Hans turned to Nate. “Agent Dunning, would you mind giving Lucy and me a minute?”
“Of course.” He stepped outside.
“Is something wrong?” Lucy asked.
“No. You trust him.”
“Yes. Nate is Sean’s closest friend here.”
“I didn’t know that, but I suppose it’s obvious.”
“Obvious?”
“Sean would never have left town if he didn’t think you were safe.”
“Nate was special forces.”
“I know. I wasn’t lying when I said I read his file.”
“Oh.” She bit her lip. “Hans—why do I think you’re trying to tell me something? Can you just spill it?”
“I read your report last night, the one you sent to Abigail Durant. It was good. Brief, to the point, and like I said earlier, you shared some of your opinion—I want more.”
“It’s nothing I can prove.”
“In profiling, proving something is an art, not a science. We’re talking about human beings. No humans can be put into a neat box.”
She didn’t know what he wanted from her.
Hans continued, “I don’t see the connection between Nicole Rollins and Elise Hansen, and why you believe you’ll gain anything from this conversation.”
“It’s a theory.”
“I want your theory.”
“I think…” She hesitated. For years she’d hedged and second-guessed herself, not trusting her own instincts, always deferring to those with more experience. And she still did that. But when it came to predators—of any kind—she had a sixth sense that she couldn’t ignore.
She said, “Nicole Rollins is in charge. I wrote that she was working with Tobias and was possibly his lover, someone he trusted. But after watching the video of her killing a low-life drug dealer, I think she’s too arrogant and too smart to take orders. At the minimum, she and Tobias are equal partners. He must have orchestrated her escape—or implemented a plan she came up with as a contingency. She couldn’t do it on her own, and the marshals haven’t found any record that her lawyer was passing information—though I think he certainly was the go-between, whether or not he knew it.”
“Go on,” Hans said when she paused for a minute.
“Kane called us last night, said a man named Joseph put a bounty on Kane’s head. Joseph must be Joseph Contreras, the man we suspect of killing Congresswoman Reyes-Worthington, the man we suspect was working for Tobias to keep her in line. There’s almost nothing on him. Maybe he falsified his records, or used a different name and Social, or something, but it’s like he doesn’t exist except as a tax record. We’re looking out of state, but it’s going to take time.”
“Nicole moved to LA when she was young.”
“Yes.”
“Look there. You’re already looking into her father’s murder, we should look deeper—broader—than that.”
She should have seen that. Dammit, she’d missed the background. “Of course.”
“I have a contact in LA, she used to work out of BSU until budget cuts. Now she’s one of the two SSAs of Violent Crimes out of the main LA headquarters.”
“That would be very helpful.” One thing Lucy detested about working for the federal government was the bureaucracy. She could request all the information and help she wanted, but getting people to act on it quickly was hit or miss. Having an internal contact in the right office could save them days of waiting.
“How does Elise Hansen fit in?” Hans asked.
“That’s the question I’ve been asking myself for two weeks. Tobias is no younger than forty. Elise is sixteen. Brother and sister? Possible, but unlikely. Father and daughter? Maybe. But that doesn’t feel right to me. How Elise talked about him as a brother fits better. Could be they’re cousins or related in another way, or perhaps Elise is the daughter of someone Tobias is close to. Elise has prostituted herself, but she’s not a traditional hooker. For her, sex is a tool, a means to an end. Elise didn’t talk about Tobias in a sexual way. It could be that Tobias took Elise under his wing, in some sort of crude protective brotherly way, honing her already psychopathic tendencies to serve his needs. Elise has no respect for men, and I can’t exclude Tobias from that assessment. Yet … she has a nonsexual affection for him, even though I don’t see her bonding with anyone. If we shut down Tobias, found Nicole and took out their entire operation, Elise would survive without any sense of loss.” She rubbed her temples, feeling a headache building. “I need to figure it out. This doesn’t make sense yet. I’m missing information, but it’s critical information.”
