Innocent Prey (A Brown and de Luca Novel) (19 page)

“It would be nice to have a desk job in a nice place like this. It’s quiet.”

“It’s fucking pastoral.”

She grinned. “Good word.”

“Words are my specialty.”

She pressed her lips together, thinking about something. Deciding on something, I thought, and then she nodded, decision made. “I need to ask you for a favor, Rachel. Woman to woman. Just between us.”

I must not have been as gifted as she thought I was, because I had not been expecting that. What could I possibly do for her? “Shoot,” I said.

“Don’t tell them.”

I blinked, and my brain tried to decide what she was referring to. “You’re gonna have to be more specific. Are you talking about the job now, or—”

“My daughter. Don’t tell Mason or the chief or anyone about my daughter.”

“Why the hell not?” I asked.

“I’m a woman in a man’s world. Trust me, it wouldn’t be good for my chances at the job.”

And there it was. The easiest way in the freaking universe to put her out of the running for Mason’s future position. And would I use it? Come on, now. I’m a bitch, but I’m not a backstabber.

The front door opened, and Mason walked in, met my eyes and told me without a word that he was glad to be back. And that his mysterious late-night meeting with Rodney Carr had been a good one.

I held up his mug. He said, “You’re a mind reader.” Then he grinned. “Sorry. It slipped out.” Then he came to take his cup and glanced at Cantone. “Did she tell you she’s been monitoring my cell phone?”

“Yeah. And I know all about those 900 numbers you’ve been calling, pal.”

He crooked a brow at me, I winked and he relaxed.

“I’m sorry about that,” Cantone said. “Look, I’m FBI. You were keeping some pretty significant things from me when I made that decision. I’m sharp enough to know that much. I just didn’t know what they were.” She paused, then added, “Now that I do, I’ll cancel the monitoring. I understand why you two were playing things so close to the vest. I get the need for discretion. And I want you both to know that this...NFP thing—” she smiled when she said it “—is off the record.”

“I appreciate that,” I told her.

“Well, you know, I wouldn’t do anything to fuck up another woman’s career if I could help it.”

Oh, man. Subtle, she wasn’t. I sighed. “Neither would I.”

She looked so relieved it should’ve been obvious, but she quickly leaned back and sipped her coffee, trying to act like nothing important had just happened.

Mason looked from me to her and back again, clearly aware something had transpired between us, so I changed the subject before he could ask what. “So? What did Rodney Carr have to say?”

He smiled. “He said he’s gonna help us nail the kidnappers, save the girls and put this case to bed. So Jake Kravitz and whoever else he’s working with are toast.” He smiled a little bit bigger. “In other words, we’ve got ’em.”

“We do?”

Mason nodded, and then he filled us in. Rodney Carr had been set up with a half-naked hooker, photographed and then blackmailed for the name of another girl who’d aged out of foster care. A girl no one would miss.

“Which means whoever was supplying them with names before, stopped,” Vanessa Cantone said. “They need a new insider.”

“It has to have been the judge,” Mason said. “He’s been supplying the names of the girls. He must have said no more, or maybe he threatened to turn Jake in, so Jake took Stephanie to shut him up and force him to comply.”

“And even though he had to know that was what happened to his daughter, the bastard wouldn’t tell us the truth.” I shook my head in disgust. I could hardly believe it. “I knew he was hiding something, but I had no idea he was that vile.”

Mason said, “Maybe he honestly wanted to make sure Jake really had taken her, that she hadn’t just run off on her own again.”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit. I think Jake had something on him. Blackmailed him into providing those names.”

I nodded. “The judge had photos of an unsolved hit-and-run that resulted in a death. The suspect vehicle was narrowed down to a full-size white SUV.”

Mason picked up there. “And the judge owned a full-size white SUV at the time.”

“Holy shit,” Vanessa said.

“But when the judge saw Stephanie’s name cut into Venora’s body, he knew for sure the people blackmailing him must have taken her,” Mason said. “You saw him, Rachel. You felt his reaction to that. He had a stroke, for God’s sake.”

I lowered my head, wanting to hate Judge Mattheson, to condemn him. But I couldn’t really do that. “Okay, maybe he didn’t know what was happening to the girls whose names he was providing. Maybe when he saw Venora, it all hit him at once. That the girls were being harmed. And that now his own daughter was with them.”

“And he
was
going to come clean. Probably right before he stroked out. And then again, once he came around, right before that fake nurse killed him,” Cantone said. “Doesn’t excuse his behavior. He made bad choices. Real bad.”

“So what do we do next?” I asked.

“We set up a sting,” Mason said slowly. “We give Rodney a fake name and last known address to pass on to these assholes. We get a female officer to pose as the aged-out foster girl. And we let Jake and his goons come and kidnap her.”

