Allison Brennan - Fatal Secrets

Sam Callahan walked over to Dean’s cubicle and said, “We missed breakfast. I’m starved. I’m going to the deli down the street. Want something?”

Dean glanced at his watch: 11:00.

He knew where Jones was going to be at noon. Dean would be interested in finding out which “client” he dined with after his trip down south.

“How about a working lunch?”

“What’s up?”

“Let’s head downtown. Chops.”

“You’ve been here three weeks and I’ve never seen you eat anywhere other than this desk or the conference room. How do you know about Chops?”

He tapped Jones’s day planner. “Jones seems to think it’s pretty good. Has lunch there every week. In fact, he’ll be there today.”

“What about our meeting with Sonia Knight?”

“We’ll be finished by one. I just want to see who Jones likes to eat with.”

Sonia left her office early so she could swing by her adopted parents’ house before driving across town to the FBI’s headquarters. They lived in the established neighborhood of South Land Park, where stately homes and classic Tudors and Craftsmans had been built over more than one hundred years to create a warm, inviting, and pricy feeling to the tree-lined, curving streets. She lived in a small bungalow only two blocks from her parents, and her brothers, Riley and Max, shared a house a few blocks in the other direction. A Marine, Max returned home only a few weeks a year and was currently deployed in Afghanistan, where he’d recently re-upped for another three-year tour, so Riley pretty much had the place to himself. But they congregated in the family house. Few days went by without visiting her parents.

Sonia found Andres after getting an “anonymous” tip that a ten-year-old boy who’d been held against his will at Jones’s house would be walking along Ione Road. She’d assumed that the untraceable email came from Greg Vega, who had every reason to be paranoid; now she wasn’t so sure. She’d gone easy on the kid after learning what he’d been through and his declaration that he’d never seen Xavier Jones, didn’t know who he was, and just wanted to find his sister and go home.

Sonia couldn’t send him home, and she hadn’t yet been able to locate Maya. The safest place for him was with her parents while Sonia worked discreetly through the system to find his family in Guatemala. Sonia had been fortunate to find a home after she’d been rescued; but she’d seen what happened to the kids who went through the system. There was little anyone could do except send them home. Those they rescued weren’t only illegal immigrants kidnapped or smuggled into the country under false pretenses, many were runaways taken off the streets by predators with the promise of food and shelter. After they were separated from any friends they may have made, they were forced into prostitution. Some of the kids were kidnapped young and trained to be whatever the buyer wanted-a sex slave, a servant, a soldier-or as Sonia had heard child soldiers called, cannon fodder.

The truth was, they saved very few once the victims disappeared into the human trafficking network. With over eight hundred thousand women and children manipulated or kidnapped each year, the situation was out of control. The United States, with other countries, made small inroads into the illegal system, but the evil continued to grow until sometimes Sonia felt it was all but hopeless.

Except that she personally had saved numerous victims and helped them get their lives back. That alone made it worthwhile. As long as she focused on those she helped, she could do the job. And she had the most incredible support system in her adoptive family. She knew her life would have been far different, and much worse, if they hadn’t been there for her. If they hadn’t given her unconditional love and a real home.

She knocked on the door, then entered with her key. “Mom? Dad? It’s me.”

“In the kitchen,” Marianne Knight called out.

Sonia walked through the cluttered but immaculate living room and formal dining room to the bright kitchen in the back. Her mom was at the stove grilling sandwiches and brother Riley was drinking coffee and lounging in sweats and an old Led Zeppelin T-shirt. He worked swing shift in the Sacramento Police Department-four to midnight-and lunchtime was his breakfast. He was a year younger than Sonia, though they’d gone through high school in the same grade because Sonia had had to play catch-up when she came to live with the Knights.

She affectionately punched Riley on the arm with a “Hey” and hugged her mom.

“Nice surprise,” Marianne said. “I’ll grill another sandwich.”

“I don’t have time,” she said as she poured herself a cup of coffee. “I need to talk to Andres.”

“You can take it with you.” Marianne’s tone said no arguments.

Riley smirked when Sonia glanced at him. “Don’t fight it, sis. Besides, you can’t live on coffee alone.”

“I had breakfast.”

“Ha. Let me guess: drive-through Starbucks, blueberry scone.”

“They were out of blueberry by the time I got there,” Sonia retorted. “I had to get vanilla.”

“You slept in so long you missed out on blueberry scones?” Riley teased.

“I was on a stakeout. Didn’t leave until nine A.M.”

Marianne frowned as she took a perfectly toasted ham and cheese off the pan. “And you haven’t slept?”

“Trace drove back,” Sonia lied, only so her mom wouldn’t worry. “I had nearly an hour of sleep.”

Riley gave her the look that said bullshit , and whether Marianne believed her or not, she didn’t let on. “An hour’s sleep isn’t good for your reflexes,” she said. “Be careful today.”

“Where’s Andres?”

“At the park with your dad. Owen is teaching him baseball. Andres is a natural, has taken to the sport better than Riley and Max.”

“Not for lack of trying,” Riley said.

“They’ll be back any minute,” Marianne said.

“How’s he doing?” Sonia asked, sitting across from Riley. He gave her a look, obviously curious about her stakeout. Later , she mouthed. Riley knew she was going after Jones, but she didn’t want to go into details in front of their mom. It was a clandestine investigation, and she technically shouldn’t have talked to Riley about it, but she had needed his help to find Andres last week after the anonymous email. And she liked to talk to her brother. He was easygoing and smart. He both listened and offered sound advice.

“As good as can be expected,” Marianne replied. “He’s worried about his sister, of course, but he’s eating well and seems to enjoy going to the park. And before you say it, yes, we’re keeping a close eye on him.”

“I know,” Sonia said.

The back door opened and Owen and Andres walked in, all smiles, with balls and bat and a large German shepherd who bounded over to Sonia when he saw her, and sat at attention, his tail barely restrained. She scratched the former police dog between the ears. “Hey, Sarge, I missed you, too.”

Andres’s smile faltered when he saw Sonia, and she felt awful that he expected bad news from her. “Hi, Andres,” she said in Spanish with a smile. “I hear you’re the next Jose Canseco.”

He beamed nervously, glancing up at Owen. After family, Owen’s next love was baseball.

“I have tickets to the Giants game tomorrow,” Owen said, “and I’d like to take Andres if it’s okay.”

“Sure,” Sonia said. “It sounds like fun.”

“You can come?” Andres asked hopefully.

She shook her head. “Sorry, I have to work.”

“I have the day off,” Riley said. “I’ll go.”

Andres smiled.

Sonia glanced at Riley, but said nothing. She knew he didn’t have the day off-he worked Monday through Friday-but their parents didn’t seem to catch on and Riley subtly shook his head at her.