She didn’t say anything.
Neither did Barry.
Maybe there was nothing else to say. She didn’t like that Barry felt he had to check up on her. Especially after she’d thought they were working so well together.
Barry pulled into the parking lot at James Everett’s development company. Lucy was about to get out of the car when Barry put his hand on her arm. “Slater also said that you took too many risks, were lucky to be alive, and your FBI file was thicker than most senior agents’—but unavailable without clearance from Rick Stockton himself, which he declined to give Slater when asked. That makes me suspicious.”
“Let go,” Lucy said quietly. Barry dropped his hand. She got out of the car and walked to the lobby, waiting for Barry to catch up.
He followed and didn’t say another word about the conversation. Barry had reminded her once again that she would never escape her past.
Sometimes, she wondered why she even tried.
* * *
James Everett was clearly unhappy about seeing Barry and Lucy in his office Wednesday morning. So was his lawyer, Miriam Shaw.
“I’ve done all I can to help you,” he said.
Barry took the lead. “We have a witness who said that she took sexually explicit photos of you and turned them over to an individual who planned to blackmail you. Are you being blackmailed?”
Good lie, Lucy thought. The way Barry said it Lucy almost believed it. They were certain that’s what happened, but they couldn’t prove it. Yet.
Everett’s face drained of color. “No!”
“I don’t believe you, Mr. Everett.”
Shaw bristled. “My client denies that anyone has blackmailed him. Is that the only reason you’re here?”
“No. We are prepared to arrest Mr. Everett for solicitation and statutory rape.”
“Since when does the FBI make arrests for solicitation?” the attorney asked coolly.
“United States Code eighteen, section one-five-nine-one clearly states that it’s a federal crime to pay for sexual intercourse with a minor under the age of eighteen,” Lucy said.
“I didn’t,” Everett said.
“Elise is sixteen,” Lucy said.
“Bullshit,” Everett said.
“James.” His attorney placed a hand on his shoulder. Everett looked at his hands folded on his desk. Shaw said, “If you’re going to go through with this travesty, I’ll bring my client down to be arraigned, but he will not be spending any time in jail.”
“Yes, he will,” Barry said. “Unless he cooperates.”
“I’ll file charges of harassment.”
“Go ahead,” Barry said. “I will remind you that it’s a crime to lie to a federal agent.”
Everett’s whole body sagged like air from a balloon. “This can’t be happening,” he said. “She said she was eighteen!”
Lucy said, “Her ID was a fake. Or did you even bother to check?”
“If my client is being blackmailed, then he’s the victim,” Shaw said.
“And we’re willing to drop all charges if he cooperates,” Barry said. “Who’s blackmailing you, Mr. Everett?”
“I don’t know!” he said with a half sob. “I haven’t even seen the pictures. I—I got a voice recording Monday night. My voice. They sent a note that said to wait for instructions, to tell no one. I—I—” He glanced at his attorney. “I’m already helping the FBI on another matter.”
Shaw stared at him, surprised. “James.”
“I couldn’t tell anyone—they told me I couldn’t, or they wouldn’t give me immunity,” Everett said. “But I told my FBI contact about the recording, and he didn’t think it was important. He said everything would soon be resolved, and if the blackmailer contacted me again to let him know.”
Lucy wondered if Logan Dunbar had that information before or after his meeting at the FBI office. If he had known, what else was he holding back from them? If he hadn’t known then, why hadn’t he informed Juan as soon as Everett told him? His lack of cooperation angered Lucy—she expected better from a colleague.
Barry said, “We know that you’re a confidential informant for the FBI in the investigation of Adeline Reyes-Worthington.”
Everett’s eyes practically bulged out of his head. “No one is supposed to know!”
“San Antonio is our jurisdiction,” Barry said, leaving it at that. “We need the voice recording. Now.”
Everett hesitated, then opened his bottom desk drawer and pulled out a microrecorder.
Barry put on gloves and picked it up. He pressed play.
“You’re late,” Everett’s voice said.
“I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.” It was a young female whom Lucy recognized as Elise. There were sounds of sex in the background—moaning and slapping—and it took a second for Lucy to recognize that Everett had a porn video on the television. Elise said, “You want me to do that to you?”
“I want a lot of things. How old are you?”
“How old do you want me to be?”
“Legal.”
“I’m legal.”
“You look younger.”
There was silence for a long minute, except for the porn in the background, then the sound of rustling, then a glass being put firmly down on a table.
“I picked this hotel because the walls are thick, and I want to hear you. Understand?” Everett said.
“Yes. I need the money first.”
Again, movement and noise. Paper. A drawer? Maybe not.
“What do you want me to call you?” Elise asked.
“Call me Daddy. And I’m going to spank you. Hard.”
“Spank me, Daddy.”
Lucy jumped when she heard the hard slap on flesh.
“All fours, little girl, I’m going to fuck you hard,” Everett said on the tape. The sound of his hand slapping her echoed. “Tell me you want it hard.”
“I want it hard, Daddy.”