“Me,” Cantone said. “We let them come and kidnap me.”

I managed not to shoot to my feet and shout no at the top of my lungs. Barely. Instead, I calmly set my coffee down, and said, “There’s no way you’re gonna pass for eighteen, Vanessa. No offense.”

She lowered her head and lifted her brows. “Offense taken.”

“We don’t need her to pass for long. It’ll be dark. We’ll use a lot of makeup.”

“Jesus, you two are good for my ego.” She got to her feet. “It’s my case. My call. I’m the one.” She looked me right in the eye. “It’s my job. My choice. Okay?”

I nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay.” She looked at Mason. “Set it up.” Then to me. “Thanks for the coffee. See you both tomorrow.” And she headed out the front door.

As I watched her go, my dream came rushing back. Vanessa Cantone, standing with three young women, including Stephanie Mattheson and Lexus Carmichael, and getting her brains blown out.

I had something. A gift. A curse. Maybe I was born with it. Maybe I got it from the transplant and the circuits that seemed to have opened in my brain. Maybe I got it from twenty years of blindness. Or maybe it was some combination of all of the above, or something completely different that I hadn’t even thought of yet. Regardless of how I had it, or where it had come from or what I called it, I had it.

I had to believe I had it for a reason.

The dreams I’d had right after the transplant had helped stop a serial killer and return the bodies of his victims to their families. The gut feelings that had helped Mason and me save Amy from these same goons. The visions that had come to me later, over Christmas, had helped us stop a very sick woman from continuing her own murder spree. Now it was happening again. And this time the reason was to put Jake Kravitz away, to set free the girls he was holding captive somewhere, and to save the life of six-year-old Lilly Cantone’s mom.

I could not let Vanessa Cantone walk head-on into her own execution. And I wouldn’t.

14

I
worked with Rodney Carr to print up a phony file that would look identical to the others Jake might or might not have seen before. After quite a bit of discussion with Mason, Cantone and the chief, we’d agreed this was the best way to do it.

Jake. Yeah, I guess I’d been wrong about him. I hated that, and wondered if some people were just harder to read than others. Because I really had thought he’d seemed like a decent guy, and his concern for Stephanie had felt genuine to me.

I guess if I were 100 percent all the time I wouldn’t be human. Jake had a look about him, that tall, lanky, carelessly longhaired look that my brother, Tommy, had. So had my best friend, Mott. Maybe my personal experiences could cause static in my receiver. So to speak.

I handed a photograph to Rodney Carr. He looked at it, nodded thoughtfully. It was a deliberately grainy black-and-white, heavily altered shot of Federal Agent Cantone. I had a plan, though, and I’d come prepared with a twenty-something headshot of myself that didn’t look too dated. It was in my bag, sitting beside me on the chair in Rodney’s office. And I was absurdly glad that Mason was waiting out in the car, to avoid being spotted near Rodney and blowing the whole thing.

“Are you nervous?” I asked the social worker.

“I’m petrified,” he said.

I understood that. I was petrified, too.

“But I shouldn’t be,” he went on. “I just drop the file and walk away. That’s all.” He looked toward the stapler on his desk, ready to attach the photo to the folder and seal Cantone’s fate.

I reached out and picked it up before he could decide to do it himself. “Let me take one last look before we make this permanent,” I said, and held out my hand.

He handed me the file. I opened it on my lap, where he couldn’t see it. That gave me the cover to slide Cantone’s photo into my purse and my own into the file. I stapled it where it belonged, right above the fake name Carlotta Bennett, closed the folder, then leaned forward and took the waiting envelope off the desk. I slid the file into the envelope. Licked and sealed it.

There. Done.

Finally I handed it back to him. “You’re gonna be fine. Just like you said, you just drop this envelope and walk away. Then your job is over and you can relax.”

He nodded. I knew Mason would be going over all this again with the guy before the drop, but I couldn’t seem to help myself.

“There’ll be police watching you. You’ll be wearing a vest. And then you and Glenn are heading out of town immediately after, just in case anything goes wrong. All right?”

“Yes. I’ve got it. And we haven’t told anyone where we’re going.”

“Mason’s going to give you a secure phone before you take off. Either he or the chief will call you if there’s anything you need to know to stay safe,” I said.

He nodded firmly. “If I’d known all these precautions were going to be necessary I might not have been so willing to volunteer,” he said.

“Yes, you would have.”

He looked at me in surprise. “Why do you say that?”

I shrugged one shoulder. “I’m a good judge of character. And I think you care about these girls almost as much as if they were your own kids.”

His smile was crooked. I liked that, too. “Thank you for saying that.”

“It’s true, isn’t it?”

