Best Laid Plans (41 page)

Elise turned away. “I didn’t.” She had no anger in her voice.

“Then, you got a ride from someone—I think it was Mona Hill who took you to a much nicer hotel, where you went up to James Everett’s room and gleefully played sex games, giggling and acting like a schoolgirl. Everett is a sick bastard, and I’m not giving him a pass on his disgusting behavior. But it takes a uniquely cold person to leave a dead man half-naked, then screw another john. You had thousands of dollars on you when you were shot. You can’t tell me you needed the money. You’re not even from San Antonio. My guess? You’re originally from Nevada. I will find your parents, I will find out what happened to you there, who started you down this road where you now allow people who don’t give a damn about you to use you like a pawn. You might think that you have the power because men want your body and will pay for it, but that’s not power. That’s hopelessness. The person who hired you—who gave you the poison to kill Harper Worthington—is the person who wanted you dead two nights ago. Why? Because you’re a witness.

“You have two choices,” Lucy continued, taking a step closer to Elise. The girl stared at her with a straight face, but her eyes were watering. Lucy didn’t want to make her cry, but maybe getting her to fall apart would be what would give her the courage to finally talk. “You take Tia up on her offer to help you. Detective Mancini is one of the most dedicated and honest cops I know. She wants to help you get out of this life, to help you finish your education and get a job. And she can do it. That means you tell us everything—
everything
—including who hired you to drug Harper Worthington and why you came to San Antonio in the first place. You talk, you get a free pass if you join Tia’s program. A second chance, which, at this point, I don’t know if you deserve.

“Or you keep protecting the person who wants you dead. You will go to prison because we have enough on you to make sure of it.”

Elise’s bottom lip quivered. She glared at Lucy, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Fuck you!” she screamed and threw a plastic cup half-filled with water at Lucy. It fell at her feet.

“It’s your call, Elise.” Lucy turned and walked out.

She walked down to the nurses’ station and took a deep breath. She was shaking, but she didn’t think she’d started shaking until she’d left the room. She’d hated doing that, but it was the only way she was going to get through to the girl. The girl wouldn’t take kindness if it came from Mother Teresa herself, but a threat? That she understood completely.

“Good work,” Barry said.

Lucy jumped. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“I listened in. You got to her.”

“Let’s hope so.”

Tia called. “Van’s here, at the south exit.”

“I’m going to cuff her,” Lucy said. “It’ll send home the message that we mean business.”

“You can’t. She has her arm in a sling.”

“I’ll cuff her good hand to me,” Lucy said. “And ride over with her. It’ll send a psychological message that I’m sticking to her like glue until she talks.”

Barry concurred. “It’s a good idea.”

Ten minutes later, Lucy walked out the south entrance with a very unhappy and agitated Elise handcuffed to Lucy’s wrist. Tia met them at the automatic sliding doors. The SAPD transport van was parked in a loading zone twenty feet away.

“We’re ready,” Tia said, walking a step ahead of them toward the van. “And when—”

A shot rang out, followed by several more. A pain spread through Lucy’s back and her vision wavered. She reacted immediately and turned her body to cover Elise while pushing her down at the same time. Tia fell on the sidewalk next to her. Lucy smelled blood. Hers or Tia’s? Screams echoed. Someone was returning gunfire. From the corner of her eye, she saw Barry behind a pillar, gun out, shattered glass all around them. Lucy had her own gun out, but in her left hand because her right was cuffed to Elise. She could shoot with her weaker hand, but wasn’t as accurate.

Then the gunfire stopped. There were shouts and cries and Lucy couldn’t move.

“Kincaid!” Barry called.

She wanted to shout that she was okay, but she couldn’t. She took in a deep, painful breath.

“Kincaid! Are you hit?”

“Vest,” she said, breathless. “Tia.”

She looked over at the sidewalk. Tia was lying there, bleeding. Unconscious.

God, no. Tia.

Barry took command. He motioned for the guards to secure the area. Two cops shielded Tia and helped a nurse and orderly pull her in through the doors.

“Elise, are you hit?” Lucy asked, breathless. She still found it hard to catch her breath and her back hurt. She prayed she was just bruised.

Elise didn’t answer, but she was shaking, so that was a good sign, Lucy hoped.

Barry came over and said, “Holy shit, Kincaid. You’re hit.”

“No.”

He reached down and touched her back. “You’re wearing a vest. You were shot in the back. You would have been dead.”

“Good thing I put on my vest this morning.”

She didn’t normally wear a vest on the job, unless there was a specific reason to. But because of Kane’s visit last night and his warning to watch her back, she’d decided that for the time being, it would be a good idea.

“Did you get him?”

“There were two. I’m pretty sure I got one, but they were in a car and bolted. A drive-by. I have the make, model, and license, already put an APB out. Let’s get you checked out.”

“Elise,” Lucy said. “Let’s get up.”

Elise was sobbing uncontrollably. “I did everything they wanted! Why do they want me dead? Why?”

“Who, Elise?” Lucy asked.

“Rob Garza. He’s Adeline Reyes-Worthington’s campaign manager.” She took a deep breath through her sobs, then everything came out in a rush. “I—I came from Washington. Rob likes kinky stuff, that’s how we met. Then he said he had a job for me in San Antonio, and since I was tired of Washington, I agreed. He gave me a fucking lot of money. Twice as much as you found. He gave me the syringe. He told me if I got caught, that no one would do anything because I’m an underage whore and you’d all feel sorry for me. But I didn’t know what was in it! Everything else I said was true, I swear. I swear! I was just supposed to take pictures. That’s it. Don’t let him hurt me. Please, I’ll do anything you want, don’t let him hurt me.”

She clung to Lucy like a toddler.

“I won’t,” Lucy said, looking straight at Barry. “He won’t get to you again.”

