Cold as Ice

by Allison Brennan

  “Don’t raise your voice, Sean,” Felicity said. “Especially not to me. I am on your side.”

  He bit back his anger. He hadn’t meant to yell, but he was so damn frustrated he could cry. “I’m sorry.”

  She let out a long breath. “I understand what you’re going through. The physical evidence is difficult for us, but it’s not insurmountable. The airfield where you store your plane isn’t secure, there isn’t staff on site twenty-four hours a day.”

  Sean felt so trapped. He had no control, and Felicity was his only line to the outside.

  “One weekend, Sean. They don’t have enough to stop you from posting bond. I will fight tooth and nail for you. We’ll agree to an ankle monitor if we have to. Or house arrest. One weekend. Less than seventy-two hours.”

  She was trying to make him feel better, but it wasn’t working.

  He had a sick feeling he wouldn’t be alive in seventy-two hours. He didn’t kill Mona, but someone had wanted him arrested. They’d done everything to ensure it.

  “When they come back, give them brief yes or no questions whenever possible. Do not offer anything, and don’t let them get under your skin again, okay? They want you to get angry, because they think you’ll slip up, admit to a crime or contradict yourself.”

  “I need to make something very clear,” he said, keeping his voice low for fear of snapping at Felicity again. It wasn’t the lawyer’s fault someone framed him. “Everyone I love is in danger right now and I’m stuck here and can’t protect them. It’s killing me. If anything happens to Lucy—to my son—I just, dammit!” Tears threatened. Tears of rage, of frustration. Sean had always been the problem solver. He’d always been able to fix things. Computers. Cars. Situations. It’s what he did. He was compelled to, probably because of some deep psychological reason stemming from his childhood, but he didn’t care … all he knew was that he couldn’t fix this. He couldn’t prove his innocence. He had to rely on others to do so.

  He trusted Lucy … but how involved could she be? He trusted Nate, but Nate had his own problems right now. Jack … yes, Jack would move heaven and earth to fix this, but what if he couldn’t find Kane and get back in time? What if there was all this circumstantial evidence and he was forced to go to trial? Would he survive that long? It would tear apart his family—the family he’d painstakingly built. Jesse … would Jesse still believe him? Would anyone?

  Someone had killed Mona Hill in the twenty-five minutes between when he left and her bodyguard arrived.

  But the police thought she was dead before he walked out her door.

  “Let me do my job,” Felicity said. “I’m very good at it. I have one of the best investigators in the state working for me. I know you want this all to go away on Monday, and I’ll do what I can, but barring proof of your innocence or another suspect—we’ll still need to work this like any other capital case.”

  His stomach lurched.

  Capital case.

  Death penalty.

  “They’re probably going to offer you life in prison in exchange for a confession.”

  “I’m not confessing to a crime I didn’t commit.”

  “I just want you to be prepared. Because if this goes to trial—”

  “It’s not.”

  “If it does,” she said, “your life will be an open book.”

  “Then you’re not good at your job, because I didn’t kill her.”

  But Felicity was right. If it went to trial, he would lose everything … even if he was proven not guilty.

  Chapter Fourteen

  SAN ANTONIO, TEXAS

  Garrett thought it was a bad idea for Lucy to talk to Elise Hunt’s warden, but he joined her.

  “You can’t investigate this murder.”

  “I’m not,” she said. He knew it was a lie, but she was glad he didn’t call her on it. She was the only one who could do this. No one in law enforcement was going to believe—with maybe the exception of Tia Mancini—that Elise Hunt was a dangerous sociopath. The detectives in Houston weren’t going to talk to her warden, the guards in her dorm, her friends. They weren’t going to bring her in for questioning by a trained forensic psychiatrist. Lucy needed evidence, and this was the place to start.

  “Sean said that Mona received a threat from Elise. The police won’t understand the significance.”

  “Unless her prints are all over it, it’s likely untraceable.”

