She, too, had a hard time telling Sean what was bothering her, but she’d worked hard to overcome her insecurities and fears. He helped her, and she knew he wanted to share in the good and the bad.
But this was different. Why wouldn’t he have told her? What could he have been thinking? That she would be angry with him? For something he didn’t know? Or that she would be upset? That she would blame him for not being there? He couldn’t have known-that wasn’t something he would have ever kept from her, not for the two years they’d been together.
Why? Why? Did he not think she could handle the news? That she would fall apart or something? Yes, she was upset-because Sean kept something so important, so personal, from her.
Madison had met with Sean on Monday… she’d come home late, but they’d had a late dinner, they’d showered together, they’d made love… he could have told her. Any number of times that night. The next morning.
And he hadn’t.
She almost didn’t notice that Nate had followed her and Noah out of the FBI building. She glanced back and almost asked why, when she remembered hearing Noah call for Dunning. Nate gave her an odd, questioning look. She smiled at him, though it felt unreal. She had no joy inside, nothing. Nate and Sean were close, and if Nate thought something was bothering her, he might talk to Sean about it. That was the last thing she needed.
She had to get her head in the investigation. She couldn’t let her personal problems interfere with her job.
Noah tossed Nate the keys, and Lucy climbed into the backseat. “I asked Nate to join us because I don’t know what to expect,” Noah said. “We’re going to the property management first. I have a warrant for limited records-got a friendly judge who liked the argument you put together, Lucy.”
“Me?” She barely remembered the conversation.
“Zach came through-he was able to connect the business that owned the brothel property with the business that owns the property outside Freer. I used that to get the AUSA to push a judge-the lawyer didn’t want to do it, but I can be persuasive. We can ask for files of all properties managed by the company that are owned by those two businesses, lists of tenants, rents paid or owed, and contact information for the businesses. The management company needs to communicate with them somehow. Zach pulled ownership records-we know the brothel property was bought four years ago from a bank while it was in foreclosure, and shortly after Barrow’s article came out it was sold to another business-could still be owned by the same people, just trying to clean the slate. The Freer property was bought six months ago from an estate-the original owner had lived in the place for forty-two years, died, and his lone heir sold it on the cheap after it had been on the market for nearly two years.”
“Zach has been busy.”
Nate drove in silence. Lucy looked at he phone, checked her email. It was what she didn’t see that hurt-no message from Sean.
Noah got on the phone, and it took Lucy several minutes to realize he was talking to Rick Stockton. When he hung up, he said to Nate and Lucy, “We have the clear to interview Lance Dobleman. Nate, let’s go there first. It’s early, I want to shake him up. I’m going to get two agents to follow him.” He got back on the phone. Lucy heard him ask for Abigail Durant, the ASAC who oversaw three units, including the Violent Crimes Squad.
Smart. If they shook him up, a tail may lead them to Jasmine… or to the missing girls.
By the tone of the conversation, Noah didn’t get the answer he wanted. “Abigail, there is no reason Agent Cook can’t handle a simple field assignment. Follow, do not engage.” Elizabeth Cook, the agent on their squad who didn’t work in the field. The one Juan never assigned to partner with anyone because she handled internal research and the occasional background check.
A moment later Noah said, “Abigail, I need two agents to tail a suspect for at least twenty-four hours, up to seventy-two hours… Cook is the only one who isn’t assigned to a priority case, and she can go out with one of your… I understand, but… You have my assignment report in your inbox.” He listened for a long minute, then said, “We’ll discuss this later, Abigail… since you brought it up, yes, I think it’s a major issue. Juan is well respected, I am the interloper from HQ.” Again, silence. “Honestly, this may sound callous, but I don’t care. I needed all hands this week and keeping a senior agent at her desk wasn’t going to cut it… Yes… No… I’m happy to meet later this afternoon, but you’ll have to give me some flexibility because I don’t know how long I’ll be out… Kincaid and Dunning… Yes, I’m aware. I’ll take any heat if there’s a problem, but I need two agents… Fine, I’ll send you the details, you send whoever you want.”
He hung up. If he could have slammed down the phone, he would have.
“Rick fucking owes me a bottle of twenty-year Scotch,” Noah muttered.
Noah rarely, if ever, swore, so Lucy kept her comments to herself.
Nate didn’t. “I thought you knew Agent Cook didn’t work in the field.”
“Juan told me,” Noah said. “Active special agents assigned to field offices are required to work in the field. No exceptions.”
He didn’t say anything more, and Lucy wished she knew what Agent Cook’s story was, why Juan let her work only from her desk, and why Noah was pushing it when he was the temporary SSA. She glanced at Nate-he didn’t press the conversation, but he clearly knew more of what was going on than she did.
Noah said, “Though you’re both rookies, you’re going to partner for the duration of this case-at least until I can get freed up. There’s no one else, and I can’t send an agent back to Laredo solo.”
Nate turned into the entrance for a gated community. He didn’t say anything as he rolled down his window and showed his badge and identification.
The guard hesitated a moment. He was young. “Can I have the address you’re visiting?”
Nate shook his head.
“I, um, I’m supposed to log every visitor.”
“Special Agent Nate Dunning,” Nate said. He handed the guard his FBI card. “If your boss has a problem, he can call me.”
Again, the young guard hesitated, but he took the card and pressed a button. The gate slid open.
Nate drove through before it was completely open. “If they want to intimidate would-be visitors, they should get someone who looks like he already graduated from high school.”
The gated community north of I-10 had winding roads, great views of the city, and tree-lined streets. It would be a nice place to live, Lucy thought, though it was clear the neighborhood was relatively new, likely less than ten years old. The developer had done a good job working the custom homes around the existing trees, giving it an older feeling.
Less than two minutes later Nate stopped in front of a large, sprawling two-story home at the end of a cul-de-sac. No cars were on the street or driveway, but an attached four-car garage was behind the house.
Noah said to Nate, “Keep an eye on things.”
“Yes, sir.”
Noah glanced at him oddly. “Sir?”
“Habit.”
Noah shook his head but he was smiling.
Lucy and Noah walked up to the front door. Lucy rang the bell and stepped back. Noah was surveying their surroundings. “Security cameras,” Noah said.
The door opened two inches. It was on a security chain. A petite Asian woman stood there. “Hello?” she asked with a heavy accent.
Lucy showed her badge and ID and said, “Special Agents Lucy Kincaid and Noah Armstrong. Is Lance Dobleman here?”
The woman stared at her oddly. “English not good.”
“Is Lance Dobleman your husband?”
She hesitated, then nodded. She said something in what Lucy thought was Chinese, but she’d never studied the Far East languages. She was fluent in Spanish and French, had a basic understand of German, Italian, and Portuguese, but the Eastern languages were far different than the Germanic languages. She wouldn’t even know how to communicate.