The Lost Girls

by Allison Brennan

  “Good, but that’s going to take time.”

  “I’m working on another angle. Pinpointing Jesse’s exact location.”

  “Short of a GPS chip, how?”

  Sean reached into his satchel and pulled out a photo that Kane’s contact in Acapulco gave them. “This is Jesse—he’s playing a handheld video game.”

  “Okay.”

  “It’s hard to tell which device, but most of the new devices have Wi-Fi. I hacked into the resort Wi-Fi system—not difficult at all, so if you need to pay your friend Nicco for his help, I can plug the holes with a little time and access.”

  “Access helps us more than the bad guys,” Kane said and left it at that.

  Sean continued. “Based on the time stamp of this photo, I backtraced Jesse’s device. The Wi-Fi system logs specific system information unique to that device, so once that device logs into the system, they don’t have to log in again.”

  “Okay.” Kane was sounding more skeptical. Kane was good with tech, though distrustful, but this was the one area where Sean was clearly superior.

  “Of course, I’ve rigged all my devices never to divulge any information, but most people don’t do that.” Sean almost smiled. “There are many Internet providers, but I figure Flores will want only the best. That leaves two in this area. They are a bit trickier to navigate—the firewall is much better here than at the resort. But if Jesse used his device at all, I will know.”

  “Wouldn’t Flores or Spade have him turn off the Wi-Fi?”

  “Possibly, but most adults don’t realize the capabilities of handheld video games. You can’t download a lot of data from the Internet, for example, because they don’t have the storage—the memory is primarily used to play the game and store game progress, but you still need a disk or chip to play. There’s no Internet browsing, for example—most are not designed like that. The one Jesse has, though a new model, is primarily for game playing—including multi-player games, on a limited scale.

  “But,” Sean continued, “even if he turns off the Wi-Fi, he has to open the device to turn it off, which means at one point the device pinged the Wi-Fi system, and that system is serviced by a provider.”

  “I think I got it.”

  “Good—because I’ve already started running my program, and we should have his location in a couple of hours.”

  “There’s a bigger issue here, Sean—getting him out. Even if we know exactly where he is—down to the room, and you can’t tell me your tech can pinpoint him to a ten-by-ten spot—we have to get to him, then convince him to leave quietly.”

  “That’s why I need to get him information. I can send him a note on his device—if he’s on it.”

  “Do it.”

  “And the secondary thing is that once I get the IP address for the wireless system, I can analyze the data and see how they run their security system—whether it’s dedicated or not. I suspect it’s a combination of both, but even taking out part of the system will help us.”

  “We need a diversion. If we can get Jesse out of the compound, it would be much easier to grab him.”

  “Flores will have what? Fifty men or so?”

  “Probably less.”

  Sean shook his head. He should laugh at the absurdity of Kane’s matter-of-fact tone, but he was exhausted.

  “I’m talking about a diversion he won’t expect. Let me think on it. I have a couple of ideas, but none that I’m confident we can survive.”

  “I need to check on the plane, then get some sleep.”

  “Say hi to Lucy for me.”

  * * *

  Lucy was familiar with death. She’d seen it close up—when she was younger, knowing her cousin and best friend Justin was in a coffin at the front of the church the day of his funeral; when she was eighteen and killed her rapist; when she worked in the morgue and saw the dead every day. And now, on the job, she saw the dead.

  But this case … it was different than others.

  She’d been able to put Jane Doe out of her head when she was in the office with Zach and Noah, talking about shell corporations and property management and legal issues for possible warrants. It helped focus her on the present. But now, as she lay in bed after midnight, she only saw Jane Doe’s corpse and the swollen stomach where her baby had once grown.

  Jane Doe had died for no reason other than someone had wanted her baby. She could have survived if they’d taken her to the hospital, given her emergency medical care. It was the absolutely senselessness of her death that disturbed Lucy. She should have survived.