  “We don’t know, because we don’t have the note. Do the police have it? I suppose that’s something Felicity can find out once Sean talks to them.”

  Garrett leaned back in the passenger seat, but she noticed that his eyes were constantly looking around, not just behind them, but at every intersection.

  “You were a cop?”

  “Fifteen years. Here in San Antonio.”

  “Too few to retire.”

  “My knee was shot out during a hostage situation. A year of rehab and PT and I still can’t run and going up stairs is hell. Went to law school, but hated it. I passed the bar, but much prefer being an investigator. So I’m a lawyer, but other than trying to protect my firm’s clients during situations like warrant searches, I much prefer working the investigative end.”

  “It doesn’t pay as well as being a lawyer.”

  “If you weren’t an FBI agent, if you couldn’t do it because of an injury, what would you want to do?”

  “Be a CSI.”

  “That doesn’t pay as much as the feds, does it?”

  “No, unless you run the lab. Which I would—eventually.”

  “I like your confidence.” He was looking in the side-view mirror.

  “SAPD is still following us, aren’t they?”

  “Yep.”

  It made her angry; she quashed that feeling down quickly. She couldn’t afford the anger; she couldn’t afford any emotion clouding her judgment. She also couldn’t lose them without breaking the law, and she didn’t want to give them a reason to pull her over.

  “It would help if you could do some research for me while I drive,” Lucy said. “Do you know the warden, Kathy Pine?”

  “No.” He pulled out his smartphone and looked up the juvenile detention facility. Lucy knew where it was.

  “I’ve met her once briefly, when she gave a report to a joint gang task force,” Lucy said. “Back when I was working with Brad on active warrants. She’s smart, she’s been in this business for a long time, I don’t even think Elise Hunt could bullshit her.”

  “Would she have had much interaction with Elise?”

  “I don’t know. I only know a little about her management style. What little I heard, I liked.”

  Garrett found an article and skimmed it, then summarized it for Lucy. “Her philosophy is based on mentorship,” he said. “She works to get these girls out of the cycle they’ve found themselves in so they don’t land in prison once they’re out of juvie. She makes a point to know their histories, so when they’re released she can match them with employers or school programs or rehab centers or whatever they need. But the biggest problem is the gangs, and it’s hard to get the kids out once they’ve joined.”

  “True,” Lucy concurred. “It’s really hard when you have old friends trying to pull you back in.”

  Garrett nodded. “They often don’t have parents, or their parents are in prison or part of the drug culture.”

  “Elise isn’t a gangbanger, but she would join if she needed something from them.” Like stealing sixteen kilos of coke to plant on a federal agent. That sounded like Elise, the type of grand, bold plan that was as much a crime as theatrics.

  Garrett said, “Pine sounds like the real deal—she’s tough when she needs to be, but believes in second chances. Since she’s been here—five years next month—the recidivism rate has dropped nearly in half, staff retention is high, and the percentage of eligible girls getting their GED before leaving is a hundred percent.”

  “That’s—wow.”

  “If you’re eligible for a GED and earn it
, you can reduce your time with court approval. So instead of getting out at eighteen, you can get out at seventeen if you apply yourself, do your work, pass the test. Definitely gives them a leg up.”

  Lucy ignored the SAPD officer who parked on the street next to the administrative parking lot of the detention center, and entered the building.

  She didn’t have an appointment, but talked herself and Garrett into Kathy Pine’s office. It took nearly twenty minutes, but then the warden called her in.

  “I remember you, Agent Kincaid,” Kathy said. “You came to my presentation for the joint gang task force.”

  “Good memory.”

  “You had good questions. You said your husband had an appointment with me this morning. That would be Sean Rogan?”

  “Yes. He’s sorry he couldn’t make it and was unable to call.” She decided not to mention he’d been arrested. “I tried to get here earlier.”

  “I told him over the phone that I couldn’t give out information about Elise Hunt or anyone else here, but he insisted on meeting. Wanted to show me a threatening letter that Elise sent to someone. Do you have it?”

