Fatal Secrets

by Allison Brennan

  The head diver said to Trace, “We’re headed back out to see about the second possible. You coming?”

  Trace looked at Sonia, and she nodded her approval. “I’m coming,” he called to the diver, then said to Sonia and Dean, “I’ll let you know as soon as we find the other body.”

  “Thanks, Trace.”

  The boat left, and Sonia approached the deputy coroner and introduced herself and Dean. “I need to see the victim.”

  The wiry Asian man nodded and said, “I have him bagged already, but the outer bag isn’t sealed yet.” In a homicide, they locked the external body bag until the medical examiner’s office was ready to perform the autopsy; then the lock was broken and all biological and trace evidence logged.

  He removed the sheet and Sonia stared at the victim through the clear plastic.

  He was middle-aged with a receding hairline, skinny but with a slightly pudgy middle. Tall—six foot two at least—with muscles still defined even though the water had saturated the skin, turning it a white and pasty color in the middle, with the limbs beginning to turn green from the buildup of gas and bacteria in the body. The bicolor stage of decomp helped establish time of death: generally, if a body was discovered within thirty-six hours, plus or minus, the M.E. could closely estimate time of death. Beyond that, the TOD became an educated guess.

  The bullet holes in the chest were clean from the fresh water, the edges black suggesting that the killer was only feet away from the victim.

  “He’s pretty fresh,” Sonia said. “Do you have an estimated TOD?”

  “I have to factor in time, weather condition, water temperature—”

  “I’m thinking four to eight hours,” Sonia said. “I’ve seen enough dead bodies to know this one is new.”

  “You’re probably right. Certainly less than eight hours, otherwise he’d be a lot darker. It’s always darkest before the dawn.” The coroner laughed at his morbid humor over the stages of water decomp, the two sheriff’s deputies joining in. Sonia smiled, but she wasn’t in a humorous mood. There was something bothering her about this victim, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

  “What are you thinking?” Dean asked quietly.

  “Look at his clothes.”

  The victim wore a white T-shirt under a dark blue, unzipped windbreaker, jeans, and bright-red running shoes.

  “I haven’t seen a floater,” Dean admitted. “Is there something unusual? Should the current have stripped his shoes or something?”

  “No, not necessarily. Maybe it’s the red shoes. They look … different.”

  Dean said to the coroner, “When you get the body back, can I send an agent over to observe the autopsy and possibly help with evidence? My office has committed all resources necessary to assist the county in this investigation.”

  “Sure, whatever floats your boat. I’ll let the supervising pathologist know to expect one of your people.”

  Dean said to Sonia as the coroner finished bagging the body, “I’ll mention the shoes. Maybe they’re rare, only available in a specific store.”

  “Yeah, but in the age of online shopping that doesn’t matter much anymore,” Sonia said, frowning. She asked the coroner, “Do you think you’ll be able to get prints off the body?”

  “Good chance. He wasn’t in long enough to destroy them completely. We get his hands dried out, we can print him. You’ll have to give us a couple hours.”

  “That’s fine. Thanks for your help.”

  She and Dean walked back around to the front of the restaurant and into the parking lot where the crime-scene van was now parked, the techs combing the area for evidence. She motioned to the blood on the pavement near the restaurant entrance, then observed the riverbank to the southwest. “Charlie said he was hiding on the edge of the riverbank among the trees and had a clear line of sight on Jones. But the pier isn’t visible from here.”

  “Depends on where he was hiding,” Dean said.

  “It couldn’t have been too far, otherwise he wouldn’t have seen the second victim shot, yet at an angle where he could observe the first shooting.”

  “And?”

  “I think he knows damn well who killed Jones.”

  “I could have told you that. That guy is dangerous.” Dean lowered his voice, brushed his hand again along her injured cheek. She resisted the urge to lean into his light caress. She wanted five minutes to just release the pent-up frustration and deep sadness that warred within her at what her mentor had become. She’d known—dammit, she had seen firsthand—Charlie’s warped sense of justice, but she had hoped he’d realize he couldn’t sacrifice honor and the law. Otherwise, he was just like the people they fought. A vigilante? Vigilantes didn’t hurt innocent people. Vigilantes didn’t let a truckload of Chinese women die because of a missing girl. He could save both if he would just be honest with her. She didn’t understand what he was doing.

