“Did she dump the phone you gave her?”
“She said she would. Anyway, it doesn’t have GPS on it, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“Do we have any other information?” Jack asked.
Sean said, “Lucy mentioned that the moving company said that they were bought by a semi-local trucking company which owned businesses in El Paso and Port Arthur. I did some research—there’re three independent truck companies in Port Arthur. It’s not a big place, economically depressed, struggling to rebuild after the floods last year. It’s on the Louisiana border and has an active port. If he’s heading there they could be trying to get out of the country by boat—especially if they found out their cover was blown at Milo’s company.”
“We have to assume they know the authorities found the body.”
“But they would think Milo did it. He’s gone to ground.”
“Why?” Jack asked.
“Your guess,” Sean said. “Murphy and her people are working on tracking him down.”
Right now they had nothing on him except that a dead girl was found on his property. He wasn’t even the legal owner of the truck she was found in—the owner was registered as Dell Bend Trucking out of Los Angeles. The FBI was trying to put together all the companies under West-East Transport, but Hirsch wasn’t making it easy to track any of them. If they could get to Milo, he might be able to fill in the blanks.
Kane pinched the bridge of his nose, a rare outward sign of frustration.
“Okay,” Kane said after a moment, “we need to go to Port Arthur.”
“I need to be in San Antonio,” Sean said. “Lucy needs backup.” It was more than that—working with Laura Dixon, looking for these girls, going through the NCMEC database of missing children and trying to identify the girls—it would tear her up. He needed to be there tonight when she slept—or more likely didn’t sleep.
Jack nodded. “Can I use your plane to fly us to Port Arthur?”
Sean glanced at his watch. It was three—seven hours to drive home. “Take the plane, I’ll drive to San Antonio. If you need me in Port Arthur tomorrow, I can do that.” He tossed Jack his keys.
“Just make sure Lucy is covered. There’s a fifty-fifty chance this is all a smokescreen and they’re en route to San Antonio. And after what went down in El Paso, we know Hirsch and his crew don’t give a shit about collateral damage.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
It was well after six by the time Lucy got home. She was exhausted and thought that a nap would be in order. She didn’t expect Sean until very late. Lucy didn’t know the details about why he’d given his plane to Jack, but Sean would clue her in when he got home.
As soon as she pulled into her driveway, she saw that her boss Rachel was sitting in her car right in front of Lucy’s house.
Lucy shifted gears. Rachel came here because she checked the tracking log and thought that Lucy had stayed home all day. How long had she been waiting for her? Why didn’t she call first?
Though she’d given Brad and Kate the photos from the trucking company, she wanted to run them through the RCK facial recognition program, a beta program Sean had been developing for over a year.
But that would have to wait.
She pulled into the garage and shut the door. She went into the house, uncoded the alarm, and fed Bandit. “Sorry I’m so late, buddy,” she said. “I’ll take you for a walk after my mean old boss leaves.”
Lucy walked to the door and looked at the security panel. Rachel was standing on the front stoop. Her expression was both worried and angry. If that was even possible. Lucy waited.
The knock came a minute later.
Lucy opened the door. “Can I do something for you?”
“Ask me in.”
Lucy opened the door wider and made a motion with her arm to enter. She closed the door and set the alarm for home. External sensors only. Rachel looked at her oddly, then glanced around. Then she said, “We have a problem.”
“Yes we do.”
Lucy motioned for Rachel to follow her to the living room. The kitchen was off limits, as far as she was concerned—it was her favorite room, for friends and family, of which Rachel was neither.
Lucy loved her house. This was the home she and Sean had made, and it felt almost like a violation to have someone who had it out for her under the roof. Petty, maybe.
Bandit ran in, tail wagging.
“Lie down,” Lucy ordered and Bandit looked at her in surprise. She never spoke sternly to him—which is probably why he listened to Sean more than her. “Down,” she repeated.
He immediately went to the dog bed in the corner of the living room. His tail was still wagging, but he stayed.
Rachel sat down formally, and Lucy sat across from her. She wasn’t going to start this conversation.
“Just because I told you not to use FBI resources didn’t give you a license to go home for the day.”
Rachel was beginning to look uncomfortable. Was it the house? Lucy’s attitude? She didn’t care. Maybe Rachel would begin to understand how Lucy had been feeling the last two months.
“You went over my head to work on a non-FBI case. Worse, the number two in the FBI has put you on a task force, taking you out from under my direction and authority. Undermining me in the process, and essentially telling my entire staff that my decisions mean nothing.”
“That is simply not true.”
“What about it isn’t true? I finally had an opportunity to talk to AD Stockton and explained that his actions put my authority at risk, and yet he dismissed my very valid concern. He should have called me and asked who I could spare.”
“This is an area I’m well versed in. But I didn’t call Rick.”
“You didn’t have to. Did you think I don’t know that he was at your wedding? It’s clear your husband is working this case and he asked for your help, and his good old friend Rick is more than happy to oblige.”
