Dead Heat

by Allison Brennan

  “Did you see the fed?” Kane asked.

  “Negative. A helicopter arrived on the opposite side of the house. There’s a helipad. If they brought him in, that’s how he came. I saw the little girl.”

  Lucy turned to face him. “Bella?”

  “Only one girl, and she matches the photo Kane sent to me.”

  “Vasco Trejo is her biological father,” Lucy said. “Jaime Sanchez kidnapped his niece for Trejo. She’s an American citizen, and Trejo’s name isn’t on the birth certificate.”

  “We’ve dealt with foreign parental abductions many times,” Kane said, irritated at something.

  Lucy ignored his irritation. “If we don’t bring her home, we’ll never get her back.”

  “We’ll bring her home,” Kane said. “Change of plans.”

  “All ears,” Ranger said.

  “Lucy, you and Michael find Bella and bring her back here to the truck. Ranger and I will find Donnelly.” He handed her a radio. “Do you know Morse code?”

  She shook her head.

  “Okay, new code. Ranger can fly anything. If we can’t get back to the car, we’re going to steal the chopper. You know Paul Revere?”

  She tilted her head. “You mean, ‘One if by land, two if by sea’?”

  “Yes. Only it’ll be one if by land—we’ll meet you here at the truck—and two if by air.”

  “And I meet you at the chopper?”

  “No. You use the truck. Can you drive it?”

  She had no idea. “Yes,” she said, but her hesitation worried Kane.

  “If you can’t get the truck down the mountain, go to the bridge and wait for extraction. I’ll be there.” He put the keys under the driver’s seat. “Radio silence unless it’s a damn emergency.”

  Michael said, “I want to go with you, Kane.”

  “No,” Kane said.

  “I need to do it!”

  Kane turned around and looked Michael in the eye. “I know why you think you need to do it. You want revenge. Revenge will not take away the nightmares. Revenge will not make you better. Revenge will kill what’s left of you. You will become one of them, not who you were meant to be.”

  Michael’s bottom lip quivered. For the first time, Lucy saw the little boy. The scared child he was inside, the fear he kept buried. “They … They made my brothers kill each other. Because of me. Because Richie and I escaped. I’d promised to bring back help, but it was too late.”

  “It wasn’t too late for seven of them. Don’t make me cuff you to this truck, boy. Understood?”

  Lucy said, “Michael, Bella knows and trusts you. She helped you escape. You need to help her now. You know this place. I don’t. I need you to help me find her.”

  Michael didn’t want to go with her. But the little boy was hiding again, and the hardened young man emerged. Lucy ached for him, that his childhood was over, that he would never reclaim the innocence of youth. It had been brutally stolen, beaten out of him. But had he had a childhood at all? His mother was murdered, he’d been abused, his father was in prison, he’d been moved from home to home. He’d already lived a tragic life; they could only go forward from today.

  He had spent a year with the Popes. Could that year save him?

  He finally said, “Only because she helped me.”

  Lucy tried not to let out a sigh of relief.

  Kane said, “I’ll notify you when I’ve disabled the security system.”

  Ranger leaned over and winked at Lucy. “You can trust him. Sean built the jammer. Little Rogan keeps us in some choice toys.”

  “She’s a fucking fed, Ranger. She doesn’t want to know.” Kane assessed her.

  “I’m here, aren’t I?” Lucy said. “Let’s get this done so we can all go back home.”

  They got out of the truck. Ranger led the way through the trees and underbrush.

  The night continued to darken as the hour crept past four in the morning and the four of them disappeared into the mountain to find Brad and Bella.

  * * *

  Ryan called Lucy at four hoping to get company for breakfast and coffee. She didn’t answer her cell phone.

  He’d gone out on a limb when he talked to Juan last night. Juan was not at all happy that Lucy was interviewing Michael in an unknown location without Ryan or anyone else knowing where she was or assisting in the interview. Juan had a lot of questions that Ryan couldn’t answer, and all Ryan said was, “I think we should trust her on this one, boss.”