“And we have no information about where Elise was prior to DC?”
Lucy shook her head. “She had several identification cards from Nevada and the Las Vegas office determined that they were all fake. And after her story of being in foster care, we pulled her name and all her aliases—nothing matches.”
Lucy feared that Elise would win in the end. There was little evidence that refuted her statement that she was terrified and threatened and thought she had no choice. Just because there was no record of her in Nevada or elsewhere wasn’t proof that she was lying. Lucy didn’t know much of what Elise had said to the shrinks, but her hearing was tomorrow and if she played the psychiatrist like Lucy thought she would, Dr. Oakley would say anything that Elise wanted her to.
Because of the circumstances, Elise would never be released without some sort of monitoring, but she wouldn’t be hindered by rules or threats. She was used to disappearing, and she would walk away without hesitation. If Tobias was truly involved—if he was her family, blood or not—then he had the money to help her disappear.
“She refuses to tell us her real name and where she was born. There should be a record of her in foster care, but we can’t check if she keeps lying.”
“Refuses out of fear?”
“No. She’s not scared, Hans. She’s sixteen years old and a cold-blooded killer. I know it.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Sean landed his Cessna on the small, rough airstrip at Jack Kincaid’s expansive property outside Hidalgo, Texas. It was a nearly four-hour drive from San Antonio, but only fifty-three minutes from takeoff to landing in Sean’s plane. By the time he’d taxied into the barn that was used primarily as hangar, Blitz had driven out to meet him. The airstrip was nearly a mile from Jack’s house, which sat in the middle of two hundred acres of flat desert.
Sean shook Blitz’s hand, then jumped into the truck. “Any word?”
Blitz shook his head. “I shouldn’t have left him.”
“You followed orders. I know Kane; he didn’t give you an option.”
“I was about to go back to Santiago when Jack called and said you were on your way. I’m going with you.”
“Good. I don’t know that area well.”
“None of us does. We don’t have any contacts there, our closest safe house is an hour away, outside Saltillo. That’s where Kane would go if he was injured or lost communication.”
If he was able, Sean thought.
“Jack said you lost a man.”
“Gomez. New guy. Didn’t see the knife. None of us did before it was too late.” He paused. “First we’ve lost in four years.”
“Do you have a plan?”
“Jack and I have been working it out.” He stopped under the carport next to Jack’s small ranch house. “Jack’s on his way to San Antonio, told me to tell you.”
“I didn’t leave Lucy without backup.”
“I know, but, well, you know.”
Lucy was Jack’s little sister. Of course Sean understood. He hadn’t wanted to leave her, either. And while he trusted Nate, he was relieved Jack was coming down.
“What’s the plan?”
“Fly to the closest safe house. Its cover is legit—Sisters of Mercy. They’ll know what we’re dealing with, give us a direction to start.”
“I know how to find him. I’m not going to waste time going an hour out of our way.” Blitz looked at him, s
keptical, so Sean explained. “After we took out Trejo’s compound three months ago, I reprogrammed Kane’s watch as a quasi-GPS.”
“How the hell? He never takes it off.”
“He didn’t have to. Once I got the serial number, I was able to hack in remotely. There’s a downside—the watch synchronizes automatically every twelve hours, midnight and noon Central Time. I won’t know where he is until noon. And it’ll just give me a snapshot; if he moves after that, I won’t be able to track him on the fly.” Yet. He was working on it, but it meant hacking a satellite instead of a simple computerized watch. Extremely illegal, and while within his skill set, there was a greater chance of being caught. He was working on the not getting caught part.
Blitz said, “We have ninety-six minutes.”
“It’ll take us an hour to get to Santiago, maybe a little longer depending on if I have to elude radar. The Nicole Rollins escape increased border patrols, both surface and air.”
“Then let’s go. I’ll just grab my equipment.”
