Cold as Ice

by Allison Brennan

  “Who’s in charge?”

  “Sergeant Warren.”

  “Stay there. I’ll find out what’s going on.”

  The officer standing next to Williams smirked. Nate stared him down as he ended the call. The smirk disappeared.

  “Holy shit,” one of the cops said.

  Nate made a move toward his truck to see what they’d found, but the formerly smirking cop put his hand up.

  The cop searching Nate’s truck held up a package that appeared to be a kilo of something. The plastic wasn’t see-through, but the shape and form—Nate knew exactly what it was.

  Someone was setting him up.

  Just like someone set Sean up.

  “There’s sixteen of these bad boys under the lining,” the officer said.

  Sergeant Warren came over. “Your truck, Agent Dunning.”

  “Not my drugs.”

  “You have a baggie of coke on you, I might buy that a criminal planted it on you. But sixteen kilos?” He looked over. “What is it, Parker?”

  Parker held up a test tube that was now blue. “Cocaine. Fuck, at twenty a pop? You’re looking at over a quarter mil on the street.”

  Warren looked at Nate. “A quarter million in product.”

  “My boss is on her way.”

  “We need to take your weapons.”

  “No.”

  “There’s sixteen kilos of cocaine in your vehicle. Don’t make this more difficult for yourself.”

  “I will stand here and not move until my supervisor gets here.”

  “You will not remain armed and put my officers at risk.”

  “What is your fucking problem, Sergeant?”

  “What’s yours, Agent Dunning? I’m doing my job, and you’re not cooperating. Williams, take his sidearm. Don’t fight me on this, Dunning. What else are you carrying?”

  “Nothing else on me, sir,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “Sorry.” Williams mumbled so low Nate almost didn’t hear him as the cop pulled Nate’s Glock from his shoulder holster, then patted him down.

  Warren said quietly, “You feds think you’re all squeaky-clean, then come into my house and put my men and women under a microscope. Don’t think I don’t know what’s going on.”

  Information began to click into place. The FBI had taken down several corrupt cops, including one who had seduced an FBI agent in order to access confidential information which he then shared with a known drug dealer and cop killer. Nate thought that the air had been cleared between the agencies, but there was still tension among the rank and file. And clearly, they all knew that Nate had helped take down the bad cop.

  Nate didn’t respond to Warren baiting him, though he ached to punch this prick in his arrogant face. He stood there, at ease, falling back into his military training to not respond in the face of an adversary. His drill sergeant had put him through far worse than this jerk.

  “Let’s see what else you have in that tricked-out Ford you have there, shall we?” Warren said. He turned to his men and women. “Finish it.”

  They hadn’t taken his phone. He texted Lucy.

  Someone planted sixteen kilos of coke in my truck. I’m being detained by SAPD and can’t get Jesse. This is no coincidence.

  Chapter Eight

  Lucy stared at her phone. Nate was in trouble.

  Sean and Nate were in trouble.

  Sean was looking into Elise Hunt. He talked to Mona Hill. Nate had arrested Elise, he’d been part of the SWAT team that came in and killed Elise’s sister. Was that the reason? Revenge?

  Dammit, Sean!

  She wanted to put her frustration aside, but something big had been going on this week and he’d kept her out of the loop, which meant that he was trying to protect her. She’d believed they’d gotten over this hurdle! He’d promised no secrets.

  Maybe he didn’t take the threat seriously. Maybe he was looking into it … trying to confirm … but why keep her in the dark?

  He had his reasons. She’d find the truth, but first things first.

  Keep Jesse safe.

  Get Sean out of jail.

  Find out who killed Mona Hill.

  Clear Nate’s name.

  The person who killed Mona was likely the same person—or same group—who had planted drugs on Nate.

  One of the female SAPD officers was watching her closely, and that’s when Lucy realized that she’d likely been assigned to keep tabs on Lucy while her house was being searched.

  That irritated her. Sure, she knew they were just doing their job, but it grated on her that she was being watched in her own home.