“You have it wrong, and I don’t need to explain to you what’s going on. I’m sure Rick filled you in on the details. Neither Sean nor I called Rick. Nor did I tell Rick that my boss put a tracking device on my car. That’s how you know where I’ve been. That’s how you know I was in Austin last night. I am so angry I don’t know where to begin.”
“You can see my point.”
“It was my private vehicle!”
“You disabled the GPS on your government cell phone, which is against regulations.”
“So you put a tracker on my car?”
“I don’t trust you.”
“I’ve done nothing to deserve that.”
“You lied to me.”
“This is about San Diego?”
“It’s about San Diego, it’s about falsified government reports, it’s about your belief that anything goes because you have friends in high places. It will all come back to bite you in the ass, Agent Kincaid.”
“You believe things about me that simply are not true. I don’t deserve this. You don’t trust me—fine. I admit I lied about why I went to San Diego, and for that I am sorry—I didn’t think I would be given the okay to work the case.”
“And therein lies the problem. You knew I would say no, so you didn’t tell me until you were forced to.”
“It was my nephew who was killed.”
“Twenty years ago.”
“I had a lead.”
“You still lied to me.”
They were talking in circles.
“I wanted to start with a clean slate,” Lucy said. “And I’ve tried.”
“Yes, you have.”
Lucy was surprised at the admission.
Rachel continued. “You’ve done what I’ve asked, and your work is competent. But you still have this attitude that you can do whatever you want and damn the consequences.”
Lucy took a deep breath. “I’m sorry you think that, but you’re correct about one thing. There are times when I accept the consequences because action is better than inaction. When someone is
at risk, when there is no one else who can do the job at that moment, I will do it. I will take risks to save a life. I will do what needs to be done for justice. I recognize that could put me on the hot seat, but it’s better than letting someone get hurt, or worse.”
“You’re not the only FBI agent in San Antonio. The rules are there for a reason. And you just flip off the rules you don’t like.”
Ironically, Lucy had always believed in the rules. The rules had saved her time and time again. To focus on what was expected and do a good job.
But over the last two years, she realized that sometimes the rules needed to be bent. Had she not gone to Mexico to rescue Brad Donnelly, he would have been tortured and killed. And while Kane might have been able to save him, without her and Sean they wouldn’t have located the boys who had been kidnapped from the foster care system and forced to work as drug mules for the cartels.
“Do not ever put a tracker on my car again without telling me first. If you have a valid reason, I’ll understand. But that level of privacy intrusion is unacceptable.”
“What are you trying to hide?”
“What are you trying to find?”
This conversation was getting them nowhere. Lucy got up and retrieved the tracker from where she’d put in in Sean’s desk. She handed it to Rachel. “You probably want this.”
Rachel stood and took it from her. “I hope you recognize that this is the final straw.”
“I didn’t call Rick, I didn’t ask him to put me on this task force. I didn’t go over your head. I was working on it on my own time.”
“Against my orders.”
“A woman’s life is in danger. Young girls have been forced into prostitution and they need help. You read my cases, you know why I am the most qualified in our office to work on a human trafficking case. I know the players who are left or who to talk to in order to find them. If I can do something to help, how can I stand aside and do nothing? If you were in my position, you would do the same thing. I have done everything to earn your trust.”
“It’s not enough.” Rachel walked to the door. Lucy followed her, disengaged the alarm, and let her out.
Lucy had no more ideas. If she hadn’t earned Rachel’s trust by this point, there was no way she could do it.
* * *
Lucy returned at seven-thirty from walking Bandit—too short a trek for either of them, but she was antsy to get back to work. As soon as she returned, she had an email from her friend Grant Mara, the assistant director at NCMEC.
Lucy:
I know Adam and Laura Dixon personally. They are good people who have made remarkable inroads in helping the victims of sex trafficking. I’m glad you’re working with them.
Hope Anderson has been in our database for fifteen months. We added her immediately upon contact with her family who reported her missing. As you know, our resources are tight and running the tens of thousands of missing children through our facial recognition system is a laborious process. I personally ran her as soon as I received your message—giving me the time window greatly helped. I found several videos with her over the last fifteen months. Per your request, I’ve pulled out the most recent—there were four uploaded to the dark net three weeks ago. I’m sending you a link to access them on our private server—you have the password. I know you’ve been through this drill, so I’ll cut to the chase.
Focus on the third of the four videos. It provides the most visual setting detail and there is clearly an audio soundtrack dubbed in, possibly to mask external noise like a train or airplane. Each video has an embedded time stamp when it was created—all between four and six weeks ago. They were uploaded together three weeks ago. Location data has been masked in the videos, and the upload location is anonymous, though we have developed some new tools to help us crack some of the coding. I’ve sent all four to our tech experts now that this is an active FBI investigation and if we get any other details that might help you find her, I’ll call you immediately.
I’ve flagged her image so if any video or photo with her comes up, I’ll be notified.
