InTooDeep (12 page)

She walked a few steps away from where
Carley lay atop the Oriental rug in front of her English settee. “Resentment
doesn’t become you.” She wanted to hang up but the need for information
propelled her to continue the conversation. “Hmmm, Charleston, South Carolina.
Yes, I heard something about that city. Oh, I remember. Does your unexpected
trip have anything to do with that lieutenant’s tragic death?”

“I wasn’t aware his death had made national
headlines.” Suspicion crept into his voice.

Rena backpedaled swiftly. “I just remember
reading it online. You know how tragedy is always popping up whenever you log
in to your e-mail account. But why would you have to go to Charleston for a
local police officer’s death? That’s unusual.” She dug for information as
delicately as possible.

“It was an undercover operation, but let’s
stop wasting our time here, Rena. You care even less about my job than you do
me. I’ve got a plane to catch.”

“Fine. I’ll see you soon.” She didn’t have
time to play word games with her husband anyway now that she’d discovered what
she needed to know. His unexpected trip had just changed things a bit.

Damn. She’d been hoping to make a nice
profit off Carley Morgan but now she’d have to rush the timeline, which always
made the buyers a bit nervous. They’d lowball the offer, thinking she was
desperate to move the merchandise.

She despised the thought of losing out on a
potential goldmine but she hated the thought of getting caught in a trap even
worse. And she had several other women to get rid of as well since she’d put
the other auction on hold to get rid of JT and his nosy wife.

There had to be another way to come out on
top. Perhaps she could make a couple of quick phone calls to her more
well-known clients, using Carley’s identity as the reason for a quick auction.
She could set the bidding time, make it a quick one, say, three hours. A nice
opening bid, half a million would bring in the high bidders and weed out the
lowballers. Yes, this wouldn’t take that long at all.

“Ma’am?” A short, round man with a full
beard and glasses tapped on door to her office and poked his head into the
room. “We’ve finished the sweep and everything’s been loaded except for the
furniture.”

Still smiling, Rena turned to observe the
man. Wasn’t his name Otis? Oscar? Something like that? She couldn’t remember
and she didn’t really care. “Fantastic. I’ll be right out. Oh, make sure to put
the laptop bag up front. I want to check out a few things while we’re on the
road.”

The man squinted at her. Obviously his
prescription wasn’t strong enough. “Laptop bag? I don’t recall seeing one,
ma’am.”

Her smile faded into a scowl. “Well look
again because it was right behind my dresser in my bedroom.”

He dipped his head in acknowledgement and
backed away, eager to obey her command.

Rena took one last look around her office,
taking in the sleek leather chair, the polished executive desk and the
upholstered accompanying chairs that matched the décor perfectly. She would
miss this sanctuary she’d built. It was the first one she’d created outside her
husband’s dominion. And she enjoyed the freedom she’d found here even if she
did miss fucking with her husband’s peace of mind.

“Ma’am?” The same man had returned. She’d
given up trying to remember his name.

“Yes?”

“There was no laptop behind your dresser,
and I checked with the movers. They said nothing was there when they arrived.”

A knot began to form in the pit of Rena’s
stomach. Only one other person knew where she kept that laptop. She’d meant to
move it long before now, but with everything that had happened with Carley
Morgan’s sister then Franklin, it had slipped her mind.

Was it possible Franklin had managed to
move it without her knowledge? And if he’d taken it, where in the hell had he
put it? That laptop had information that could be more than detrimental to her
and the operation. Her entire client list was on that hard drive and without it
she couldn’t pull off the auction.

Nausea rolled through her and she placed a
hand over her abdomen. Dammit. Her plans were getting screwed again. But there
was no way she could leave Charleston without that computer, especially with
the FBI nosing around.

She realized the man with the glasses was
still standing in the doorway looking at her. “Get Ms. Morgan to the van. Make
sure the tape stays in place.” She turned her back on him, still trying to
quell the nausea.

Had she misjudged Franklin? Had he betrayed
her before she could betray him?

Hunt drained another cup of lukewarm coffee
and stared at the computer screen. Tax records, relative histories, family
property—every piece of information on Franklin’s life was laid out before him
but offered no clue as to who the man might have been working with.