  “We’re getting close,” he said, brushing loose strands of her hair aside. Dean’s eyes were full of quiet compassion and potent focus. He didn’t look much different than he did the other night at the raid, except that he wore only one gun under his jacket. That he was an accountant amazed Sonia. She never imagined being attracted to a numbers cruncher, but she’d never met one who looked so … hot. That he was also smart—she’d always been attracted to the smart, athletic guys—was an added benefit; that he was so commanding in his quiet intensity had her swallowing involuntarily and averting her eyes.

  She wondered what would happen if all his attention was focused solely on her.

  Sonia dismissed that thought, at least for now. Maybe after this case was over, she and Dean could indulge in wild, mindless sex before he went back to Washington. She was attracted to him, and the way he was looking at her right now she knew he felt the same. She didn’t have a life designed for serious relationships, and suspected Dean didn’t either.

  His fingers brushed over her lips, whether on purpose or accident Sonia didn’t know, but a hot shiver went down her spine. Suddenly she realized they were still in public. Two deputies were watching from afar. Sonia stepped back.

  “I need to go,” she said.

  “Do you want to see Vega now?” Dean asked.

  “Yes, but let’s take a detour to the hospital. Ann is in surgery and I want to get that GPS chip and see if we can trace it. Detective Black is working on moving her to another hospital, but it’s going to be delayed until she’s stable. Even with the additional security, her attackers were ballsy enough to walk right by a uniformed officer and try to kill her. I’ll send two agents to Vega’s house to tell him we’re putting him and his wife into protective custody. We can meet up with them later this morning.”

  They walked up to the road where they’d parked separately. “How’s your brother?”

  “My mom called from the hospital this morning. Riley had a good night and will be released tomorrow. He’ll be off duty for two weeks, and on desk duty for at least two more. I’m sure he’s not happy about that, but I thank God he’s alive.” Her voice hitched and she mentally berated herself. “Sorry,” she mumbled as she squeezed back the tears. “Riley’s fine, I don’t know why I’m getting so emotional.”

  “Because you were scared for him and didn’t have any time to think about it until now.”

  She stopped at her car. “Yeah. Maybe.”

  Dean wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to his chest. It was a warm hug, like Riley, yet very unlike her brother. She was acutely aware of Dean’s clean scent, his subtle cologne, his crisp, lightly starched shirt, his hard biceps pressing firmly against her body. Sonia wrapped her arms around Dean’s waist and hugged him back, her cheek on his shoulder, savoring the moment, in awe of how perfectly they fit together, of how comfortable she felt.

  She hadn’t been held like this in far too long. Her relationships were brief and largely uncommitted. She didn’t have time for small romances. The hugs, the dinners, the movies. Her administrative assistant Grace joked bi
tingly about Sonia’s “boyfriend of the month,” and Sonia let the friendly criticism roll off her back, but in some ways she was saddened by the reality of her life. She didn’t have the time or desire to get close to anyone. She had her family and her job and barely enough time to manage both well. Where did a boyfriend fit in? A husband? Besides, most of the good men wanted kids of their own, something Sonia couldn’t provide.

  A car passed them and Sonia jumped back, startled. Where had her mind wandered? Why was she even thinking about “FBI agent Dean Hooper” and “boyfriend” in the same thought?

  “I’ll meet you at the hospital,” she mumbled and slid into her car before he could respond, before he could touch her again. That was it, he’d touched her. He was exactly her type: tall, lean, muscular, smart, with a GQ face and strong square jaw. One touch and she was getting sloppy.

  She drove off, mumbling, “Just wait, Sonia. Go to bed with him, get him out of your system, and he’ll be gone. He’s safe. He lives three thousand miles away. No long-term commitment.”