Barry shut the tape off. Lucy couldn’t look at anyone. She felt dirty just listening to the tape. Memories threatened to flood her, violent memories. She couldn’t go there. She had to control her emotions, control her feelings. Be the ice princess she’d been in college. Be the rock she’d been when she and Barry left the car twenty minutes ago. She felt every shield slide back into place. She first caught the lawyer’s eye. Then Everett’s. Every muscle tightened and froze.
Lucy said, “What did they say they wanted from you, Mr. Everett?” Her voice was low and calm. Too calm. But that was the price to stave off the past.
“I don’t know! I swear! They said to wait and they’d tell me. It’s probably money. It’s always about money, right?”
“We’ll keep this. And if they contact you again, call me immediately,” Barry said.
“What if they’re keeping tabs on me? If they have my phone tapped? If it’s someone I know?”
Barry wrote a number on the back of a business card. “This is a generic number, can’t be traced to the FBI. Call it, and the switchboard will connect you with me wherever I am.”
Everett stared at the number. “What about my other arrangement? I was promised immunity.”
“Most FBI deals are for immunity for past crimes. Am I incorrect in assuming that extends to your arrangement?”
Everett didn’t say anything.
“Do you understand?” Barry asked.
“Yes,” Everett said quietly. “I understand completely.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Because Mona’s profession required her to work nights, she had the luxury of sleeping in every morning. Her bedroom had blackout curtains that blocked any sunshine that threatened to creep in and disturb her beauty sleep. But rarely did she sleep past eleven in the morning, and Wednesday was no exception.
She stretched and swung her feet over the edge of her bed. It was quarter to eleven, and she had a full day ahead of her. She saw a message on her cell phone. It was from Tobias’s contact, and she smiled.
We want it.
>
Of course they wanted the video. The woman was a federal agent. It was priceless, truly. From what she’d heard, Tobias’s people had been looking for someone in the FBI to cultivate. This seven minutes would take little Ms. Lucy Kincaid down a peg or ten.
She showered, drank a cup of tea, and sat down at her computer. She made a mental list of everything she needed to do. First was to assign her girls—and boys—for the evening. A good business couldn’t run on supplying only women for the particular needs of men. Some men liked men—and in conservative Texas, that meant discretion. The kind of discretion they paid handsomely for.
Her computer made an odd sound, like it was spinning, getting louder and louder. The screen was blue. Suddenly, white characters scrolled rapidly across the screen and smoke erupted from the hard drive. She jumped back. There was a spark and then the smell of burning metal.
Well, shit. She had everything on that computer, and it was only six months old. Thankfully, she had a complete backup, which saved her data wirelessly every night. She retrieved the backup drive from the closet and plugged it into her laptop in the kitchen.
First thing, order a new damn computer. That was under warranty, and if the dicks on the help desk thought they would make her pay, they had another think coming.
She turned on her laptop and at first nothing happened.
A cloud of suspicion washed over her. She reached over to pull the cable that connected her backup drive to the laptop, but smoke started coming from the laptop, and suddenly, the backup drive sparked and the plastic began to melt.
Someone was destroying her business.
“Don’t move,” a male voice said.
She turned and saw a man she didn’t recognize in the doorway of her kitchen. He was six one, maybe six foot two, lean, with dark hair and blue eyes.
He parted his windbreaker and revealed a gun in a holster.
“You’re not a cop.”
“No, I’m not. But I have a deal to make.”
She tilted her chin up defiantly. “I don’t work with partners.”
“And I have no intention of being your partner. But you’ll want to listen.”
She rose from the table. “There are two federal agents outside. All I need to do is scream.” Mona had been more than a little pissed off that Agents Crawford and Kincaid had sent two agents to watch her 24/7, but now she realized they might come in handy.
“I know. And I’ll leave the way I came—through your basement.”
How did this bastard know about her basement? It wasn’t on the original plans for the building.
“If you alert them,” the stranger continued, “I’ll tell Darlene everything I know about you.”
The blood drained from Mona’s face and she sat heavily on the chair. The room was spinning. This was not happening. No one knew about Darlene. No one.
Sean watched as Mona began to panic. He picked up the small fire extinguisher he’d brought with him and put out the mini fire that the melted backup drive had started. He put the container down out of Mona’s reach, and said, “Tell me everything about the people who want that video.”
She was confused. “You want it, too? I’ll sell to the highest bidder.”
He itched to hit the woman, but he needed to control his temper. Beating up his punching bag had left his fists sore, and if she baited him he would misstep. He had to keep his emotions on complete lockdown. He put himself in Kane’s shoes. He had to be as cold, as calculating, as shrewd as his brother.
“Let me explain something, Ms. Hill.” He waited until she focused on him. “I know everything about you. I know you planted a fake death certificate at the Los Angeles County Registrar so that your sister would think you were dead and not be suspicious that a trust was set up to take care of her and her fatherless son. I know your mother was a drug addict and a prostitute who pimped you out, and would have pimped Darlene out if you hadn’t intervened. I know that you are extremely smart and could have made your money legitimately—after tracking all your shell companies and bank accounts, even I was impressed. But instead, you choose to stay in the sex trade. To each his own, I suppose.
