Though they all knew the safety was on, the gasps from every male in the room made her smile.
“Whoa! Where did the guns come from?”
She blew on the end of one barrel then the other before she tucked one back under her arm, the other in her boot. Everyone gaped except Matt, who turned his head.
That was fun. It wasn’t often she could get the best of FBI Agent Matthew Montgomery, even in penny-poker.
“Try again.”
“You proved your point.”
“Not completely. C’mon. Try again.”
She caught the way his mouth clamped shut in determination before she sauntered toward the door. In minutes he was behind her, a strong arm around her neck—another holding both arms to her body. For a moment she hesitated. She liked the feel of those arms.
When her training kicked in, she stomped on his foot with the heel of her boot, twisted, and threw him to the ground.
Brushing her hands together, she looked at her watch and sat down. “Any doubts now?”
Matt pulled himself up from the floor. “Dammit, where did you learn to do that?”
Her co-workers clapped their approval.
Matt grabbed a cup of coffee before he sat down.
“What can you tell us about Reed?” Carrie asked. “Where does he stay when he’s in Houston? Have you heard from him? Has your attorney responded to the summons?”
“One question at a time. From now on, Reed will talk through his attorney.” He told them Flanagan’s theory. “Reed doesn’t want a court case; he wants a settlement. No muss. No fuss. Just turn over the money. Knowing Reed, I’m inclined to agree.”
Coop took a sip of coffee before he spoke. “We have to counter his claim with the truth. To do that, we have to know what he’s basing his so-called case on.”
“We’ll know that soon.” Matt looked at his brothers. “We’re on a deadline. The trust is scheduled for disbursement in less than four weeks. We have to have a rebuttal by then. I’ll get home as early as I can tonight. Maybe we’ll find something in one of the trunks.”
“We need to know what we’re looking for.”
“I know that, Coop. But right now, anything we find is a plus.”
Carrie got his attention. “You didn’t answer my question. Where does Reed stay when he’s in Houston?”
“Why?”
“Never mind. I was just interested.” No way would she tell Matt or his brothers what she had in mind.
Matt shrugged those big shoulders. “The Four Seasons downtown.”
“Nothing but the best, right?”
“Even if he can’t afford it,” Coop added.
The renowned hotel in downtown Houston was a step away from the city’s cultural attractions. And you wouldn’t call it inexpensive.
“There’s no way Reed could be right,” Marshall said. “However, no one knows what went on back in the day.”
Matt’s mouth tightened. “From everything I’ve heard about my great-great-grandfather—if his brother deserved part of his fortune, he would have shared it back then.”
“Good enough for me.” Carrie stood. “I’m out of here. I’m going to stake out Magee’s bar again. Wish me luck.”
“Always, but be careful,” Matt said to her retreating back.
She couldn’t help but smile when she headed for her Harley. Taking Matt down had been the most fun she’d had in months. Chuckling, she started her bike, put on her helmet, and took off.
She was halfway to the bar when she changed her mind. Amy and her friend Lizzy both worked at the construction office a mile further. She would stop there first and talk to Lizzy again. It was possible she remembered something she hadn’t told Carrie earlier.
When she wheeled her Harley into a parking space, hopped off, and exchanged her helmet for her Western hat, two men leaving the construction office stared, grinned, then came toward her. “Can we help you?”
The smile she gave them made one of the men drop the plans tucked under his arm, then scramble to pick them up. She wanted to laugh; instead she decided to ask a few questions. “I dropped by to see my friend, Lizzy. Is she busy?
“Lizzy is always busy, but she can take a minute to see you.”
They introduced themselves. Carrie gave them the bogus name she was using, Sandy Mercer. “I miss Amy. We used to have a lot of fun together and now we don’t know where she is.”
“We miss her, too.” Their faces lost their happy male smiles.
“I’ll bet. I hope you saved her job for her.”
“Amy’s job is waiting for her the minute she gets back. How about a cup of coffee?”
“That would be nice.”
They led the way to the one-story, nondescript brick building. One of the men trotted to the door and held it open. “Amy worked down here answering phones and doing odd jobs. She was good at it. I can’t wait until she gets back.”
Carrie looked around. “I see what you mean.” She pointed to a receptionist’s desk stacked high with papers. The woman behind the desk was saying ‘hello’ over and over into the phone. Another phone started ringing. The poor lady looked as if she was about to cry.
“You can see why we can’t wait to see Amy again.”
“I wonder where she could be. Do you have any idea?”
“Not a clue. She’s been here a year and seemed to like her job. At least, she never complained. She and Lizzie struck up a friendship right away. We know of no reason for her to just cut out.”
There were men coming and going from various offices. Some were obviously in the trades. Carpenter. Electrician. Plumber. Some were young, some older. “There are a lot of good-looking guys around here. Did she date anyone?”
The men shook their heads. “Several wanted to. But we have a strict rule against fraternizing. A couple of guys came to my office and asked if they could ask her out and not get fired. I told them no. If any broke my rule, I’m not aware of it.”
“I see.” But what if someone had?
“It’s nice to have met you. I’m going to see if Lizzie has time for that cup of coffee you promised me.”