  It seemed unwise to be waxing at length over the long-term potential of a one-night stand. The realization that Dean would be leaving as soon as this case was over left Sonia feeling even emptier than when she’d pulled back from his embrace.

  CHAPTER

  FOURTEEN

  When his people reported that federal agents had been to Jones’s house early that morning, Noel snapped the ballpoint pen he was holding in half.

  “How do they already know Jones is dead?” he asked no one in particular. Ling and Ignacio were with him in his suite. “Mr. Ling, what do you think happened?”

  “The dr—”

  “The driver,” Noel said before Ling finished. “Who the fuck is this bastard Chuck Angelo? Where did he come from? Where is he now? What does he drive and why don’t I know him? Why is it that every fucking person I’ll spoken with in the last three hours has never heard of Chuck Angelo!”

  He didn’t like surprises, and because he took incredible precautions, he rarely had them. The few that had arisen over the years had been the direct result of a certain ICE agent messing up his plans. What particularly irked him was that Sonia Knight screwed up his life without intending to. She had no idea who she had pissed off.

  She would find out.

  “I think,” he continued, “that no one knows this Chuck Angelo because he’s a cop. An agent working with Sonia Knight. What I want to know is how this female agent managed to infiltrate Jones’s operation with both an undercover cop and an informant? Jones was clearly an idiot. I’d love to kill him again.”

  “I have the report on Knight,” Mr. Ling said quietly.

  “And?”

  “She’s single. Her adopted parents live in Sacramento.”

  “I hope you have more than that.”

  “Her adopted brother was the cop Johan stabbed yesterday.”

  “He’s not dead, is he?” Noel hoped. A dead “brother” would force her to take time off.

  “He’ll be released tomorrow, according to my source at the hospital.”

  “Find out where the parents live, where the brother lives, where Sonia lives. I want to know her best friend, her worst enemy, where she eats, the make and model of her car, and where she’ll be every fucking minute of the day. I’m going to kill her, I swear, and when I find this Chuck Angelo I’m going to slowly pull out his intestines and strangle him with them!”

  Noel was livid. When he looked at his face in one of the numerous hotel mirrors this ridiculous suite had, it was beet red.

  “Mr. Ling, send a team to check on the merchandise and make sure it’s being delivered from storage exactly when it’s supposed to be. If they’re five minutes late, kill them all. I’m not in a forgiving mood. I want our best people—except you—sitting on the whores. I want a patrol. I want no surprises. When the buyers arrive, I want a nice, clean transaction, and then we’re out of this fucking country.

  “We’ll have our money, a permanent new distribution channel, and ICE agent Sonia Knight will be dead. Then I’ll put a headstone with her name in my backyard and bury another whore in it and dance on her fucking grave. If I had known that bitch would have been such a problem, I would have put a bullet in her head when I had the chance.”

  Ann was still in surgery, so Sonia slipped into Riley’s room. He was awake, sitting up in his hospital bed, looking both in pain and antsy.

  “Hey, sis. It’s about time.”

  “I was here last night.”

  “They had me on so many painkillers I didn’t know my own name. John Black said the guy who stabbed me isn’t talking, but they I.D.’d him as Johan Krueger, a German national with a work visa for Omega Shipping.”

  “Omega?” The shipping company Jones contracted with to bring illegal immigrants into the country to sell to his “clients.” Once again, their name surfaced. “Black didn’t call me.”

  “I’m sure he plans to. He’s been waiting for word on Ann’s surgery.”

  “She’s still in there. Dean’s observing now.”

  “Dean?”

  “Dean Hooper, the FBI agent I mentioned yesterday.”

  “Dean?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Not Agent Hooper?”

  It took Sonia a moment to realize that Riley was teasing her. “Oh, leave it alone, it means nothing.”

  “I’m just joshing you. Not much else I can do. Did Mom tell you I’m stuck on leave for two whole weeks?”

  “Yeah. I’ll make you cookies.”

  “Please don’t. You’ll burn down your house. Or worse.”

