“When we clear him,” Lucy said. “He didn’t kill Mona Hill.”
Garrett looked at her, didn’t say anything.
“You need to believe it,” Lucy said. “Or I’ll tell JT I’ll find an attorney who has faith in Sean.”
“This isn’t about faith or trust, Mrs. Rogan. This is about evidence.”
“Sean is innocent of these charges; I will prove it.”
“You need to tread carefully here,” Garrett warned.
As far as Lucy was concerned, this wasn’t a topic open to discussion, but she didn’t see the point in belaboring the matter. “When can I see my husband?”
“First things first. JT informs me that there is a safe on the premises. They’ll need access to the safe. You know how warrants work. They can look for what’s on the warrant, but if they see anything else during the search, such as drugs, if they are in a place that is reasonable for them to search, they can add those charges or get an expanded warrant.”
Lucy wasn’t worried about drugs.
“JT also tells me that you have a top-notch security system that can record everything.”
“Everything in the house and on the grounds, except in the master bedroom and Jesse’s room.”
“We’re going to record the search but I’m not telling them. By law we don’t have to tell them that we’re recording because this is your private property. But you can’t lie if asked, understand? You can choose not to volunteer information, but if they ask you if they are being recorded, you have to tell them that they are.”
She doubted they would ask. “Of course. I’m not going to lie about anything.”
“And they’ll likely send a cop to chat you up. Don’t engage. Even if you know them—even if it’s a friend, like Tia Mancini.”
Brad spoke up. “Do you know what they have on Sean?”
“Not much more than you know, I’m sure. Mona Hill was killed between seven thirty and eight thirty P.M. on Monday.”
“That precise?” Lucy asked. “Based on the autopsy?”
“She made a call to a pizza delivery place at seven thirty P.M. At eight thirty he entered the building to deliver the pizza but she didn’t answer the door. He called the apartment and there was no answer. He left and ran into a man identified as Christian Porter in the lobby. Porter was in Ms. Hill’s employ as a bodyguard and general … handyman, shall we say. According to his statement, she called him shortly before seven thirty and asked him to come over because there was a threat to her life. Porter heard a male voice in the background and they were arguing about something, but he couldn’t hear what was said. He asked who was there, and she told him Rogan, but he was leaving.”
“The police told you that?” Lucy was surprised.
Garrett smiled for the first time—a slight smile, almost sly, but he didn’t answer her question.
“Porter paid for the pizza, went upstairs, and found Ms. Hill’s body. She’d been shot twice, in the back.”
Lucy involuntarily shivered.
“You are aware of Ms. Hill’s business?”
“Yes.”
“The police will use that against Sean. That he was meeting with a known prostitute. That he had a relationship with her or one of her girls, that perhaps she was blackmailing him. They know Mona Hill’s reputation, and that she had been in San Antonio and was associated with Tobias Hunt’s operation before she disappeared and showed up in Houston.”
“That’s … no. No.”
“You have to be prepared. They will bait you. They’ll say things that will make you want to defend Sean. You might think you’re helping, but anything you say could be used against him.”
“You have to believe that Sean was not in a relationship with Mona Hill or anyone else.”
“You’re a cop, Lucy,” he said. “Often, a spouse has a secret life, or things they keep from their significant other.”
Like Sean not telling her he was going to Houston.
“I’m not blind, Mr. Lee. I’m specifically saying that Sean wasn’t having an affair, nor was he paying for a prostitute. The police must have something more than Porter’s statement.”
“They know that Sean flew into Houston Monday evening and arrived back at the small airfield at eight thirty-five P.M. He used an Uber, based on security footage. It takes about thirty minutes to get from Mona’s apartment to the airstrip. They have Sean entering her building at six fifty and leaving just after eight that evening. And thus Porter’s statement that he heard them arguing over the phone becomes more compelling. Houston PD is putting together facts and evidence, and his statement is part of that. The murder weapon is key—they need to find it or everything else is circumstantial.”
Lucy’s stomach fell.
Brad said, “If they don’t have the murder weapon, why did they arrest him?”
“They feel they have enough evidence to go to a judge. I don’t know their exact reasoning—I have sources, but not in Houston. My guess is they felt that Sean is a flight risk.” He paused, looked from Brad to Lucy. “I’m aware of Sean’s background. His juvenile record isn’t going to be an issue—they can’t use it, or even see it. It’s been expunged, as part of his plea agreement when he was seventeen.”
Brad glanced at Lucy, surprised.
“I’ll tell you later,” she said. “I sense a ‘but.’”
“Sean’s FBI file is sealed, but they could ask to open it. I don’t know if they will, I don’t know what’s in it, but Jack doesn’t want it unsealed. If it goes that far, it would be up to a federal judge.”
Lucy didn’t know what was in his file, but he’d had an FBI agent gunning for him up until a couple of years ago, and once something was put into the record it was impossible to get out. But Sean had high-level security clearance to work on computer security for various government agencies and contractors, so whatever was in the file couldn’t be that bad.
