Andie had the foul mouth in the Walsh clan.
Siobhan sat down and waited. Eric was habitually late, so she wasn’t worried or surprised when he finally came in twenty minutes after he said he’d be there. She had finished her croissant and was nearly done with her coffee.
“You should have warned me about your friends,” Eric said.
“Good to see you again, Eric.”
He grinned. “Sorry. You know me.”
“I do, which is why I’ll cut you some slack. But I didn’t know they were going to talk to you. I showed them your article, they followed up. It’s important.”
“Would you have told me they were coming?”
“Not if I thought you’d disappear.” She took his hands. “Eric, this is serious. Marisol and Ana were my friends. Their mother was my friend. I have to find them.”
“I know, sugar, I’ve done everything I can—you know that. But the feds? Really?”
“There’s a newborn baby without her mother. Her mother is either Mari or Ana. And now there’s another girl, dead, her baby stolen from her womb. This is bigger than us, Eric. Stop—I see your wheels turning. You want a story, and I’ll give you a huge story, but don’t blow this. Mari and Ana’s lives are in danger.”
“I’m not, but—”
“No buts. You wanted to meet with me.”
“No feds. You gotta shake them.”
“I’m not promising you that.”
“Dammit, did you know that the girl fed is Jack Kincaid’s sister? Jack hates me.”
“I’m sure Jack barely remembers the time when you nearly got him and his team killed,” she said sarcastically.
“I didn’t know the information was embargoed.”
She wasn’t certain she believed him. She wanted to … but this was Eric. “Eric—that was then. Let’s focus on now. If there is a human trafficking ring targeting pregnant immigrants and stealing their babies, we have to stop them. I’m not here because of my job; I’m here because I fear for their lives.”
“Word is that your fed friends made a lot of people nervous in Del Rio. Everyone is laying low. But I have an address. Just … be discreet about this, okay? If the feds come out in force, you’re not going to get anything from these people.” He slid over a folded piece of paper. “This is a midwife who may have information. But I guarantee she will not talk to Kincaid and Armstrong. You talk to her, see what she knows.”
Now Siobhan was skeptical. “Why would you give this to me and not pursue it yourself? Since you think there’s a story here.”
“Because, like you said, this is bigger than the story. You find Mari and Ana, I’ll get the story, I know that. I trust you, Siobhan. You’re probably the only one.” He paused, leaned forward. “I heard about the girl in the morgue. Word’s spread on the streets. You don’t like my tactics, but people here trust me because I’ve never burned the little guy. Don’t ruin that for me. It’s my best source of information.”
Siobhan didn’t always like it, but she understood. “I can be discreet. But, Eric—don’t burn Lucy and Noah. They care, they’re good cops. If you burn them, I’ll never work with you again.”
Eric shook his head and shot her a smile. “You think I’m going to burn a Kincaid who’s marrying a Rogan? Hell no, I’m not going to touch her, I promise.”
Siobhan wanted to believe him.
* * *
Lucy was fifteen minutes late to meet Noah that morning and it was clear that he was irritated. “Let’s go,” he said as soon as she walked in. “Dunning.”
“Sorry,” she mumbled.
He glanced at her. “It’s been a long couple of days, but you should have let me know you were running late. I would have understood.”
She didn’t say anything. He was right. Lucy had been late because she’d sent Sean a message to call her when he had a chance … he’d responded by text that he would, just didn’t know when. She’d then told him his client had come by the house and Lucy had information to share.
Then nothing. Nothing.
She was alternately worried about Sean’s safety and angry that he didn’t respond.
She’d been so blindsided by Madison Spade coming to her house and dropping the bombshell that Jesse was Sean’s son that she didn’t even think about calling headquarters. It hadn’t been intentional—Madison thought that Lucy already knew. Didn’t make the news any less shocking.
What’s shocking is that Sean didn’t tell you.
They’d promised no secrets, they’d promised to be honest with each other. After what happened in June when Sean risked his life to find a wanted fugitive who had already killed several cops—without telling her first—he’d promised not to put her in that situation again. He wanted to protect her, but in his attempt to keep her from worrying, she stressed that much more. Not knowing was worse.
She, too, had a hard time telling Sean what was bothering her, but she’d worked hard to overcome her insecurities and fears. He helped her, and she knew he wanted to share in the good and the bad.
But this was different. Why wouldn’t he have told her? What could he have been thinking? That she would be angry with him? For something he didn’t know? Or that she would be upset? That she would blame him for not being there? He couldn’t have known—that wasn’t something he would have ever kept from her, not for the two years they’d been together.
Why? Why? Did he not think she could handle the news? That she would fall apart or something? Yes, she was upset—because Sean kept something so important, so personal, from her.
Madison had met with Sean on Monday … she’d come home late, but they’d had a late dinner, they’d showered together, they’d made love … he could have told her. Any number of times that night. The next morning.
And he hadn’t.
She almost didn’t notice that Nate had followed her and Noah out of the FBI building. She glanced back and almost asked why, when she remembered hearing Noah call for Dunning. Nate gave her an odd, questioning look. She smiled at him, though it felt unreal. She had no joy inside, nothing. Nate and Sean were close, and if Nate thought something was bothering her, he might talk to Sean about it. That was the last thing she needed.
