“I don’t know much, but I’ll tell you everything I know.” Felicity motioned for Lucy to sit down. Lucy didn’t want to, but she did. Felicity sat across from her. “At approximately seven thirty this morning Sean was put on a transport bus with Jimmy Jay Hunt and two guards, heading to Beaumont. Hunt was here because he testified in a federal trial, on behalf of the state, with no promise that he would be given leniency in his own case.”
“Which is suspicious on its face.”
“It happens quite frequently. Especially when the defense will pull the ‘he’s lying because he’s getting ten years off his sentence’ or some such thing. The defendant is a hit man and won’t talk, even though he was offered twenty years if he gave up the person who hired him.”
“What did they need Hunt’s testimony for?”
“Tying two cases together, in San Antonio and Houston. Hunt testified that he hired the defendant in a cold case, and that case is linked to the Houston case and possibly others.”
“Hunt was probably given immunity for his part in hiring a hit man.”
“It’s still irrelevant,” Felicity said. “Hunt has life in prison in California on the conspiracy to murder a peace officer. There are federal charges pending. But this is all I know about the DEA case.”
It was fishy as far as Lucy was concerned—if only because it brought Hunt to Texas. To the same prison that Sean was in.
“Hunt was scheduled to be transported back to California on Monday. The only thing I know about the breakout I already told you. The FBI is taking over the investigation, and Houston PD is not happy about it.”
“FBI and the marshals,” Lucy said.
“Word gets around.”
“I need to know everything about the investigation into Mona Hill’s murder.”
“Banner isn’t going to tell us. I’m Sean’s lawyer.” She looked at her phone. “Damn, this is Garrett again. I have to talk to him.”
“Go.”
Felicity stepped out and Lucy called Nate. She told him everything she knew.
“I should be there,” he said. “This damn SAPD farce of an investigation.”
“That’s what the Hunts wanted, Nate. To keep you tied down. But they don’t know I have Patrick, and Kate’s on her way.”
“Maybe I should stay with Jesse.”
“You and Aggie find Brad and Elise. I trust Leo, and Elise could very well lead us to her father—and to Sean.”
“Are you okay?”
“No. I’m not okay because I know that Sean is in very real danger. They won’t let me anywhere near the search for Sean, but if I can get the Mona Hill files, I can prove he’s innocent of murder.”
As she spoke, the door opened. “Don’t be so sure of that.”
Lucy glanced up and saw Detective John Banner with a woman Lucy assumed was his partner based on the fact that she glared at Lucy as if she were the criminal, and she had a badge clipped to her belt.
“I have to go,” she said to Nate and ended the call.
She didn’t want to talk to them now, or ever. Her fear for Sean grew with each passing minute, but she was trapped at the jail, waiting for Patrick to return with answers, waiting for Felicity.
Banner said, “I have news about the transport.”
“And?” She wished she didn’t sound so desperate.
“One corrections officer dead, one wounded. The wounded officer gave his statement. I think you might want to come with me.”
“I’m fine here.” Dammit, where was Felicity?
Formally, Banner said, “We’re still conducting the investigation. The officer gave a statement before he went into the ambulance that a blowout—and he believes the tire was shot out—resulted in the bus being forced off the road. The radio was out, they couldn’t call for help, and the bus crashed as they exited. One prisoner had a key to unlock the shackles, and one prisoner had a gun that evidence suggests was taped under one of the seats. That prisoner shot and killed the driver. That prisoner was your husband.”
Lucy stood. She started toward the door and Banner blocked her way. Trapping her.
“I’m not done!” Banner said.
Lucy didn’t speak. She couldn’t. Sean would never kill a cop. He would never plan an escape like this.
“I can have you arrested as an accessory,” he said.
Lucy laughed, otherwise she would scream. He was baiting her. He wanted her to get angry, to yell at him, to “slip up” and incriminate her husband. To show fear.
And dear God, she was scared. If the cops thought that Sean had killed a cop, he was in danger from the authorities and from Hunt.
