No Good Deed (19 page)

“I know, but—”

She silenced him with a kiss.

“Be careful, Sean.”

“Always, princess.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He was already thinking about his brother and what he might find down in Santiago. She didn’t want his attention divided because he always worried about her.

She said, “If you don’t check in every six hours, I’m going to follow you.”

That snapped him to attention. “No.”

“Yes. You love me? Well, I love you more. And I’m not going to have you disappear on me when we haven’t even set a wedding date.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it. “I’ll have my sat phone with me. I’ll call you, I promise.”

She kissed him, long and hard. “Go find Kane.”

*   *   *

Sean drove Lucy to work on his way to the small private airport where he housed his plane. He was on the phone most of the time, talking to Blitz in Hidalgo, a small border town where her brother Jack had lived for years when he’d been a soldier-for-hire, before he signed on with RCK. But he hung up as soon as he pulled into the secure FBI parking lot.

“I could have driven myself,” Lucy said.

“We talked about this. These people got to your car once before,” Sean said. He didn’t have to remind her—three months ago during Operation Heatwave a bomb had been placed under her car. It didn’t detonate, and they couldn’t prove Nicole had ordered it planted, but that’s most likely what had happened. “Humor me. Please.”

She did, because he was worried—about her and about his brother. “I will be extra cautious,” she said. “You too.”

“You have the secure phone I gave you?”

“Of course.”

Nate walked out of the main doors. “I don’t need an escort into the building,” Lucy said, exasperated. “The parking lot is gated with a guard.

Sean kissed her. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

She got out and approached Nate. Sean peeled out of the parking lot, going much faster than the posted speed.

“Sorry about this,” she told her friend.

He waved it off. She noticed he was wearing his Kevlar vest and had an extra gun strapped to his belt. He looked more like a soldier than a federal agent. Nate was tall and slender, all muscle, and reminded her of her brother Patrick. Except for the military part. She thought Sean and Nate had hit it off immediately because Nate’s personality was more like Patrick, but his training was more like Jack. Best of both worlds, as far as security-conscious Sean Rogan was concerned.

“Ryan left to pick up Assistant Director Vigo from the airport.”

She was looking forward to seeing Hans again. “Have you heard from Juan?”

“They had a boy, an hour or so ago. Nita had a rough time of it. There were complications and they had to do an emergency C-section. I don’t know the details, Zach’s at the hospital now. Ostensibly to give Juan a briefing, but he promised he’d find out what happened.”

“Poor Nita.”

“We don’t even know the name—I don’t think they picked one out.” He paused. “I’m not having kids.”

“Why?”

“You have to ask?”

“If I could, I’d have kids,” she said. “The world is a dangerous place, but why else do what we do if not to make it better? If not to raise good kids in a troubled world?”

He shrugged. “I wouldn’t make a good dad.”

“I think you’re wrong.”

“If I had a kid, I’d be like Sarah Connor in
T-2
, training him or her to fight a war.”

Lucy didn’t see it. Then she looked at Nate again, assessing him impartially. It was there, that edginess that both Kane and Jack had. The eyes that had seen evil, the hands that had killed, the soul that had mourned. Nate might have the happy-go-lucky exterior when he relaxed, he might be able to enjoy playing video games all night with Sean or laughing over beers in the kitchen, but she suspected that was just it, an exterior. A remnant of who he was before he became a soldier. Could he ever go back? Or was there no going back, just moving forward? Jack had adjusted to a more domestic life once he married Megan, but he still had the edge. He still had the instincts of a career soldier. Yet—he had found a peace he hadn’t had before Megan, and for that reason alone she loved her sister-in-law.

She squeezed Nate’s hand, spontaneously. “Thank you. Really.”

“I’d do anything for you and Sean.”

She wondered why that was. They’d known Nate for six months, but he and Sean had bonded immediately. She hadn’t really asked why. Maybe she should have. Was there more to their friendship than she knew? If so, why hadn’t they told her? Or maybe she was reading more into it than was there. She could have simply asked Sean. Maybe she would, when he returned.

“Briefing in ten minutes,” Nate said, then slipped past Lucy into his own cubicle.

