Dead Heat (8 page)

“About what?” she asked as she typed a code into the keypad next to the door.

“Nice digs.”

“Sean picked it out,” she said. “He surprised me.” The door unlocked and Lucy stepped in.

“Neither of my ex-wives would have trusted me to buy a house without them.” Ryan eyed the keypad. “I don’t think I’ve seen one of those on a house before.”

“Sean is security-conscious.”

Ryan whistled again at the sweeping terra-cotta tile staircase that curved up to the second story. Alternating cobalt-blue and hand-painted Mexican tiles accented the foyer and stairs. In the summer—and on warm spring days like today—the tile kept the house cool.

“We were lucky we could move in quickly,” Lucy said. “I didn’t even know I was being assigned to San Antonio until three weeks before I had to report in. Sean contacted a realtor, then a couple days after Christmas he flew out to look at a few places. He sent me pictures of three, but I loved them all so told him to pick.”

The smell of Texas barbecue filled the house. Her phone vibrated and she looked down. He’d sent her a text message.

I’m in my office on the phone. Offer Ryan a beer.

She laughed. “Sean told me to offer you a beer.”

“Sounds great. I need it after today.” He glanced around. “How did he know you’re here?”

She pointed to the camera in the corner of the foyer. Ryan squinted. “I would never have seen it.”

“We have reasons to be cautious.”

They walked down the wide, tiled hall, past the open dining room she and Sean had yet to eat in, to the kitchen. The kitchen had been remodeled by the previous owners to fit the Mission-style architecture. That’s what Lucy loved most about the place—it looked old, but everything was new. All the details fit the period, from the tiles to the tall, arched windows to the wood beams in the ceiling. The house was too big for them, but as Sean pointed out, she had six brothers and sisters, he had four, and they had friends who now had a place to stay.

“
Plus
,” he’d added, “
we have two nieces or nephews on the way and someday we’ll adopt a few of our own.
”

Lucy couldn’t have children. That Sean was not only willing but excited to adopt in the future gave her a contentment she didn’t know she needed until he’d said it.

She said to Ryan, “We have Samuel Adams, Dos Equis, and Harp.”

“American, Mexican, and Irish?” He laughed. “Sam Adams, thanks.”

Lucy didn’t care much for beer, but she picked up a Harp for herself, which she’d grown to enjoy. She gave Ryan a tour of the downstairs, which included the media room where Sean had created a theater and game center. “Now I know why Nate loves this place. You guys have every video game known to man. And movies.”

Lucy smiled. “Sean spoils himself.”

“What does your boyfriend do?” Ryan asked.

“He was a principal in a security company for the last few years. His brothers founded it, and two of my brothers joined later. My brother Patrick was Sean’s partner. Now Sean’s renewing his PI license in Texas.”

“Personal security?”

“Not so much. Computer security, mostly. Companies hire him to break into their networks or buildings and find weak spots, then Sean plugs the holes.”

“Smart guy.”

They sat in the sunroom. The sun had gone down—it was nearly seven—and the temperature had fallen enough to make it comfortable. Sean came in through the side door. He smiled when he saw Lucy and leaned over to kiss her. Twice. Then he reached over and took Ryan’s hand. “Good to finally meet you, Ryan,” he said. “I told Lucy to plan a party, but she’s not much of a party planner.
I’m
starving, and I didn’t just take down a major drug operation.”

Lucy looked at him. “Where’d you hear? I didn’t give you details.”

“No, but Nate did. As much as he knew, anyway.”

Lucy had to remember that Sean and Nate had hit it off and apparently talked a lot more than she’d thought. She shouldn’t be surprised: They were close in age, had many of the same interests, and Nate—like Sean’s brother Kane—had been a Marine. Nate, like Lucy, was still an FBI rookie. It took two years to lose the rookie label. Nate had one year in.

“I invited Nate to come by, but he has a date.” Sean grinned.

“Michelle or Kendall?” Ryan asked.

“Trista.”

“Trista? Who’s that?”

“Don’t know. I offered to run a full background on her, for free, but Nate hung up on me.”

“If you don’t mind,” Lucy said, “I’m going to run upstairs and take a fast shower.”

Ryan said, “I used the gym at SAPD. You know they have a women’s shower, too.”

“I didn’t have time,” Lucy said, though that was only partly true. She didn’t like showering in public areas, even if they were semi-private showers. She hated the feeling of being watched, even when she wasn’t. She leaned over and kissed Sean. He understood. That’s another reason why she loved him so much.

