rest of the evening working, not sit around chatting, especially as the other two agents would probably want to catch up on old times. She trailed behind as Mallory snaked between a group of middle-aged white guys. The heavy slide of a big hand over her ass shocked her for a millisecond. Then the hand squeezed and pinched, and fury rushed through her. She had the guy’s arm up behind his back and was shoving his face into a table full of beers before he could blink.

  “What the hell!” he exclaimed, squeaking like a pig as she tightened her grip.

  “Next time you decide it’s okay to help yourself to someone else’s body”—she juggled her laptop case as she pulled her gold shield from her pocket and held it up to his nose—“you might want to consider the consequences of assaulting a federal officer.”

  “Let me go! I didn’t mean no harm.”

  “No harm? How would you feel if someone molested your wife or daughter?”

  “It was an accident,” he sputtered. “I thought you were a hooker.”

  Her stomach lurched. And that made it all right?

  “What’s going on here?” a stern male voice asked from just over her shoulder. Lucas Randall.

  “You in charge?” A mustachioed man in a sports jacket took a step back as a beer glass rolled onto the thick carpet.

  “From where I’m standing, it looks like Agent Chen’s in charge. You need any assistance, Agent Chen?” Randall asked, ignoring the audience.

  She slid him a glance, grateful he didn’t try to take over or tell her what to do. “Just deciding whether or not to charge this sleazeball.”

  The whole table held its breath. Randall didn’t offer an opinion, which was a good thing. Finally she released her hold on the man’s clammy skin and took a step back. “I think I’d rather eat.”

  Randall eyed the guy. “Your lucky day. Make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

  She pushed her creds into her case and started to walk away. The insults didn’t take long to start flying, though they were muttered quietly.

  A warm hand touched the center of her back, calmed her. “You need a drink, Agent Chen. Come on, I’m buying.”

  She pulled in a deep breath, strode over to the booth and found herself shepherded into the corner between Mallory and Lucas.

  “What happened?” asked Mallory.

  “Some asshole played grab-ass with the wrong person,” Lucas answered for her. The look he sent her was amused and speculative.

  “Jerk.” Mallory sent the group a glare.

  Ashley let out a long breath. “I should be used to it—”

  “What?” Lucas growled. “Why?”

  She blinked. And now she was thinking of him as Lucas, like he was her lifelong friend.

  “Where I’m from, Agent Chen, men don’t grope women they don’t know, and they don’t compound their shitty behavior by calling women names.”

  “Gotta love a southern man.” Mallory winked and fluttered her hand over her heart.

  Lucas shot her a glare.

  Some of the tension eased out of Ashley’s jaw. “I’m normally better at handling that sort of attention.”

  “Hey, you handled it perfectly.” His eyes were reassuring as they settled on hers. “I’d have kicked his ass, but watching you do it was more fun.”

  She shifted, uncomfortable
with praise. She picked up the menu and flipped through it, hiding her face. “Any idea what’s good here?”

  “Steak. The beef pie. The salmon and the ribs,” Randall told her without looking at the list.

  “You’ve been here a while?” she asked.

  The smile changed his features from handsome to smoking hot. “Long enough to be working my way through the entrees, though I generally eat alone.”

  The waitress came and took their order. Pasta and beer for Ashley. Steak and water for Mallory. Lucas had already finished his meal.

  His hands curled around a bottle of Old Thumper. Nice hands. Strong hands. She could feel the pulse at the base of her throat fluttering like a trapped butterfly against the delicate skin there. This heightened sense of awareness she was feeling regarding Lucas Randall threw her. She wasn’t used to being affected by her colleagues. She was too good at pushing them away.

  “Can you tell us about the related case you were working on in North Carolina?” she asked. Safer to stick to business.

  He picked at the label on his beer. “A local cop noticed what he suspected was an illegal brothel operating in Raleigh. He contacted us and we started surveillance. We had enough circumstantial evidence to get a warrant for the phone records for a woman we saw coming and going from the place. Turned out she was making regular calls up here to Mae Kwon.”

  “The madam who died?” Mallory said.

  He nodded. “I came up to interview her.”

  “It’s her cell in evidence, correct?” Ashley wished she could get her hands on the phone although cracking it would be a full-time job.

  Lucas nodded and his fingers tightened their grip on the bottle. “As soon as I walked in the door of the brothel, yesterday, she used it to take a photo of my driver’s license.”

  “You think she stored all her johns’ IDs there?” Ashley asked sharply.

  He shrugged. “I’d bet on it.”

  That cell phone could hold the mother lode of information about this organization’s business dealings. She took a big swig of cold beer. “If you traced Mae Kwon’s number from Raleigh, and you suspect the Chinatown brothel was a hub of operations, then there’s a good chance there are other contact numbers for other brothels on that cell phone.”