Kenzie leaned over to Lucy. “What was that all about?”

“What was what?” Lucy asked. She dumped her files on her desk.

“That thing with you and Nate?”

“Nothing.”

“Did you and Sean have a fight?”

“No!” Lucy stared at her, eyes wide. “Why on earth would you think that?”

Kenzie tilted her head. “I guess—I don’t know. You were holding hands.”

“Not like that. Sean had to go out of town and Nate’s going to keep an eye on the place.” Lucy didn’t know how much she should say. Because if she said it out loud, it made both her and Sean seem paranoid. And maybe they were, but after what they’d been through they had reason to be paranoid. “Agent Logan Dunbar was murdered when he returned to DC two nights ago. It may be connected to Nicole Rollins’s escape. But Sean had an emergency to take care of out of town, so until we know more he wants Nate to stay at the house. As a precaution.”

Kenzie shook her head. “I couldn’t live your life. Do you always walk around with a target on your back?” Her eyes widened. “Oh shit, I’m sorry.”

Two weeks ago, Lucy had been shot in the back. If not for her vest, she would have been seriously injured or killed. “Don’t apologize. It’s apropos.”

“Is Sean okay? Is it family?”

She nodded, but didn’t say anything else. Kenzie’s phone buzzed and Lucy was relieved. She smiled at her friend, then turned back to her own desk while Kenzie grabbed her phone.

Lucy booted up her computer and downloaded the notes she’d emailed to herself. She had a preliminary profile of Nicole Rollins. It was incomplete, but a good beginning—and she was looking forward to discussing it with Hans. He probably already had his profile written, and then it was a matter of interviews with Elise and Nicole’s brother, Chris. Those were the two people Lucy felt would add immensely to the profile.

She’d also begun thinking that maybe the key to finding Nicole was to find Tobias. It was counterintuitive—Tobias could walk freely because they had no solid description of him. Lucy would recognize him, but she hadn’t been satisfied with any of the sketches. They had a partial image of him from the Dallas airport after he poisoned Rob Garza, but it was clear that he’d altered his appearance substantially—whether temporarily or permanently, they couldn’t know. They’d been looking for him for three months—not only the FBI and the DEA, but Kane Rogan had put the full force of RCK into searching for him. He was a ghost, frustrating everyone involved in tracking him.

Nicole was a virtual prisoner. She might be able to change her looks, but she was on the radar of every law enforcement agency in the country. Unless she was already out of the country with a fake ID. If Lucy were Nicole, that’s what she would have done. Driven into Canada on a US passport, then used a Canadian passport to fly to Europe. Obtain another false passport and fly to a temporary safe haven, a place without extradition. Wait out the manhunt for a few months. Build up a profile with a name and background, and move again, into whatever country she planned to live out her years as a fugitive. For Nicole, it would be someplace in South America, Lucy suspected. She would have contacts from her years as a double agent, along with money and resources, and though she wasn’t a native Spanish speaker, she would be able to get by. New name, new background, new everything. Maybe even a new face.

Lucy wouldn’t have been able to come up with that plan a few years ago, but after being with Sean for the last eighteen months she’d learned a lot about the system—and how to get around it. The only wrench in Nicole’s plans was money—she’d need millions of dollars to pull off an elaborate transformation.

Her email beeped and a message came in from Sam Archer’s chief analyst.

Nate walked by. “The debriefing starts in five minutes,” he said.

“Yeah, I just want to read this message. I’ll be right there.”

“Five minutes,” he repeated and left.

Lucy opened the message.

Here’s the video you requested. I’m sorry I didn’t send it last night, I didn’t receive the approval before I left for the day. ASAC Archer said to assist you with whatever you need, so please do not hesitate to contact me. Below are my direct office line and my cell phone if you need to contact me after hours.

—Sarah Reynosa Martin

Lucy viewed the video of Nicole killing the drug dealer. She watched it twice. There was a familiarity between the drug dealer—Ramon Ramos—and Nicole. The way she killed him was both impulsive … yet not. That couldn’t be. She started to watch it a third time, wishing the tape was clearer so she could read their lips. There was more to this even than could be seen on this recording. Nicole acted impulsively, first drawing her gun and shooting him in the knee without hesitation—not even a minute after she entered. In fact, she shot him as soon as she determined they were alone.

