“So she was coming from the direction of Ms. Hill’s apartment?”
“Hmm, yeah.”
“And she just walked to the end of the hall?”
“I heard the staircase door close. Sometimes I go down the stairs, especially if it’s busy. There’s only one elevator. But there’s a staircase at the elevator, though it only goes to the lobby. The others go all the way down to the garage.”
“Do you remember what she looks like?”
“Not really. Why? I thought they caught the guy?”
“I’m a private investigator,” Patrick said, “I’m looking at all possibilities. You said ‘chick.’ Was she young? Old? In between?”
“Young. Teenager. Twenty, tops.”
“What was she wearing?”
“Dark hoodie, her hands in her pockets, you know, very pulled in, like not friendly and all. I’m friendly, I don’t get it, but I guess I do. Petite white girl sees big Black guy and just walks by, it is what it is.” He shrugged.
“You remember a lot more than you think. We now know that the girl was white, petite, in her late teens, wearing a dark hoodie—I assume the hood was over her head?”
“Yeah, it was.”
“Did you see her hair?”
“Blond. Hey, you’re right, I do remember a lot.” He grinned.
“Could you tell if it was long or short?”
He shook his head. “It was all tucked under the hood, but she had these long bangs that came out, that’s how I know it was blond.”
“That’s great. You said petite, but you’re pretty tall. So how short?”
Ned glanced at Lucy. “Shorter than you. Like, a lot shorter. I’d say five three, take or leave an inch. She was pretty short.”
“Was she carrying anything?” Lucy asked. “A purse or backpack?”
“Nothing. Her hands were in her pockets, like I said.”
Patrick asked, “Had you ever seen her before in the building?”
Ned shrugged. “Can’t say, probably not. Most people say hi to me because it’s like my territory, I’m there almost every night, sometimes five or six times a night.”
Lucy asked, “Did anyone else talk to you about that night, other than Officer Reynolds? Someone in law enforcement or anyone else?”
“Nope. The officer said one of the detectives investigating the murder would probably come and talk to me, just to verify everything I said and whatever, but no one did. I thought because they’d caught the guy. It was on the news yesterday. I mean, I talked to people I worked with, if that counts, because no one said not to say anything, you know?”
Patrick handed Ned his card. “If you think of anything else, please call me.”
He looked at the card. “Sure.”
“The detective will probably be back to talk to you as they work the case, make sure you tell him everything you told us.”
“Of course. Hey, my brother’s a cop in Galveston, that’s where I’m from. I totally respect those guys, so anything I can do to, like, you know, help, I will.”
“We appreciate that, Ned. Thank you.”
They left and Lucy almost didn’t wait until they left the building before she said, “Elise Hunt is five foot three and a half and blond. She dyes her hair frequently, but she was blond when I saw her yesterday.”
“If she used the stairs, that means she knew where the cameras were and that there were no cameras on the staircase. She went all the way down to the parking garage to avoid the lobby,” Patrick said. “I’m going back to Mona’s apartment and checking with all the businesses and neighbors. There’s something here, I’ll find it. I’m going to take you to the hotel.”
“I want to go with you.”
“No.”
“What do you mean no?”
“Lucy, you are married to their prime suspect. You can’t be involved at this point. You shouldn’t have even been there when I talked to Ned, but now that we have something, I have to cut you out. I’m sorry. I have to be careful as well, but if I can find one small lead I’ll push that arrogant cop to do his job or go over his head. Because the truth is here, I know it.”
“I can’t just sit around! Sean is out there, in danger, and every cop in the state will be after him unless we can clear his name and prove Hunt orchestrated this entire thing.”
“You don’t have to tell me that, Lucy. I know what’s at risk. I think the best place for you is at home, but I know you won’t do that, and the media is going to be all over the jail—eventually someone will figure out who you are and hound you. I don’t want you to go through that.”
Lucy didn’t know what to do. She’d woken up this morning knowing the situation was bad but believing that she’d see Sean and together they’d figure out how to clear his name.
But it didn’t happen.
“So the hotel is the next best option,” Patrick said. “RCK got a suite, I’ll be there as soon as I get answers.”
* * *
Erica Anderson was fucked.
A cop was dead. Her lover was in the hospital. How could this situation have gotten so out of control? This wasn’t supposed to happen!
She didn’t want to show her face at the hospital, especially now, but she couldn’t get any information from the nurses over the phone. If Tim died, all this bullshit would be for nothing. Everything she did, every crime she committed, would be for nothing if Tim was dead.
Sometimes, she didn’t even know how she’d gotten to this point.
She still had her old corrections ID. She was supposed to turn it in, but she hadn’t because she’d needed it. She wasn’t in uniform, but half the cops who were here weren’t in uniform. She showed her badge to the information desk and asked about the cop who was brought in that morning with a GSW. She was given a visitor’s pass and directed to the second floor, where he was being prepped for surgery.
She found a young nurse and showed her visitor’s pass. “My fiancé is here. He was shot, a corrections guard?” Tim wasn’t her fiancé, not yet, but if they survived this they deserved to be together. “Tim Sheffield?”
“He’s being prepped for surgery.”