He dragged both hands through his hair
before squashing the paper cup and tossing it toward the wastebasket in the
office he’d commandeered at the county sheriff’s department. A part of him had
wanted to stay put inside the city precinct but he knew better than to stay
where he wasn’t welcome. And the detectives had made it more than clear he
didn’t belong there. Not that he could blame them for feeling betrayed.

He rocked back in his chair and closed his
eyes. Though exhausted, he couldn’t stop, wouldn’t stop. Not until he found
Dani’s killer. It might have been Franklin but until he was sure he wasn’t
going to stop looking. For now he kept coming up empty-handed, and frustration
beat at him in the form of a relentless migraine.

Hunt had spent the last eighteen hours out
from undercover interviewing every cop who’d ever worked under the lieutenant
and meeting a wall of silence. No one wanted to believe their commanding
officer could be guilty of any crime much less such a heinous crime as human
trafficking.

And when he wasn’t digging into Franklin’s
past he was thinking about Carley. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d
been tempted to call her. Had even driven by the hotel and been surprised to
see her car still in the parking lot. He’d thought she’d leave but maybe she
was waiting to hear from him. He couldn’t blame her for not wanting to go
anywhere until she knew her sister’s killer had been found. He couldn’t say he
wouldn’t do the same thing.

“Chandler, there’s a Dave Polponia here to
see you.”

Hunt’s chair hit the floor with a loud
thump and he swiveled to face the rookie agent who’d joined his team less than
twenty-four hours ago. Damn. He might have known Dave wouldn’t be willing to
just walk way. “Is he in the conference room?”

“No, sir. He’s still in the waiting area.”

“Okay. Thanks.” Hunt got to his feet
slowly, dreading the next confrontation.

When the truth had been revealed, Dave had
taken it personally. It hadn’t surprised Hunt. Dave had put his neck on the
chopping block by keeping quiet about Carley only to discover Hunt had been
lying to him about his identity.

Though Hunt had tried to talk to him, to
explain why he’d had to maintain cover, Dave had merely walked away, but not
before telling him to go to hell.

Steeling himself for a confrontation he
didn’t have time for, Hunt snagged his suit coat from the back of his chair and
shoved his arms into the sleeves. Straightening the knot in his tie, he took
several cleansing breaths before heading to the interrogation room.

The glass walls provided him an easy view
of Dave, who sat slumped over in the upholstered chair, his hands wrapped
around a cup of what Hunt knew to be lousy coffee.

He opened the door and Dave flicked a
glance upward. “Hunt.” The acknowledgment in Dave’s voice was clipped,
unwelcoming.

Tugging a chair away from the scarred
rectangular table, Hunt sat, stretching his legs out in front of him. He laced
his fingers over his stomach and looked at his former partner, waiting for him
to speak.

Dave tore off a piece of the paper cup.
“Nothing to say?”

“You came to see me. Thought you might be
the one with something to say.”

A short laugh broke from Dave’s throat.
“Yeah. I guess so.” He reached into the front pocket of his shirt and brought
out a folded piece of paper. “I didn’t want to believe what you said about
Franklin. Honestly, I thought you just had a hard-on for the guy.”

Hunt placed his palms on the glossy
tabletop. “I wouldn’t have wasted my time.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t know what you were
spending your time doing. I thought you were there because you were supposed to
be there.”

“I was.”

Dave fixed him with a bleary-eyed glare.
“You know what I mean.”

Lack of sleep combined with too little
information had stretched Hunt’s patience. “Why are you here, Dave? Because if
you came just to bitch about how I lied to you it’ll have to wait. I’m a little
busy right now.”

“Yeah, I figured that.” Dave picked up a
black bag from the floor and plopped it on the table. “I also figured you might
want to see this.” As he unzipped the bag, Hunt leaned forward.

“What is it?”

“A laptop that was found at Franklin’s
house.”

“That should have been in FBI custody.”

“Yeah, well, this one sort of left with
me.”

“You took evidence from a crime scene?”
Hunt could only stare at his partner. Dave wasn’t usually one to blatantly
disregard the rules.

“Yes, I did, and if you say it a little
louder I could probably lose my badge.”