“Felicity is going to do everything in her power to ensure that he’s arraigned today, and then we can post bail. But—and I’m being perfectly honest with you here—I think they’re going to keep him all weekend and hold off arraignment until Monday. That tells me they need more information—more evidence—in order to ask for a higher bail, or no bail. You know how these things work. The earliest he’ll be in Houston and booked is noon. Then he’ll be questioned. They’ll drag it out as long as they can to prevent him from getting out this weekend.”
“That’s bullshit,” Lucy said.
Though she would do the same thing in their position. If she believed that her suspect was guilty and could commit another crime or was a flight risk, she would arrest him on a Friday and hold him over until Monday to make sure they had all their ducks in a row before they had to go in front of a judge.
Garrett didn’t comment. He looked at his phone.
“What?” Lucy asked, leaning forward.
“They found a .45 in Sean’s plane, in a locked box under the pilot’s seat. Revolver, two bullets missing. They also found a bit of clothing or a towel that it was wrapped in. My assistant couldn’t see exactly what it was.”
“Do you honestly think that if Sean committed cold-blooded murder, he would leave the murder weapon in his own plane?” Lucy said.
Her chest hurt. She could not believe that this was happening.
“You have a lot of friends in San Antonio. Ashley Dominguez, the head of the lab, recused himself.”
“He was likely asked to,” Lucy said. “Ash is a friend. The prosecution could claim he tainted evidence.” But she would much rather have someone she trusted processing the evidence, and there was no one better than Ash. “Garrett, I need to see the evidence.”
“That’s not possible right now.”
“Sean is innocent, and this whole thing stinks. I need to talk to him and find out what’s going on. If he went to see Mona in Houston there was a damn good reason. And if it’s connected to Elise Hunt—I need to know what’s going through his head.”
She shouldn�
�t have said anything about Elise, but judging from Garrett’s expression, JT had already filled him in.
“You need to stay far away from Elise Hunt,” he said solemnly. “She served her time and you can’t approach her.”
“She’s dangerous and sociopathic,” Lucy said. “She is capable of anything, literally. I do not say that lightly. She killed a man in cold blood by injecting him with poison, then set the stage to make it appear as if she’d given him oral sex. She then immediately went to another man and had sex with him for money, while setting him up to be blackmailed. She had a family held hostage while she took the father at gunpoint to embezzle money from his accounts. I can go on.”
Garrett put up his hand. “Elise Hunt was not convicted of any of those crimes, and therefore in the eyes of the law she is innocent. You need to stay away from her.”
“I understand her better than anyone,” Lucy said.
“Be that as it may, let me do my job—and that is to protect you and Jesse from legal harm. My colleague Felicity will protect Sean’s rights. I can’t have you investigating this case—possibly obstructing justice—because you have a vendetta against an eighteen-year-old.”
“It’s not a vendetta!” Lucy said, hating that she sounded shrill.
Brad interjected, “Garrett, you need to get up to speed on the Nicole Rollins and Tobias Hunt investigation, because that is the only connection between Mona Hill and the Rogans.”
“I am fully aware of the Hunt family criminal enterprise, but we don’t know that it is the only connection.”
Brad said, “Then you know I had a traitor on my team for years. Rollins killed a half dozen federal agents, including my boss. The only reason Lucy even talked to Mona Hill during that investigation was because of Elise Hunt. That is the connection. Elise Hunt is the connection.”
As Brad said it, Lucy believed it. Nothing else fit.
“I am up-to-date, Agent Donnelly. My firm has been on RCK retainer since Lucy was assigned to the San Antonio office.”
That was news to Lucy, and her surprise must have shown on her face, because Garrett explained. “As a precaution. Any RCK cases that Sean works, for example, I know about, in case he needs legal representation.”
When they first moved to San Antonio, Sean hadn’t been working for RCK, so that didn’t ring completely true to Lucy. She wondered what else was going on, but she didn’t ask. She’d ask JT when she talked to him.
“You need me,” Garrett continued. “And you need to listen to me.”
Lucy would—to a point. “You need to trust me when I tell you that Elise Hunt cannot be underestimated. Do not let her youth deceive you. She is cold, methodical, and vicious. Worse, she’s unpredictable.”
“We have no evidence—none—that Elise Hunt is involved, so you need to tread carefully,” Garrett said.
“I know that girl better than anyone, and I’m telling you that this thread is all we have right now. Sean contacted a PI in L.A. late Monday evening about Elise—that would be after Mona was killed, right? According to the time line? That would make sense if Mona asked him about Elise, maybe Mona found out that Elise was released and called Sean because Sean is the only one who would understand the danger.”
Except no scenario Lucy could think of would tell her why Sean hadn’t told her. Why he hadn’t clued her in on whatever he was doing.
Except one, and it was as clear as day now that she thought of it.
He was trying to protect you.
From what? Why? They’d gone around and around about this for years, practically since they first met, and they’d both agreed that good and bad, they needed to know the truth. Too often one or both of them had kept information from the other in an effort to protect them or spare their feelings, when knowledge was the only thing that could truly protect anyone.
It was clear that Garrett didn’t like what she was saying. He was trying to protect her from legal harm. She trusted the system a lot more than Sean did. Yet … there had been times the system had failed.