“I’m so sorry. We got to talking…”
She waved a hand and went to the staircase. “Not a problem. Have a good day.”
“Will you visit us again?”
“Probably.”
She was on the second floor before they could continue the conversation. The space had offices lined on one side. In front of each office was a cubicle with a desk where men and women were busy shuffling papers or working the computer.
Carrie looked around for Lizzy and found her in the back. Her cubicle was larger than the others and there were papers strewn across her desk in a haphazard manner. “Got time for a cup of coffee?”
Lizzy opened her mouth, but Carrie put a finger to her lips. “If you can take a break maybe we can have a chat.”
Lizzy looked around the room. “There are too many people in the break room and no one close by. Pull up a chair. Have you found Amy?”
“No. And if anyone asks my name, it’s Sandy Mercer.”
“You’re undercover?” Lizzy whispered, her eyes as big as saucers.
“I find I learn more this way. Now, tell me, did Amy date any of the hunks I saw going in and out of the office downstairs?”
Lizzy chuckled. “She dated one on the sly. It’s a company rule not to, but she did it anyway. After two dates, he dropped her. I think he had second thoughts and valued his job.”
“How did she take it?”
“Amy didn’t care. It’s not like they were in love or anything.”
“Can you give me a name?”
“I will. Just don’t cause the guy trouble. He really could lose his job over this.” She wrote a name and the job address where he was working on a sticky note and handed it over.
Carrie tucked it in a pocket. “Can you tell me anything I don’t already know?”
“I wish I could. I have this feeling Amy is in a world of trouble.
”
“Or worse.”
Lizzy shook her head. “I think she’s just in trouble.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“I don’t know.”
Amy’s friend was distraught. Rightly so. “Were the two of you that close?”
“Yes and no. We both liked the same things: same movies, same clothes, same type of men. Most of all, we liked having a good time.” She looked down. “I haven’t had a good time since she went missing.”
Carrie squeezed Lizzy’s shoulder as she stood to leave. “I’m doing my best to find her. Just remember my current name, if anyone asks.”
“I will.”
The new subdivision was several miles out I-45 where most of the houses were still in the construction stage. Only a few had been landscaped and sold. Carrie pulled out the note, confirmed the address, and slowly made her way around pickups, plumbing and electrical vans, and an array of delivery trucks.
The house where Ray Lenox worked as a cabinet man was almost complete. She parked her bike in the drive and walked inside. Voices drew her to the kitchen. “Whoa!” A man called out. “Are you the owner?”
“Not quite. I’m looking for Ray.”
“I’m Ray.” A nice-looking guy of average height with nice blue eyes popped up from the floor. “Sorry, I was installing cabinet doors.”
“Not a problem. Can we talk?”
“Do I know you?”
“I don’t think so. My name is Sandy. My friend, Amy Strong, is missing. Lizzie and I want to find her.”
“Are you a cop?”
“Do I look like a cop?” She’d been asked the same question before and knew for a fact, she didn’t look the role.
Ray blinked. Smiled. “Nah! Too pretty.”
“Can we step outside?”
She led the way to the backdoor. Ray followed. “I haven’t seen Amy in a while.”
“Lizzy told me you dated.”
Ray turned away, his fists clenched. “She needs to kept her mouth shut. I don’t want to lose my job.”
“I won’t tell your boss.”
He looked at her, his eyes full of questions. “So why are you asking about Amy?”
“She hasn’t contacted any of her friends. I miss her. I had this crazy idea she might have said something to you about leaving town or something.”
“Running away without telling anyone isn’t like the Amy I knew.”
“Did you fight?”
“Fight? Not a bit. I like Amy. When I was told she dropped off the face of the earth, I was shocked.”
“Why?”
“Because Amy liked her job and her life. The only thing she didn’t like was that we couldn’t date because we worked for the same construction firm.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Did you like or dislike the rule?”
“Hate it. But I do like my job and I make good money.”
Some men would ignore the consequences, but Ray seemed different. “You can’t think of any reason she would leave and not tell anyone?”
“She’d tell Lizzie. They were thick. So, no.”
“Okay. Sorry I bothered you.”
“Come back anytime,” he said on his way back to the kitchen.
Carrie grinned as she stepped on the starter and swung out of the subdivision. It was too bad about those rules. Ray and Amy would make a nice couple.
Starving, she stopped at the first sandwich shop she saw. She would take her time before going to Magee’s. Maybe the bartender would be more apt to talk to her without the FBI breathing down his neck.
First, she was going to make a stop at the house. She was way over-dressed. She’d save this outfit for another day. Later, she would have to take time to go to the consignment shop she frequented and look for something that looked rich and tantalizing when she looked up Reed at his posh hotel.
Matt was going to be furious.
She shrugged.
It would be worth his anger to get information that would take that look out of Matt’s eyes—the one that told her how devoted he was to his family Trust. And how devastated he would be to have to cut even one of his many charities off the list.
Chapter Six
Matt stepped out of his SUV and headed to the FBI building. How could one woman irritate him so?