Sean followed Blitz into the house. The last time he’d been here had been with the boys they’d rescued—he still ached inside. Though he’d hired private security to watch the boys’ home, he wished he could be there himself. He wished he could be at Lucy’s side. Too many things were happening all at once.
But now, finding Kane was the priority.
Siobhan Walsh was sitting on the couch drinking tea. She wore a tank top, and bruises covered her fair skin. An ugly bruise blackened one eye. They’d beaten her. No wonder Kane stayed to track the survivor. Not only for information, but for retribution.
“Oh my God, it’s Sean!” She jumped up, then winced.
“Sit down,” a familiar voice said.
Father Frances Cardenas—known as Padre—was Jack Kincaid’s closest friend and former army buddy. He crossed the room and eased Siobhan back onto the couch.
“Two cracked ribs,” Padre said. “I had a doctor in to tape her up, but she doesn’t sit still.” He gave her a stern but affectionate look.
Sean walked over and kissed Siobhan on her good cheek. “It’s good to see you again, Sunshine.”
She rolled her eyes. “You and your damn nicknames.”
“It fits you.”
Last time Sean had seen Siobhan had been three years ago. Kane had picked her up when she got mixed up with a violent human trafficking organization. She’d been doing a piece tracking a family who’d lost everything when the cartels seized their land and pressed the men of the family into working for them. The women had been sold to human traffickers, but the Sisters of Mercy, a group Siobhan worked with, had rescued them. One of the rescued women trusted the wrong person, however, and they were all imprisoned—including Siobhan.
Sean hadn’t been part of the rescue operation, he’d stayed with the plane for three days waiting for Kane to show up with the hostages. Kane had stayed behind. Later, Sean learned he’d rescued the boys who’d been pressed into fieldwork for the cartels, then reunited them with their families which he also relocated so the cartel couldn’t find them. The patriarch of the family had been murdered in front of his sons when he refused to cooperate. Sean suspected Kane had done more than rescue the large extended family, but he’d never asked and Kane had never spoken of it.
“This isn’t my fault,” she said.
“No one thinks it is.”
“Kane does. He’s so … frustrating. I was on vacation. I spent three months in the outskirts of Oaxaca. It was … tough.” She didn’t say anything else. Sean could imagine the conditions down there.
“I look forward to seeing your spread.”
She smiled. “Thanks—it’s going to be good. The sisters need some positive PR, they’ve lost nearly half of their donations, but the need is even greater. The sucky economy really messes with charitable giving. I’m hoping this piece will help turn it around.”
“I’m sure it will. So why were you in Santiago?”
“I needed a break. I heard about a great little spa there and I like going to new places. I’d never been there before, other than passing through. Someone was following me, almost from the minute I arrived.”
“Who knew you were going to be there?”
She shrugged. “Andie, of course. The sisters. I didn’t keep it a secret.”
“Can I see your phone?”
She frowned, then handed it to Sean. “Blitz told me to turn it off.”
“Smart.” Sean turned it on, but immediately disabled the cellular service. Then he hacked into the operating system. No one had hacked her GPS. Then he went into the emails and there it was. Simple.
“You found something,” Siobhan said.
“Very old school, which is why it works. There’s a bcc on every email you send. It’s going to a blind account. I might be able to trace it.”
“Are you serious? Someone is reading all my emails?”
“Where were you on Friday morning? Around ten a.m.?”
“Friday? That’s when I left Oaxaca. The airport. Or the plane. The Xoxocotlán International Airport.”
“Don’t use this phone for email. It’s not bugged, you can call your sister.”
“Can’t you disable it?”
“Yes—but I don’t know that I want to.” He glanced at Padre. “I’ll only have one shot—they may not have thought to disable the blind account, and I can trace it, but I don’t have the time to do it now. Padre, if anything happens, call Patrick Kincaid. He’ll know what to do.”
Blitz said, “We need to go, if we want to land before noon.”
Siobhan said, “Be careful.”