  She was standing in the kitchen alone, except for the watchful cop. Brad was outside with the pair of cops searching the pool house, and Garrett was monitoring the search inside.

  She walked outside to talk to Brad. The cop followed.

  She turned and said, “You can wait here, Officer.”

  “I need to keep you in sight at all times, Mrs. Rogan.”

  “Agent Kincaid,” she snapped, and wished she hadn’t. Now the cop knew that she’d gotten under her skin. That this whole damn search had gotten under her skin. “Keep me in sight, but stand back,” she said.

  She walked outside. Bandit ran up to her. He looked concerned—if a large, happy golden retriever could look concerned—and stayed at her side as she walked over to where Brad stood outside the pool house. She motioned to her friend, who came over, his face set. “They found two guns in the pool house. A rifle—which they claim they can take, though I think that’s bullshit—and a handgun. Small pistol, looked like a .22, but I couldn’t be sure because they didn’t let me in.”

  “I’ll leave that all to Garrett,” she said. She kept her voice low. “Nate texted me. Someone planted sixteen kilos of coke in his truck, he’s being detained by SAPD.”

  “Nate? Are you shitting me?” Brad shook his head. “I’ll find out what the fuck is going on, this is ridiculous.”

  “Shh,” she said, looking at the officer, who was too close for comfort. She moved farther away and Brad followed. “I don’t know any of these cops.”

  “Jane Travis is in the pool house. She’s okay, I’ve worked with her a couple of times over the years. But I don’t know anyone else.”

  “Sean was arrested, Kane is missing, and now Nate is being detained. This is no coincidence. You need to be careful. If this”—she waved her hands to indicate the search—“is all related to the Hunt family, you’re in as much danger as any of us. Strength in numbers and all that.”

  “Does RCK have proof? Other than Sean hiring a PI to look for Elise Hunt?”

  “No. But Nate’s in trouble, and he’s our best friend. He was involved in the Rollins investigation. I have to assume that anything Nicole or Tobias knew, Elise knows. Hell, I don’t know, Brad!” She forced herself to remain calm. “Nicole had an SAPD officer on her payroll. He’s now in federal prison. He may not be the only one.”

  “Eric Butcher,” Brad spat out. “I trusted him. We worked together on three different active warrant searches and he was one of them all along.”

  Butcher had pled guilty and provided information on how Nicole Rollins recruited cops in San Antonio. He didn’t turn in any of his colleagues, but gave enough information that they found two more on her payroll. But that didn’t mean there weren’t more.

  Money wasn’t the only thing that motivated cops to turn.

  “If you want me to stay and watch your back, I will.”

  “I’m safe here. As safe as I can be. Do you really think you can find out what’s going on with Nate?”

  He nodded. “I’m in a unique position to help considering I’m DEA. If drugs are involved—especially in that quantity—they’re going to call us in, even just to consult.”

  “I have a huge favor. I’m sure Nate will be fine—he’ll probably be here soon—but if something happens and he has to deal with this drug situation, can you stay here with Jesse when I go to Houston?”

  “Ab
solutely.”

  That relieved her. She didn’t know who else she could call in to watch her stepson. Jesse was thirteen—almost fourteen—and a smart kid who had been training with both Kane and Sean. But he was still a kid, and she needed him safe.

  “Thank you. As soon as the police are done here, I’m going to get Jesse. Please keep me informed every step of the way about Nate, and I’ll let you know if I learn anything about Sean or Kane.”

  He squeezed her shoulder. “We’re going to find out what’s going on, Lucy.”

  They walked back into the house, but after Brad left Lucy felt suddenly very alone. She went to the kitchen to make fresh coffee. She needed something to do.

  Garrett came in behind her. “Where’s Donnelly going?”

  She hesitated, and Garrett frowned. “I can’t help you if you’re not honest with me, Lucy.”

  She looked around. The officer following her was on the far side of the kitchen, pretending to look at her phone. She motioned for Garrett to come over to the kitchen sink. In a quiet voice she told him what she knew about Nate. “Brad’s going to find out what’s going on.”