*   *   *

Elise was back in her hospital bed. Her stitches had split open and she’d broken her wrist when the fed had pushed her to the ground. They’d patched her up and given her a pain pill and told her to rest.

She closed her eyes. Inside, she was smiling.

That bitch had believed every word.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Sean sped through San Antonio toward the hospital as Kane’s cell phone went directly to voice mail.

“Call me now, dammit!” He hung up and threw his phone on the seat. That was the sixth message he’d left for his brother since talking to Mona Hill.

This whole situation was fucked. How the hell could Tobias be involved in Harper Worthington’s murder? What the hell was going on?

Flashes of hot and cold rushed through him. He couldn’t tell the FBI how he’d gotten the information. He couldn’t tell anyone, except Kane.

Calm down. Calm down. You know Lucy is okay.

It didn’t matter that her vest stopped the bullet. She’d been shot while transporting the prostitute. All the pieces were rapidly falling together.

Mona Hill. A head prostitute who had a skill with money laundering. Probably made her money blackmailing businessmen, as well as by providing underage girls to perverts. Some men paid big money to order the exact sex toy they wanted.

Elise, the young hooker. Hired to incapacitate, blackmail, or kill Harper Worthington. Through Mona? Possibly. Because Harper had figured out that his wife was using her position in Congress to not only line her own pockets, but to launder money for the cartels. It was all there, in the BLM audit, but Sean hadn’t known exactly what he was looking at until he’d seen the tablet files that Harper had left behind in Dallas. Good thing, too—without that list of numbers, Sean would never have been able to put it together.

Adeline Reyes-Worthington. The FBI knew she was corrupt, but how long had it taken them to figure it out? Lucy said that the agent had been working the case for over a year. While Sean understood that the FBI needed solid evidence, he’d seen them go after other people in the white-collar world with far less than they had on Adeline. They were likely trying to reel in an even bigger fish … other members of Congress? Businessmen? So they kept the sting going for months, hoping to catch more in the net.

There was no doubt in his mind that if the FBI had told Harper Worthington when he’d met with them last month that they already had an operation in place, or if they’d taken Adeline down months ago, that Harper Worthington would still be alive.

But what connected Adeline Reyes-Worthington to Tobias?
Something
brought them together. If Adeline had hired Tobias to kill her husband, why not find an easier way to do it?

The problem was they knew little about Tobias. They knew he was running guns and drugs. They knew he was associated with Trejo and Sanchez—both of whom were dead. They knew he lived in Mexico … No, they
suspected
he lived in Mexico. He hadn’t even been on Kane’s radar until two months ago. No one knew what he looked like, no one knew how his operation worked, no one knew how far his tentacles spread.

Lucy
. Tobias must have figured out that Lucy, not Brad, had seen him.

There was one person he could trust, other than Kane.

He had Brad Donnelly on speed dial. He didn’t trust the DEA phones anymore, so when Brad answered Sean said, “I need to see you. University Hospital. ASAP.”

Before Brad could ask why, Sean hung up. He parked but couldn’t get in through the emergency room doors because they were blocked off by SAPD. He saw Juan walking briskly toward the entrance, his badge out. Sean ran up to him. Juan didn’t say anything, but waved Sean in when he was cleared by SAPD.

“She’s fine,” Juan told Sean.

“I want to see her.”

Juan nodded and they took the elevator up to the fourth floor. They stepped out into a sea of cops and federal agents. Barry was talking to the chief of police, and Juan immediately headed over there. “Milton, Detective Mancini is a tough woman. If anyone can pull through, it’s her.”

“Thank you, Juan. Agent Crawford, thank you for your efforts on scene. As I told your agent, Juan, this is an SAPD investigation. Tia is one of ours. But because she was working with your agents, we’ll share everything. I hope you understand.” Meaning,
We’re not giving this up so don’t pull any jurisdictional bullshit on me.

“Of course,” Juan said. “Any resources, any personnel you need, it’s yours. I have Barry’s report—anything come up in the last fifteen minutes?”

“We found the car, dumped under the freeway. It was stolen two miles from here less than an hour before the attack and the owner didn’t even know it was gone. I have uniforms canvassing the area, plus looking at all traffic cams near where they abandoned the vehicle. We’re processing it on scene to expedite evidence collection.”

“This is the second attempt on Elise Hansen’s life,” Barry said. “SAPD has two guards on her, one outside her door, one at the staircase.”

“And,” the chief of police said, “there will be an officer at each entrance.”

“And you’re certain that she was the target?” Juan asked.

“We viewed the hospital security feed. It shows the vehicle waiting in the parking lot. The suspects aren’t identifiable. As soon as the girl emerged from the doors and was clear of the pillars, they drove forward and started shooting. Tia was flanking street side, right in the line of fire. But we have no reason to believe that Tia was the target.”

Sean asked, “Where was Lucy?”

“Excuse me?”

Juan said, “Chief Milton Turner, this is Sean Rogan, a civilian consultant.”

The chief looked like he recognized Sean, but more likely it was the Rogan name. “Agent Kincaid had handcuffed herself to the prisoner and got her out of harm’s way. We’ve reviewed the security tapes, and her quick thinking saved the girl’s life.”

“I want to see the tapes,” Sean said.

Juan cleared his throat and changed the subject.

Sean walked away. He tried to call Lucy, but she didn’t pick up her phone. He found a nurse. “Lucy Kincaid? She was one of the FBI agents on scene. She said she had a couple cuts being stitched.”

“Are you with the FBI?”

“I’m her boyfriend.”

“I’m sorry, only immediate family and law enforcement is entitled to information about a patient.”

Sean ran both hands through his hair. He had been on edge all morning, and it had only gotten worse. “I need to see her.”