“On my way.” Vail faced the webcam. “Roxx—”
“Before you go. Aaron’s analysis of those fibers they found in the blood in Cannon’s shed turned out to be deer, as we thought. They combed through his house and found the body buried in his yard. Clearly a brutal act. Nothing tentative about it.”
“Not surprising.”
“I thought you’d want to know.”
“You thought right. Gotta run. I’ll call you later.”
Vail disconnected the call and ran out, back toward Gifford’s office.
45
Vail didn’t have time to put further thought into Cannon’s deer killing, but she felt as if she already knew everything she needed to know about it, and the man—at least for the purpose of her current task.
When Vail walked into her ASAC’s office, DeSantos and Gifford were standing and arguing—and stopped the moment she entered. They turned to look at her.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“Robby’s undercover contact,” DeSantos said. “His name is César Guevara.”
Vail processed that a long second, then reached back for a chair and sat down heavily. The discovery of Robby’s handwriting in Guevara’s house suddenly came into focus. “Shit. Shit. Shit.” She dropped her head into her hands. “I’m not feeling very well.”
“What’s the problem?” DeSantos asked.
Without raising her head, Vail said, “When Robby went missing, I went into a frenzy. I looked everywhere. The task force and the Napa Special Investigations Bureau mobilized. I gave them Robby’s photo to show around town.” She grasped her hair in both hands. “And I . . . I showed it to Guevara.”
But that wasn’t the worst of it. Vail yanked her phone and pulled up the photo Jonathan had sent her. The image struck her like a slap to the cheek.
DeSantos must have seen her reaction, because he reached over and grabbed the BlackBerry from her hand. “Ah, shit.”
Vail watched as he handed the phone to Gifford, who took a look, then sat down slowly in his chair.
“Hector, get the DEA administrator on the line—and have him conference in Yardley.”
DeSantos paged to the number, then lifted the secure handset.
“I’ve got some more disturbing news,” he said as DeSantos made his call. “We’ve lost contact with Robby and Sebastian. They missed their last three check-in times.”
Vail felt panic rising in her throat like bile. She steeled herself, tried to settle her nerves. Now’s not the time to freak out. As Rudnick had said, she had to keep her emotions in check. This wasn’t exactly what he was referring to, but it certainly applied.
“Yes, Mr. Administrator, I’m here with ASAC Gifford and Agent Vail. I’m putting you on speaker.” DeSantos listened a moment, then gestured to Gifford, who pressed a button. “He’s bringing Yardley online.”
A moment later, DEA administrator Bronson McGuire’s voice filtered through the speaker. “Yardley and I are here. What’s the problem?”
“Sir, Karen Vail. I’ve just been briefed on Roberto Hernandez’s undercover op.” Would’ve been nice to put me in the loop, asshole. “I was with him when we—”
“Yes, yes, Agent Vail. I’m familiar with the op. What’s the problem?” he repeated.
Vail clenched her jaw. Emotions in check. “When he went . . . missing, the Napa County major crimes task force began an all-out search. I obtained a photo to distribute to the LEOs for them to show around the community. I needed a picture fast, and I used one I had from a few weeks ago. We took it at the FBI Academy.” She paused, as if the next sentence was too painful to utter. But she pressed forward nonetheless. “We took it in front of the academy sign.”
There was silence, so Vail continued.
“You could see the large ‘FBI’ lettering.” She closed her eyes. “I showed the photo to César Guevara. And I may’ve referred to him as ‘a colleague of mine.’” At the verbalization of those facts, Vail began to perspire. No, dammit, she was sweating. The implication was clear: she had inadvertently blown Robby’s cover. And the fact that they had lost contact with their undercover agents could only portend a less than optimistic result.
“Well,” McGuire said, “this is just fucking goddamn great. Nice work, Agent Vail.”
“Now hang on a minute, sir,” Gifford said. “Agent Vail was not privy to what was going on. She did what any of us would’ve done if a fellow officer went missing. The . . . unintended consequences are very bad, no question. But to blame her—”
“Sorry if I hurt Agent Vail’s feelings,” McGuire said. “But tough shit. We’ve got a situation here, and it’s a fucking bad one. Thanks for all your help.”
The call disconnected.
DeSantos put his hands on his hips and began pacing. Vail sat there seething. And Gifford stared at the silent telephone.
“We’ve gotta find him, Hector.” Vail was now on her feet.
DeSantos looked at her. The resigned tilt of his head reflected his thoughts: it was probably too late.
Gifford said, “It’s not your fault, Karen. If I hadn’t done this favor for him, he never would’ve been on this op. If anything, it’s my fault.”
“Assigning blame isn’t going to help anyone,” DeSantos said. “No one could’ve foreseen this.” He stopped pacing. “This is a DEA operation. They’ve got assets in place that could find him a lot faster than we could.”
“Are you saying we shouldn’t try?” Vail asked, then turned to Gifford, who was still lost in thought. “Sir, please.”
Gifford pulled his gaze to Vail. “Find him. Whatever it takes, bring him back. Preferably alive.”
Vail looked at DeSantos. “You with me?”
DeSantos licked his lips, hands still on his hips. “Yeah.”
“Then let’s go. We’re wasting time.”
46
Once they’d cleared the stairs outside the BAU, Vail stopped. She grabbed the railing. “I blew it, Hector. Do you think—did I get Robby killed?”
DeSantos put his arm around Vail’s shoulders. “I sure hope not. I’m not gonna lie to you. This is bad. His cover’s been compromised. We’re behind the eight ball on this. But you’ve got friends on the task force in Napa?”
Vail nodded.
“Call them. Have them find Guevara. Take him somewhere, legal or not, and sweat him. Will they do that? Will they grab him up without a warrant?”
She hesitated. “Maybe.”
“Convince them. Whatever it takes, they’ve gotta find out what he knows. It may be our only chance. Meantime, I’m gonna reach out to some people and see what I can do.”
He pulled his phone, then turned back to Vail. “Now. Make the call.”
Vail mentally slapped herself. Get with it, Karen. Freak out later. She called Dixon. Brix was in the car with her, so he could hear what she had to say.
“I’m about to ask you a favor, and it’s going to jeopardize your careers. But I’ve got nowhere else to go.”
There was a moment’s hesitation, then Dixon said, “Go on.”
“Brix, have you been briefed—”
“I’m up to speed.”
“Okay. Listen to me. César Guevara was the target of a DEA operation. Robby was brought in by his friend Antonio Sebastiani de Medina—Sebastian—to work the case with him. He was only supposed to handle one transaction, but Robby’s meet with Guevara went well, and his role expanded.”
“I thought Robby was a detective with some small town in Virginia,” Brix said. “Venice?”