  But she had never come to the hotel. Her overnight bag had been at the DEA office when he picked up his last night.

  He tried Sean’s number, and again it went straight to voice mail. If Lucy didn’t show up to the debriefing in an hour, Juan would hear about it, and Ryan wouldn’t be able to protect her.

  He went to the twenty-four-hour diner next door to the hotel. The lot was filled with big rigs, but the diner itself was nearly empty. At dawn, the drivers would be coming in to eat and then get back on the road, but he had the place mostly to himself.

  Then Sam Archer walked in, alone.

  She hadn’t slept. Dark circles made her look like she’d been hit in both eyes, and she wore the same clothes she’d had on yesterday. She looked around, jittery and suspicious, before sitting across from Ryan. “Where’s your partner?”

  “Sleeping,” he lied. Well, it might not be a lie. She very well could be sleeping.

  “I can’t trust anyone except you and Kincaid. I need your help, but it has to be completely discreet.”

  “What do you need?”

  “Someone on my payroll is working with Sanchez and Trejo. I need you to figure out who. But no one can know you’re looking.” She slid over a piece of paper. He unfolded it. There were three names. “One of these people set us up yesterday. They were the only three, other than you and Kincaid, who knew that Tom and Clark were in the junkyard and when they arrived. They would also know that we’d send in both teams to extract our agents, leaving one flank exposed. That enabled them to get Brad down the tunnel and into a waiting vehicle.”

  All three were DEA agents. Ryan knew each of them. He didn’t want to believe Archer. He wanted to tell her she was a paranoid bitch who was destroying careers because of her guilt over Donnelly’s kidnapping.

  Except Lucy had already voiced her suspicions. Archer’s theory clicked.

  Archer leaned forward. “I’ll tell the others that you and Lucy are on an FBI assignment related to the kidnapping of the girl. That’ll give you time, and no one will think they’re being scrutinized.

  “One more thing—a prostitute was killed yesterday shortly before the sting. That’s another reason these three are on the list. They don’t have an alibi for the shooting.”

  “What does a dead prostitute have to do with all this?”

  “We think she was paid a thousand dollars to give Tom and Clark information that ultimately led to the ambush. We couldn’t find any of the money, except for the forty dollars she gave the clerk at the motel. I traced it. It was taken from the DEA evidence storage.”

  “I have to tell Juan. You know that.”

  She nodded. “He’ll be discreet. Other than Tom Saldana, who brought me the evidence, the only person who knows is my boss in Houston. He’s keeping it quiet until I give him a name. I need to give him the right name.”

  No cop ever wanted to turn against a fellow cop, but when the corruption was this big—when it resulted in the shooting of an agent and the likely murder of a kidnapped cop—there was no real choice.

  “I’ll do it.”

  CHAPTER 35

  The residence at the top of the mountain was a virtual resort. The mansion was two stories of Spanish-style architecture with three towers and 360-degree views. There were few trees to speak of; mostly shorter shrubs with several scraggly Monterrey oaks. But the lawn was richly green and irrigated, and flowers bloomed freely between lush, thick-leaved bushes that Lucy thought were called Mexican fire brush. Large treelike shrubs with fans of palms we
re artfully arranged. There were two swimming pools—one a lap pool and one a decorative pool with a waterfall and hot tub. The landscaping alone must have cost a small fortune.

  Paradise in the middle of the desert, a sanctuary only forty minutes from where five small boys had been murdered.

  Any other night, Lucy suspected, it would be quiet. But tonight, after the explosion at the prison and the escape of the boys, the house was ablaze with light, and the guards were hyperalert.

  She and Michael waited along the perimeter, at the edge of the cliff where the mountainside disappeared into the dark below.

  She had to wait for Kane’s signal. Otherwise their attempt to save Bella and Brad would become a suicide mission.