  “Does JT know?”

  “I don’t know. Nate texted me.” She pulled out her phone and forwarded Nate’s message to JT.

  Garrett spoke quietly. “The warrant is specific, but they are taking every firearm they have found except for the shotgun and the rifles and your service weapon. They can do so. I think it’s just them flexing their muscles, because it’s clear that they believe that the gun they found in the plane is the murder weapon, they’ve already sent that to ballistics and put a rush on it, but they won’t have results before next week. They’ve also taken a lot of Sean’s shoes and clothes; again I think just to flex. They’re almost done.”

  “Good.” She needed just five minutes to decompress and figure out what was going on. “When they’re gone, I’ll get Jesse. Either Nate or Brad will stay with him while I’m in Houston. He shouldn’t be alone, but I’m not going to take him—it would destroy Sean if Jesse saw him in jail.”

  Her head began to ache.

  “Agent Kincaid?”

  A tall cop walked in. Plainclothes, forties, blond with blue eyes.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m Detective John Banner, with the Houston Police Department.”

  She stared at his outstretched hand and didn’t shake it.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be interviewing my husband about now?”

  “I wanted to supervise the search. We’re leaving now, and I apologize for the disturbance—”

  “Just cut the crap, Detective,” she said. “You can go.”

  He looked at her, unfazed by her comment. “We have what we need. As your lawyer can tell you, you’ll be asked to come down for questioning. We can do it here, in San Antonio, for your convenience.”

  “I’ll be in Houston this afternoon to pick up my husband.”

  “That won’t happen.”

  “I’ll have his bail ready. I’m already working on it.” She wasn’t, but knew that RCK would be. They had resources that she didn’t have and probably knew more about Sean’s finances than she did.

  “We’re keeping him in custody over the weekend.”

  “You can’t do that.”

  “We are.”

  “I need to see my husband.”

  “I can arrange that this weekend. He’ll be at the main jail.”

  “There is no reason to keep him over the weekend.”

  “I have seventy-two hours to arraign him, and I’m going to take every minute. He’s a flight risk.”

  “He has family here. A son. A wife. A business.”

  “And he’s a cybersecurity expert who would know exactly how to disappear if he wanted to.”

  “He’s not going to run. He’s going to fight back because he’s innocent and I don’t—”

  Garrett cleared his throat and said, “My client would like to see her husband tonight. As a courtesy, I hope you can make that happen.”

  Banner looked from Lucy to Garrett, and then back to Lucy.

  “I have your contact information. We’ll see.”

  He looked at his watch. “I need to go, but one word of advice, Agent Kincaid: I’ve done my research. I know who you are, I know who your friends are. Stay out of my case. I would not have arrested your husband if I didn’t have solid evidence of his guilt, and if I find out that you’re interfering, I’ll arrest you for obstruction of justice.”

  “Threats are unnecessary, Detective,” Garrett said.

  Lucy fumed.

  “Sean is innocent, and your evidence is shit,” she snapped.

  “I don’t arrest the innocent,” he said without blinking, then turned and walked away.

  Lucy stepped forward and Garrett grabbed her arm, holding her back.

  “Going after him isn’t going to help,” Garrett said.

  “He’s a fucking asshole,” she said, not caring if Banner heard her. Took a deep breath. She didn’t sound like herself. “I need to get Jesse.” She looked at her watch. “It’s almost his lunch hour. I want to be the one to tell him. I have to … Garrett, Sean is not guilty. He’s not.”

  She couldn’t very well say what she was thinking out loud. That if Sean had killed someone, he wouldn’t be caught so easily. He wouldn’t keep the murder weapon. He would have a solid alibi. He wouldn’t be caught on a security camera. But that certainly wouldn’t help Sean’s defense. The only way Sean would be getting out of this was for the Houston police to be able to prove that he didn’t kill Mona Hill … and right now, if they really had found the murder weapon in Sean’s plane, that meant finding out who really killed Mona and planted the gun there.

