Best Laid Plans (36 page)

She sighed and closed her eyes. Tears burned behind her lids, but she didn’t cry.

She hated feeling sorry for herself.

“Lucy,” a voice said. “Lucy, I’m home.”

She blinked and stretched. “I guess I fell asleep. What time is it?”

“Nearly ten. I’m sorry I’m so late. I got wrapped up in the files at HWI.”

She yawned. “I think I’ve been asleep for a couple of hours.”

“You needed it.” He sat next to her and kissed her. Looked her in the eyes as he rubbed her neck. “You still look tired. Did you eat?”

“I had a late lunch.”

He frowned. “That’s not sufficient. Sit, relax, I’ll make you a sandwich.”

“I’m not an invalid. I don’t want a sandwich. Are there any leftovers from last night?”

“I might be able to whip something up in the microwave. Stay. I’ll be right back.”

Sean seemed to like waiting on her. She appreciated it, but didn’t expect it. She stood and fully stretched, hearing her bones crack and pop. The couch was comfortable, but not good for sleeping.

Five minutes later, Sean returned with two plates of barbecue leftovers. “You gotta love microwaves,” he said when he set them down on the coffee table. He reached into each pocket of his pants and pulled out two beers.

“Wow. Anything else in there?” she teased.

“You’ll have to find out later.” He winked. “Eat. Tell me what all this is.” He picked up the package of paper from Harper’s tablet.

She was glad to talk about work. It distracted her from all the emotions she didn’t want. She explained that the files had been on Harper Worthington’s tablet, that they suspected the list of numbers were land parcels, but admitted she was a bit lost on the dates.

“I know exactly what this is,” he said.

“Really?”

“I’m guessing. But I’ve been going over the BLM audit all day, trying to figure out what had Harper so obsessed with it. Now I think I know—it wasn’t the audit numbers, it was the transactions. I think these dates match up with these parcel numbers, and I think these parcel numbers are properties that the government sold or purchased over the last seven years.”

“Since Adeline Worthington was elected.”

Sean glanced at her. “You think she’s corrupt?”

“I know she is. There’s an undercover FBI investigation ongoing right now. Barry and I almost got pulled from the murder investigation because the UC thought we had exposed him.”

“You met with the undercover agent?”

She told Sean about Logan Dunbar and his fear that she would blow his cover.

“He wanted us off the case because we’re making Adeline nervous.”

“Do you think she’s guilty of murder?”

“If she knew her husband was investigating her—forget the FBI—then yes, I think she could have done it. She has a spine of steel, and it’s much easier to hire someone than to do it yourself. But the method? It’s … bizarre. Poison him and have the room set up like he’d been with a prostitute? Why would she do it that way?”

“Because the spouse is always suspected. Such an embarrassing situation would immediately put her lower on the list.”

“Maybe. I don’t like her.”

“I can tell.”

“If I were planning a murder, especially if I would be a suspect, I wouldn’t create something so elaborate. I would find a way to make it look like an accident.”

“And I’m sure you would get away with it.”

She glanced at him and almost laughed. “Hardly. I don’t lie very well.”

“Maybe.”

She ignored Sean’s comment because it bugged her. She didn’t want to become a good liar. The few lies she’d told weighed heavily on her.

“We found the prostitute,” she said. “Whoever hired her shot her last night.”

“Is she okay?”

“She will be. She’s in the hospital, but Tia sent me a message earlier that the doctor is releasing her at noon tomorrow, provided there are no complications. We’re going to arrest her.”

“For murder?”

Lucy nodded and sipped her beer. “She’s scared and defiant. She’s been on her own for a long time, and she doesn’t trust anyone. But when we pushed her on the murder, she swore up and down that she thought she was giving him a knockout drug. She said a ‘happy’ drug—maybe XTC or ketamine or a combo drug. She claims that she was hired to take dirty pictures of him, not to kill him, that she didn’t even know him. She was sent to the room and told to wait for Harper to arrive, then drug him and take sex pictures.”

“And did she?”

“She said she turned over the photos. She met her contact to get the rest of her payment, and he shot her, twice. She ran into a busy street at midnight and the shooter disappeared.”

“Poor kid.”

“I hate playing the bad cop.”

Sean leaned back and frowned. “Where’d that come from?”

“Tia. She’s the one who knows the programs, how to help Elise, halfway houses, school, whatever. I was forced to be the hard-nosed cop who is pushing for a murder charge. I really felt uncomfortable doing that.”

He rubbed her arm. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. But you got the information, right?”

“Some, not everything. We don’t know who hired her, and she’s scared of him.”

“He shot her—I’d be scared, too, if I were in her shoes.”

“She wants to run, doesn’t trust us to protect her. We have a cop sitting on her door—to keep her in as well as the shooter out. But tomorrow—I don’t know what we’re going to do. Juvie, I suppose, if she doesn’t give us his name.”

“If anyone can convince her to do the right thing, it’s you and Tia.”

“Aw, thanks.”

“I’m serious.” Sean kissed her. “Are you done for tonight?”

“Yes. I’ll clean up.”

“Later. Now, I want to take you to bed. I’ve missed you, Lucy. It’s been a long day without you.” He kissed her again.

She raised her eyebrow. “So can I see what else you have in your pants?”

He grinned. “Be my guest.”

*   *   *

Brad didn’t get home until late Tuesday night, but he had nothing to complain about. His doctor had officially cleared him for duty.

He’d grabbed takeout and for a split second considered calling Sam and seeing if he could come over. He missed her. Seeing Sean and Lucy last night reminded him how alone he was. Nicole was wrong; he wasn’t attracted to Lucy. She was pretty and smart, but it was clear that she had something special going with Sean. He liked her, though. Not only because she’d saved his life, but because she was a good cop who bent the rules when necessary.