Felicity walked in through the door. “Move out of my way, Detective,” she said. She was the smallest person in the room but clearly commanded authority.
He stepped aside.
“Do not talk to Agent Kincaid,” she said.
“She’s not a suspect, I can talk to her. Or are you claiming spousal privilege?”
“She has spousal privilege,” Felicity snapped.
“She’s a sworn officer, she has a duty and obligation to report any crime she knows about even if it’s her husband who’s guilty.”
“Screw you, John,” Felicity said.
“He killed a cop!”
“Allegedly. Do you know who the other prisoner is?”
“That’s irrelevant.”
“Jimmy Jay Hunt. It’s more than relevant.”
Banner wasn’t swayed. “Officer Sheffield gave a statement that Rogan shot his partner in the head, so I don’t care if the other prisoner was Charles Manson, Rogan is a cop killer.”
“Do your homework, John, because there is something more than a little fishy about this entire thing.”
“I need to talk to Agent Kincaid. Are you representing her?”
“Our firm is, yes.”
“She might have relevant information about where her husband is. I will get a fucking warrant if I have to, but she needs to tell us what she knows.”
“And your warrant will be bullshit because the FBI has taken over this case, and you damn well know it.”
Banner fumed.
His partner said to Lucy, “Woman to woman, are you okay that your husband killed a prostitute? A prostitute he was having an affair with?”
Lucy couldn’t even think of a comment.
“You don’t have to remain silent, Agent Kincaid. You can do the right thing and help us. You worked in sex crimes. You know how this goes.”
“You’re out of line, Mendez,” Felicity snapped. “Move out of my way, or I’ll have you both written up for intimidation and harassing my client, and if you think I won’t, Banner, you don’t know me.”
“You’re on the wrong side of this one, Felicity.”
“Not this time, John.”
But he moved and Felicity grabbed Lucy’s arm and pulled her out of the room. She didn’t even see where Felicity was leading her until they reached the edge of the lobby and Felicity sat Lucy down on a bench.
“You’re pale. Are you okay?”
She nodded. “We need to investigate Sheffield. He was paid off or threatened. There has to be some way we can prove it.”
Felicity motioned for her to keep her voice down.
“You can’t do anything, Lucy. Haven’t you been listening? You already have a restraining order against you—”
“Which Elise set up. She knows I have to go to court on Monday. That means she knows when and where I will be at a specific time. They have Sean and he can’t even find help because he’s now considered a cop killer. The wrong cops get to him first, he’ll be beaten or dead and you know it!” She took a deep breath. She had to calm down, but this situation had long ago spiraled out of control.
She needed someone who understood the severity.
“Lucy, I talked to the FBI here in Houston. You need to give a statement. Just that you didn’t know anything about the escape, that you haven’t spoken to Sean since yesterday, the whole nine yards.”
/>
“They need to look into Sheffield. And into who authorized this transport in the first place. There’s no reason for Sean to have been sent to Beaumont. None!”
“I’m looking at your future, Lucy. You obstruct this investigation and you will kill your career.”
“You think I care? I don’t give a shit about my career when my husband has been kidnapped by a man who wants him dead.” Why didn’t Jimmy Hunt just kill him then and there? That didn’t make sense …
It always makes sense. There is a reason for this whole charade. What is Jimmy thinking?
“Oh, no. I know why he took Sean.” Lucy realized that it was a repeat of what had happened nearly two years ago. It was as clear as day. “He wants Sean to steal money for him.”
“Like a bank robbery?”
“Sean is a computer security expert. He can break into any secure system. He’s hired by governments and businesses to test their security. He legally hacks in and then writes programs to improve their security. That’s his job. And Hunt knows this. He could have Sean hack into any system electronically and steal the funds … then he’ll kill him. And Kane—that’s why Kane is missing. Maybe they have him already, to use as leverage. Then they’ll kill him, too.” She sounded crazy, like a conspiracy theorist, but she didn’t care because she knew she was right, or close to it. “They’ve had two years to plan this, and if I don’t stop it, they’ll win and I’ll lose everyone I care about.”