  The patrol guards were gangbangers, as Ranger had surmised. Lucy suspected they were from San Antonio and surrounds, not Mexico. And they were young. Fourteen? Fifteen? If any of them were over eighteen she’d be surprised. She couldn’t forget what Kane had told her about kidnapping boys to train them to be soldiers. Was this what Michael would have been had he been broken? The others? Was patrolling Trejo’s complex a reward for compliance? How long had Trejo been operating down here? Since he left San Antonio after Bella had been conceived? If he was true to pattern, the boys he’d kidnapped seven years ago would be seventeen, eighteen, nineteen now. If they had survived.

  “I killed someone,” Michael whispered.

  She wanted to tell him to be quiet, but he was talking so softly even she could barely hear him.

  “I had to,” he said.

  She took his hand and squeezed it.

  She turned her mouth to his ear and said, “I killed someone when I was eighteen. I had to do it, too.”

  He looked at her, eyes wide. Maybe she shouldn’t have said anything. Maybe she should have just told him everything was going to be okay. But that would be a lie, and he would know it.

  “Let’s get Bella, then we can talk about it.”

  He just nodded.

  A patrol of two was coming along the edge. Michael saw them at the same time as Lucy. The dark night and the slope of the mountainside hid them, but if the patrol shined a light toward their hiding spot, they’d be exposed.

  Lucy didn’t have to tell Michael to freeze; he went perfectly still. She had her handgun in front of her. She would shoot if she had to.

  Don’t think that they’re young. They’re trained killers. They won’t hesitate to kill you; you can’t hesitate to shoot.

  They were young and had been scared, were still scared, but that wouldn’t stop them from following orders from a man who scared them more than death itself.

  Lucy wanted Trejo’s head on a platter. Him and Jaime Sanchez. For horrific crimes against humanity.

  The patrol passed. They didn’t look down. They didn’t even have a flashlight.

  In her earpiece she heard Kane say, “It’s down.”

  She acknowledged and nodded to Michael. They were headed for the main house, where Michael thought Bella would be, in the wing that Trejo kept for himself. It was the middle of the night; she should be sleeping. That was the only wing where the lights were out on the second floor.

  It made sense to Lucy that Trejo would put his daughter in a luxurious room close to him. He wanted to win her over, shower her with gifts. The house. The pools. Dolls and toys and pretty dresses. A different form of bribery.

  She hoped she was right about Bella, that she would come with her quietly.

  They ran low to the ground, on the far perimeter, to the main house. There were lights in virtually every room downstairs. They couldn’t go in through the main doors. There were several glass-paned doors off other rooms. Some had blinds closed, and she couldn’t see if anyone was inside.

  Lucy motioned for Michael to freeze. He did, lying flat on the ground behind a low stone wall that framed the back patio. She heard voices. Male voices, indistinct words. Someone was angry, but she didn’t know who or why.

  The why she could probably figure out.

  The blinds were closed. She could make out shadows, the frames of two people. She glanced to the left. Double doors led into another room. The lights were off. This was her chance.

  She whispered in Michael’s ear, “Stay right behind me.”

  He nodded.

  She crawled along the base of the wall for twenty-five feet, glanced up, and was directly in line with the dark double doors. She was about to hop the fence and run to the house when another set of doors twenty feet further down opened. A man stepped out to light a cigarette. A well-dressed man in a suit. But she’d never seen him before.

  She looked at Michael, gestured, and mouthed, Who is he?

  Michael shook his head.

  Great. More people, more players. He wasn’t a gangbanger, and he wasn’t a guard. His suit was too expensive and he was too old. He didn’t look Mexican, and had a manner that made Lucy think American. Another expatriate like Trejo? He was likely doing business with Trejo and could very well have his own security contingent.

  Lucy itched to find another door to enter, but she feared any movement would alert the suit to their position. They were forced to wait him out.

  The doors on the far right opened and another man stepped out. Lucy had never seen him before, either. Again, well dressed in a clean white shirt and pressed khaki slacks. He was in his thirties with slicked-back dark hair and dark eyes. Vasco Trejo? The American who betrayed his country and the boys?

  She gestured to Michael. He cautiously looked. Then he whispered in her ear, “The general.”

