Sins That Haunt

by Lucy Farago

  “Tom here, how can I help you?”

  He identified himself, hoping he wouldn’t have to send someone to flash a badge. “You delivered a pizza to West River last night. I need to know exactly what time. I can send the police if you want to see an ID, but I’d really appreciate your cooperation.”

  “No problem. I delivered that one myself. It was on my way home. I dropped it off at eight-thirty sharp. I know because my wife called to nag me about being late again. That harpy is relentless.”

  “Thanks, Tom.”

  He checked the locks again for a possible breakin but saw nothing. It was possible Damon hadn’t thought to lock the door. As he didn’t have any kits with him, Noah chose to wait outside to call the team rather than contaminate the area.

  As expected, no one had heard from him. Where the fuck was he? He ran through worst-case scenarios. Each one made his gut hurt as he kept coming back to the only one that made sense: Santos was on to them. Two years in the making and if he was right, it was shot to hell. Which in all likelihood meant Damon was dead. And if the motherfucker had killed Damon, Noah wouldn’t have to worry about doing this by the book. He’d hire Christian himself and make sure Santos got his due.

  While he waited, he called his team again and told them to contact the tail they’d put on Santos. He wanted to know his whereabouts for the last twenty-four hours. In the meantime, Cooper and his men arrived on the doorstep within seven minutes. Federal agent or local, it didn’t matter; law officer meant law officer, and one was missing. Shannon followed Cooper. To her credit, she remained quiet, a worried expression on her face as she shoved her hands into the back of her jeans pockets.

  “What do we have?” Cooper asked, letting his men go ahead into the town house.

  Noah explained what he’d seen. He tried to stay professional, but this was Damon and no way could he keep his personal feelings out of it.

  “What’s your theory?”

  “I don’t like my theory,” Noah said. “I was hoping you’d come up with one more to my liking.”

  “You think your target has Agent Fox?”

  Has … or had. “It’s a strong possibility.” One he didn’t like.

  Shannon paled and still said nothing.

  “Okay, let’s see if we can pull any prints. Come on.” He put a hand on Noah’s shoulder. “Let’s stay positive.”

  “You and I both know what kind of man Santos is. If he thought we were undercover, Damon is …” He didn’t want to say it out loud, afraid that if he did, it would make it true. But there was no getting around it. “He’s as good as dead.”

  “Maybe, but why not kill him here?”

  “Lieutenant,” one of Cooper’s men shouted from inside the doorframe. “You should see this.”

  Noah turned to Shannon as Cooper went inside.

  “I know. Stay out here,” she said.

  “I’m not crazy about you being alone. Come inside the door.”

  “Go; I’ll be fine. I’ll scream if anyone comes near me. Go,” she repeated when he hesitated.

  He tried to give her a reassuring smile, then hurried after Cooper, who was now in the living room.

  “With the red wine it was hard to see, but we found blood. Not a lot of it, but enough to indicate some kind of a struggle.” One of his men pointed to the rug and the dark spots Noah hadn’t noticed earlier.

  “Get it to the lab as quickly as you can. Let’s find out if it belongs to Agent Fox.” He put a hand on Noah’s shoulder again. This guy was the touchy-feely type. “Have you contacted your team?”

  He nodded. “Damon failed to report to a Skype meeting this morning and no one has heard from him since yesterday afternoon. Fuck.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t even know where to begin looking.”

  “Let’s see if we can track him by his phone.”

  “He’d just taken a shower and was sitting down to eat. It’s possible it’s not on him.” Every agent had an app that would allow him to track another agent. He only wished he’d thought to use it this morning.

  “Lewinsky,” Cooper shouted to one of the CSIs in the kitchen now inspecting the pizza. “Did you find a phone?”

  “Not yet. Anyone find a cell?” Lewinsky shouted to no one in particular.

  Three replied, all negative.

  Noah dared not hope. His own phone rang so he gave Cooper the number and the passcode to activate the tracker while he answered his call.

