Cold Secrets (Cold Justice Book 7)

by Toni Anderson

  Her fingers moved restlessly. “She might, but I get the impression she didn’t have many friends. The dog walker said there weren’t any relatives. There was a husband, but he left when she was diagnosed.”

  So much for “in sickness and in health.”

  The dog walker would be the good looking blonde he’d passed in the hallway who was being comforted by a uniformed officer who looked like he’d won the lottery.

  “Where’s Mallory?”

  “Staying with the evidence.”

  Lucas raised his brow in question.

  “The bastards put a bullet in the woman’s Golden Retriever. Rex is being operated on right now. Mallory is making sure the chain of evidence is maintained and we don’t lose that bullet.”

  “The scumbags shot a dog?” He shook his head. Considering what else they’d done it was minor, but it spoke of sociopathy, a virulent disregard for anyone and anything that got in their way.

  “I was hoping the woman had taken photographs.” Ashley’s expression turned pensive. “But we didn’t find a computer or tablet. Her cell phone is missing.”

  “You think they took them?”

  “Don’t you?”

  “Probably.”

  Ashley clenched her jaw. “Maybe she had a backup somewhere. We didn’t find anything in the apartment but maybe she had a cloud service or dropbox. Someone needs to check into that ASAP.”

  He made a note on his phone. “You gonna tell Sloan why you were here?”

  She raised one fine brow. God, she was pretty. “We were canvassing the neighborhood.”

  “Think she’ll buy it?”

  “I don’t care.” She straightened her spine. “Boston PD is in charge of this murder investigation although it’s obviously connected to the brothel. They questioned Susan Thomas just after the explosion but she never mentioned seeing the kid or the reward. I’ve already told the lead detective what I know.”

  “Everything?”

  “Everything I can.” She gave another half shrug. Her cell buzzed to life. She answered and her eyes met his. “It’s Mallory. She has the slug.”

  “How’s the dog?”

  A small smile touched her lips. “In recovery. He lost a lot of blood, but she thinks he’s going to make it.”

  “That’s good news.” He spotted the detective in charge and went to talk to him to see if the guy had any leads or needed any additional resources. Ashley followed. When her cell buzzed to life again, at the same time as his, he knew it was bad news.

  Chapter Eight

  Lucas followed Ashley through the bullpen and headed to Sloan’s office. He tapped on the door.

  “Come in,” she shouted.

  Diego Fuentes was slouched in one of the chairs wearing the same clothes he’d worn yesterday. Sloan’s eyes were bloodshot, her skin pale. Mayfield had a smirk on her face that spelled trouble for someone.

  “Anything at the port?” Lucas asked.

  “Not yet but containers are stacked three high. The Coast Guard took over searching some of the vessels.” Sloan sounded defensive.

  Lucas thought it was a wild goose chase, but what if it wasn’t? What if the perps were holed up on that last ship left to be searched when the cops gave up and went home?

  Giving up wasn’t an option.

  Sloan turned her attention to Ashley, who stood just behind Lucas. The look Sloan gave her could scorch earth.

  “You interviewed the person who came forward with the information about Mia Stromberg? Even though one of the conditions of the reward was the guarantee of strict confidence? And now this person ends up dead?” The questions were clearly rhetorical and Ashley wisely kept her mouth shut. “Give me one good reason not to send you back to Quantico with a letter of censure in your file regarding your inability to follow orders.”

  Ashley straightened and raised her chin. “We were canvassing locations that had a direct line of sight to the brothel entrance in the hopes someone had video or surveillance footage they hadn’t shared with law enforcement.” Her face betrayed no emotion.

  He wouldn’t have known she was lying if she hadn’t already told him the truth. That was an eye-opening realization.

  Fuentes sneered. “You just destroyed any chance of anyone else coming forward with more information about these thugs.”