“Yes. I do care. I really do. I’ve always wished there was more I could do for them than what the job and the rules and the budget allow.”

“Well, your wish was granted. You’re doing more now. You’re saving their lives, Mr. Carr. Rodney.”

We shared a moment. His smile got a little watery, and he looked away. “And yet it’s nothing, what I’m doing is nothing, compared to what Agent Cantone is going to do. I can’t believe they’re sending her in like this. She could be killed.”

“Well, you know that’s what they sign up for when they take the job, right?” I said, repeating what Cantone had said to me almost verbatim. And then I thought of a little more. “As a matter of fact, I think it’s kind of what we
all
sign up for when we come here to Planet Earth. Helping each other out. Taking care of each other. Looking out for the innocent, helping the helpless. That’s kind of the point, when you think about it.”

He blinked and tipped his head slowly to the side. “That was beautiful.”

I gave my head a shake. “Sorry. I’ve been neglecting my writing and it’s apparently decided to leak out my piehole without permission. Sermon over.”

“You should make a note. Remember that bit for the next book.”

“I will.” I got to my feet and reached across the desk to shake his hand.

“Please tell Agent Cantone to be careful.”

“I’ll make absolutely sure she is.”

Mason was waiting in the car. My car, for a change. He hadn’t wanted to risk being seen in the office with Rodney, and parking the Beast out front would’ve been just as bad. If Jake were watching personally, my own presence here might have raised a red flag, as well. But he’d never seen my car, and I’d worn a glamorous scarf and matching sunglasses like Thelma or Louise (or Myrtle) might have worn, and Jake had only seen me once. I thought we were safe.

I jumped into the driver’s seat and said, “Okay, he’s good to go. He’ll deliver the envelope to the kidnapper at noon. Do you think they’ll go after ‘Carlotta’ tonight?”

“I think so, yes. Whatever they’re doing, they clearly need four girls to do it, or they’d have been long gone by now. Things heated up for them when Venora’s body was found. I think if they thought they could cut their losses and move on, they would have.”

The planted information specified that the fictional Carlotta Bennett frequented a certain street corner most nights. There was no other information they could hope to use to locate her. I figured they’d take the bait.

“That’s it, then,” I said.

“Nothing else to do but wait,” Mason said.

I looked at him and kind of got stuck on his face. I was growing pretty fond of that face. I hoped today wasn’t going to be the last time I would see it.

I hoped he wasn’t going to be too furious with me tonight, when the proverbial shit hit the proverbial fan. Then again, what difference did it make? If I survived, he’d forgive me. And if I didn’t, then it wouldn’t really matter.

* * *

He dropped me at home after that but promised to pick me up when I said I wanted a nice dinner with the kids before everything went down tonight.

When he returned, he had the Beast. The boys, freshly picked up from baseball practice, were in the backseat.

I stuck Myrt in her happy place, right between Jeremy and Joshua with room to spare. “Hey, guys. Good day?”

“It was all right,” Josh said. “I got an eighty-five on my spelling test.”

“That’s great, Josh. What words did you miss?” I was curious.

“
Existence
was one of them.”

I nodded. “Spelled it with an
a,
didn’t you?”

“How’d you know?”

“’Cause that’s how I always spell it. Thank goodness for spell-checker and editors.”

Josh grinned and returned to hugging my dog.

“How about you, Jere?” I asked.

“Every day closer to graduation is a good day,” he said.

“I remember that feeling. What are you doing after graduation? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say.”

“I’ve been asking him the same thing,” Mason said. “It’s not too late to apply to a two-year school. He keeps saying he’s still thinking about it.”

Jeremy looked at the back of Mason’s head. “I have been. And I’ve decided. I want to be a cop.”

Mason looked up at the rearview mirror, adjusting it so he could see his nephew’s face. “You didn’t tell me that.”

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t sure. But now I am.”

I knew this wasn’t setting well. Mason had sort of cringed into himself. Not visibly, but still... “What about college?” he said at length. “You’re gonna want at least a two-year degree before you—”

“All I need is my high school diploma and a good score on the civil service exam. I checked.”

Mason blinked, then set his jaw and said, “You’re gonna want at least an associate degree,” for the second time.

“But it’s not required.”

“No, it’s not required. So let’s say you apply.” Mason sounded very calm, very reasonable, but I could tell it was fake. The notion of Jeremy risking his life shook him, I knew it did. Served him right. Maybe he’d figure out how I felt about him doing the same thing every day.

That wasn’t fair.

Mason went on. “Say six other guys apply, too. And say there are only two positions open and four of the other six guys have degrees. You think you’re gonna get the job?”

“Yeah, I do,” Jeremy replied. “I think with my uncle being a supercop, I’d get the job easy.” He crossed his arms over his chest, apparently sure the argument had been won.