  “Tobias, we have a situation,” Trejo told the man in the expensive gray suit. “The plane didn’t land where we expected.”

  Lucy was relieved. Sean had gotten the boys out. Michael relaxed next to her; he understood what that meant.

  Tobias passed within feet of Lucy’s hiding place as he walked over to the other man. “Consider it a loss,” he said. “We’ll rebuild.”

  “I don’t want to fucking rebuild. I want what was stolen from me!”

  Tobias spoke calmly. “There are always more.” He had a slight accent. Neither Mexican nor American. A hybrid of something. Maybe a bit affected. Lucy was usually good with language, but she couldn’t figure out where he was from.

  “DeSantos is dead. His cover was blown. CPS is going to get a rectal exam by the feds. That source is burned.”

  “You need to choose your people more wisely. Relax, Vasco. The only problem you’ll have is if all my guns aren’t there. Once I get the report from my men, I’ll leave and you live.”

  Trejo scowled. “Don’t threaten me.”

  There must be a second way off the mountain, opposite the way they came in. They hadn’t passed anyone leaving and heading for the prison complex.

  “It’s not a threat. You either give me the guns, or return my money with a loss fee of twenty percent, as you agreed to.” Tobias paused. “What aren’t you telling me, Vasco?”

  “One of the trucks was stolen. It’s only ten percent of the weapons, but—.”

  “Then you’ll give me ten percent of the two million back.”

  “I have something better.”

  “There’s nothing better than cash or guns.”

  “Yes, there is. Come inside.”

  They went back through the doors they’d come out of.

  Lucy couldn’t wait another minute. She didn’t know when or if they’d leave the room. She crawled along the wall to the door that Tobias had originally vacated. There was a lone light on, no one inside. The door leading to what she presumed was the hall was closed. She and Michael slipped inside and closed the terrace door.

  It was an office. Files from CPS were stacked on the desk. Dozens of files. That bastard—Lucy forced herself to remain calm. Getting angry now wasn’t going to help her find Bella. And DeSantos was dead. The FBI knew he’d been working with Sanchez; they’d help CPS with their security.

  She walked over to the door and listened. She heard nothing. Michael came close
to her and whispered, “There’s a back staircase, next to the kitchen. The big staircase is right outside this door, but the other staircase is better.”

  “When I say go, you lead.”

  Her heart raced and she willed it to slow down. It didn’t obey. She closed her eyes and listened. No voices. She was two rooms away from Tobias and Trejo. There was a third man in that room. A guard? Sanchez?

  She slowly cracked the door and peered out.

  The lights were all on, but she saw no one. She opened the door wider, looked down the hall where the men were talking. That door was closed. She nodded to Michael.

  He wasn’t right there. He’d gone back into the room.

  She didn’t risk talking or closing the door. She crossed silently to where he stood next to the bookshelf. He was staring at a black box. The black box that had started this all. It was a perfect cube the width and height of a CD. It could hold maybe fifty CDs. And it was valuable to Trejo.

  Which meant it was now valuable to the government. It could be anything, but if it helped them shut down drug pipelines or gunrunning or corrupt officials, they needed it.

  He didn’t look at her; he simply picked it up and tucked it under his arm. Then he followed Lucy to the door. She looked out again. Clear.

  Michael led the way down the hall, their shoes making faint sounds on the tile floor. She winced and prayed no one could hear them. As if he sensed the same thing, Michael walked slower, with more purpose, and their footfalls became muted.

  A shadow at the end of the hall had Lucy pushing Michael back. Then it disappeared. They moved again, past a dining room, past the kitchen where there were voices—young voices, talking about going to town to get laid when the job was over. Excited. Scared.

  Just past the kitchen was a narrow staircase that led up. If anyone came up or down while they were on the staircase, they would be trapped—the bullets would have few places to go except to hit them.

  They didn’t have a choice.

  There was no light on, and Lucy kept it that way. They took the stairs as fast as they dared and stopped just at the top of the landing. Standing flush against the wall, Lucy peered left and right. Michael motioned to the right: That’s Trejo’s wing.