  “In case you failed to notice, Agent Fuentes, no one is coming forward with information. No one. Period. That’s one of the reasons we can’t catch these people. The woman was already dead before I got there. You do comprehend how that makes it impossible for it to be my fault, right?” Ashley didn’t back down and Lucas liked that about her. “I had nothing to do with her murder.”

  “The Strombergs already called me wanting answers,” Mayfield interjected.

  “As much as I feel for their situation the FBI does not answer to the Strombergs.” Sloan gave Mayfield a hard stare. Her phone rang, and she glanced at the number. “Or the mayor, for that matter.” She let the call go to voicemail. “Did you find any security footage?” Her implacable tone said she didn’t believe the questioning had been random, but she let it drop. Ashley and Mallory had discovered a murder that was less than an hour old. That was good work even if she wasn’t prepared to say so.

  Ashley shook her head. “And none of the neighbors saw or heard anything.”

  “I’m not surprised given the fact Susan Thomas had her tongue and eyes removed for tattling,” Lucas commented wryly.

  “Maybe they got in and out without attracting any notice? These guys sound like professional hit men.” Fuentes shifted forward in his chair.

  “And we’re professional law enforcement officers,” Sloan snapped. She was breathing heavily. “How did they discover her identity?”

  “Either they traced the initial phone call or someone leaked the information,” Lucas suggested.

  “One of us?” Sloan frowned at the suggestion.

  “Who else knew? Susan Thomas might have told someone close to her, but as she was the one with the most to lose, I doubt it.” Lucas pushed away from the door but there was nowhere to go.

  Sloan looked thoughtful. “Less than a dozen people between the FBI and the commissioner and the mayor’s office actually knew Susan Thomas’s name.”

  “Someone might have blabbed,” Lucas insisted.

  “Give me the names, I’ll check ’em out,” Fuentes offered.

  Sloan shook her head. “No. I want you back at the port ASAP.”

  His mouth compressed into a thin line.

  “I’ll do it,” Mayfield volunteered.

  Sloan gave her a nod.

  “They might have followed the money,” Ashley said. “That’s what I’d have done in their place. They know the possible sources for the payout—the Strombergs or the PD. They know the amount of money offered. It’s possible someone could have tracked it if they really knew what they were doing.”

  Lucas’s eyebrows jacked. “That’s some pretty heavy-duty hacking.”

  Sloan was uncharacteristically quiet.

  Ashley shot him a glance. “My theory is they have a high level hacker on their team—someone competent and confident when negotiating the deep web. He’s controlling the money and how they attract clients and hide their tracks.”

  “Is that an official profile?” Mayfield asked snidely.

  He watched as Ashley clenched one of her fists. “We know they will use extreme violence to keep control. After Agata Maroulis escaped they punished her by public execution—maybe they feared the investigation into her death would lead us to them, so they rigged the brothel with explosives?” Which it should have done. “The next person to betray them to the authorities is murdered in the most heinous fashion. Now no one is going to come forward with information—not johns, not witnesses, not whoever supplied these people with pills or medical care.” Ashley’s expression was fierce. “This gang is much more ruthless, more organized and well established than the feds first thought, but way better at concealing their crimes
and their presence than most organizations that size. Hence, on top of being extremely secretive and ruthless, they also have a highly trained hacker on their team. We could use that against them. Did you get into Mae Kwon’s cell phone yet?”

  Sloan shook her head.

  “You need to make that a priority and put a team of people on it,” Ashley’s eyes shifted to Fuentes, “while you guys continue searching the port.”

  Sloan stared at Ashley like an Army general on a battlefield. After a long pause she finally spoke. “You’re the one who turned up the direct connection to the Maroulis case and found the image of the driver, correct?”

  Ashley’s vertebrae seemed to snap into line. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Okay, Chen.” Sloan checked her watch. “We already have our cybercrime team looking at the cellphone and they think they’re almost there with unlocking it. We heard from a consultant who works with Lincoln Frazer—Alex Parker, whom I believe you know?”

  Ashley nodded.