  “This is Stevens. I’m the agent assigned to tailing Miguel Santos. He hasn’t left the hotel since yesterday afternoon.”

  “Are you sure?” Noah asked.

  “Yes, sir. He ordered room service for two but came down later to play at the tables. He stayed until twelve-fifteen, then headed back to his suite. His two lap dogs didn’t leave his side.”

  “Thanks. Please let me know the moment he makes a move.” He hung up.

  “Got it.” Cooper had a location. “This is weird. He’s at the Wynn. Funny place to take a guy.”

  “Santos hasn’t left Caesar’s, so I’m coming with you.” Precious seconds could mean life or death for Damon.

  “You want to drive with me or take your car?”

  “I’ll follow. I have Shannon. Can you get the warrant?”

  “Won’t be a problem. And I can have one of my guys take her home.”

  “Yeah, good idea.” Part of him wanted her with him, but it was best she be nowhere near the possibility of trouble brewing. And then, for the first time in years, he sent a silent prayer to God.

  *

  In the lobby of the tower suites at the Wynn they were met by two of Cooper’s men and three federal agents.

  “We got your message for backup.” The man extended his hand. “Agent Stephen Riley.”

  He’d heard of Riley. Christian had warned him to remember the guy had a stick up his ass should he run into him while Noah was in Vegas. The other two were unknown to him. “I appreciate the cavalry, boys, but all we have is his phone.”

  “That’s not all we have. Let’s talk in the elevator. Agent Lopez.” He too put out his hand. “This is my partner, Agent Diaz, Miami office. We’ve already sent two men up. They should be in the stairwells by now, but we’ll wait for confirmation before we make our move.”

  “They’re in,” Diaz said, using his earpiece.

  “Then let’s go.” Riley led the way.

  If Noah hadn’t been focused on the two Miami agents, he’d have missed the look the two exchanged. It would seem Christian wasn’t the only one who thought Riley was an ass.

  He waited patiently until they were inside, didn’t harass them to demand they tell him what the hell was going on. He wasn’t going for polite, but he didn’t want to tip off any of the hotel guests to the looming trouble. Once the doors swooshed closed, however …

  “What’s going on?”

  “We were in the office when Fox’s MIA came in. He’s in one of the duplex suites. The room is registered to Alejandro Casales. We’ve been following him ever since he landed in Reno.”

  “What the fuck? Why would he stick his neck out like this? If someone clued him in to our investigation and he wanted to protect Santos, why take out Damon? He had to have known we’d be all over his ass.”

  “Right. We don’t think he did. At least we’re hoping he didn’t. We think he wants your attention. And we’d appreciate you giving it to him.”

  “Any idea why he wants my attention?”

  “Rumor has it someone tipped him off to Santos setting up his own shop in Miami, and as you can imagine, he’s not happy. Our guy couldn’t tell us much, said Casales got a phone call last week from the States, and when he was done, he ordered a tail on Santos.”

  “Does he know about the bust in Madrid?”

  “That’s what we think led to the US call. See what he wants. He isn’t dumb enough to nab a federal agent and keep a traceable phone on him. He wants the FBI here.”

  The doors opened to a luxurious hallway. Diaz p
ushed the Hold button and told a grudging Riley to cover the elevator.

  “Two bedrooms on the top floor. Living, dining, pool room, and massage room on the first. You take the lead. Sound good?” Lopez asked.

  He just wanted in. “Sounds good.”

  “He’s got nowhere to go. And before you ask, yes, he’s there. Like I said, we’ve been tailing him since he flew in for that wedding,” Diaz said, and then he knocked.

  It took five seconds for an athletic young Hispanic male to open the door. The kid had two small piercing holes, one below his bottom lip, the other over his right eyebrow. He stepped aside. “Come in.”

  Lopez had been right. They’d been expected.

  “Follow me.”

  He led them through the living space where, for a split second, Noah thought the blonde sitting on the couch was Shannon. His heartbeat returned to normal when he realized he’d gotten it wrong. Legs crossed at the ankle, she glanced up from the magazine she was reading as they passed. She was beautiful. Casales had left his wife in Madrid.