Carrie had that ability and it irked him. He had a case to solve, with no time or inclination to worry about a woman who was too stubborn for her own good.
His mind went to Reed and his claim. Flannery would be in court today. Matt would finally learn what Reed had that made him think he was owed half of the Trust. Flannery had promised to call as soon as he knew something.
Matt let his mind shift to his case. Though he wasn’t a SEAL any longer, he had to think like one. Draw up a plan; instigate it; find, and take out the enemy. In this case, the killer.
Were they dealing with a run-of-the-mill serial killer, one who killed the same type woman over and over? Or was he killing for even more nefarious reasons. They had to find him. Who was he? What drove him?
How the hell would Matt know? The FBI had nothing to go on, but right or wrong, he had thought of a place to start.
“Sweeney!” he yelled when he stepped onto his floor. Agent Sweeney came running. “We need to talk.”
Sweeney followed him into his office. “What’s up?”
“I want to brainstorm.”
Sweeney’s eyes lit up. “Have you learned anything new?”
“No. But I’ve been thinking of something and want to run it by you.”
“Go for it.”
Matt leaned forward. “I have a what if. See what you think.”
“I’m listening.”
“What if we’re once more dealing with the sex-slavery trade? What if, instead of kids, like it was two years ago, women are being sold? What if there is a man out there who wants a red-haired, green-eyed beauty? And what if he goes ballistic when he finds out her hair is dyed instead of the real deal?”
Sweeney’s brow wrinkled. “That’s stretching it.”
“Not necessarily. There’s a pattern that can’t be explained.”
“Not yet there isn’t. Think about this—just how many serial killers have we seen or heard of that had nothing to do with the sex business and everything to do with their own twisted mind?”
“Of course you’re right. Still, I think it’s something to look into.”
“If your scenario is worth looking into, how do we find the slavers?”
Matt grinned. “Remember my hacker case not too long ago?”
“Samson Razi, six feet, four inches, two-hundred and forty pounds of muscle, a mop of black curly hair, dark eyes, and one hell of a hacker. Who could forget him? The guy can find out anything about anybody or anything.” Sweeney leaned closer. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“If I put Sam on this, we might get somewhere.”
“From what I gathered, he didn’t take to working for the FBI easily.”
“You’re right. But he didn’t like being threatened with jail. Working for us was his only option.”
Matt knew a lot about sex-slavery from his previous case, just not enough. Buying and selling humans for sexual purposes was rampant not only in the Houston area, but in all fifty states. There was nothing he would like better than to catch both the buyers and the sellers. Catching the killer to boot, would be icing on the cake.
“This won’t be easy. Those black sites are damned hard to find. And what if you’re wrong and we do nothing but spend time chasing our tails?”
“Sam will find them.” Sweeney started to rise. “Regardless, it’s worth a look. Meanwhile, I want you to get the names of any and all of the prostitutes who have been incarcerated recently.”
“I’ll get right on it.”
When the door shut behind Sweeney, Matt reached for his phone. “Sam, can you come to my office? I have a job for you.”
“I’m busy.�
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“Sorry. This is high priority.”
Sam hung up. If he didn’t show up in ten minutes, Matt would go to him. Sam had a prima-donna attitude. He knew he was the best hacker out there and didn’t mind letting everyone know it.
Ten minutes later, Sam walked into Matt’s office. “What do you want?”
“Take a seat, Sam.”
Sam settled his bulk into a chair. There was no smile and it was evident he didn’t want to be there. “How are you doing? Are you comfortable working for us?”
Sam just glared.
“Sorry. But we couldn’t have you out there bringing down planes, or moving money that wasn’t yours.”
“I didn’t move money and I did no harm to a plane or anything else.”
Sam didn’t think hacking into a plane’s controls via the in-flight entertainment system should have any negative consequences. When asked why he did it, he answered that he just wanted to see if it was possible. The FBI got the same answer when they asked why he had hacked into three of the world’s largest banks. It was true; Sam hadn’t done any damage. But he could have.
Having him on the payroll was a real coup. Sam was the best computer guru Matt or the FBI had ever encountered. Matt intended to take advantage of that. “We were hoping you would like it here.”
A shrug of massive shoulders. “What do you want me to do?”
“I have a difficult case.” Matt gave him everything he had. “I want the women’s full names, where they worked and lived, and I want to find out if they were kidnapped to be put up for sale. To do that, I’ll need to know who the slavers are, where the auction is held, and when. I understand there are thousands of black sites out there. You’ll have to find the right one in this area. The highest bidder wins the person they want. Some come in person to do their bidding, others do it by phone or computer. Get me everything you can find.”
Sam let out a loud guffaw. “You don’t want much. Why don’t I just solve your case and hand it to you on a silver platter?”
“That would be good.”
Sam stood. “I suppose you want this within the next hour.”
Laughing, Matt stood to walk Sam to the door. Then he sobered. “We have a serial killer out there, Sam. The sooner he’s brought in, the better.” He paused. “If our killer isn’t in the slavery business, I need to know that as well.” It wouldn’t do to chase their tails all over Houston and not get results.
Wounded at Work Page 5