“I just want to see him, one minute, please, just to tell him I love him.” This was true. She needed to see him. Because she had to find out what the fuck went wrong that his partner was killed and he was shot. Had Elise and her people betrayed them? Was Tim supposed to die? She had to find out what was going on and whether she needed to get her kids out of town.
“Let me see what I can do.”
The nurse walked off and Erica paced.
Her cell phone vibrated.
She almost ignored it. But it was her contact, Clara. A smart bitch, but a bitch nonetheless.
“What?” she answered.
“Where are you? You’re supposed to be back at the house to take care of the situation.”
Erica closed her eyes. Elise Hunt had killed someone and Erica needed to dispose of the body.
How the fuck did it come to this?
First she was paid to falsify some paperwork. No big deal. Then running stupid errands and making sure gangbangers did their fucking job. Annoying, but not difficult. Then planting a gun in a plane. Sure, why not? No skin off her nose. Tim had done worse, been forced to do things they both knew would get them in serious trouble, but he had to clean his slate. Make sure that one mistake didn’t come back to bite him in the ass.
But now body disposal? When was it going to end?
“Erica, where are you?” Clara demanded.
“Houston,” she said.
“You’re fucking three hours away?”
“I’m leaving now.”
“You’d better be, because this is not the time to get cold feet.”
“I’m fine,” she snapped.
The nurse was approaching. Erica hung up on Clara without another word.
“I can give you two minutes, that’s it,” the nurse said. “I’m sorry.”
“Two minutes is perfect,” she sa
id. “Thank you so much.”
She followed the nurse down the hall to a small alcove with a sheet draped across. Tim was lying on a gurney, already prepped for surgery. The nurse hooking up his IV finished, then said, “I’ll be right back, give you two a minute. But he’s going to be fine,” she told Erica and patted her on the arm.
That made tears well up in her eyes. Erica was not a crier, but seeing Tim so … helpless … was her undoing. He was a big man, a strong man, and he looked defeated.
She took his hand. “Baby, what happened?”
He turned his head. He was on painkillers, she could see it in his eyes. “Just part of the plan.”
“What? Getting shot was part of the plan?”
“Shh,” he said. He squeezed her hand but his grip was weak. “To sell it. Shot me in the leg. Not fatal. But the bullet got lodged in my bone. They’ll get it out.”
“Your partner—he’s dead.”
“I know.”
“That wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“I know. Just—shh. Don’t worry. Everything is going to be fine.”
The nurse came back and told Erica she needed to leave, the doctor was ready for Tim. Erica kissed his forehead and walked out in a daze.
Something was very wrong. Maybe it was the drugs, or maybe it was her eyes finally being opened.
Tim didn’t seem to care that his partner, a man he’d known for more than a decade, was dead. Had he known that killing Dave was part of the plan?
Everything had gone off the rails, and Erica didn’t know what to do.
Except one thing.
She left the hospital and called her ex-husband. “Erica! Where are you? I’ve been trying—”
“Shut up, Bill. Shut up and listen to me. Get the kids out of town. Don’t ask questions, don’t ask me anything. Just get them safe right now and don’t do anything else until you hear from me. I fucking mean it, Bill. Those kids are all I care about in this world and if anything happens to them … just do it.”
She ended the call. If anything happened to them it would be on her, because she was the one who blew it. She’d never forgive herself. Those two kids were the only truly good things she’d accomplished in her life. And Bill … well, he was a good man. Not perfect, too cautious in everything he did, but a good father. He would take care of them whether she was dead or in prison.
Erica didn’t want to die. She didn’t want to go to prison. But if she was going to avoid both, she had to survive the rest of the day.
Chapter Thirty-four
COMAL COUNTY, TEXAS
Aggie was more nervous than Nate that they were outside Bexar County. SAPD specifically told Nate that he couldn’t leave the county, and Nate had agreed to abide by the terms. They could actually arrest him now. But Nate wasn’t concerned. He couldn’t be now that they had a real lead on the people who planted the drugs in his truck. The people who could lead them to Elise Hunt.
“What if we’re being followed?” she asked.
“We’re not.”
“But SAPD was sitting outside Lucy’s all night.”
“They’re still there.”
He’d checked with Leo every hour since they’d left. All was well, but how long would that last? He’d read the news—Sean was in serious shit—but Nate had always been the type of cop to focus on the facts and immediate situation. Lucy had keen intuition—that “gut” that a lot of cops talked about. Nate didn’t. He had a strong sense of security issues—he could walk into any room and immediately assess the threat level, know every escape route, and exactly where he would take cover if someone started shooting. But that wasn’t the same as understanding criminal psychology. Nate didn’t understand why people did the shit they did. He understood soldiers—fighting for a cause, fighting for your country, protecting the innocent—he just didn’t understand how some people hurt others for no fucking reason.
It made him double down on his commitment to not bring children into the world. He’d lost friends, he’d lost people he cared about. And now his best friend was at great risk and he couldn’t do anything about it—except find Elise Hunt.
But he wasn’t going to let the damn SAPD and this phony drug seizure stop him from finding the bitch who set it all up. He was only five miles as the crow flies across the county border.