“Lucy, stop. Take a deep breath.”
Easy for her to say … but Felicity was right. Lucy had to reclaim her calm so that she could find Sean and get him back.
And if they had to run from the cops and from Jimmy Hunt for the rest of their lives, so be it.
Running forever was better than being dead.
Chapter Thirty
OUTSIDE NEW BRAUNFELS, TEXAS
Even though Nate trusted his SWAT team commander more than anyone else in the FBI, he was nervous about leaving Jesse with anyone. He loved the kid like the little brother he’d always wanted, and knew that Sean and Lucy were counting on Nate to protect him should the shit hit the fan.
But this was Leo—a former sniper in the Marines, one of Nate’s closest friends, and his superior on the FBI SWAT team. He was more than capable of protecting Jesse if necessary. Nate had given him a full security briefing about what was going on, and Leo took it seriously.
“You’re worried about Jesse,” Aggie said as they headed to where they believed the Merides brothers were now living.
“He’s my responsibility,” Nate said. “I feel like I’ve passed the buck.”
Lucy trusted Leo, too. But Nate still felt like he was the best at making sure that Sean’s son was safe.
“He’s a good kid. Smart,” Aggie said. “Do you really think that Elise and her people will go after him?”
“I think Elise can and will do anything she damn well wants,” Nate said. “Sean’s house is secure—but nothing is one hundred percent.”
Nate would never forgive himself if anything happened to Jesse.
“You’re good with him,” Aggie said.
Nate shrugged. “I like him.”
“It’s more than that.”
“Maybe.”
When Nate left the Army, he was lost. He hadn’t wanted to leave, but a series of events that culminated in his best friend getting blown away by a roadside bomb had Nate rethinking his life choices. His commanding officer—a man Nate respected more than anyone on the planet—urged Nate to take his years, his GI Bill, and become a cop. In college he was recruited by the FBI, but he often wondered if he should have stayed in the Army. He’d been lost Stateside for years … until he met the Rogans.
Sean wasn’t military, but he understood Nate’s mind-set, and with Sean came Kane Rogan and Lucy’s brother Jack. They, more than anyone, had helped him fully integrate back into civilian life. As much as soldiers-at-heart could be civilians. Nate embraced his SWAT duties, enjoyed the investigative work, and tolerated the paperwork necessary to close cases. Because of the Rogans and the Kincaids, Nate finally felt like he had a place, an anchor. When Sean learned he had a son, Nate de facto became one of Jesse’s uncles. Or a big brother. He would die for the kid.
“You want kids someday?” Aggie asked.
“No.”
Aggie seemed to want more of an answer, but Nate didn’t feel inclined to talk. Finally, she asked, “Why?”
“The world sucks.”
“I don’t think so.”
Nate shrugged. There were so many kids out there today who had nothing. No family, no hope. There was danger, heartbreak, and agony. Nate had lived it. He didn’t care to bring a child into the world to share in that pain.
“Did you have a shitty childhood?” she asked.
“No.”
She waited.
“And?”
“You’re nosy,” Nate said.
“Not really. But you’re like my brother Tommy. Also Army. One-word answers. But I can usually get him to talk.”
“Because you’re his annoying little sister, I’m sure.”
She laughed. “I can be.”
She wasn’t really prying, so Nate said, “My childhood was ordinary and quiet, I guess I’d say. My parents adopted me late in life. They had one kid themselves—my sister. She’s twelve years older than me. They couldn’t have more, were on a waiting list to adopt, got me when my mom was forty-two. I think they forgot they were still on the list; they really didn’t know what to do with me. They loved me and gave me everything I needed, I have no complaints.”
“Did you ever look for your birth parents?”