Then Nicole had a conversation with him. It lasted nearly two minutes—one minute, forty-nine seconds according to the time stamp. Then she shot him in the gut. He keeled over. She said something as she walked over directly above him and shot him three times in the head.

Her face was impassive. Somewhat irritated. It wasn’t the first time Nicole had killed.

“Lucy!” Nate snapped from the head of the aisle. “Everyone is in the conference room. The debriefing started ten minutes ago. Durant told me to find you.”

She grabbed her file and walked briskly behind Nate, still disturbed by what she’d watched on that video. She wanted to watch it again. She was fluent in American Sign Language and could also translate via lip-reading if she could improve the quality of the video.

She stood in the back of the conference room. Brad was near the front, listening to the US Marshal tell the group, essentially, that they hadn’t found Nicole.

“However,” he said, “we located one of the suspected shooters yesterday. He’s not talking, he’s lawyered up, but we have physical evidence that he was on the bus. Our best interrogator is working on him now. First person to cooperate won’t get the death penalty.”

There was some discussion about what to do with the information this suspect gave them, how they were going to approach Nicole’s safe house for example, but Lucy knew in her gut that this guy knew next to nothing.

“Excuse me,” she said. “Marshal?”

It took a moment before he spotted her in the back. “And you are?”

“Lucy Kincaid, FBI. With all due respect, this guy doesn’t know where Nicole Rollins is. No one does, except Nicole and the man she flew away with at Amistad Park.”

“You can’t know that.”

“Sir, Rollins has been a corrupt agent from the moment she entered the DEA. During her fifteen-year career, no one suspected her duplicity. This tells me that she’s extremely cunning and distrustful. Everyone who participated in her escape was a hired gun. They’ve been paid and she doesn’t care if we know that she paid them, because she’s free. The most he’ll be able to give you is who else he worked with, what gang he’s affiliated with, and how he was paid. You might be able to parlay that into additional information and stifle her ability to hire people to help her. But he’s far more terrified about what Nicole’s people will do to him in prison than what we’ll do to him.”

“Agent Kincaid, I appreciate your input, but it’s a rare criminal who has that much power.”

“Consider Nicole Rollins a rare criminal.”

No one spoke, and Lucy stood in the back of the room, rigid, all eyes on her. She wished she could disappear, but she stood firm. Not only did she believe she was right about Nicole, but there was so much more they needed to learn. Time was against them.

She noticed that Brad kept looking at his phone. The subliminal power of suggestion had her looking at the clock. It was after nine. Was something supposed to happen at nine?

Suddenly Brad broke the silence. “Marshal, I need to call my office. Excuse me.”

Brad rushed out of the conference room.

Abigail Durant said, “Marshal, please keep us informed and if you need our assistance in any way, let me know. Everyone knows what they need to do—let’s do it. Let’s find Rollins before anyone else is hurt.” She caught Lucy’s eye and motioned for her to come forward as the rest of the staff filed out.

“No one has been able to reach Agent Crawford,” Durant said. “He didn’t contact you?”

There was faint hope in her voice.

“No, ma’am.”

“I’ve already sent Agents Malone and Figueroa to his house. Zach is tracking his flight status and credit cards. We confirmed with a neighbor that he left his house at three thirty Friday afternoon and no one has seen anything suspicious.”

“You think—”

“I don’t think anything,” Durant interrupted. “I’m worried, because it isn’t like Barry not to check in when we’re trying to reach him. After what happened in DC with Agent Dunbar I’d rather be embarrassed when we find him than not looking at all.”

“Let me know what I can do.”

“You have your plate full right now.” She looked at her watch. “I’ll call you when Ryan gets back with AD Vigo.”

Lucy walked slowly out of the conference room.

Barry would have called. He was too good an agent, too meticulous, too by-the-book, not to check in after hearing the news about Nicole—even if there was a legitimate reason he wasn’t getting his messages.

Something had happened. And it wasn’t going to be good news.