  “He identified four more possible brothel locations from Mae Kwon’s phone records. The properties were raided. All were empty of girls and clients and wiped down as clean as the inside of an OR.”

  Dammit. They’d moved too slowly. These people had dismantled the entire organization but he doubted they’d closed it down. They’d probably moved it sideways—new locations, new websites, new cell phones.

  “You want to prove yourself?” Sloan leaned over her desk toward the younger agent. “You find out how these people discovered the name and address of Susan Thomas. But if you fail,” she warned, “you’ll receive that letter of censure for your file. Do you understand?”

  Ashley stared straight ahead. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Lucas couldn’t tell if she was pleased or pissed. Maybe both. She’d worked hard and got results, but still had the most to lose.

  Sloan’s phone rang. “Okay, boys and girls. Time for another awkward meeting with SAC Salinger, telling him we’re no further forward than we were twenty-four hours ago. Then I can call my husband back and pretend he wasn’t calling me for an update on the case for that moron Everett.” She dragged a hand through her gray-blonde hair. “Get out of here and get me some clues as to where these dirtbags are hiding.” Before he could take a step she snapped. “Agent Randall, walk me out.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Ashley left quickly and he watched her go. Why didn’t Alex trust her? Was it the hacking thing? Did he know more than he was letting on? Or was the guy nervous because her skills were similar to his own?

  Lucas followed Sloan out of her office. She kept her voice low.

  “How’s the kid?” she asked.

  “Beginning to open up a little. She confirmed the driver of Agata Maroulis’s minivan was the same person who took her from her home.” He cleared his throat. “She says her mother gave her to him in exchange for canceling a gambling debt.” They walked through the bullpen where only a smattering of agents were present, all busy with their heads down. Other advisers and analysts were working on different parts of the case and feeding that information into LEEP—the Law Enforcement Enterprise Portal—which allowed the task force to share and coordinate information at a fast pace.

  “I managed to get some information on why she was held in a room alone,” he murmured.

  Sloan caught his eye. “Select customers?”

  He nodded. “I squeezed out a couple tidbits about her family that I’m going to feed into the system. I want permission to ask Agent Chen or Agent Rooney to assist me in running searches to track down the mother. She might be an avenue for more information on the gambling aspect of this organization—especially when she faces charges of child abandonment and child sex trafficking.”

  “Negative on involving a third party.” Sloan’s eyes were sharp as she scanned the office before they hit the stairwell. “I don’t like the fact the informant turned up dead. I don’t like that at all. The information you and I share stays closed down. No one else is to know.”

  Damn. Lucas wasn’t a total klutz around a computer but he knew his limits. He should have spent more time hanging around the freaks and geeks in high school, rather than the jocks.

  Sloan looked like she wanted to say something else but wasn’t sure how to proceed. Considering how blunt the woman usually was, Lucas didn’t know what that signified.

  “What?” he prompted.

  “I have a bad feeling about this, Lucas.” Her mouth twisted. “The idea of them getting hold of that kid again…”

  “They aren’t going to get their hands on her again.”

  Sloan paused on the stairs. “What do you think of Agent Chen?”

  Uh oh. “She’s done great work on this case. She’s got a sharp brain, she’s dedicated, driven.” Alex Parker doesn’t trust her. And she kisses like sin.

  “She’s very attractive,” Sloan said carefully.

  He kept his expression neutral and said nothing.

  Her gaze didn’t shy away from his. “Remember what I said about the kid.”

  He forced himself not to react to having his integrity insulted. “Trust no one. Got it.”

  “Not even pretty agents eager to help.”

  “Nor people who we’ve worked with for years,” he added.

  Sloan’s expression pinched. “Nor husbands who’re probably going to leave their wives for someone who occasionally turns up to dinner.”

  Shit. “Like I told you. I’ve got it.”

  * * *

  By midnight Ashley’s eyes were gritty from staring at her screen for too long.

  Mallory had gone to check on the injured dog before heading back to the hotel under strict orders from the boss to take it easy. Frazer was making noises about pulling them both, but as Ashley had pointed out, not only were the fugitives still at large, they hadn’t even been IDed yet.