  “No. It was sent to a woman who has been since murdered. I testified against Elise.”

  “Yes—I remember reading your name in the files.”

  “And I felt she should have been tried for crimes as an adult, including racketeering, kidnapping, accessory to murder, murder, unlawful imprisonment, and escaping from custody.”

  “Serious charges.”

  “Of which I am certain she was guilty, but we’ll never know because she pled to lesser charges and was sent here. Elise is a game player, and she manipulated the court-appointed psychiatrist.”

  “Her files were sealed when she turned eighteen and was subsequently released. They will be expunged when she’s twenty-one if she maintains a clean record.”

  That was news to Lucy. “I thought they were already expunged.”

  “No. Those were the terms of her release.”

  Lucy hadn’t known, though she didn’t know how it might help her. “But she’s not on probation.”

  “Not exactly.”

  “You’re going to have to explain.”

  Kathy chose her words carefully. “There are times when the court will listen to the warden in cases with unusual circumstances.”

  “And you spoke against her?”

  “I spoke to certain circumstances where I felt Ms. Hunt might not be rehabilitated to the standard we have become known for,” Pine said carefully. “If she steps out of line, her files can be opened by law enforcement with court approval.”

  “What did she do to merit such untraditional probation?”

  Pine was clearly weighing how much to tell Lucy. “Well, the terms are public record, so I’m not talking out of line by telling you that. However, the reasons are confidential and sealed. If you suspect Ms. Hunt of a crime, you can petition the court to unseal them.”

  Lucy tried another approach. “What can you tell me about Elise’s time here? Were there problems?”

  “I can say that Ms. Hunt’s time here wasn’t challenge free.”

  That wasn’t helpful. “Would you let me talk to the guard who had the most contact with her?”

  “Even if I did, she wouldn’t be allowed to share anything.” Kathy hesitated. “I will tell you this only because I couldn’t prove it and thus it’s not sealed. It’s my personal belief—opinion—not anything I would swear to in court. I believe Ms. Hunt found a way to sneak out. Not impossible, I’m certain—we are a minimum security facility—but I never figured out how she did it.”

  “Why do you think so?”

  “She had items that she couldn’t have gotten in here. Especially since she had no visitors and no mail in the almost two years she was here.”

  “None?”

  “Only her court-appointed psychiatrist, who came once a week. And as far as I know, she never gave Elise anything. I know that the girls can smuggle items in here—they smuggle makeup, weapons, drugs, food—but one day Elise came to class with her hair dyed. Not just dyed, but professionally done. Highlights, cut—and she sported a new tattoo. She had one coming in, on the small of her back. This was on her arm. And it was clearly new and professional. It’s like she went out and had her own spa day.”

  “And someone in here couldn’t have done it?”

  “Not that level of quality. These were two different days, about two weeks apart. I questioned her and she didn’t budge. Lied to my face that she did her hair herself, that one of the girls—she wouldn’t say who because she said she wasn’t a snitch—gave her a kit. Even a top hair professional couldn’t have done that good of a job on themselves. I questioned the tattoo and she said another girl did it—and did give me her name. And it is a girl who has given tats to the girls, even though she’s been forbidden to do so. But the girl’s quality is far inferior to what Elise was sporting. I questioned the girl, and she lied to me. I felt in my gut that she didn’t care if I knew she was lying. My best guess is that Elise left at lights out and returned at shift change, which is right before we get the girls up. She had eight hours to do whatever she wanted.”

  “Why did she come back?” Lucy asked, almost to herself.

  “I wouldn’t know.”

  “Could one of the guards have been helping her?”

  “I questioned all of them. I believed them when they said they weren’t helping her.

  “Can I talk to them?”

  “I’m not going to let you—I have privacy and legal issues to worry about. However, there was one guard who quit and I’m positive it was because of Elise, but she didn’t say so. In fact, she refused to tell me why, and Erica had been here longer than me. She was one of the best I had, dedicated, firm, but kind. I’ll give you her number, maybe you can find out what went on.”

