Dead Heat (27 page)

It was after dawn by the time the bomb squad determined that the device wouldn’t detonate if removed. They secured and analyzed it in their van. Sean finagled his way into the periphery of observation, but he figured out before the bomb tech exactly what the device was.

“That’s a boosted GPS tracker,” Sean said. “It has a small detonation to take out the electrical system, which could cause a serious accident but isn’t designed to blow up the vehicle.”

Juan didn’t take Sean’s word for it, and though Sean couldn’t blame him he was irritated. “Leo?”

The SWAT team leader, Leo Proctor, was also the FBI’s leading bomb tech. He’d served three tours in Afghanistan with the Marines. “Rogan’s right. But that doesn’t make this any less dangerous. It’s designed to take out a single target on command—it has a cell phone trigger. It’s trackable twenty-four seven, but you have to call the device to ignite it. It would spark and send a surge into the car’s electrical system, cause it to completely shut down. Just stop. If the target was on a freeway going sixty-five, for example, the shutdown could cause a serious accident. The device also has a self-destruct mechanism, so once it does its job, the plastic melts.”

“But it would be detectible,” Juan said, “in an investigation.”

“Yes, if you know what you’re looking for. It’s not that big—essentially the size of a small cell phone. The car diagnostics would be fried, and it would take smart techs to see that it was something other than a massive and unexpected electrical failure.”

“We track the device, we’ll know who planted it.”

Leo considered. “Possibly. It’s homemade. I haven’t seen anything like it, but I’ll send the specs out to law enforcement, make some calls.” He glanced at Sean but didn’t say what Sean knew he was thinking.

Does RCK have a lead on this?

Sean didn’t regret quitting his brother’s private security company, but now for the first time he wondered if he should have found a way to make it work. RCK’s access to information was unparalleled.

Of course, he could get anything he wanted. Lucy was a Kincaid, Jack and Patrick were both principals in the business, and they would do anything to find out who had threatened their sister.

“Do what you need to,” Juan told Leo. He glanced at his watch. “I need everyone at headquarters for a briefing at oh-eight-hundred. Wrap this up, I want a pair of agents on Kincaid at all times.”

Sean followed Juan out of the tactical van. “Juan, I’ll protect Lucy.”

“I’m aware of your background, and therefore I won’t post agents in your house. But when she leaves this property, she’s under
my
protection.”

Sean wasn’t going to argue with Juan, but there was no way in hell he was letting Lucy out of his sight now that the drug cartels had threatened her.

They only had an hour before Lucy needed to leave. Juan told Lucy he would have Nate bring her to the office for the debriefing, and then he left.

“This is fucked,” Sean muttered to Nate as they watched everyone leave. “Where’s Donnelly?”

“Inside,” Nate said.

“I dug around.”

Nate raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment, and Sean didn’t elaborate. Nate knew what RCK did, and what Sean had done for them.

“He hasn’t been completely honest with us,” Sean said. “He will be now.”

*   *   *

Twelve miles away, in a quiet, middle-class neighborhood filled with quiet, middle-class houses, the man’s screams could not be heard because he had duct tape over his mouth. He could not move because his torso was tied to a chair.

He stared at the walls as the flames roared higher and higher, bright and violent, fueled by the gasoline. They surrounded him, his skin reddened, blistered. The stumps where his hands had been dripped blood. He wished he’d bled to death first. He was living in Hell, and he would die in Hell.

But he’d known, as soon as he hung up the phone, that he was a dead man.

He would get his vengeance from the grave.

Then the ceiling collapsed and the fire consumed him.

CHAPTER 22

Lucy poured coffee for herself and Brad. There would be no sleep this morning. “I’m still going to McAllen,” she said. “I’m not letting them scare me off.”

“I won’t think less of you if you wanted to sit this one out.”

“
I
would think less of me.”

She was exhausted, but she wouldn’t be able to sleep even if she tried.

“I’m sorry about this,” Brad said. “I should have seen it coming.”

“Why?”

Sean and Nate stepped into the kitchen. “Because he’s been lying since you met him.”

Brad turned to stare at Sean. “I haven’t lied.”

“Lies of omission.”

Lucy walked over to Sean and wrapped her arm around his waist. He was rigid, simmering with anger. “Sean, I know.”

