Dead Heat (35 page)

Either they were robbing the place or picking up the kid. Whichever way Sean cut it, the situation was bad.

Sean drove the jeep, passed the truck, and tried to look inside, but the clutter and dirty windows prevented a clear view.

He turned the corner and parked where he was just out of view of the black truck. He jumped out of the jeep and put his back up against the building. He heard shouts coming from inside, in Spanish, and had no idea what they were saying. A couple of years of high school Spanish wasn’t helping him here.

He had one idea. Only one idea, so he hoped it worked.

He climbed back into the jeep, made a U-turn, and pulled up in front of the liquor store, directly in front of the truck. He waved at the guy standing out front.

“Sir!” he called. “Sir! I’m lost. Can you help me?”

He had no idea what the guy said, but it sounded like the swear words Sean had been proud he’d learned when he was twelve.

“I’m trying to get to International Boulevard. I think I turned the wrong way, I can’t find it. I don’t speak Spanish. Do you speak English? Hello?”

The guy in the truck honked the horn at Sean. In broken English he said through his rolled-down window, “Fuck off,
gringo
!”

A gunshot went off inside the store. Sean jumped out of the jeep. The guy in the truck had a gun in hand fast; Sean shot his wrist and the gun clattered to the pavement. The guy at the door was slower on the uptake and Sean rushed him, kicked his arm as it was coming up with a gun, knocked the weapon from his hand, and pistol-whipped him twice until he fell to his knees.

He opened the door and immediately went left in case someone was planning on shooting at the first person to enter. Padre was kneeling in front of the cashier. His hands were on top of his head. The clerk held a gun on him.

The other two guys were in the far corner of the store.

As soon as the clerk’s attention diverted to Sean, just for a second, the former Army sergeant rolled right, into a crouch, took a gun from his pocket and shot the clerk in the arm. The clerk dropped his gun, cursing with pain, and clutched his biceps.

“Good timing, Little Rogan,” Padre said.

“Don’t call me that,” Sean muttered.

There were shouts from the back of the store, and one of the guys came running toward Sean and Padre, firing his gun. They both fired back and he fell to the floor.

Lucy came around from the back aisle, pulling Michael along, as the second guy chased them. Sean glanced around, saw two cameras in the corners above the counter, and prayed there were no more. He took them both out, then the security box in the back behind the tequila. It was an old-school system, and he hoped he destroyed all evidence. Then he opened the door, quickly made sure it was clear, and the four of them ran out. Padre rolled a smoke bomb into the store before the door closed.

The driver of the truck was standing on the sidewalk, blood dripping from his right hand, now holding a gun with this left hand. He fired at Sean, and there was no doubt that if his left hand had been dominant, Sean would have been dead. But he couldn’t aim properly and the bullet went through the store window.

Padre shot both knees and the guy went down. Sirens were heard far in the distance.

“Keys.” Padre held his hand out. Sean dropped them into his palm and the four of them jumped into the jeep.

“We’re in deep shit,” Sean said as Padre drove off.

“I think you disabled the security.”

“I have to report this,” Lucy said from the backseat.

Padre said, “We’ll talk about that later.”

Sean half turned in his seat. He first assessed Lucy. She nodded that she was okay without him having to ask. Then he turned to Michael. “And you’re Michael?”

The kid didn’t say anything.

“It’s okay,” Lucy told him. “This is Sean and Father Francis Cardenas. We call him Padre. They’re helping me find Bella.”

“Did Jaime really take her?”

“Yes.”

“I knew I shouldn’t have left. She got in trouble because of me.”

“I promise, it wasn’t because of you. She was safe, in a safe home, when someone betrayed her. Someone else, not you. Her mother was arrested and she and her sister were placed in foster care. Someone told Jaime where she was.”

Michael turned to her. “Foster care.” He scowled. “Charlie. He’s the one who betrayed us all.”

Even though Lucy had strongly suspected Charlie DeSantos was involved with Sanchez, hearing Michael say it out loud startled her.

She said, “He’s dead. Someone tortured him and burned down his house.”

“Good,” Michael said, and her blood ran cold. “I only wish I could have killed him myself.”