“But you crossed a line, and you do not want me as your enemy. I already destroyed your computers. And the archives in your basement?” Her eyes widened. “Gone.” He snapped his fingers.
“How dare you involve yourself in my business,” she said through clenched teeth.
“I don’t give a shit about your business. I want the man who was going to buy that video.”
She shook her head. “What’s in it for me?”
He held up one of the photos that Renee had taken of Darlene and her son, just that morning. Mona couldn’t prevent the full range of emotions that crossed her face, from rage to love to worry.
“I will take you down and then who will support your sister? Especially when she has to deal with the fallout of your criminal enterprise. Because not only have I traced your money, but I’ve traced every dime that’s gone to your sister. The government will want it back. She’ll lose her house. She’ll lose the trust fund. She’ll lose little Bobby’s college fund. And she’ll know that you supported her off the backs of women just like your pathetic mother.”
He hadn’t traced her money—he hadn’t had time. He knew that he could do it, just like he’d tracked the businesses, but money and banking issues would take far more time to dig into.
But Sean was a very good liar.
“I will kill you,” Mona whispered.
“Then my partner will go to the FBI with the evidence I’ve accumulated. And my partner will also go directly to Darlene with proof of everything you’ve done.”
Her chin trembled but she didn’t say anything.
“Who wants the video?”
She didn’t say anything for a long minute. Sean saw the inner debate.
“You’ll never survive,” she finally said. “He’s powerful. He’ll beat you to a pulp and have his gangbangers cut off your dick and shove it down your throat.”
“Who?”
“If I tell you, I’ll have to run. He’ll know. He knows everything.”
Sean slammed his fist on the table. She jumped. “Name!”
“Promise me you won’t go after my sister. She doesn’t know anything.”
“If you lie to me, I’ll tell her everything. If you tell me the truth, I’ll lose her file.”
Through clenched teeth, Mona hissed, “Tobias.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Lucy decided that the best thing to do was to ignore her previous conversation with Barry about Rick Stockton and Matt Slater. She wished it had never happened. Fortunately, Barry seemed to agree because he didn’t bring it up, either.
It was twelve thirty, and Tia had just sent them a message that the doctor was currently checking on Elise Hansen, but she should be released within an hour.
“Elise didn’t tell us she’d recorded Everett,” Lucy said, focusing on the case. That was where she and Barry worked best. She could never be friends with him, not anymore. That saddened her.
Never say never.
It wasn’t likely.
“I noticed,” Barry said.
“It’s something I can push her on. She implied she took photos, but didn’t say it outright. Not about Everett.”
“If you’re ready to go after her.”
“I’m ready.” She sounded defensive, which was the last thing she wanted. “Elise knew that Worthington was dead when she left the motel. She staged the scene to make it look like he’d received oral sex, but we know that he wasn’t sexually aroused. Yet, less than an hour later, what did she sound like to you on the tape?”
“Like she was playing a part. Having fun.”
“There are cruel people in this world,” Lucy said. “But it takes an especially cold person to leave one man dead and then play sex games with another. To create an audio recording and, presumably, take pictures. But I’m wondering if those pictures even exist. Elise was vague, upset,
and calculating all at the same time. Everett would have noticed being photographed, wouldn’t he?” She didn’t wait for an answer, and continued. “She didn’t drug him—we saw him leave the hotel looking fine only hours after they had sex.”
“She lied to us. Repeatedly.”
“Whether out of fear of someone else, or fear that she was going to be caught, I’m not sure yet.”
“Still, someone shot her.”
“What is that expression? No honor among thieves? Maybe she actually told the truth, that she took Worthington’s phone and they were angry about it. Or maybe she made a mistake we have yet to uncover. Maybe she wanted more money. Maybe whoever hired her didn’t want a witness.”
“I’m going with the latter. She’s the only connection between Worthington and Everett. Someone gave her the curare to inject into Worthington. That’s not a poison you can buy on the street.”
“Mona Hill knows,” Lucy said. “If we can’t break Elise Hansen, we have to go back to Mona.”
“We should be able to break her,” Barry said. “Are you really up for this?”
Lucy had gone into this investigation thinking that Elise was the victim. That she’d been used and abused for years, ending up in a life of prostitution because that was all she knew. And maybe that was how it started. But turning to blackmail and murder? That she hadn’t been disturbed about Harper Worthington dying haunted Lucy. Elise was concerned about her own freedom and culpability—and freely admitted that she thought she was giving him a knockout drug—but showed no remorse that he ended up dying from her actions.
Lucy had let her sympathy for victims of the sex trade overshadow her years of training in criminal psychology. She should have seen Elise Hansen for who she was at the beginning. She might not have known that the drug was lethal, but Elise was calculating and would say or do anything to get out of the mess she found herself in.
“I am definitely up for it.”
* * *
Tia Mancini met Lucy and Barry at the hospital. “We’re good to go,” Tia said. “We can bring her to the station, interrogate her, then admit her into juvenile detention pending charges. We’re going to put her in the medical wing because of her injuries, as well as for her own safety.”
Best Laid Plans Page 29