“He told you about what happened in Tucson?”

“Not in so many words, but I picked up on it.”

Nate helped himself to coffee. Sean didn’t move. Lucy stood next to him. She didn’t think he’d go after Brad, but they were all running on fumes.

“I lost a rookie five years ago when I was on a major undercover op in Tucson.”

“I know,” Sean said. “And?”

“You running a background check on a federal agent?”

“I’ll bet my security clearance is higher than yours.”

Lucy squeezed his biceps, wanting him to take it down a notch. Fortunately, Brad deflated, physically and emotionally, right in front of them.

“They threatened her, too. Just like this. It’ll be pig’s blood, not human.”

Sean said, “Sanchez was in Tucson.”

It wasn’t a question. Lucy wondered what else Sean had dug up. Information was his bailiwick.

“No—but he’s hooked up with people who were responsible for what happened there. And I know in my gut that Sanchez was responsible for assassinating my rookie. But there was no evidence, nothing to tie him or his gang to the shooting.”

Lucy was confused. “This wasn’t related to the two agents killed in Tucson?”

“Yes, but it was someone else. Before the raid, no proof that it was connected. And because of it, I let my emotions affect my judgment. Never again.”

“What else?” Sean demanded.

“Look, Rogan, I get it—Lucy’s your girl, you want to protect her. I told you everything. Sanchez is an evil bastard and he deserves to die. But all I can do is arrest him unless he shoots first.”

Sean stared, then shrugged Lucy off and pulled food out of the refrigerator. He started making breakfast, eggs and sausage, not talking.

Brad said to Lucy, “I’m sorry this landed on your doorstep. I’ve been wondering if you might have done something, talked to someone, learned something you might not realize is important. I don’t know if you were targeted just because you’re the rookie here. It could be, but I think there’s more to it.”

“We’ll go over all the reports again.” She hesitated, then said, “I had a long talk with Jennifer Mendez yesterday. She knows I connected Michael and Richie Diaz, the boy in the morgue. She was helping me run reports, going through the back door since official channels were taking too long.”

“We ran a background on her. She’s clean, though she has a sealed juvie record.”

“We found the same thing,” Lucy said.

“Who else knows?”

“The boy’s mother. The landlord saw us, but we only showed him Michael’s picture. He could have learned from the mother about her missing son, but I don’t think so. Michael’s CPS officer, Charlie DeSantos. I didn’t tell the Popes about Richie, but I don’t know if DeSantos might have. The priest at St. Catherine’s gave me Richie’s name in the first place. Everyone who’s been in any briefing or had access to the files knows what we know.”

“The FBI and DEA operate the same way—the files are eyes-only,” Brad said.

“There are corrupt cops,” Sean said. “And feds.”

“Not on my team,” Brad said. “Except for Lucy, I’ve worked with everyone on the task force in the past, some going back years.”

Nate said, “It’s more likely that Lucy did or said something that made the players involved very nervous.”

Lucy frowned. “Sanchez is supposed to be in McAllen.”

“How do you know?” Sean asked as he put plates of eggs, sausage, and packaged muffins on the counter. Lucy brought out plates and utensils.

“Confidential source,” Brad said.

“And you trust him?”

“He’s been giving me information since I arrived in San Antonio. Not once has he been wrong.”

Lucy couldn’t think of what she might know that no one else knew. “CPS’s security isn’t as tight as the DEA or the FBI.”

“From here on out, we don’t talk to Mendez or DeSantos,” Brad said. “If they want a report, we shoot them up to Juan or Sam. I’m not saying the leak is one of them, but their offices don’t afford much privacy or security. It could be a secretary, another agent, or hackers.”

“Agreed,” Lucy said.

Lucy picked at her food, mostly to please Sean, and drank a third cup of coffee.

“I’m going to shower,” she finally said. “I need to wake up. I won’t be long, Nate.”

Sean watched her leave the kitchen, then he said to Nate, “If you want a shower, you know where the guest room is.”

Nate grabbed a muffin and a full cup of coffee. “Thanks, bro. Go easy on the drug cop.” He said it lightly, but Nate understood Sean as well as any of his brothers.

Brad stared at him. “Spill it, Rogan.”