Sean watched Lucy leave. He’d seen the exhaustion in her eyes, but she wouldn’t slow down. It wasn’t in her DNA. At the same time, this move had been good for her. For both of them. Lucy loved her job, and Sean loved when Lucy was happy.

He gave Ryan a discreet once-over. He’d met Lucy’s boss, as well as Nate Dunning who’d been in the office the day Sean had taken Lucy for lunch on her birthday last month. Since then, Nate had been over several times. Not only common interests, but Nate was comfortable to be around, as if Sean had known him for years instead of six weeks. The only other person Sean felt that way about was Lucy’s brother, Patrick.

Lucy had talked a lot about Ryan, mostly because they’d been working together on Operation Heatwave. She liked him, and Lucy was a good judge of character. But Sean still wanted to know who was watching her back when he wasn’t.

“I’m going to grab a beer,” Sean said. “Ready for another?”

“I will be.” Ryan followed Sean back to the kitchen. He gestured toward children’s drawings on a bulletin board in the breakfast nook. “Lucy said you didn’t have kids. Nieces? Nephews?”

“No,” Sean said. “We have two on the way—my brother’s wife is expecting any day, and Lucy’s sister is expecting in June. Those are from a kid we helped out of a jam last fall.”

“Lucy’s good with kids. We had two minors, girls, during the sweep today. Mother made it difficult, we had to arrest her.”

“Micah and Tommy’s mom got involved with the wrong guy. She ended up dead. They’re living with their grandparents in Florida now.” Micah wrote to Lucy every two or three weeks and included drawings from his six-year-old brother, Tommy. The boys seemed to be adjusting well. “Lucy said the sweep was a success, but that your team got reassigned? I got some details from Nate, but he didn’t know much.”

“Missing kid. He was locked in the basement for a couple of weeks and one of the minors let him out. The DEA was leading our team, so all our warrants were related to drugs. Lucy and Donnelly, the team leader, flipped one brother against the other. We’ve already gotten some good intel on the drug pipeline and shut down a storage facility. Guns, drugs. It’s going to be big.”

“What kind of drug pipeline?”

Ryan hesitated. Suspicious, maybe, or just cautious.

Sean said, “The kids, Micah and Tommy? Their mother’s boyfriend was cooking meth in the middle of the woods. National forest. His brother was a ranger, in on it. Good-sized lab in a trailer, DEA figured it was a multimillion-dollar operation that supported the entire DC area.”

Lucy stepped into the kitchen. She looked a million times better, her face bright, her wet hair pulled back into a ponytail. Sean loved it when she was fresh out of the shower, no makeup, just her beautiful self. He kissed her. “Telling stories, Sean?” she said with a grin.

“Just trying to get Ryan to spill the beans on your operation today.” He opened the oven and pulled out a tray of BBQ.

“There’s something more going on here than simple drug dealing,” Lucy said. “I didn’t tell you about the conversation with DeSantos from CPS.”

“No,” Sean and Ryan said simultaneously.

“DeSantos thinks that Michael, the boy Bella helped escape from the basement, is Michael Rodriguez, a thirteen-year-old from foster care who ran away last year. Allegedly ran away.”

“Allegedly?” Sean brought plates to the kitchen island, which had stools all around. “Okay to eat here?” he asked.

“Absolutely,” Ryan said.

“Help yourself.” Sean loaded up his plate.

While they ate, Lucy continued.

“Michael’s father is in prison and might have a connection to people connected to Sanchez. I’m going to dig around.” She frowned, licked spicy BBQ sauce from her fingers. “Here’s the thing that’s been bugging me since I talked to CPS. Michael Rodriguez has been gone for fourteen months—no word from him until he left a cryptic note for his foster parents only hours after Bella let him out.”

“So you
do
think it’s the same kid?” Ryan said.

She nodded. “Too much of a coincidence not to be. I’m going to show Bella his picture tomorrow. We need the confirmation.”

“Why didn’t he go inside? Talk to the foster parents?” Sean asked. “Were they abusive?”

“I read their file,” Lucy said. “And the note. He’s scared of something, but it’s not the Pope family.”

Ryan said, “I dealt with a lot of street kids in Houston, and most are working their way up the wrong side of the law. Sounds like this kid is doing the same. Can’t say that I don’t understand how—his mom’s dead, his dad’s in prison, it’s what he knows.”