  Frazer had relented for now but Ashley didn’t think it would last long. God knew BAU-4 had its own list of monsters to hunt.

  She hadn’t told him about Sloan’s threat of a letter of censure. She wanted to prove herself without her boss making a stink—and he would make a stink. Few people messed with Lincoln Frazer or his unit and came out unscathed.

  Ashley was convinced these guys were so criminally sophisticated they had their own computer analyst. And if they did, she wanted to know the caliber of hacker they were dealing with. She dragged her fingers through her hair and sipped on her eightieth coffee of the day.

  The advantage of working for the feds meant a warrant had been easily obtained and the bank had been only too eager to cooperate in the event someone had broken into their system. She’d found the transaction easily enough—one hundred thousand dollars had been deposited into Ms. Susan Thomas’s checking account yesterday. The bank’s system was double encrypted, so Ashley doubted the perps had been able to access the records directly. If they could, why bother trafficking sex slaves when they could just steal people’s money at will?

  But any transaction over ten thousand dollars automatically generated a Currency Transaction Record, or CTR, that was sent to the Financial Crimes Enforcement Network “FinCEN.” Tax and other customer information was stored within that file and could be used to identify the individuals both sending and receiving the money. She suspected the Asian gang either had an informant at FinCEN, or had intercepted the data as it passed between the bank and FinCEN, or they’d figured out a way to access those files by hacking FinCEN itself.

  The implications were huge.

  The gray market for zeros—or software vulnerabilities—was still a controversial business. Many argued that governments paying for zeroes had driven up the price of ferreting out software flaws. Others argued that just because “official” organizations and governments bought the vulnerabilities it didn’t mean they weren’t used for nefarious purposes. The bottom line was if governments didn’t buy the software, black hat hackers would. The industry was established now, and it wasn’t going away anytime soon.

 
; Ashley had checked various forums and websites for mention of a vulnerability in the operating system FinCEN used but had come up short. Ashley didn’t have the time or resources to look for a weakness in the source code itself, but she knew someone who did. She didn’t want to call him. She checked her watch and dialed anyway. Parker would be working all hours to plug the holes in his client’s security.

  “Parker,” he answered before the first ring completed.

  “It’s Agent Ch-Chen.” She silently cursed her stumble. He already knew who it was. “I hope you don’t mind me calling so late. Agent Rooney said you were working—”

  “What can I do for you, Agent Chen?” His tone was cool as liquid Nitrogen.

  “A woman was killed today. She’s the same person who called in the information about Mia Stromberg being in the Chinatown brothel—”

  “Mal told me about it. It appears we’re now the proud owners of a Golden Retriever named Rex.”

  “You’re adopting him?” A moment of jealousy slid through her—which was crazy. What would she do with a dog?

  “Assuming no family members come forward to claim him,” said Parker. “What do you need?”

  She heard voices in the background. Someone swearing loudly. “We’re trying to figure out how the bad guys tracked down Susan Thomas.” She looked around the empty room. It was a very lonely “we.”

  “The bank security seems solid from the outside,” she said, “and it’s possible someone inside the investigation leaked the information on purpose or accidentally.” The most successful hacks generally involved a degree of social engineering. “But the people directly involved were questioned, and they all swear they didn’t give out the information to anyone they didn’t know personally.”

  “People lie.” The words were razor sharp. He didn’t trust her. She didn’t trust him back. But she needed him.

  Sweat trickled down her back and made the silk of her shirt stick to her skin. “There’s another potential source for the information.”

  “The phone company?”

  Was that how he’d done it?

  “Possible, but there were over ten thousand calls to that hotline so I’m not sure how they’d narrow down the right caller from that data alone.” She hated how nervous this man made her. “Look, I don’t have any proof but I have this lingering idea they have a hacker on their team. A good one.” She cleared her throat. “So I was, er, wondering about FinCEN security.”