“How do you know that?”
“Deputy,” Siobhan said, her worry returning. Father told you he didn’t trust the police. “I know what I saw.”
“Deputy Jackson, I don’t know what she’s talking about,” the teen said. “My sister is upstairs. The house was locked, and I heard something and saw this woman running out the back. I don’t know how she got in. She must have broken in. I’ve never seen her before.”
“Ms. Walsh, please put your hands on the car.”
This was all wrong. Dammit!
But she complied. The deputy had a gun; she did not.
“We had a call about someone lurking in the neighborhood,” Jackson said. He frisked her, patting her breasts heavily. She wanted to hit him and fisted her hands, but resisted the urge to lash out.
He chuckled in her ear. “You like that, don’t you?” he said and pinched her nipple.
“Touch me again and I will file a report against you.”
He laughed out loud this time. “What’s this?” He pulled her lock pick from her pocket. “I’m inclined to believe young Pete here.” He took her wallet from her back pocket and flipped through it. “Siobhan Walsh from Chantilly, Virginia. You’re a long way from Virginia, missy.”
She didn’t speak. She already knew what was going to happen, and was so glad she had locked her camera in her trunk.
He continued to flip through her wallet. Found some money, her credit card, her press credentials. He frowned. “Who do you work for?”
“I’m a freelance photographer.”
“Where’s your camera?”
“I didn’t bring it with me.”
“Stay here. If you move, I will arrest you.”
He moved away-along with the teenager. They walked far enough off that Siobhan couldn’t hear what they were saying, then Deputy Jackson got on his cell phone.
This was all wrong. Damn her red hair, she hadn’t kept a low profile since she’d arrived. She’d been at Mass this morning when Father talked about the infant left at his door. Any number of people could have seen her; someone would eventually connect her with Father Sebastian. She itched to call him and tell him to be careful, but the deputy had taken her phone as well as her car keys.
What had she been thinking? Of course, Kane Rogan would have said she wasn’t thinking, but what was she supposed to do, turn her back on someone who needed help? It wasn’t in her nature.
A pregnant woman… and a baby carried by a young girl… what was going on? Most of the time when a girl in the sex trade got pregnant, they forced her to have an abortion.
Siobhan’s stomach fell. What if these girls weren’t forced to have abortions, because the babies were being sold? She didn’t know much-okay, she knew next to nothing-about illegal adoptions, only that they existed.
But even that didn’t make sense to her-there was money in illegal adoptions, but there was more money in human trafficking and the sex trade, with less risk.
Still… something was different about that house and these people. The location? Maybe… this wasn’t an ideal place to house girls working in the business, voluntarily or not. It was in the middle of nowhere. A way station of sorts? Maybe… but why here where they’d stand out? Why not in downtown Laredo or a big city where they could blend in? Why in the middle of a poor, rural Texas community?
Jackson was talking to someone… and he kept glancing over at her. They wouldn’t kill her, would they? She didn’t think so… more likely they’d tell her to get out of town.
The conversation went on for several minutes, making her even more nervous. Finally, he hung up and walked over to her. “Ms. Walsh, you’re under arrest for breaking and entering.”
“I didn’t!” Yes, she was lying, but they couldn’t prove anything. Even the kid hadn’t seen her in the house. Well… he did see her leaving. “I heard someone crying and I thought they were hurt. The door was open.”
Shut up, Siobhan! Don’t talk without a lawyer.
Amazing that everything she knew went out the window when she was stuck between a rock and a hard place.
“Put your hands on top of your head. Now, Ms. Walsh.”
She didn’t want to spend the night in jail, but it was after nine and there was no way they’d let her out if this was the route they were going. She would have to make the best of it. Jail was better than the morgue. They’d give her a call, right?
She slowly put her hands on her head. Deputy Jackson took one wrist and pulled it behind her back and cuffed it. He stood so close behind her that she could feel his breath on the back of her neck. She grimaced. “I’m just playing with you, missy, lighten up and enjoy it,” he said.
He reached around the front of her shirt and squeezed her breasts again. She wasn’t expecting it and swung out with her free arm, catching the deputy in the face with her elbow.
“Shit! Fuck!” he screamed. He pushed her to the ground and roughly cuffed her. Blood dripped from his nose. “We’ll add resisting arrest and assault of a peace officer to the charges. You’ll be doing some serious time, missy.”
Siobhan closed her eyes. She was so screwed.
Okay, Kane, you were right this time.
I always am, sugar.
She heard Kane’s voice as clear as day and glanced around to see if he was standing there.
He wasn’t.
CHAPTER THREE
FBI SSA Noah Armstrong spent the first thirty minutes of their two-hour drive south talking on the phone to Zach Charles, the analyst for San Antonio’s Violent Crimes Squad. Lucy tried not to eavesdrop, though it was difficult considering she was sitting in the passenger seat. Noah was going over active cases with the ease and confidence of someone who’d been running the squad for years instead of two months.
“Kincaid is with me,” Noah said. “I sent Quiroz a message that I had to pull Lucy from the double homicide they’ve been working with SAPD. I’ve assigned Agent Cook to replace her.” He listened to something Zach said, then continued. “If Agent Cook has an issue with the assignment, she can call me and discuss it.” He hung up a moment later.
Lucy itched to discuss the case with Noah, but thought better of it. She’d barely spoken to Elizabeth Cook in the nine months she’d been in the San Antonio field office. The only thing Lucy knew about her was that she was divorced, had two daughters, and planned on retiring early at the end of next year at age forty-five, after putting in twenty years. Lucy’d never worked a case with her, and Cook rarely went out into the field. The Violent Crimes Squad handled a variety of crimes, but as their official name-Violent Crimes and Major Offenders-suggested, most of the cases dealt with physical crimes against people. Multi-jurisdictional homicides, kidnappings, special circumstances cases, and similar situations. They worked extensively with other law enforcement agencies to pool resources. Cook tended to assist more than investigate, and primarily from the office. While most agents abhorred desk work and writing reports, Cook preferred it.
Three months ago, the local DEA and the San Antonio PD-as well as the FBI to a lesser degree-had been decimated after a major corruption conspiracy was uncovered. Five DEA agents and two prison guards were murdered, an SAPD cop arrested for attempted murder and conspiracy, and FBI Agent Barry Crawford’s injuries were so extensive he was still on disability and would likely never return to active duty. Juan Casilla, Lucy’s boss, left on paternity leave after his wife nearly died in childbirth. Nita was still ill, and while he had a month more of official leave, the rumor was he would either be taking a sabbatical or resigning.
Noah Armstrong had come to San Antonio from Washington, DC, the first week of July as the acting SSA of Violent Crimes, but he was also here to liaise with other agencies as everyone had to clean house and rebuild. Lucy liked working with Noah, who’d been her first training agent last year before she’d entered the FBI academy. They’d become friends and Lucy greatly respected him. But in the ten weeks he’d been here, they hadn’t worked together on a case. Though she didn’t like passing off her current case to another agent, she was glad he wanted her help on this new case in Laredo.