  The police wouldn’t believe that he was being framed.

  That was up to her to prove.

  Chapter Nine

  Brad Donnelly took precautions to make sure that he wasn’t followed. He wasn’t quite as paranoid as the Rogan clan, but after the last two years, he’d become more security conscious. It was certainly suspicious that Sean, Kane, and Nate were all out of the picture.

  Sean and Lucy, along with Kane Rogan, had literally saved his life when he’d been tortured by a drug cartel. Lucy repeatedly told him he owed them nothing, but he ignored her. It was more than his life they saved. It was his confidence, his future; they rekindled his faith in humanity. He’d been destroyed after his division was torn apart once they learned Nicole Rollins—an agent he’d trusted for years—had led a major drug operation under his nose and used the DEA to make her family rich, leaving behind a trail of blood so long and thick they were still uncovering some of her crimes two years later.

  So yes, he owed them, and he would for the rest of his life. He was okay with that. He loved his job, he was good at it, but in the end, the job only mattered because there were good people in the world who deserved good cops protecting them.

  He sent Nate a text message to call him—he needed more information than Lucy had. Then, when he was certain he wasn’t being followed, he called Detective Jerry Fielding, his liaison with the San Antonio Police Department. They had worked numerous cases together, and he was a straight shooter.

  “Jerry, it’s Brad. I’m calling about the cocaine your people found in an FBI agent’s car. Can you tell me what’s going on?”

  “I can’t.”

  That surprised him. “Can’t?”

  “Look, you and I have a good relationship, but things have been strained between all of us since Butcher was arrested. He’s denied everything, said he was forced to make a plea, and the fact that he got ten to fifteen, it has caused a lot more problems.”

  “The guy is guilty, Jerry. He was working for Rollins. He should have got life and is lucky the AUSA agreed to a plea. Rollins killed a half dozen agents, including my boss.”

  “I’m not justifying anything, but you didn’t testify against him. Three FBI agents did.”

  “Are you saying this is all a fucking setup?”

&nb
sp; “No. The K-9 officer was doing his job. I know Officer Smith—hell, you know him. Ramon Smith. He’s worked on several joint operations.”

  Brad did know Smith. He was a solid cop, former MP in the Army, all-around good guy.

  Jerry continued. “When the dog hit on the truck, they ran the plates and found out the truck belonged to an FBI agent.” He paused. “Look, Smith called his boss because he recognized it was a sensitive situation. It was his boss who decided to take the opportunity to search it. It’s legal, and he wants to make a stand on it. It’s going to get ugly.”

  “Nate Dunning is not a drug runner.”

  “I don’t know Nate, but I trust you, Brad. We’ve been in this field a long time. This isn’t between me and the FBI—I have friends there. I’m just saying, you need to back off and let this play out. They want a full investigation, just like the FBI demanded of Butcher. Otherwise, they’ll cry foul, and none of us will want to work in a city where no one trusts anyone else.”

  “Don’t think I don’t know what your people are going through. But this is fucking bullshit.”

  “I’m sorry, Brad. This case is way over my head, and I think you should sit this one out, too.”

  Brad ended the call. No way in hell was he sitting this out. He called Aggie Jensen, a smart young rookie who’d started with him eighteen months ago. She was a bit quirky and sometimes too casual in an office format, but he never called her on it—he liked her ability to think of every possible contingency as easily as she breathed. Not to mention she was a young, tech-savvy recruit who’d graduated top of her class at the DEA training facility at Quantico. Brad had run a secondary background check on her and she was exactly what she appeared to be: a twenty-eight-year-old computer geek from a family of military heroes and cops.

  “Yep, boss?” Aggie said when she picked up the phone.

  “Dunning with the FBI was detained after SAPD found sixteen kilos of coke in his truck. I need everything you can find about the case. There has been a strain between our departments ever since the FBI took down a corrupt cop who worked for Rollins.”

  “Nate? Nate Dunning?” Aggie was clearly surprised. “What did he say?”