He didn’t like talking about it. But what could he say, that he didn’t want to talk about it? “My birth mom is dead. She was a teenage drug addict, didn’t know who my father was. I tracked her down when I was eighteen; she’d already been dead for years. Overdose.”
Thankfully, Aggie didn’t say anything about that. Didn’t suggest he get a DNA test. Nate didn’t want to meet his birth father. Didn’t care. His parents weren’t perfect, but they were solid, law-abiding, middle-class folks who cared about him, even if they didn’t quite know what to do with an active boy after raising a studious girl.
Aggie pulled off the highway just past New Braunfels, northeast of San Antonio. Late last night Aggie had tracked the mother to this house; odds were her two sons would be here as well.
Nate was uncomfortable with their plan, but Aggie was confident. She felt that they’d talk. The goal was to identify who else was with Mitts Vasquez when he stole the drugs. Nate was skeptical that they’d tell cops anything, but so far Aggie’s instincts had been solid.
He cleared his mind. He went back to his core training. He couldn’t think about the people he cared about; he had to focus on the potential threats. Protect his partner, gain intelligence. That was the goal.
It was still early; before nine. The property was ten acres, an old farmhouse barely standing up in the middle of a wide-open pasture. Nate was surprised it had withstood the storm last year. Perhaps some of the older homes were so well built they could survive anything, even if they looked like crap.
“I don’t like this,” Nate said. They had no cover.
“We approach this the way we discussed,” Aggie said.
“We need backup,” he mumbled.
“That’ll take hours to put together, and I don’t think Salter will go for it. I can’t always explain exactly how I reach my conclusions. People don’t see the same things I do in the data. But it’s there. Brad trusted my instincts, but it took me a while to prove myself.”
“Clearly not that long. You’ve only been on staff for eighteen months.”
She smiled and her light green eyes sparkled. “Being right is the best persuasion.”
“We do it your way—again,” Nate said. “And again—if I take over, don’t argue.”
“Never,” she said.
He grunted.
She’d been right y
esterday. Vasquez had shown up where she thought he’d show, based solely on her analysis of data that everyone else had access to, but didn’t interpret in the same way. That made Aggie Jensen very valuable to any agency she worked for.
But cockiness was dangerous.
They drove up the long, bumpy road to the house. It was a permanent trailer, raised several feet off the ground, which had probably saved it from the flood last year. The roof was patched in multiple places, and junk filled the carport—an old doorless refrigerator, three couches that should be burned, dead plants, a multitude of car parts. Five—no, seven—cars and trucks were in various states of disrepair in the open space next to the house. Two dogs barked and ran at them from behind the house. Aggie froze. Nate stepped in front of her. The dogs looked vicious, but they stopped several feet back, baring teeth. They didn’t attack.
Yet.
Nate kept his hand on the butt of his gun.
The dogs alerted the residents of their arrival. A small, skinny woman of indeterminate age—anywhere between forty and sixty—opened the screen. Her skin was tanned and weathered, making her appear like she’d seen everything and didn’t give a shit about anyone.
“Brutus! Carter! Quiet!”
The dogs growled, but surprisingly stopped barking.
“What do the cops want with me today?” the woman said.
“Rosa Merides?” Aggie said with an odd smile, unable to tear her eyes from the canines.
No answer. Of course not. She wouldn’t admit who she was even if there was a warrant—which there wasn’t; Aggie had checked. And she wouldn’t talk if Aggie didn’t get her bearings and forget about the mutts.
There was a warrant for one of her sons, but it was a failure to appear on a DUI, and Nate wasn’t going to ring the guy up for that—not if they shared the information they needed.
The dogs seemed to intimidate Aggie, and she wasn’t acting as confident as she normally did. Nate decided to run with her plan, but he took over the questioning.
“Mrs. Merides, I’m FBI Agent Nate Dunning, this is my partner. We’re not here to jam up you or your sons. We just need some information, then we’ll be out of your hair.”
She stared at them from the doorway. She didn’t come down to them; Nate didn’t make a move to approach her.
Cold as Ice Page 22