Stolen (20 page)

Suzanne groaned. “DeLucca is off-limits.” She said to Noah, “Noah, meet Agent Steve Gannon, White-Collar. I’ll leave you to straighten out the deets, ’kay?” Her tone was light, but her eyes were serious. She was trying to tell Noah something, and he wasn’t certain he got it.

“Deanna,” Gannon said, “I talked to Suzanne, and she said D.C. is lead on the case. I think we should take a step back and listen to Agent Armstrong—”

“No! You don’t understand. He’s up to something big, and then he kills his partner.”

She was talking to Gannon, not Noah. The dynamic was interesting, and she was borderline hysterical.

Noah said, “Sean didn’t kill Hunter Nash.”

She turned to Noah, her light eyes wild. “You don’t know that!”

Noah turned to Steve Gannon. “Agent Gannon, I suggest that you convince your partner to leave and go directly to your office.”

“Deanna,” Gannon said, looking from Noah to his partner, “let’s go.”

Deanna took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down. “No. Wait. You have to listen to me. Sean Rogan is dangerous. He shot at me. He killed his partner. Don’t you see?”

Noah couldn’t tell her anything about the undercover investigation, not with her being such a loose cannon. He said, “I’m vouching for him. If you don’t report to headquarters straightaway, I’ll be taking your badge. Give your Glock to Gannon.”

She looked like she wanted to continue to argue. Then she unholstered her weapon and handed it to Gannon. She walked toward the stairs.

Gannon said, “Deanna’s smart. Real smart.” He was apologizing for her, Noah realized. “She’s been after Rogan for a long time, but when he turned up in New York she got kind of obsessed, certain he was into something big.”

“How many gunshots did you hear?”

“Two initially. Then, ten minutes later, two more.”

“Watch her,” Noah said. He nodded toward her gun. “Check the magazine.”

Gannon didn’t want to. “Why?”

“Do it.”

Gannon reluctantly popped the magazine. “Ten.”

“Chamber?”

“One.”

“Sean didn’t shoot at her,” Noah said. “She lied.”

Gannon didn’t seem surprised. “I walked through the crime scene. She said she saw Rogan standing over the victim’s body with a gun in his hand, except Rogan ran when she was still in the living room. There was no angle where she could have seen Rogan or the body, unless she stood directly in the doorway.”

Noah realized the implications. “Sean wouldn’t have been able to run if she was in the doorway while he was still in the room.”

It might have been a minor point—he had fled a room where a body had been discovered—but Brighton had already lied about having eyes on him with a gun over the body and about the gunshots.

Noah said to Gannon, “Don’t let her out of your sight.”

Gannon nodded soberly and left.

Noah called Rick. He was on the phone, so Noah left a voice mail with the new information.

He looked around the basement. This appeared to be a wasteland for old electronics, as if Nash couldn’t bear to part with any of his stuff. Ancient game systems, a computer with a floppy drive that Noah barely remembered, a dozen keyboards stacked on a shelf.

A solid wood bookshelf had been moved and behind it was the passageway where Sean had escaped. A splintered door was open, leading to stairs. Noah found a light switch and turned it on. Only one faint bulb burned from the top. He carefully went up the stairs without touching anything. Four flights later and he was in Nash’s kitchen. The coroner’s team was taking out the body.

Suzanne was talking with Tucker. She saw Noah and said, “No forced entry, single gunshot to the head, approximately two hours ago. Does that clear Sean?”

“I don’t know, but he didn’t do it.”

Tucker glanced at Suzanne and said, “I didn’t know the feds were hiring psychics now.”

Suzanne laughed, but Noah didn’t see the humor in the situation. “Sean said he didn’t fire on Brighton; she said he shot at her and she returned fire. Her partner heard four shots total. There are four bullets missing from her Glock.”

“He could have used a silencer,” Tucker suggested.

Noah didn’t need the help. “You have to trust me on this. I’ll take full responsibility.”