Take care of yourself. I don’t have to remind you that analyzing these videos is difficult and gut-wrenching work. Next time you’re in DC, call me and we’ll have dinner or a drink. You can bring your husband too, haha.
Best,
Grant
Grant was right, the videos would be disturbing, not only because of the content but because she’d lived through this once. But she had to do it—if not her, who?
She watched all four videos all the way through, but with no audio. She would have to build up to that. It seemed that Hope was drugged—it was in her eyes. But would the average person know?
They would know she was underage—she didn’t look eighteen. They would know what they were watching was exploitative—but they didn’t care. These had been posted on the dark web, where the most vile porn videos were readily available. The legitimate porn sites—and Lucy used “legitimate” very loosely—wouldn’t show these, or would take them down as soon as one of their users uploaded them. In one of her email exchanges with Laura Dixon that afternoon, Laura had passed along the information that Bella and her partner, Simon Egan, had uncovered videos of Hope on a popular and legal porn site twelve months ago. But nothing since.
Nothing, Lucy realized, because they’d sent Hope down a darker, more destructive path.
Immediately, she realized that one of the men in the videos with Hope was Anton Meyer. To double check, she brought up the most recent photo of him—taken three years ago before he fled on the attempted murder charge.
It was Meyer.
She immediately sent a message to everyone in the task force.
I have positively ID’d Anton Meyer as one of the men who raped Hope in a pornographic video uploaded to the dark net. I obtained four such videos from AD Grant Mara at NCMEC. I do not recognize the other man in videos one and four and briefly in video three. I’ve screen captured the best image and am attaching it here. These videos were uploaded three weeks ago and Hope was clearly alive.
She sent the message and watched the videos in real time. By the time she was done, she had tears on her face. She needed a break. She showered in a failed attempt to feel clean. She hugged Bandit because the dog was following her everywhere, as if sensing her anxiety. She made a fresh pot of coffee because she would be up late. Thirty minutes later, she sat back down with her coffee, just as depressed, but determined to analyze the third video that Grant had flagged. She’d just begun when her phone rang. It was a Seattle area code.
“Kincaid,” she answered.
“This is Laura Dixon, with Genesis Road.”
“Hi, Laura. This is Lucy. Do you have something?”
“I’m responding to your last email. I thought a call would be best.”
Lucy had to think—she’d sent off an email after she received the videos from Grant. She’d wanted to let Laura know that they had proof that Hope was alive at least three weeks ago, and that she was analyzing the videos. She’d also asked if she could speak to Christina Garrett.
I know she’s still recovering, but she has information we need. I will be gentle with her.
Which part of her message was she responding to?
Laura said, “You’re working with Grant Mara at NCMEC?”
“Yes. He said he knows you and your husband.”
“We’ve met a few times. Genesis has a small office in DC. We share information. He does good work, though it’s heartbreaking. And you’re analyzing the data?”
“Yes. I have experience.”
“I’m so sorry. I know it’s difficult.”
“I’ve learned to compartmentalize. It’s sometimes the only way we can do the job.”
“Still.”
There was more, Lucy was certain.
“How are the girls?” Lucy asked.
“Ashley is in the hospital. She has a serious medical issue and needs a second surgery, but she’s too weak right now. She has been a
bused since she was a young child. And she’s only thirteen.”
Laura’s compassion transcended her calm voice.
“Christina is at Ruth’s House and I’m working with her. Physically, she is healthy. Malnourished, but she seems to have latched onto the exercise routine I developed for her. I told her not to rush it—but some girls find strength in it. Emotionally, she’s angry. Bitter. Depressed. She reminds me in many ways of a young Bella.” She paused. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“I know Bella’s history,” Lucy said, though she wanted to know more. But the more might never come, and that was okay. Lucy was a private person as well, and talking about the tragedies of her past was difficult for her.
“Christina is blaming herself that she didn’t get Ashley out sooner, and that’s fueling her need to push herself.”
“That’s to be expected,” Lucy said.
“Yes, but it makes it difficult to talk to her right now. Her mother is here as well—and that situation isn’t going as I’d hoped, either.”
“I’ve had extensive experience working with victims. From what JT said you are the best. I’m sure you’d agree solving their problems in less than a week would be a miracle.”
“JT is too kind. He said you married Kane’s younger brother. I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting Sean, he’s much younger than Kane, but JT speaks highly of both of you as well. He doesn’t praise lightly.”
“I understand if you don’t want to push Christina—she needs to trust you. But I’d like to talk to her. Do you think she would Skype with me?”
“What do you plan to ask?”
“I’m going to be blunt with her. You can be in the room, of course, and she might fall apart after she talks with me. Either out of anger or pain. She’ll need you. But I’d like you to let me talk to her on my terms.”
Laura didn’t say anything for a long minute.
“Mrs. Dixon?”
“Call me Laura. It sounds like you want to interrogate her.”
“Tough love. Everyone has a skill. I need information, and I know she has it.”
Breaking Point Page 23