  “I appreciate that.” She took down Erica Anderson’s contact information. “Is she working at another prison?”

  “I haven’t heard. If that’s all—I have a staff meeting in five minutes.”

  “Two things—was there anyone that Elise was particularly close to?”

  “Elise made friends easily. But I had the sense that she made friends with people she had a purpose for. She didn’t have a close friend, or someone she confided in, for example. We usually know what the hierarchy is—put a handful of teenagers in a room and by the end of the day it’s pretty clear. Elise was an outlier. She wasn’t in charge, but she was not a subordinate. And the tough girls didn’t harass her like I expected, especially with her attitude.”

  “Was she friendly with anyone from the Saints? They’re a defunct gang.”

  “I’m familiar with the gang. Yes, actually. Marie Ynez. A good kid—I mean that. She got in a bad situation because of her brother, who ended up doing serious jail time. Their time overlapped by about six months, but Marie was released before Elise. And she’s doing well.”

  “I’d like to talk to her, see what she might know about Elise’s plans.”

  While Kathy was clearly skeptical, she agreed. “She’s sixteen, lives in a group home, and is going to school. I don’t expect to see her back here.” She gave Lucy the group home number and address.

  “If you can think of anything else, please call me,” Lucy said. She made sure that Kathy had her contact information before they left.

  As soon as they got back into the car, Garrett said, “You have a knack for getting people to talk.”

  “Kathy wants to do the right thing and if she could give me Elise’s records, she would. At least we confirmed her Los Angeles address—and one more thing. She didn’t have any visitors. Not one, other than the psychologist who testified on her behalf.”

  “Maybe we should talk to her. Dr. Oakley, right?”

  “She won’t talk to me. She refuses to see Elise as who she is. Insists that she’s a terrified, abused teenager who was used by her family. Even when Oakley was confronted with the truth—that Tobias was her half brother, no
t the foster brother she claimed, and all the stories she told about being abused in the foster system were lies, she refused to assign any blame to Elise, claimed that the lies were Elise’s way of protecting herself.”

  “That could be true.”

  “It wasn’t,” she snapped. “She lied about everything. She set me up to be killed. She takes pleasure in torturing people. She will say and do anything to get what she wants when she wants it—and that might be the way we get to her. Because she is young and impatient.” She paused, considered everything Kathy had said. “Though the warden said Elise made no calls, criminals sneak in phones all the time. Notes could be passed to guests of other inmates. So I have to assume she had a way of communicating outside the facility.”

  “Reasonable,” Garrett said.

  “I need to talk to the corrections officer who resigned. She might not have told Kathy why she was quitting, but I have to find a way to convince her to talk to me. And the girl from the Saints … that one might be harder, but I have some ideas.”

  Ideas that Jack wouldn’t like, but Lucy didn’t care because Jack wasn’t here to stop her.

  “Do you know what’s happening with Sean?” she asked, trying to keep the emotion out of her voice.

  “He’s still in interrogation, as far as I know.”

  Keep your cool, Sean. Please. I need you back.

  * * *

  Aggie had never contradicted a direct order. Martin Salter was a good agent, just like she’d told Lucy, but in this case she thought he was being too cautious. He listened to her, but then dismissed her assessment that Brad’s kidnapping might be related to the Hunt family and corrupt DEA agent Nicole Rollins.

  Why wouldn’t he have even considered that Brad’s kidnapping was retribution for killing Rollins?

  Aggie agreed with Lucy that all three cases were connected—probably because Brad had already planted the idea that Nate’s and Sean’s situations weren’t a coincidence. Aggie hadn’t been here during Nicole Rollins’s reign of terror, but she had heard stories, not just from Brad but from the staff who had stayed on after Houston DEA cleaned house. Brad was nearly untouchable, Martin reminded her, because he had institutional knowledge coupled with his ability to close tough cases. But he was a maverick, took risks, and had more autonomy than most ASACs in the DEA.