Noah realized that while he’d
wanted
to believe Sean, he hadn’t fully trusted him until he compared Gannon’s statement to Deanna Brighton’s Glock. He felt like a shit about it, too. Sean made it difficult to trust him, but at the same time, he’d been solid while working undercover.

“Noah?” Suzanne said.

“You’re in charge, along with Detective Tucker. Whatever you need to tell him is cleared, but need-to-know, okay?”

“Well, this is interesting,” Tucker said.

Noah ignored him. “I need everything. Bullets and casings. We’re bypassing the New York office—ship everything directly to the FBI lab at Quantico. Sean told me Brighton fired twice in the back stairwell and twice in the tunnels. I’ll find out if there are any distinguishing landmarks, but he got out at the subway at East Thirty-third, so I’m thinking that’s the outer search boundary.”

“You talked to the guy?” Tucker asked.

Noah said, “I’m sorry I can’t give you more information, Detective, but I have to get down to FBI headquarters and make sure the APB on Rogan has been voided.”

“Proving she’s lying is going to be hard,” Suzanne said.

Noah handed her Brighton’s weapon. Suzanne put it in an evidence bag. “Full ballistics. And report directly to me. Anything you learn I need to know.”

“Sean really needs to come in,” Suzanne said.

“Her partner told me she didn’t see Sean over the body. She lied about that.” Noah walked over to the doorway of the den where Hunter Nash had been killed. “If she was standing here, she’d have seen Sean and the body, but then Sean couldn’t have escaped.” He walked back to the front door. “Gannon said they were in the living room, Brighton went in first, and she saw Sean run from the den into the kitchen. That’s where the back staircase is. She might have seen the body
after
Sean fled, but not while he was in the room.”

“Shit,” Suzanne muttered. “Why would she lie?”

“Because Sean pissed her off twelve years ago and she’s been holding a grudge.”

Noah was torn between doing what was right under the law and doing what was right to protect both the undercover operation and Sean. If Sean pulled out of Thayer’s group now, they’d never get the evidence against Paxton. Did Noah want Paxton so badly that he’d put Sean in greater danger? Or was this truly the only way to find the truth about both Hunter’s murder and Paxton’s crimes?

Noah said to Tucker, “Can you make sure NYPD knows that Rogan isn’t a suspect? No itchy trigger fingers on this. Suzanne, we need to retrace Nash’s steps. Find out what he knew that got him killed.”

“You think it’s connected to your op?”

“Suzanne was a sharp agent. She’d already figured out something was going on. I’m going to talk to Deanna Brighton. If she’s been following Sean since he’s been in New York, she might know something that will help us.”

Suzanne glanced at Tucker and said, “Would you please excuse us?”

Tucker nodded and left the kitchen.

“What?” Noah asked.

“Lucy called me yesterday. She said Deanna Brighton questioned her at Quantico. Wanted to know if Sean was under investigation for anything. What’s going on?”

“I appreciate you coming in the middle of this without knowing all the details. I’ll fill you in as soon as possible. The basics? Sean is working deep undercover for me and Assistant Director Rick Stockton, a case I’ve been involved with for nearly a year. I brought Sean in because of his relationship with Colton Thayer, a known hacktivist. But I can’t have his cover blown, not yet.”

“Lucy doesn’t know?”

Noah shook his head. “I need your discretion, Suzanne.”

“You got it.”

*   *   *

It was late Tuesday night when Sean circled Colton’s carriage house. He didn’t see any police or federal agents, but that didn’t mean they weren’t watching the place. They might have learned a few tricks of surveillance. But he knew more. Confident there was no one with eyes on the back, he went up the alley and into Colton’s backyard. He didn’t care about Colton’s cameras.

Sean typed in the security code on the back door. It opened into the long, narrow garage that could easily hold three cars. Colton had a classic Mustang convertible, and it was parked in the middle, as usual. He rarely drove. The alarm panel beeped—Sean reset it, then called Colton’s cell phone.