Hunt stared at the laptop while Dave turned
it on. “Why? What made you take it?”

“Because you’re not the only one who wants
answers. I figured I’d start with something I could work on myself, and while
you and Captain Apain were in a pissing match I took the first thing I could
get my hands on that looked promising. It was underneath his desk in his
office. How many people do you know who keep their laptops underneath their
desks?”

“None.” Hunt still couldn’t wrap his head
around Dave’s impetuous behavior. He got to his feet and walked to stand behind
his partner, looking at the screen over his shoulder. “So what did you find?”

“How about a list of dates and times? A
merchandise list with hair color, eye color and height and weight. Paid
invoices totalling over two million and an interoffice memo,” he snorted, “between
Franklin and someone with the initials R.A.B. I couldn’t find his or her name
anywhere else. I don’t even want to tell you what I’m thinking all this means.”

Hunt scanned the memo. It revealed little
other than disappointment over the fiasco with the blonde. Still, the words
chilled his blood. The fiasco had to be referring to Carley’s sister.

“Okay, actually, I do want to tell you. I
could be mistaken being as I’m only a cop and all, and I’m certainly hoping I’m
mistaken, but these might be sale dates.” He held up one bony hand. “Which, I
gotta tell you, shares the shit out of me. I mean, this is some serious shit
here. So anyway I’m guessing this laptop belongs to the head honcho, and
Franklin absconded with it for some insurance. Unfortunately for him, he needed
a bodyguard more than insurance.”

“I’m going to pass this over to my tech
guys, see if they can trace the IP address. Maybe they can find out who this
R.A.B. is.”

“There are some notes in Franklin’s
documents and he mentions R.A.B.’s luscious breasts. You know this could just
be me, and I admit I don’t know much being as I’m just a cop—”

“You’re not going to let that go, are you?”

“You mean all the lies? No. Can’t see that
happening.”

“I was undercover. Lying is part of the
business.”

Dave shrugged. “As I was saying, I’m
guessing the person in charge of whatever is going on here is a woman.”

Hunt leaned back in the chair, studied the
laptop screen for several long seconds. He hadn’t considered the possibility of
a woman running the ring, probably because he couldn’t imagine it, didn’t
want
to imagine it. Why would a woman sell other women as sex slaves? It just didn’t
make sense. But he wasn’t a profiler so it was entirely possible he was missing
something psychological.

With a click of the mouse, he returned to
the merchandise list. “That list of dates, they were for the auctions.”

Dave stared back at him. “Auctions. You’re
telling me those woman are really being sold?”

Hunt knew the revulsion he’d felt when he’d
first been tasked with the assignment so he couldn’t blame Dave for feeling the
same. “Yeah. That’s what I’m telling you.”

“I thought when you said Franklin had
kidnapped women that you meant it was for ransom or some shit like that.” He
got to his feet, swiped a hand across the back of his mouth. “You’re really
talking about human trafficking?”

Hunt nodded and hoped Dave was smart enough
to sit down before he collapsed, because his skin had gone a pasty white.
“Yeah. Sorry. I know this is hard to hear.”

Dave held up one hand. “Well you’ve had a
bit more time to digest it than I have.”

“Take all the time you need.” Hunt scooped
the laptop from the table and got to his feet. “Thanks for this. I owe you.”
Hunt was halfway out the door when Dave intersected him.

“That’s it? We’ve been partners for over
six months now and suddenly it’s okay to shut me out because I’m not part of
the FBI? I served under Franklin’s command, Hunt. That bastard used me too.
Shouldn’t that be worth something, enough to let me in?”

Shutting out the still, small voice that
told him he was breaking the rules again, Hunt lowered his voice. “This isn’t
my call. The deputy director of the FBI is on his way here. He was supposed to
be here hours ago but he got delayed. So any second he could walk through that
door and the last thing he’s going to want to see is me working with a member
of Franklin’s squad.”

“Former member, and I didn’t know jack shit
about what the man was up to when he went home.” Dave sucked in a sharp breath
and stood his ground. “Look, man, I know you were just doing your job, but I do
think I got to know you well enough. You’re a stand-up guy and if you were in
my shoes you’d want to be involved too. You’ve got to let me help.”