“I’m not going to talk to the police without representation,” Lucy said. “I’m not going to tamper with evidence, or do anything that might get me or Sean in trouble. But I can’t promise not to look into Mona’s murder. If the police believe that Sean is guilty, they’re not going to look any further.”
And if that gun they found in his plane matched the murder weapon, they would absolutely believe he was guilty.
“We’ll table the discussion for now.”
Lucy didn’t comment. “When can I see Sean?”
“I’ll talk to Felicity, but it won’t be until late this afternoon at the soonest, and probably not until tomorrow morning. It’s a three-hour drive.”
She wanted to see Sean tonight, but if she went to Houston and couldn’t see him, she would be stuck in a hotel. She’d wait to confirm with his lawyer.
The security panel beeped and Garrett glanced over at the tablet Lucy had at her side.
She didn’t even have to look. “They’re here.”
“Let them in, let them do their job, and keep quiet.”
Chapter Seven
Nate sent Lucy a text message that he was leaving the courthouse. He was done testifying and he wasn’t needed back in court.
This was his least favorite part of the job. First sitting around doing nothing while waiting to testify, then listening to bullshit coming out of the defense. All that time wasted for less than fifteen minutes of questions. In this case, nine minutes for the prosecution, three minutes for the defense, then a two-minute follow-up for the prosecution.
Ridiculous waste of time and money.
Nate went down to the courthouse guard office to retrieve his service weapon, then called Jack on his cell phone as he exited the building and headed toward the parking garage.
“I’m at the safe house,” Jack answered. “No word on Kane, but Ranger has some intel we need to verify.”
“I’m leaving court now to pick up Jesse. He doesn’t know yet, right?”
“No. Tell him the truth, no sugarcoating it, but tell him we’re on top of it. Lucy’s on edge, but she’ll pull it together. She’ll want to go to Houston, and I need you to stick to Jesse like glue until we know that this isn’t a trap or setup. Did Sean talk to you about Elise Hunt?”
“No,” Nate said. That bothered him. Sean usually confided in him about anything security related. Sometimes for help, sometimes just for a sounding board.
“Anything else odd or out of the ordinary?”
“Actually, yes. On Tuesday he texted me for Ryan’s cell phone number. I didn’t think much of it, but now I wonder why he didn’t just ask Lucy.”
“Ryan Quiroz?”
“He’s the SSA up in Austin, but he partnered with Lucy the first year she was here.”
“Sean didn’t say why?”
“No.”
“Can you think of a reason?”
“Ryan used to be a cop in Houston, before he joined the FBI. He was born and raised there. But I don’t know why he’d call Ryan for help and not just ask me.”
Nate walked up the stairs to the third floor where he’d parked.
“Sean has a reason for everything, so don’t take it personally,” Jack said. “I’m going dark in a few; call Ryan, follow up, find out what Sean was thinking. Ryan might not know, but it’ll give us one more piece to the puzzle. If you need anything, call JT.”
Nate stopped at the top of the stairs. Three SAPD squad cars were parked around his truck, including a K-9 unit.
“Dunning, you there?”
“Something’s wrong.”
“Talk to me.”
“Six cops and a K-9 unit are searching my truck. I have to go.”
He ended the call and walked over to the group of cops and showed his badge. “FBI Special Agent Nate Dunning. What’s going on?”
Nate only recognized one of the cops by sight, but couldn’t remember his name.
“That’s my truck. Where’s your
warrant?”
“I’m Sergeant Warren,” the officer in charge said as he approached. “This is city property, and our K-9 unit hit on your truck during rounds this morning. We ran the plates, tried to reach you, but there was no answer.”
Bullshit, Nate thought. He didn’t have any missed calls from a number he didn’t recognize. “Out of my truck. Now.”
This was all wrong. Nate didn’t believe in coincidences, and the fact that his car was being searched the same day that his best friend had been arrested for murder told him that this was somehow related.
“Sadie, our German shepherd here, responded to your truck. You have a joint or something, I honestly don’t give a shit, you take that up with your office. But this isn’t a joint.”
“And how the hell do you know that?”
He knew something—Nate could see it in his eyes—but he didn’t respond.
“Got something, Sarge,” one of the officers said. Warren started back toward Nate’s truck, and Nate followed, then Warren turned and said, “Stay there, Agent Dunning.”
Warren motioned for two officers to stand with him. One was the familiar cop—a glance at his name plate reminded Nate who he was. Williams. Jeff Williams. He’d been friends with Ryan, they’d gone for drinks a couple times when Nate was a rookie, but Nate hadn’t seen him since Ryan transferred to Austin. Williams looked sheepish, but didn’t say anything.
“I’m calling my office,” Nate said and hit one of his speed dial numbers. Neither cop stopped him.
He called Zach Charles, the squad analyst. “Zach, I need Rachel now.”
“On it.”
A few seconds later, Rachel answered. “Nate?”
“SAPD is searching my truck at the courthouse. They claim a drug dog reacted to it.”
Cold as Ice Page 5