“I think you’re obsessed and you should have told Lucy from the beginning how far back you go with Sanchez. Even now, you only touched on it.”

Brad glared at him. “Bastard.”

“I’m not the liar.”

“I did everything by the book.”

“Last time you went after Sanchez, two cops died. The time before that, in Tucson, two DEA agents died. And the rookie they took out in her own home.” Sean hesitated. “I think they targeted Lucy because of something she knows, as well as to hit
you.
After the last sting, you were suspended for running unapproved ops, nearly got yourself and your team killed—“

“Hold it. That’s classified.”

Sean ignored that. “I’m going to McAllen with you. Don’t fight me on this, because you will lose.”

“It’s not my call. You’re a civilian.”

“I can get cleared. Or I’ll run parallel to you. I think you would do anything to take Sanchez down, and I’m with you on that. He’s a vile bastard who deserves to rot in jail or six feet under. But you’re blinded by your obsession.”

“I’m not.” Brad rose from the stool. “You don’t know me, Rogan, and I’ve always owned my mistakes. I’ve made them, and I’ve cleaned up other people’s. But I have the best damn record in Texas, and I’m going to get Sanchez and find out who he’s aligned with. I will take them down. I don’t have a death wish, and I sure as hell am not going to send anyone else in to do anything I’m not willing to do myself.”

Sean believed that. He had mixed feelings about Brad Donnelly, but his record was solid—except when he’d gone rogue, which was more than a couple of times. He should have been running the San Antonio office, not taking orders. And—ironically—Brad Donnelly was the type of cop that RCK liked to recruit. Former military, ten or more years in law enforcement, independent thinker.

But he still wasn’t certain Brad wouldn’t lose it if the op went south. And if he did? That put Lucy in the crosshairs.

Sean walked Brad to the door. He glanced at the security panel; all was well. Brad said, “I’m really sorry about what happened last night.”

“So am I.”

“Lucy’s tough.”

Sean nodded. “More than you know.”

Sean watched Brad leave, then pulled his phone from his pocket. He dialed Kane’s number, irritated when voice mail immediately clicked in. He hadn’t expected Kane to answer, but he’d hoped.

He left a brief, two-word message. “Call me.”

*   *   *

Lucy took a fast, hot shower, then sat heavily on the end of the bed, wrapped in a towel.

Stop feeling sorry for yourself.

“I’m not,” she said out loud. This had nothing to do with pity. She was angry. It was a simmering anger. She was usually the calm one, the reasoned voice among her brothers or Sean or sister-in-law Kate. She’d learned to control her emotions, her reactions, through years of working with her brother Dillon, the forensic psychiatrist. Keeping her emotions even and steady had saved her from going into rages or depressions after she’d been raped. Now she felt almost normal, at least as normal as she was going to get.

But she knew what the anger felt like; she’d felt it before, long ago when she’d killed her rapist. The narrow vision, the sole focus, the determination.

She wasn’t panicked, though. Wasn’t that improvement?

Sean came in and closed the door behind him. “Nate’s going to take you to headquarters in thirty minutes.” He sat next to her, wrapping his arms around her.

“I’m fine,” she said, shrugging out of his hug. She didn’t want him to feel the coiled anger. He’d be more worried about her. “I’m not going to let Juan remove me from this case.”

“Of course you’re not,” Sean said, watching her. Did he see that she was on edge? That she wanted to throw something against the wall?

“I just have to convince him that I’m an asset.” She paced. She wasn’t a pacer; she usually froze before she moved. Kate paced, and for a brief moment Lucy felt a flash of kinship with her sister-in-law who was two thousand miles away in Washington, DC. Kate paced because she couldn’t stop moving, and pacing helped her work things out. Lucy had always thought better if she stopped, stared, focused on something small. Then the big picture would reveal itself.

But maybe this time she needed to take a page from Kate’s book.

“Obviously, you found something so important that they consider you a threat.” Sean tracked her with his eyes.

“I went over the day for Juan when he got here. I need to write it all out, have it ready for the briefing.”

“Good idea.”

And still he watched her, which was making her very nervous.

“What?” she said.

“I’m waiting for you to walk out your nerves.”

“I’m nervous because you’re watching me.”