  They stopped in a room where floor-to-wall windows on two sides highlighted the cityscape. It spoke of money and lots of it. Noah wasn’t impressed. Casales stood in the corner, looking out, a pool table between them. He turned. A glass filled with an amber liquid in his hand, he grinned like he’d just told a joke they’d been left out of. Fifty-five years old, his gray hair was slicked back into a long ponytail. Noah never got that. There was a point in a man’s life when it was time to grow up. But he had to admit on this guy it looked suave, like he belonged on a cigar ad with beautiful, clingy women.

  “Gentlemen, I am Alejandro Casales. But you already know that. This is my nephew,” he indicated their escort, “Felipe. My brother’s boy.” The young man inclined his head.

  Yes, Noah could see the family resemblance now.

  “Can he get you gentlemen anything before he leaves? Coffee? Water?”

  Lopez and Diaz stayed several steps behind. Noah withdrew his warrant and tossed it over the unbroken balls. “This isn’t a social call.”

  “But nor does it have to turn nasty. Felipe, go keep your sister company until I am finished here. Then you can go to that concert.”

  So the woman was his niece. He’d had an entourage when he’d flown to Reno for a wedding, but there’d been no mention of family traveling with him. Why bring them here?

  “Kids,” Casales said. “They have no taste in music these days. Or clothes.”

  “You know who we are?” Noah asked.

  Casales didn’t give the warrant a second look. “The two gentlemen behind you have been following me for quite some time now. You? I’ve only just learned of you, Agent Noah Monroe. So one of my attorneys tells me.”

  Noah’s heartbeat kicked up a notch. Somehow, some way, he’d been spotted in the police station. Santos was on to them.

  “We’re tracking an agent’s mobile GPS. Want to guess where it led us to?”

  “Ah, yes.” He called out, “Felipe.” The younger man returned with a phone.

  Damon’s?

  “Your associate left this here last night.”

  Felipe handed the phone to Noah.

  He had Damon. Of that he was certain. “Thank you,” he said, forcing his jaw to form the words. What kind of game was Casales playing?

  “If you don’t mind, gentlemen,” he said, addressing Lopez and Diaz, “may I talk to Agent Monroe alone?”

  It would seem they were going to find out.

  It was Lopez who spoke. “We’ll be in the hall,” he said, giving Noah a blank stare. This was it.

  “Are you sure I can’t get you anything?” Casales asked once they’d left.

  “Yes,” Noah answered. “Agent Fox.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Let’s not play games. Where is he?” Was Damon even still alive?

  “Who? Agent Fox? How would I know? But perhaps we can help each other.”

  Here it was. The trade-off. “For just one second let’s forget that Fox is a federal agent and no law officer, anywhere in the world, takes kindly to one of their own being held against their will.” He wanted him to know there was nowhere for him to hide. “So when I say this, please don’t take it as my agreeing. How can I help you? And can we please cut to the chase?”

  “A man of few words. Good, I like that. Fine; you want Miguel Santos behind bars. I need him to be taught a lesson. Do your job and put him away,” he said, as if discussing the weather.

  “Oh, is that all?” Where the fuck was Damon?

  “A trade, Mr. Monroe. A favor for a favor.” Casales swirled his drink.

  “I deal with Santos, you give me Fox?”

  Casales laughed. “He is not mine to give. No, but I can certainly find out where he is.”

  He admitted nothing, and when this was over Noah would have no way to nail the son of a bitch. Would his boss have his ass if this case went south? Without a doubt. Would this cost him his promotion? He could almost hear the toilet flushing on that. Did he give a shit? He wanted Damon back, alive and in one piece. And he’d do anything to make that happen.

  “I need evidence.”

  “I would think your arsenal was full by now? But no matter; I understand there are rules to be followed. What would you say if I told you where to find matching ledgers linking Santos to the Madrid bust? Would that be to your liking?”