CHAPTER 29

Padre drove them through Hidalgo, to the outskirts of the city, to a secluded house he said Lucy’s brother Jack owned. The sun had gone down, the only light a thin red line on the horizon that disappeared as Lucy watched.

“You live here now?” Lucy asked.

“No,” Padre said. He drove the jeep to behind the house, where there was a carport. The vehicle could only be seen from one angle. “It’s still Jack’s. I keep my eye on it, sometimes use it as a sanctuary.”

For a simple house in the middle of nowhere, Texas, the security was state-of-the-art. They drove through a gate controlled by a keypad, past several outbuildings, up to the squat house that had 360-degree views of open space. They parked in the back, invisible to anyone from the road—though this far from the road, binoculars would be necessary.

Padre typed into a keypad in the back door, then unlocked the door with a key.

Sean inspected the security. “Not bad,” he said.

Padre smiled. “I suppose that’s praise, coming from you, Little Rogan.”

Sean groaned.

Lucy had to make a call. She didn’t want to—but she had to tell Ryan she was safe. She should call Juan as well, but she didn’t want to do that, either.

First, she took a short, hot shower. She had to scrub to get all of Clark’s blood off her—she hadn’t realized how awful she looked until she stared in the mirror and saw dried blood on her face, neck, and arms. Sean had added a change of clothes for her into his go-bag, and that he was prepared—when she’d left her overnight bag at DEA headquarters—made her love him even more.

She stepped out of the bathroom and didn’t see Padre or Michael. Sean gave her a kiss and said, “They’re in the back room. Michael took a shower and now they’re talking.”

“Good. I need to call Ryan, and I don’t want an audience. Except you.” She squeezed his hand, then closed her eyes. There was no more putting this conversation off.

She dialed, not quite knowing what she was going to say. “Hey,” he said when he answered. “I just got to the hotel. Archer gave half of us eight hours off. Not much we can do in the dark. You going to be ready at oh-five-hundred?”

She didn’t answer the question. “No sign of Donnelly?”

“None. Except, we figured out how they got out of the area. The tunnel went into the warehouse and appeared to end at a ladder leading into the facility. But when they brought in the dogs, they discovered a trapdoor. The tunnel went down. I’m surprised Brad could fit in there, it was so narrow. But they found blood that matches his type.”

“Blood.” Her stomach roiled.

“Not enough to be life-threatening. The tunnel exited into a drainage ditch only a hundred yards out, on the opposite side of the warehouses from where we staged. There’s evidence of an all-terrain vehicle leaving the area, and we collected as much evidence as we could until it got dark. They have lights set up now, but they’re not going to find anything, my guess.”

“They had to have moved fast.”

“They moved when we were occupied with the shooters in the warehouse and searching the junkyard. They diverted our attention.”

“Why didn’t we see a vehicle during surveillance?”

“It wasn’t there this morning, according to the sweep.”

“How did they know we wouldn’t have been fanned out? How did they—’

“Lucy, I don’t know. Archer will have some answers tomorrow, and hopefully news about Donnelly. I need to unwind. Want to meet in the bar for a beer? I’m sure Sean could use one.”

“I’m not at the hotel.”

“Dinner?”

“I’m at my brother’s house.”

“You have a brother in Texas?”

“Jack used to live here and is letting us use his house.” She bit her lip. She had to tell Ryan. “We found Michael.”

He didn’t say anything for a long minute. “You found the kid?”

“It’s a long story—”

“I have time.”

“I can’t go into it now, but I got a tip and acted on it.”

“You should have called me.” He was angry, and she didn’t blame him.

“I know, but we had to act fast.”

“Did you talk to Juan?”

“We just got to the house. I called you first.”

“Shit, Lucy, you need to bring the kid in immediately. He needs to be debriefed.”

“It’s a delicate situation.”

“I don’t give a damn. I’m not a stickler for every rule in the book, but this is serious.”

“I know, Ryan! And I’m sorry, but right now I can’t. I need tonight to talk to him, myself. Michael confirmed that Charlie DeSantos was working for Sanchez.”

I wish I could have killed him myself.

It was his tone even more than his words that had disturbed Lucy.

“Confirmed? Confirmed what about DeSantos?”