  But she’d died in childbirth because of the cruelty of those who had her. Then two bullets in the head. Dismissed. Tossed in the garbage. Her son taken. Why? To be sold? To be used? Did that baby have anyone to love him? Did he have a bright future, or was it as bleak as his mother’s?

  Lucy wanted to believe that someone misguided but desperate for a child would raise the premature little boy who’d been born so violently; but she knew from her experience and training that there were other, darker purposes for children.

  She closed her eyes and bit back a cry.

  No.

  She wouldn’t go there, she couldn’t and survive. Not now, in the middle of the night, when nightmares were par for the course, followed by insomnia and the overwhelming sense of hopelessness. She’d thought she’d gotten past all that, but after she rescued a group of foster boys who’d been brutalized and used as mules by the drug cartels, the nightmares returned about the ones she couldn’t save.

  She got up, desperately needing sleep, but mostly needing to clear her mind. It was midnight, but she swam in her pool, thirty hard laps, back and forth, until her muscles ached and her lungs burned. Then she turned and floated on her back, gently pushing herself along. Back and forth. Clearing her mind, focusing on the stars in the sky, the pin lights Sean had put in the trees. She loved her house, but especially the backyard, where she and Sean spent so much time sitting and relaxing. There were balconies and a covered patio outside the poolhouse. They had a small garden, trees and flowers, and of course the pool. Lucy loved swimming, and the pool was large and mostly rectangular so she could swim laps.

  Sometimes, she never wanted to leave. She’d been only half joking when she told Sean that they should tell everyone they were going away for their honeymoon, but come back here and stay locked inside for a week, no interruptions, no work, just them.

  Paradise.

  Finally, she knew she was tired enough to sleep. She climbed out of the pool, went back inside, set the alarm, and took a quick shower to rinse off the chlorine. When she stepped out, her phone was ringing.

  Sean.

  He was Skyping her, so she accepted the call and smiled when his handsome face came on screen.

  “Hello, princess. Did you just get home?”

  “About ten. But I couldn’t sleep, so I went swimming.”

  “I wish I were there,” he said wistfully.

  “Me, too.”

  Sean’s face froze.

  “Are you there?” she asked.

  “Yes, the connection is poor. Sorry.” Suddenly the screen went black. He said, “I cut off video—we’re camping out tonight in the middle of nowhere.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  “About as we expected. You sound tired.”

  “It’s been a long couple of days.”

  “Do you have any leads?”

  “You know how these people operate. You’d be proud of Zach—he’s really learned how to weed through the information and pull out nuggets.”

  “The apprentice becomes the master.”

  She laughed. God, it felt good to laugh. “He did so well, Noah thinks he can get a warrant for the property management company. It might not yield anything, but if we can get a complete list of their clients and properties, we might be able to find the women and babies.”

  “If you need any help—if Zach needs help—you know I’ll be there.”

  “Dean Hooper from Sacramento is
helping. Noah didn’t say it explicitly, but I think Hooper is coming to San Antonio.”

  “He’s brilliant. And I don’t say that lightly.”

  “Hooper suggested to Noah that he bring you in, so I think Noah would be receptive to your help—but you need to find that little boy first.”

  “Yeah…” His voice trailed off, and Lucy thought she’d lost him.

  “Sean?”

  “Here. We know where he is, but it’s complicated.”

  “You sound frustrated.”

  “I am. It’s complicated,” he repeated.

  “Talk to me.”

  “I want to—I just…” again, he didn’t say anything.

  “I understand, Sean.”

  “We’re close. But Spade took his son into a dangerous situation. Spade is working for a drug cartel. Madison said he’s an accountant, and that’s true, but he’s also a lawyer. I don’t know how deep his involvement goes, and if it’ll even be possible to extract him. I just want the kid.”

  “He took his son into that situation?”

  “The kid could be leverage they’re using on Spade.”

  “You don’t sound like you believe that.”