Sean winked at her. “Always.” He glanced at Padre, and the priest nodded. Padre would keep an eye on Siobhan until they figured out if she was still in danger.
The other new guy, Dyson, drove them back to the plane. “I should go with you,” he said.
Blitz said, “We need two people on Siobhan until we get back. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Knock it off with the sir. I haven’t been in the army in fifteen years.” He tossed Sean one of the bags. “Let’s get your brother, Little Rogan.”
Through clenched teeth Sean said, “Don’t call me that.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Lucy and Hans had to wait more than fifteen minutes before the guard returned to tell them Elise Hansen was ready to talk to them. He led the way through the maze of corridors. “I was required to notify her psychiatrist,” the guard said. “Dr. Oakley is not in yet, but I left a message.” The guard paused, then said softly, “I’m not supposed to let anyone speak to Hansen without Dr. Oakley’s approval.”
“That’s new,” Lucy said. And odd. Her attorney, maybe—but she’d already put in the record that she wasn’t here to discuss Elise’s case.
“You think she knows something about the escape yesterday.”
“Possibly, but—”
“I knew one of the guards who was killed. And between you and me, her shrink won’t let you talk to her. Dr. Oakley thinks you could damage her psyche.” He rolled his eyes. “But there’s nothing in the official file prohibiting you from seeing her.”
“She’s a piece of work,” he added. “I’ll leave it at that.”
Piece of work pretty much summed up Elise Hansen.
Lucy recognized that they were walking a fine line. While she technically had clearance to talk to Elise, there could be an issue because Elise was under psychiatric observation.
The guard said, “Ms. Hansen is in the interview room. I’ll be right outside.”
“I’ll be observing,” Hans said.
The guard opened the door to a small observation room that adjoined the interview room. “Dr. Vigo, you can use this room. You’ll be able to watch and listen. A recording is made of all interviews with psychiatric hold inmates, though they’re restricted without a warrant.”
“Thank you,” Hans said. “I’d like a moment alone with Agent Kincaid.”
“Watch yours
elf with her,” the guard said to Lucy and stepped into the hall.
Lucy wondered what the guard knew—or suspected.
Lucy looked through the one-way mirror. Elise sat at the table, her left arm restrained to a bar in front of her. Her right arm was still in a sling from when she’d been shot two weeks ago, and her forearm was in a cast. If Lucy was right, then Elise had set the whole thing up. Elise had tried to get Lucy killed. She hadn’t planned the attack, but she’d played her part perfectly.
“Are you ready?” Hans asked her.
“Hans—I know what you’re thinking, but I’m fine. I can handle her.”
He nodded. “It’s harder when you’re dealing with a true sociopath. You have great compassion, Lucy.”
She didn’t see that. Sometimes, she felt as cold as Elise Hansen. Emotionless. Yet, it broke her heart that she didn’t believe a sixteen-year-old was redeemable. She’d always believed that criminals were more a product of their environment than of birth. She couldn’t believe that God would be so cruel as to predispose an innocent young baby to grow into a psychopathic killer. She and her older brother Dillon had argued about it many times.
“Some people are born evil,” Dillon had said. “They know what they’re doing is wrong and they do it anyway without any remorse.”
Looking into Elise’s eyes, Lucy knew without a doubt that she had been born bad and she’d grown up in an environment that encouraged her natural—her sociopathic—tendencies. She had no remorse and more, she enjoyed every minute of her life.
“I’m okay, Hans. I know exactly who she is.”
Lucy stepped out. The guard at the door told her the rules—don’t give the prisoner anything, don’t take anything from her, don’t touch her.
Lucy hesitated, just a minute, to mentally shield herself from whatever games Elise wanted to play. She had to remember that Elise would exploit any weakness she saw.
“I get a trial by jury. My brother and I always win.”
When Elise said that two weeks ago, it had unnerved Lucy and she hadn’t been able to hide her reaction. Lucy couldn’t let Elise know if she hit another sensitive spot.
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