  Taking down Santos meant a major collaborative effort between the US and international police organizations. Depending on what was written, those ledgers could prove enough illicit activity to put Santos away for life on two continents.

  But Noah didn’t understand. “Why not take out your own garbage?”

  “And what would happen to the evidence you’ve piled up against him? All those years of hard work—for nothing?”

  He knew. Noah would prefer to think they’d fucked up and somehow tipped off Casales to their investigation. That’s what he’d prefer, because the more likely scenario left a repulsive, foul taste in his smile. They had a mole. Question was, who? The phone in his pocket vibrated. He ignored it. “If there was such an investigation, one would assume its failure would please you.”

  “Then someone would assume wrong.”

  “Again, why not take him out yourself?”

  “Oh, Mr. Monroe, you watch too many bad American movies. I am a legitimate businessman. A family man.”

  “You want Santos to do time?” People didn’t fuck with this guy for a reason. It was a one-way ticket to Never-never Land, and not the kind that made you want to kick off your shoes and stay a while. Piss him off and you disappeared.

  “Monroe, have you ever owned your own business?”

  “No.” He wasn’t really going to compare drug trafficking and a slew of other supposed illicit and illegal activities to a legitimate business, was he?

  “To be successful it requires a certain amount of ruthlessness. This is not one of those times,” he said, clearly disappointed.

  So what was it? Why did he prefer the FBI take out Santos instead of doing it himself?

  “I am, however, an impatient man. I can understand that the FBI required time to gather information, but with what you have and what I am prepared to give you, it should be sufficient to take care of Miguel Santos. And Monroe, I want the charges to stick.”

  “I’ll need to call my team. First, Fox?”

  “My sources say he’s alive and unharmed. But who can you trust these days?”

  Noah forced his expression to stay neutral, working overtime to relax his arms. No way would he give this piece of shit the satisfaction of knowing how much he’d like to wrap his hands around the man’s neck. “I’ll be in touch. The ledgers?”

  “They’re in his condo in Miami. When he travels he trusts no one. You’ll find them in a safe. When you notify me that you have your search warrant, I will send you the combination. Tell your men there is a false bottom. Beneath it you will find the ledgers. You have forty-eight hours.”


  “And then?” He wanted Damon returned and in one piece, but it took a lot of man-hours to coordinate a bust this size, even if it was a sure thing. If they had to do it in two days, he’d make sure it happened.

  “Then I tell Santos about two federal agents. One way or another, I win.”

  Dick wad. Noah turned to leave.

  “And Monroe? If you need another reason to meet my deadline, Santos has a thing for blondes. I’d take care of Ms. Joyce if I were you.”

  Noah jammed his hand into his pockets, forced air into his lungs. “Who?” he asked over his shoulder.

  Casales offered him a lopsided grin. “The beautiful attorney who caught his attention.”

  Several thoughts went through Noah’s mind at once. First, punch the asshole. But in case he wasn’t threatening Shannon that wouldn’t be his best move, no matter how good it would feel. Second, if Casales knew, did Santos? Was he warning him or threatening him? “She is to be left out of this.”

  “I agree. What better reason to put Santos away quickly and efficiently than to protect a beautiful woman? In the meantime, I would keep a close eye on her. He has men searching for her.”

  Not that he could trust Casales, but he had to ask. “Does he know who she is?”

  “Not yet, but it’s only a matter of time.”

  “Before you tell him?”

  He tsked. “I don’t involve innocent women. It’s not my style.”

  He was insinuating it was Noah’s. Guess the jerkoff had him there.

  “One could argue he has an obsession, an addiction, if you will, to blond women. Like an addict, he will stop at nothing to get what he wants. And he wants her. And Monroe, the women who fascinate him don’t generally last long.”

  It stuck in his throat, but again it had to be said. “Thank you for telling me.”

  “Now I suggest you leave quickly. I’m having Miguel move here to the Wynn. I wouldn’t want the two of you to accidentally bump into each other. Nail the cabron, for my sake, yours … and hers. Call me when your team has decided to accept my offer.”