“Nate,” Aggie said, “this is serious. You could permanently lose your badge. You could be prosecuted.”
“I’m willing to take that risk. Nothing you say is going to change my mind, so stop trying.”
They were parked on a long road off Highway 46 north of San Antonio, somewhere between Boerne and Spring Valley. The houses were spread out, everyone had some land—two, five, twenty acres. There were a lot of horses, too; the terrain was greener as the elevation rose. Nate liked the Hill Country. He wouldn’t mind getting a place out of town—his apartment was functional, but he’d rented it three and a half years ago when he was assigned to the San Antonio office, and he rarely spent time there. It was a place to sleep. He spent more waking hours at Sean and Lucy’s.
Nate had been conflicted about whether he would stay in the FBI. On the one hand, Leo Proctor was only a few years from retirement and had already talked to Nate about taking over leadership of the SWAT team. San Antonio had one of the best-trained FBI SWAT units in the state, and Nate would be honored to lead them and build on what Leo had started. That would mean staying and maybe buying a house. But on the other hand, he never quite felt like he fit into the office. He kept waiting for something else, but he couldn’t quite define it. Partly it was that he missed his old unit, the men and women he’d worked with, fought with, laughed with. Partly because he was still there, in the past. It was hard to explain to anyone who had not served, especially for the length of time he had.
Having Jack and Kane around really helped, he realized.
Maybe he should focus on making a future here, not thinking about the past, not thinking about moving on. And if he were going to buy a place, he’d buy somewhere up here, out of town. Have a little space. Get a couple of dogs.
Violating direct orders not to leave Bexar County wasn’t a problem for him. Right now, he was the only one who was looking for Elise Hunt.
He had already assessed the terrain. Sitting out here on this country road wasn’t an option. Though the houses were few and far between, they’d be easily spotted if they parked for too long. They’d driven close enough to the target property to determine that there were no external security cameras; while Nate drove, Aggie had looked up property information and learned that the house was owned by an out-of-state investor and managed by a local company. A couple of calls later, and she had confirmation that the house had been rented on a month-to-month basis, since February 1, to Clara Valeria. She’d moved here two months before Elise had been released from juvie. The same week that Erica Anderson had quit her job. Coincidence? Unlikely.
When a neighbor drove slowly by them, Nate drove away and found a place to pull over and figure out the best way to approach and assess the property. Nate looked at satellite footage of the area.
“I got it,” he said.
He turned the tablet around so Aggie could see it. “If we drive down here, go up this street, which is parallel to the target, here’s an entrance to a state preserve. We park there and then cut through the preserve. We’ll only have to cut through one parcel of private property to hit the rear boundary of Valeria’s place—then we can recon.”
“Do we need a warrant?”
“To search. But we’re not going to search. If we stake out here”—he pointed—“the trees will shield us. I have binoculars and we can assess whether any of our subjects are on the property. If we get eyes on Donny Valeria, we call it in.” His boss wasn’t happy that he was working with Aggie on this case, but Rachel hadn’t told him to stand down. SAPD already had their description of Valeria, and that Aggie had ID’d him through DEA photos. No one else had a lead on his whereabouts. “You have cause to talk to
Pablo Barrios, so if we see him and not Valeria, then we talk to him about the sixteen kilos.”
“What do we say when they ask why we’re out here?”
“Just checking up on an unverified lead. Look—you don’t have to be here. We’re in the gray area and could both be reprimanded or worse. I’m okay with that. But I don’t expect you to give up your career to follow me down this rabbit hole.”
She bristled, her eyes narrowing. “That doesn’t say much about how you think of me, does it?” she snapped. “I’m doing this because my boss, a man I respect and admire, is missing and very well may be dead. Our office was torn apart because of the Hunt family, and I’m not going to sit by and wait to find his body. They must have taken him for a reason—to torture him? To get information? To draw away resources? I have no idea, but one thing Lucy said was that Elise Hunt does things that don’t make sense because she thinks it’s fun or disruptive. It’s like yelling fire in a crowded theater and enjoying the chaos. Maybe Brad’s kidnapping is part of that chaos, or there really is a bigger plan.”
Nate admired Aggie’s fire and appreciated the fact that she didn’t back down. He didn’t encounter many people like Aggie in federal law enforcement. Rules were important—but so was doing the right thing.
“We stake out the house, get confirmation, call it in. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
He turned the ignition and headed to the state preserve.
Chapter Thirty-five
GULF OF MEXICO
For the first hour that Sean was tied up in the hull of the yacht, he panicked. He worried about what Lucy would think when the guard told authorities that he’d been the one to shoot his partner. He worried about what the police would do when and if they found him. How would he be able to clear his name?
The second hour, Sean found surprising calm. He couldn’t do anything to help himself if he only focused on the bad … he had to find a way out of this mess. He had no idea where they were taking him. He had a good sense of time, but on the boat he didn’t know the direction they were going. Toward Beaumont? He doubted it. Toward Corpus Christi? More likely. Or heading to a boat deeper in the Gulf. But then they’d have to worry about the Coast Guard.
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