She had to get her head in the investigation. She couldn’t let her personal problems interfere with her job.
Noah tossed Nate the keys, and Lucy climbed into the backseat. “I asked Nate to join us because I don’t know what to expect,” Noah said. “We’re going to the property management first. I have a warrant for limited records—got a friendly judge who liked the argument you put together, Lucy.”
“Me?” She barely remembered the conversation.
“Zach came through—he was able to connect the business that owned the brothel property with the business that owns the property outside Freer. I used that to get the AUSA to push a judge—the lawyer didn’t want to do it, but I can be persuasive. We can ask for files of all properties managed by the company that are owned by those two businesses, lists of tenants, rents paid or owed, and contact information for the businesses. The management company needs to communicate with them somehow. Zach pulled ownership records—we know the brothel property was bought four years ago from a bank while it was in foreclosure, and shortly after Barrow’s article came out it was sold to another business—could still be owned by the same people, just trying to clean the slate. The Freer property was bought six months ago from an estate—the original owner had lived in the place for forty-two years, died, and his lone heir sold it on the cheap after it had been on the market for nearly two years.”
“Zach has been busy.”
Nate drove in silence. Lucy looked at he phone, checked her email. It was what she didn’t see that hurt—no message from Sean.
Noah got on the phone, and it took Lucy several minutes to realize he was talking to Rick Stockton. When he hung up, he said to Nate and Lucy, “We have the clear to interview Lance Dobleman. Nate, let’s go there first. It’s early, I want to shake h
im up. I’m going to get two agents to follow him.” He got back on the phone. Lucy heard him ask for Abigail Durant, the ASAC who oversaw three units, including the Violent Crimes Squad.
Smart. If they shook him up, a tail may lead them to Jasmine … or to the missing girls.
* * *
By the tone of the conversation, Noah didn’t get the answer he wanted. “Abigail, there is no reason Agent Cook can’t handle a simple field assignment. Follow, do not engage.” Elizabeth Cook, the agent on their squad who didn’t work in the field. The one Juan never assigned to partner with anyone because she handled internal research and the occasional background check.
A moment later Noah said, “Abigail, I need two agents to tail a suspect for at least twenty-four hours, up to seventy-two hours … Cook is the only one who isn’t assigned to a priority case, and she can go out with one of your … I understand, but … You have my assignment report in your inbox.” He listened for a long minute, then said, “We’ll discuss this later, Abigail … since you brought it up, yes, I think it’s a major issue. Juan is well respected, I am the interloper from HQ.” Again, silence. “Honestly, this may sound callous, but I don’t care. I needed all hands this week and keeping a senior agent at her desk wasn’t going to cut it … Yes … No … I’m happy to meet later this afternoon, but you’ll have to give me some flexibility because I don’t know how long I’ll be out … Kincaid and Dunning … Yes, I’m aware. I’ll take any heat if there’s a problem, but I need two agents … Fine, I’ll send you the details, you send whoever you want.”
He hung up. If he could have slammed down the phone, he would have.
“Rick fucking owes me a bottle of twenty-year Scotch,” Noah muttered.
Noah rarely, if ever, swore, so Lucy kept her comments to herself.
Nate didn’t. “I thought you knew Agent Cook didn’t work in the field.”
“Juan told me,” Noah said. “Active special agents assigned to field offices are required to work in the field. No exceptions.”
He didn’t say anything more, and Lucy wished she knew what Agent Cook’s story was, why Juan let her work only from her desk, and why Noah was pushing it when he was the temporary SSA. She glanced at Nate—he didn’t press the conversation, but he clearly knew more of what was going on than she did.
Noah said, “Though you’re both rookies, you’re going to partner for the duration of this case—at least until I can get freed up. There’s no one else, and I can’t send an agent back to Laredo solo.”
Nate turned into the entrance for a gated community. He didn’t say anything as he rolled down his window and showed his badge and identification.
The guard hesitated a moment. He was young. “Can I have the address you’re visiting?”
Nate shook his head.
“I, um, I’m supposed to log every visitor.”
“Special Agent Nate Dunning,” Nate said. He handed the guard his FBI card. “If your boss has a problem, he can call me.”
Again, the young guard hesitated, but he took the card and pressed a button. The gate slid open.
Nate drove through before it was completely open. “If they want to intimidate would-be visitors, they should get someone who looks like he already graduated from high school.”
The gated community north of I-10 had winding roads, great views of the city, and tree-lined streets. It would be a nice place to live, Lucy thought, though it was clear the neighborhood was relatively new, likely less than ten years old. The developer had done a good job working the custom homes around the existing trees, giving it an older feeling.
Less than two minutes later Nate stopped in front of a large, sprawling two-story home at the end of a cul-de-sac. No cars were on the street or driveway, but an attached four-car garage was behind the house.
Noah said to Nate, “Keep an eye on things.”
“Yes, sir.”
Noah glanced at him oddly. “Sir?”
“Habit.”
Noah shook his head but he was smiling.