Instead of calling Sam, he went home alone. Trying to rekindle anything with his ex-girlfriend would be a mistake. She was his boss now. When they were equals it was frowned on but not forbidden, and they had been discreet. Now as his supervisor, she’d get in serious trouble. One of them would be transferred. Sam was dedicated to her job. Brad liked San Antonio and had built a network here stronger than the networks in the two other offices he’d worked in.

Some people were born to lead, like Sam. Others, like him, were born to act.

He grabbed a beer and sat down in front of the television with his food. He flipped through until he found a baseball game, but didn’t pay much attention to it. He had the forensics report from the shooting, and a follow-up report from Jerry Fielding. He’d read through it earlier, but wanted to give it more attention.

His cell phone rang. The number was unlisted. “Donnelly.”

“It’s Kane. Do you have time?”

“Sure.”

“Open your door.”

The call disconnected. Brad walked to his front door and looked through the security hole. Kane Rogan stood there, slightly to the side as if watching both the entrance and the street. Brad unbolted and opened the door. “How did you know where I live?”

Kane didn’t answer. He walked in and closed the door. “I heard you found one of the shooters. Dead.”

“How the hell did you hear that? We didn’t release the information.”

Kane gave him a half smile that didn’t reach his dark blue eyes. “Marquez? This isn’t Marquez’s style.”

“Then his gangbangers are going rogue.”

“Or someone else is giving them orders.”

“That sounds like bad news.”

“We need more information. The balance of power is shifting, and that’s bad for this city and for my unit. I have multiple ops in play right now, and if we don’t know who’s making a power play, my people will be in danger.”

“The weapons they used are M4s. The same type of weapon stolen from the Marines that you recovered. We verified the ammo was military issue.”

“We only recovered some of the guns. Two-thirds of them disappeared before I could make it back to Mexico after the rescue.”

“So who got the guns?”

“That’s the million-dollar question. From what I could piece together, Trejo is the one who sold them to Tobias. Except … I’ve gone over Lucy’s report multiple times, and there could be another scenario. Tobias could have funded the operation in the first place. He’s been this elusive ghost for years. He wasn’t on my radar because his name never came up in connection with one of my operations, and he isn’t involved in human trafficking. Yet … I’ve learned more during the last two months. I think he’s far more powerful than we gave him credit for.”

“With Trejo and Sanchez dead, Tobias was the only one in a position to take possession of the weapons.”

“That’s what my intel suggests.”

“Would he have sold them to Marquez?”

“Yes,” Kane said without hesitation. “But why would Marquez go after Tobias? Did Tobias do something to piss him off?”

“Based on the crime scene, I’d say yes.”

“Or those victims weren’t Tobias’s people at all and Marquez was taking care of loose ends.”

Kane normally didn’t talk much, but he was downright chatty tonight.

Without asking if he wanted a beer, Brad grabbed two bottles from the refrigerator and handed one to Kane. “I saw Nicole Rollins today.”

“Did you kill her?”

He asked the question seriously. That almost scared Brad.

“She says my house isn’t clean.”

“I’m sure it’s not.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know.”

“But you could find out.”

Kane drank half his beer, watching Brad, assessing. “You really want to know?”

“Yes. I can’t work there if I don’t trust my team.”

“If I hear anything, you’ll be the first to know.”

“I appreciate it.”

“Remember that.” Kane didn’t believe him. But Brad didn’t want another Nicole Rollins under his roof. “What else did Rollins say?”

“That Tobias wanted those men taken out. Either he planned it, or simply didn’t stop it. She said the same as you—that he’s more powerful than we thought.”

“I haven’t underestimated him. For a man like that not to be on my radar tells me he’s either not important or extremely important. I ruled out the former. We took his helicopter, blew up Trejo’s house, disabled the Jeeps, and retrieved part of the gun shipment—and still he had a backup escape plan. I haven’t been able to locate him. I had one possible sighting a few weeks ago, in San Antonio, but it was a bust. Either it wasn’t him or he moved fast.”

“So he’s in the States?”

“Honestly, I don’t know.” Kane drained his beer. “He’s everywhere, and nowhere.” He put the bottle down on the counter. “One more thing. I can’t find anyone—I mean
no one
—who has laid eyes on him.”

“That can’t be possible.”

“It tells me he has another name, or he rarely comes out to play.” Kane stared at him. “You need to watch yourself.”

“I didn’t see him.”

“But in your official report, you wrote that you did, and you included the description that Lucy gave.”

Brad realized the potential danger. “I’ll be careful.”

“Tobias doesn’t know that Lucy saw him, but he knows she was in Mexico,” Kane continued. “No one can know what Lucy saw and heard. It makes her extremely vulnerable. I tried to convince Sean to move—Nicole Rollins knows where they live, therefore anyone could know where they live—but my brother is a stubborn bastard.”

“We’ve done a good job keeping her name out of it. Her boss suspects, but we’ve never confirmed his suspicions. Ryan Quiroz—he suspects as well.”

“I’ve already done a thorough background check on Quiroz. He’s clean.”

Again, Brad wasn’t surprised.

Kane walked to the door. “Thanks for the beer. I’ll be in touch.”

“Is there any way I can contact you without having to go through your brother?”

For a second, Brad thought he’d give him his number. Then Kane shook his head. “It’s for your protection, Donnelly. And mine.”

*   *   *

Sean’s cell phone vibrated on the nightstand. He opened his eyes. It was still dark. A nightlight in the bathroom cast shadows around the room. He grabbed his phone. One in the morning.