Colton answered. “You broke into my house.” But his voice was humorous.

“Hunter is dead. I don’t know if anyone is watching this place.”

Colton paused. “I’m upstairs.” All humor was gone.

Sean went up two flights to the main living area. Colton came down from his bedroom, followed by Carol buttoning up her jeans. She had on only a bra.

“What happened?” Colton asked.

“Hunter was murdered. In his apartment.” Sean glanced at Carol. “We need to talk alone.”

“I trust her.”

Sean stared at him and remained silent.

Carol kissed Colton’s cheek. “It’s okay, C. I’ll make coffee.” She grabbed a shirt off the couch and pulled it on, glaring at Sean.

“The roof,” Sean said. It was the only way they could have complete privacy.

“We’re a team,” Colton said, closing the sliding glass door behind him. “How dare you treat Carol like shit. You’re the one who walked away nine years ago.” He was hurt, but Sean didn’t want to talk about the past.

“Where are Skye and Evan?”

“In their rooms. You know I like to keep everyone close when we’re working a job.”

Sean pulled out his pocket computer and ran a jamming program. He didn’t want anyone, good guys or bad, listening into this conversation. He didn’t know if Colton’s house was bugged or if someone had a long-range microphone aimed at the place.

Sean said, “What are you up to?”

“Me?”

“Yes. The more I’ve gone through this plan, the more I realize it makes no sense.”

“What more do you want?”

“I want Hunter alive.” His voice cracked.

“What happened?” Colton repeated. “Are you sure he’s dead? How?”

Sean was usually good at reading people, but he couldn’t tell if the grief on Colton’s face was real. He had to push Colton for answers.

“Hunter called me tonight and said he found something that scared him. I went to his apartment and he was dead, a bullet in his head, sitting at his desk. His laptop’s missing.”

Colton sat down heavily. “He had our entire security plan. Everything on the PBM break-in.”

Sean wanted to smack Colton. “He’s
dead!
”

Sean paced. He couldn’t help it. He felt like this whole thing was unraveling and he didn’t know how to put together the threads.

“I trusted you from the beginning,” Sean said. “I gave up everything, my brother, my business. I’m risking my relationship with Lucy, because you said you needed me. And you’re the first person I ever had in my life who believed in me.” As he said it, he realized it was true. Other than when his parents died, he’d been at his emotional lowest after Stanford. He’d gone from the high of his success in stopping the pervert to being in jail and meeting his brother’s stern disapproval. It had taken years to rebuild that relationship, and then to learn that all the faith and trust Duke had in him had been a lie. Duke expected him to fail.

When Sean said,
Duke, you have to trust me,
Duke had said,
I can’t.

Yet here Sean had been lying to Colton from the beginning and Colton trusted him more than Sean’s own brother.

Sean felt nauseous. He sat on a chair and put his head in his hands. Everything was so far out of control, he didn’t know why he’d agreed to do this in the first place. He didn’t like himself very much as he realized that he’d agreed to go undercover to get the protection of the FBI in case Paxton had evidence of Sean’s long-ago crime. And he wanted to nail that bastard of a senator for his threats and blackmail.

You’re a selfish ass, Rogan. You used Colton just like Paxton used you.

“Sean,” Colton said, sitting down next to him, “I didn’t lie to you on Sunday when we met, but I found out later that day specifically what Paxton wants me to steal. I just decided after you told me about the federal agent following you that it would be best to keep it to myself. But—I can’t believe Hunter is dead. No one is ever supposed to get hurt. We don’t hurt people, Sean.”

“We did. Nine and a half years ago, when Robert Martin killed himself.”

“That wasn’t your fault. I told you then, and I believe it now. He was a crook, and he would have been on some exotic island before the FBI ever caught him.”

Sean believed it at the time.

“Nine months ago, Paxton hired me to hack into the Federal Bureau of Prisons and decipher their tracking code. That’s when I first tried calling you, remember? Back in February. But you were in the middle of looking for your cousin.”