Lucy and Noah walked up to the front door. Lucy rang the bell and stepped back. Noah was surveying their surroundings. “Security cameras,” Noah said.
The door opened two inches. It was on a security chain. A petite Asian woman stood there. “Hello?” she asked with a heavy accent.
Lucy showed her badge and ID and said, “Special Agents Lucy Kincaid and Noah Armstrong. Is Lance Dobleman here?”
The woman stared at her oddly. “English not good.”
“Is Lance Dobleman your husband?”
She hesitated, then nodded. She said something in what Lucy thought was Chinese, but she’d never studied the Far East languages. She was fluent in Spanish and French, had a basic understand of German, Italian, and Portuguese, but the Eastern languages were far different than the Germanic languages. She wouldn’t even know how to communicate.
“Is Lance home?” Lucy gestured to the house. She pointed to herself then at the door. “May we come in?”
The woman shook her head.
“What’s your name? I’m Lucy, you are…?”
“Soon Li.”
“Soon Li Dobleman?”
She nodded.
“We need to talk to your husband.”
“Not home.”
“When will your husband be home?”
“Don’t know.” She said something else in Chinese, then said, “I need go.”
Noah handed Soon Li his card. “Tell Lance to call me.”
Soon Li’s hands shook as she took Noah’s card.
“Do you know when he’ll be home?” Lucy asked.
“He’s not here.”
“You said that,” Lucy said. “When? When will he be here?”
She looked confused for a moment. “I don’t know. Monday.”
“He’s gone until Monday?”
She made motions with her hands as if she was frustrated she couldn’t think of the words.
“He was supposed to be home Monday?”
“Left Monday, not come home.”
“Have you talked to him?” Lucy put her hand to her ear to mimic a phone. “Did he call you?”
She shook her head. “Business. Don’t know. Business trip. No calls.”
“Do you have a number I can call him at? It’s very important.”
Soon Li narrowed her eyes then shook her head. “No call, no number. I go now.” She closed the door.
“She damn well has his number,” Noah muttered.
They walked back to the car. “He left on Monday and hasn’t returned or talked to his wife. We know he was in Freer on Sunday night. She seemed like she’d expected him, but he didn’t return.”
“He may know we’re looking for him.”
They got back into the car. Noah watched the house for a few minutes.
Lucy said, “Siobhan’s SD card was stolen from her camera. That means that all the photos we have, they could have.”
“Who is they, Lucy?”
She didn’t know if he was being rhetorical or not. His tone was odd. “Siobhan thought that someone with access to her rental car took the SD card from her camera. That would mean either the deputy who arrested her, the teenager who chased her from the house, or someone they called. Dobleman was there, he could have easily returned, pulled the SD card, realized he could be identified.”
“Why not grab the whole camera?” Noah asked.
“They did,” Lucy reminded him. “Later that night, with her computer.”
“Why not take the camera from her car?”
Lucy didn’t know.
“Maybe they were tracking her,” Nate suggested. “Didn’t know where she was staying. Once they did, they grabbed everything.”
“We have to assume they know what we know—who we have on camera, the connection between Siobhan and the de la Rosa sisters.”
“That’s a big leap,” Noah said, but from his expression he was considering it.
“They dropped all charges against Siobhan,”
Lucy said. “It wasn’t even us being there; they had made that decision before we arrived. Maybe it was because of Rick’s call … or maybe because they were worried that federal attention would get them in trouble. Maybe it’s all Deputy Jackson, and he admitted to fondling Siobhan and inciting her to hit him.”
“Logical. And the sheriff did seem upset with her deputy, and apologetic.”
“A guy like that must have other complaints against him,” Lucy said, “or when they realized Siobhan was a photojournalist, they didn’t want the bad press.”
“Dobleman is an obvious ID,” Noah said. “He has a military record, and anyone with half a brain would know we’d have access to basic military records. He could be laying low. Or simply working for Jasmine and unable or unwilling to come home.” Noah nodded to Nate. “I want to talk to that security guard at the gate.”
The guard had no information because they didn’t log when residents came or left. He agreed to call Noah when Dobleman came home and to tell the other guards, but they couldn’t count on that information, or that one of the guards wouldn’t give Dobleman a heads-up that the FBI was looking for him. Plus, once Dobleman came home and saw Noah’s card he might bolt.
Or not. Because what did they really have on him? Nothing. He didn’t have to talk to them and they had no reason to arrest him. Yet.
Noah got back on the phone and asked Zach to work with ICE on the immigration status of Soon Li Dobleman—if they were in fact married—as well as if she had a job, when she arrived in the country, and if there were any flags.
Nate drove to the property management company atop a high-rise in downtown San Antonio not far from the Riverwalk. But once they got up to the twelfth floor they realized that the office was a small one-room suite. A young woman who looked more like a model than a receptionist, with blond hair swept up into a chignon and an impeccably fitted black suit and white blouse, said, “May I help you?”
Noah flashed his identification and handed her a copy of the warrant. “We would like all files related to those two properties.”
She didn’t appear flustered by three FBI agents coming in with a search warrant.
The Lost Girls Page 22