  “It’s the thought that counts.”

  “Then think up some chocolate cupcakes from Free-port Bakery …”

  Dean stepped into the room. “Sonia, I’ve just spoken with Detective Black. They have an I.D. on the man who tried to kill Ann. Johan Krueger. He’s—”

  “From Germany and works for Omega Shipping.”

  “You heard.”

  Sonia pointed at Riley and made quick introductions.

  Dean continued. “Omega is one of Jones’s—”

  “Clients?”

  “At his lobbying firm.”

  “Omega is also the shipping company that Greg Vega confirmed is responsible for transporting Jones’s human cargo.”

  “This is our first solid connection,” Dean said. “I don’t want to pull you away, but …”

  Riley waved them off with a frown. “Go catch the bad guys without me. I’ll live vicariously through your stories for years to come.”

  Sonia kissed him on the forehead. “I love you, Riley. Take it easy, okay?”

  “Be careful, Sonia. I don’t have to tell you how ruthless these people are.”

  “You don’t,” she said, “and I’m always careful.”

  Riley didn’t look one hundred percent convinced.

  Dean spoke up, “I’ll keep an eye on her, especially after last night.”

  “What happened last night?” Riley said.

  “Thanks, Dean,” Sonia muttered.

  “I assumed you told him. I’m sorry.”

  “I should have.” She said to Riley, “Charlie paid me a visit last night—”

  “He sought you out?” Riley was outraged and tried to sit up.

  She gently pushed him back down on the bed. “Relax, you’re not supposed to be up yet.”

  “Did he do that to you?” Riley pointed to the small bandage on her cheek. “I swear, Sonia, that guy is a ticking time bomb. He should have been locked away after what happened in Costa Rica.”

  “Riley,” she said quietly, “it’s okay. I had Dean get him a message that I needed to talk to him. We argued, he has a selective memory. But he shared some interesting information that we’re pursuing.”

  “Are you sure he’s not sending you on a wild goose chase so he can go about whatever it is he’s planning without your interference?”

  Sonia knew Riley was being overprotective, but she didn’t like her judgment pu
t into question, especially in front of an FBI agent, even one she was getting along with. “I’m not blind.”

  “You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

  She continued. “We’re closer than we’ve ever been—Dean has boatloads of intelligence and we’re comparing notes. Charlie knows more, but he’s working his own fool mission. However, he witnessed Xavier Jones’s murder.”

  “What?”

  “We haven’t found the body yet, but there’s evidence that Charlie is telling the truth. We’s keeping it quiet for now.”

  “Who am I going to tell? So Jones is dead?”

  “I think so.”

  “Well, damn. What does that mean? A new leader in town? Turf wars?”

  “I have no idea,” Sonia said, “but it’s somehow connected to our investigation into the shipment of young Chinese women. Jones knew his killer, voluntarily met with him and didn’t appear concerned until the moment he was shot. I’m thinking it’s a rival taking over, but we really don’t know.”

  Her cell phone rang and she excused herself and left the room.

  Dean smiled at Sonia’s brother. Riley Knight was a likeable guy. “I’m glad you’re okay. Sonia was really worried yesterday.”

  “Thanks. Now what really happened with Charlie last night?”

  “He broke into her house at three-thirty in the morning. Woke her up.” Dean didn’t want to worry Sonia’s brother needlessly. “You can see she’s no worse for wear.”

  Riley wasn’t convinced. “He just walked in?”

  “It won’t happen again, I assure you. I’m putting a couple of agents on her house. I haven’t told her yet, so …”

  “I gotcha.” Riley relaxed and smiled. “You seem to know my sister pretty well.”

  “Well enough to know she won’t like the idea of two FBI agents babysitting her.”

  “Do you believe the story Cammarata fed Sonia? About a meeting that ended up with Jones dead?”

  Dean had been skeptical, but so far Cammarata’s story held up. “I don’t know. So far the evidence confirms everything he said, but they’re still searching for Jones’s body. No one on his staff has seen or spoken to him since yesterday evening.”