  “I don’t. I don’t know what to think right now, but the information we’ve put together tells me that Spade is a willing and proactive partner in whatever is going on.” He paused so long that Lucy thought they’d been disconnected.

  “Lucy?”

  “Right here. I thought I lost you.”

  “I love you, and I wish I could be there right now to talk to you. I have a lot to explain…”

  “I’m listening.”

  “I—not on the phone.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. I’ll be fine. There’s just a lot going on and I wish I were there so we could talk about it.”

  “I’m always here for you.” She paused. “Sean—that’s not true. There have been times when I have been so preoccupied with my problems and my job that I forget that you have work that is just as difficult and troublesome. You have always been here for me—and I love you for it. You know that you can talk to me about anything.”

  “I know I can, Luce—I love you so much. I—I gotta go. We’re getting up early, and I need to set up a security trace program on Jesse’s game system.”

  “You’re the best, right?”

  “Right. Love you.” He hung up before Lucy could say another word.

  She closed her laptop and turned off the light, but it was a long time before she fell to sleep.

  Something was going on with Sean, and she wished she were there to help him.

  * * *

  Sean resisted the urge to hit something—anything. He needed to tell Lucy about Jesse … but how could he do it over the phone? How could he just tell her, Hey, Lucy, I have a kid.

  She needed to know, and he regretted not telling her before he left San Antonio. Why hadn’t he? What was he so scared of? That she wouldn’t understand? Of course she’d understand! Lucy was the most supportive person he knew. She would always be there for him, just like she said.

  But … he hated that he couldn’t talk about this with her now, about how twisted his gut was knowing that his own son didn’t know about him.

  Call her back.

  No way in hell could he tell her now. He needed to be able to touch her, hold her, talk about it without poor connections. He needed to see her face, answer her questions, show her how much he loved her.

  And in the back of his mind he feared that maybe Lucy wouldn’t understand. That she wouldn’t forgive him. That she wouldn’t tell him what she really felt.

  I can’t have children …

  He knew, deep down, that Lucy’s inability to conceive was a burden she lived with every day. He hadn’t really understood the pain until after her nephew was born and he saw the anguish in her eyes when she looked at the baby. He’d convinced her that he didn’t love her less—how could he? She was everything to him. But he knew Lucy better than anyone, knew how she internalized her emotions, how she ached and survived.

  What do you really fear?

  He didn’t know. Dammit, he didn’t want her to think she was somehow … less because he had a kid with another woman. It wasn’t like he planned it or knew about it. It had happened, and now he was dealing with the truth twelve years later.

  It would be okay. It had to be okay. Lucy would understand. Sean would show her and tell her how much he loved her, and she would understand that he really didn’t have a chance to tell her about Jesse before he left, and that telling her over the phone wasn’t an option.

  It simply wasn’t an option.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Lucy woke up at dawn. Four hours of sleep. Hardly enough after the last two days, but better than when insomnia plagued her three months ago.

  She considered an early-morning swim, but after last night’s exercise, she was still physically tired. She went downstairs to Sean’s gym and jogged on the treadmill for three miles, working out the kinks and tight muscles, then ran hard for two miles. It helped. By the time she was done, she was starving. She hadn’t gone to the store, but a few weeks ago she’d stuck some homemade tamales in the freezer. Who said tamales weren’t for breakfast?

  She popped them in the oven and went upstairs to shower and dress. By the time she was done, so were the tamales, and she ate two of the three with her morning coffee while reading her email. Carina had sent a message the night before with photos of John Patrick and a note that she and her husband, Nick, would come out a week before the wedding and couldn’t wait to see her, Sean, and the house. Which was good, because Sean and Carina hadn’t hit it off when they first met. Mostly, Lucy couldn’t wait to spend time with her nephew. He’d be nearly five months old by then.

  Lucy cleaned up the kitchen, then went upstairs to put on a little makeup, braid her hair, and grab her gun and blazer. She was slipping on her low-heeled boots when the doorbell rang.