“That DeSantos found the boys for Sanchez’s operation. Children of prisoners. I don’t have all the details, that’s why I need to talk to Michael. He doesn’t trust anyone, Ryan, I can’t turn him over to the system until we know for certain DeSantos was the only corrupt official involved.”

“Well, shit.”

“I don’t think he’s the only one,” Lucy admitted.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means just what I said. If Sanchez and Vasco Trejo had one government employee on their payroll, why not two? This warehouse disaster that got Brad kidnapped, it was set up by the McAllen DEA office. It was their snitch, their contact, and they vouched for the person. Archer doesn’t even know who tipped us off.”

“She will soon—she’s with the local office right now.”

“I trust you, Ryan, and I can’t say that for everyone else. Michael’s life is in danger. I’m asking you—” She stopped. What was she asking for?

“I’m not going to lie for you, Lucy. I can’t cover this up.”

“Not that—just let me do this my way. Tonight. Michael isn’t going to talk to anyone but me.” That probably wasn’t true—Lucy suspected he would talk to Padre. They were still in the back room; the door was still closed. “I’ll call you in the morning.”

“You have to call Juan.”

“I know.”

“You’re not going to, are you?”

“In the morning. I promise. When I have more information that we can use.” And, ultimately, she didn’t want Juan to tell her to come in tonight. Defying a direct order would be worse, and she didn’t know that she would come in if he told her to.

Ryan sighed, weary. “You’re a rookie. Juan doesn’t need to jump through hoops to have you fired.”

She knew that. But some things were more important than a job, so she didn’t say anything.

“Let me see what I can do,” Ryan said. “I might be able to smooth this over, but I’m not going to lie to Juan.”

“I wouldn’t ask or expect you to. I’ll write up a report and send it in. And if I get anything from Michael about a potential leak, I’ll call you immediately. Watch your back, Ryan.”

“You too, Kincaid.”

She hung up and turned to Sean. He’d heard her end of the conversation, and it was clear he’d extrapolated the rest. “Okay, he passes.”

“What?”

“I wasn’t sold on Ryan at first, but he’s willing to bend.”

“Let’s hope he doesn’t have to bend too much. I hate putting him in that position.”

“But you’re right, Lucy. We need to find out who we can trust before we turn Michael over to anyone.”

It bothered her greatly that Charlie DeSantos had used Brad to get into their investigation, and then was party to getting him kidnapped. Or was he? Maybe that’s why they killed him. Except … he’d been involved in Richard Diaz and Michael Rodriguez’s disappearances, which meant that kidnapping wasn’t a big deal for him.

“Brad knew DeSantos. Vouched for him. Called him a good guy,” Lucy said. “The bastard weaseled his way into our investigation not only to find out what we knew, but to find Michael.”

Sean walked up behind Lucy and put his hands on her shoulders. He squeezed, leaned in, and kissed her neck. “And he’s dead. Maybe he was the only traitor.”

“Do you really think that?”

He hesitated only a moment. “No.”

“Neither do I. There’s someone here, in McAllen, who’s helping Sanchez. It’s the only other thing that makes sense.”

“There’s still no proof that DeSantos was involved, other than Michael’s statement. His house is gone, he’s dead, Sanchez sent his people to destroy evidence.” She knew it was true even though she couldn’t prove it, and that made the truth harder to say. “We think he’s involved, but with no proof—”

“Don’t.” He kissed her. “Juan Casilla is a good boss, and he has some great staff. Nate is in San Antonio, I’m sure he’s following up.”

“Did you talk to him?”

“Not directly. I don’t want to get him in trouble, but I’m confident if there’s anything to find, he’ll find it. This is about kids being used, branded, tortured, and killed. If Charlie DeSantos was part of it, he needed to pay.” Sean’s face hardened. No one could turn their back on kids being hurt, but Sean had a long history of battling bullies. Whenever Sean crossed the line—and Lucy knew he had—it was because of someone in power, physically or emotionally or authoritatively, bullying those who were weaker.

“He’s dead. He has paid.”

“Then we need to destroy his reputation and get justice for all the kids he hurt. Find out who, if anyone, was part of the conspiracy. Stop them. Have faith, Lucy, that you and your team will get what they need.”

“I do.” But she was still worried.

“Ryan said something about Brad.”

She told him about the tunnel and how they got out.

“You’re right.”