Lucy shook her head. “Sometimes, not always. And he was locked up for four weeks. Maybe longer. That makes this different.”

“I gather your prisoners aren’t talking about Michael,” Sean said.

“Sanchez will, I’m pretty sure, but Donnelly is focused on working out the deal with the AUSA. Donnelly wants Jaime Sanchez bad. His sheet is long and violent, so I’m not surprised, but I think there’s more.”

“What’s with that guy?” Ryan said. Sean slid him over another beer, opened one for himself. Lucy shook her head, and Sean gave her water and a kiss. “What was going on this morning?”

“I explained that,” Lucy said.

“Explain to me,” Sean said. “Since I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“It’s nothing—it was an interview tactic to get the brother to talk.”

“Donnelly stepped over the line,” Ryan said.

“I agreed to it,” Lucy said.

“Agreed to what?” Sean asked.

“Good cop, bad cop,” Lucy said. “I was the good cop, the bleeding heart, challenging the big, bad angry Donnelly. It worked. We got what we wanted.”

Ryan snorted. “He yelled at you, threatened you, and attempted to humiliate you.”

“It was an act,” she said again. “Ryan, I appreciate your chivalry, but I was cool with it.” She glanced at Sean. “It was
fine.
”

She didn’t like the look on Sean’s face. It was subtle—Ryan might not even notice—but Sean was protective of her. She understood it, and loved him for it, but at the same time, he sometimes said or did things that could get him into trouble.

“You got what you needed?” Sean confirmed.

“Yes. It was a good day. Now we just need to find Michael, track down Jaime Sanchez, and decode the ledger we found.”

“Ledger?” His ears perked up.

“It’s in the hands of the DEA,” Lucy said. “I couldn’t show you if I wanted to.”

“Hmm. Maybe I need to point out to the local feds here that I have security clearance to consult.”

“You’re impossible,” she said with a smile.

She started to clear the plates, but Sean took them from her. “You worked all day. Nearly fifteen hours by my count. Sit.”

“You’re spoiling me.”

“You’ll make it up to me later.”

She laughed. Her phone vibrated on the counter and she picked it up.

“It’s Donnelly,” she said and answered. “This is Lucy.”

“It’s Brad Donnelly. George Sanchez was murdered. I need you and Quiroz at SAPD immediately.”

CHAPTER 6

Lucy walked into the main San Antonio Police Station flanked by Ryan and Sean. They each signed in and were assigned visitor badges, then ushered into the briefing room. Donnelly was there with several other cops, both uniformed and plainclothes. From the heated conversation, Donnelly was demanding to know how George Sanchez had died. He wanted logs, cameras, interviews. His partner, Nicole Rollins, stood to the side, taking notes.

Lucy stood on the periphery, and after a couple of cops left to get information Donnelly wanted, she said, “You don’t know what happened?”

“Poison,” Donnelly said.

Rollins said, “We don’t know.”

“What else could it be?” Donnelly snapped. “He was served a late dinner at eight fifteen because the AUSA and I were with him before that, and twenty minutes later he’s dead? No blood, no visible trauma, he’s found on the floor of his cell? I’ll bet my pension he was poisoned.”

“Do you have his medicals?” Lucy asked. “Was he allergic to anything?”

“An allergy that kills someone in twenty minutes?”

“Severe enough allergies—some people with peanut or seafood allergies in particular, if they don’t get immediate treatment, can die because their airways constrict. They suffocate.”

“His skin was reddish,” Donnelly said, considering. He nodded to Rollins, who went over to a computer and started typing.

“Possibly hives,” Lucy said. “A skin reaction is common.”

“It can’t have been a fucking accident,” Donnelly said. “Not when we just cut a deal. I don’t believe this!” He stared at Sean. “Who are you?”

“Sean Rogan,” Sean said.

“He’s with me,” Lucy said.

“Rogan?” Donnelly tilted his head and stared. “Any relation to Kane Rogan?”

“My brother.”

Recognition and surprise crossed Donnelly’s eyes. Sean had seen it before. His brother was rather infamous, especially with federal law enforcement who worked the border or drugs. Some loved him, some hated him, most respected him. Sean couldn’t tell which side of the line Donnelly was on, but he hoped it wouldn’t be a problem for Lucy.

Donnelly said to Lucy, “Why didn’t you tell me your brother-in-law was Kane Rogan?”