  Out of habit, she checked the security screen Sean had installed in their bedroom. An attractive blonde stood there, well dressed and obviously upset or angry about something. A neighbor? Maybe. Lucy knew the neighbors to the north, an older retired couple who’d lived in the neighborhood for nearly forty years. Didn’t Sean mention a female lawyer across the street? She’d referred a job for Sean at a bank or something.

  Lucy went downstairs, cautious but not suspicious. She didn’t like always assuming the worst when something unexpected happened. People knocked on doors all the time.

  She opened the door. “May I help you?”

  “I need to talk to Sean.”

  “And you are?”

  She hesitated, just a minute, before saying, “Madison Spade.”

  Spade. Sean’s ex-girlfriend who’d hired him to find her son and husband. She must be beside herself, and if Sean was deep in the case he might not have had a chance to call. Lucy understood how frustrating that could be. And worrisome.

  “Come in,” Lucy said. “I’m Lucy Kincaid, Sean’s fiancée. Can I get you some coffee?”

  She seemed surprised at Lucy’s offer. “No, but thank you. I need to talk to Sean and he’s not returning my calls.”

  Lucy led Madison into the living room and motioned for her to take a seat. The woman didn’t, but Lucy did to make her feel more comfortable. Madison sat a moment later.

  “I have to talk to him now.”

  “I’m sure he told you that when he’s working, there are times he can’t call—it may not be safe, he may not have new information. I can assure you that Sean knows what he’s doing. Both he and Kane have done this many times.”

  “But I told him yesterday not to go!”

  Lucy was confused. “Why?”

  “Carson called me. I spoke to him. I talked to my son. They’re fine. They’ll be home Friday. Sean should never have gone down there!”

  Something odd was going on. “You need to trust that Sean knows what he’s doing.”

  “He hate
s me. That’s why he’s doing this.”

  “He doesn’t hate you, Madison.” Lucy was generally very good at reading people, but she was the first to admit that complex relationships weren’t her specialty.

  “And you’re being so nice to me. You must be a saint.”

  “No, but I trust Sean. Could it be he thought your husband was still in trouble? Called you in order to protect you? Sean is good at getting information, maybe your husband was forced to call.”

  “No, no, that’s not it.” But Madison didn’t look at her. There was definitely something more to whatever was going on. “Sean went because of Jesse. I should never have come here. I was just so worried … and now my entire life is a mess.”

  “You’re scared. I understand. But your life isn’t a mess. Sean and Kane are the best in this business, they will bring back your husband and son, safe.” Lucy paused, not sure how much she should say. And she was beginning to worry about Sean as well. They’d spoken last night, and he’d sounded preoccupied, but she expected that. “Sean mentioned your husband may have gotten involved with a shady business deal.” That seemed a delicate way to broach it. “Could he have found out that you hired someone to find him? Maybe that’s why he called, because he doesn’t want anyone knowing where he is until he, well, completes his business. But anytime there are … less-than-legal business arrangements, everyone is at risk. Sean isn’t going to be concerned about what your husband is doing as much as making sure your family is back, safe.”

  Madison stared at Lucy. “You really don’t know Sean, do you?” She stood up and started pacing. “He’s doing this as payback. I told him to stand down, and he won’t because he’s stubborn and angry. He’s going to make me pay because of one little secret, one stupid mistake. I will not lose my son to him. He has no legal recourse to take him from me. You have got to talk to him, tell him to leave this alone and forget I ever came here. If he ever once cared for me … please … my husband’s life—my son’s life—depends on it. Please. I’m begging you, Lucy.”

  Lucy might have been naive about interpersonal relationships, but not this. It was as clear as glass.

  “I will talk to him,” Lucy heard herself saying as she stood up. The room faded around her, and all she saw was a long tunnel. It was like she was swimming through molasses as she walked Madison to the door. “That is all I can promise.”