“You need to get a two-year degree, Jere. You
need
to.”

Jeremy heaved one of those giant sighs that only teenagers are capable of producing. Probably had something to do with lung capacity. I don’t know. But he let the matter drop. Not for long, though. I’d learned a thing or two about teenagers in my day. This discussion was far from over.

Mason drove us to the nearest Pizza Hut for dinner. Carbs and cheese. Not Myrt’s most healthy snack of late. I ordered her a Personal Pan Meat Lover’s with extra meat, then picked the bits of flesh off and fed them to her. Better than giving her the whole thing, right?

The place was retro. It still had the big table-sized Pac-Man game in the middle of the dining room. The boys wolfed their food and went to play it. Well, Josh played it. Jeremy leaned on a pillar with his eyes on his cell phone and his thumbs tapping away.

It occurred to me that kids could easily take over the world. They could hack in and use our own technology against us. Or just decide to stop helping us figure it out to begin with. Either way, we adults would be relegated to a life of servitude and there would be weekly keggers in the White House rose garden. The only reason this hasn’t already happened is that the kids haven’t figured it out yet. When they buy a clue, it’s gonna suck to be a grown-up.

With the boys occupied, I went straight to what was most on my mind. “How did Rodney do with the drop?”

“He did great. Took the bus three blocks, left the file on the seat just like they told him, then got off and got the hell out of there.”

The chief had decided putting an officer on the bus might be too obvious and blow the entire thing. So they’d just let it go.

“Why do you think Judge Howie gave those girls up like that? Could it really all have been just to save his own ass?”

Mason sucked fast-food coffee, the worst kind of coffee there is, in my opinion. I’d ordered a vanilla shake solely to avoid the coffee. “I think he was forced to,” Mason said. “I had the lab email me what they had on that hit-and-run. The paint the other vehicle left on the victim’s car was used on three types of trucks and SUVs, and the one in Judge Mattheson’s photo was one of them. I talked to Marianne. She—”

“You didn’t tell her why, did you?”

“No, of course not.”

I sighed in relief. That poor woman had been through enough.

“But she did tell me he drank quite heavily at one time, and that he’d suddenly given it up and started AA right around the same time as that accident. She says he never drank again. And DMV records show he also sold the SUV the very same week of the hit-and-run.”

I closed my eyes. “Did he have it repaired first?”

“I haven’t had time to dig that deeply, but I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“So you think Jake knew and blackmailed the judge into giving him those girls’ names?”

He nodded. “I still think he must have tried to put a stop to it,” Mason said. “And that’s why they took Stephanie.”

I lowered my head. Then lifted it again fast. “God, Mace, what’s gonna happen to Stephanie? They killed her father, for God’s sake. Holding her isn’t gonna do them any good now.”

He looked grim. “They’ll either kill her...or they’ll do whatever they’re doing with all those other girls.”

“What do you think that is?”

He met my eyes like he thought I already knew. “Halle Chase was last seen almost two years ago. She’d been kept in restraints, away from sunlight, and showed signs of recent and frequent intercourse. Rough stuff.”

I closed my eyes slowly. “You don’t think they’re...” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “They’re being kept as...sex slaves?”

He nodded. “And who knows how big this thing is? Halle was found in New Mexico. We still have six other girls missing.”

“In our district,” I said. “It might go farther. You never know.”

“Cantone’s already got people at the field office in Albany looking into that possibility.”

I nodded, glanced over at the boys. He followed my gaze as I said, “I’ve gotta tell you something. But you’re sworn to secrecy. I gave my word I wouldn’t tell anyone, but I trust you completely.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. I do. What, you didn’t know that?”

He shrugged. “I hoped that. I thought it. It’s nice to know it. So what’s the big secret?”

“Cantone has a kid.”

He shot me a look. “She what?”

“She has a little girl. Six years old. At first I thought she was with her over at the Holiday Inn, but—”

“She’s at the DoubleTree.”

“Right. I knew that.” I did now, anyway. And that was what I’d been angling to find out. “She doesn’t wear a ring. You think she’s a single mom?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t know she was a mom at all.”

“Anyway, I was wrong. I heard the little girl’s voice on the phone, but it was ’cause she was talking to her on Skype from home. So somebody must be back in Albany, taking care of the kid while she’s out chasing bad guys, right?”

“I guess so.” He was looking at me a little too closely. I had to be careful. His way of reading people was almost as good as mine.

That’s not quite true, though, is it? His powers of perception were as good as mine
used to be.
My skills, however, had apparently been bitten by a radioactive spider.

Either way, he was sensing something, noticing, maybe, that I was holding something back. I decided on distraction because he would see through denial. “I was thinking it’s no wonder she wants the chief’s job.”