Allison Brennan - Fatal Secrets

No one had an answer. Vigo said, “If it was a hired hit, I don’t think that the Vega murders would have been that brutal. That personal . But I may be wrong. It is interesting, however, that Jones was killed twenty-four hours after the FBI raid. That’s enough time for the leader to travel from virtually anywhere in the world. Maybe he wasn’t planning to come until Jones was seen as a risk. He felt he needed to be onsite to ensure everything went smoothly.”

There was silence for a good minute as they considered the various theories.

Vigo continued. “Our target is unassuming, of average build and appearance, well-groomed. He does not draw undue attention. He could walk right past any of you, and you wouldn’t look twice. He’s not on the FBI’s Ten Most Wanted; he’s not even on our radar. If he’s wanted by anyone, it’s as a name that means nothing, because as soon as the name goes on a list, he changes it. And I guarantee you that this is no young turk jockeying for territory; it’s someone with decades in the business, with extreme confidence and a strong organizational structure. No one within his inner circle is going to turn on him because they have seen the results of disloyalty many, many times.

“But make no mistake: there is one leader. He is indisputably in charge of his territory, which is far larger than northern California, which Jones commanded. He is feared by his equals because he seems to have no weak points. He’s not married, he has no children, he is likely an only child or oldest child. He also lives well, enjoys the good things in life. But not physical collections. He won’t be collecting art or other treasures that some cultured criminals judge their worth by; he lives simply, with fine meals, expensive wine, premium liquor, expensive suits. Disposable or consumable wealth. He is well-educated, but easily angered. If a waiter gives him poor service, he might wait all night to snap his neck in the dark.”

“Sounds like a peach of a guy,” Montgomery mumbled.

“Thanks, Hans. That’s terrific insight we need.” Dean turned the meeting back to their current situation. He appreciated Vigo’s assessment-it had proven invaluable when he’d planned the raid on Jones in the first place-but right now they had a tight time frame.

“The sheriff’s department has provided assistance with stakeouts on several key Jones people that Agent Knight has identified as part of Jones’s inner circle,” Dean said. “By that I mean individuals involved in Jones’s criminal enterprises. They may be in danger from whoever killed Jones, or are already part of the UNSUB’s group. We don’t know who is working for this guy locally, or if everyone he brought in are foreign nationals.”

Sonia added, “One thing you need to understand about human trafficking is that it’s solely about the money. Twenty minor girls here for this brothel, forty teenage boys for this war. They also deal with special orders, so if a wealthy ‘client’ wants a virgin, the sellers will find one to desired specifications.” Sonia drained her water and looked uneasy. Dean wished that for just a minute, he could get Sonia alone and … just let her know that he was there to listen. Her past as a victim of these crimes was no secret. She had testified in court against those who had held her captive, and had provided key information that had helped law enforcement in figuring out some of the tricks and lures criminals employed. At this moment, however, she seemed so forlorn and lost, though by the looks on the faces of the other cops in the room, Dean was the only one who had noticed.

“We’re pulling out all the stops for the next forty-eight hours. In addition to monitoring Jones’s security, we are closely tracking his head lobbyist.”

“Lobbyist?” Azevedo questioned.

“Craig Gleason is under suspicion as an accessory, but we’re keeping that under wraps. Agent Knight and I interviewed him earlier about Jones’s clientele and both of us got bad vibes from the guy. It could be that he knows about the money laundering, but not the human trafficking. He’s hiding something. Agent Callahan is digging into Gleason’s background and monitoring his whereabouts. So far, after our meeting this afternoon, he let the XCJ staff go home early, but he’s still in the office.”

“Maybe he’s dead,” Montgomery quipped. “There seem to be a lot of bodies popping up today.”

“We actually considered that,” Sonia said, “and put an undercover agent in the building. So far, Gleason is still alive.”

Dean added, “He has clients and the legislature is in session tonight. It’s entirely possible that Gleason is working. With Jones dead, he’s also probably getting a lot of calls.”

“When was that released?” Trace asked. “We only confirmed it late this afternoon.”

“We released the information about Jones’s death in time for the five o’clock news,” Dean said. “After consulting with Dr. Vigo, Richardson and Warner agreed that holding the information would empower the killer. Giving it to the media puts more pressure on him, which increases the chance he’ll make a major mistake.”

Dr. Vigo’s voice came from the speakerphone. “That’s important,” he said. “This isn’t a guy you can easily rattle. Any move we make, he’s already thought about and has planned a half dozen possible responses. But the more pressure on him, the fewer options he has. Only when he feels trapped will he do something reckless, which increases our chances of catching him. Every time we take away a choice, we ratchet up his stress level. There is, however, a problem with this approach.”

“What?” Sonia asked.

“He’ll kill without thought if it gets him out of immediate danger or perceived danger. The more stress he’s under, the more paranoid he’ll get. This means he may go after more of Jones’s people or anyone blocking his end goal. While the benefit to us is that he’s more apt to make a major mistake, we should not underestimate him.”

“Great. Don’t underestimate someone we don’t know,” Sonia said.

“Exactly. I didn’t say it would be easy.”

After Dr. Vigo hung up, the rest of the team laid out their plans for the next day. Sonia finally looked at her phone-someone had been trying to call her for the last ten minutes, but it was an unfamiliar number. She dialed her voice mail.

“Dammit, Sonia, I need to talk to you right now. Call me back. It’s Simone Charles.”

Sonia’s stomach did a little flip as she thought that something had happened to Riley or their unconscious “Ann.” She excused herself and called Simone.

“It’s about friggin’ time,” Simone snapped.

“I’ve been busy.”

“Me, too. You’ll never believe it.”

“What?”

“I was going to make you guess, but that was fifteen minutes ago so I’ll just lay it out. I’m at the Sacramento County Coroner’s Office and am looking at two bullets that match perfectly. Okay, I’m not a ballistics expert but I can see the similarities under the microscope.”

“What bullets?”

“The unknown vic pulled from the river and Kendra Vega. And-”

“Anticlimactic, Simone,” Sonia cut her off, wanting to get back to the meeting. “We already suspected that the two double homicides were connected.”

“You interrupted the best part.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled and rubbed her head. She sat down at the nearest cubicle. She needed to find some Tylenol or something. She glanced at the desktop. The tidy employee had classic cartoon strips pinned precisely on the thick, rough fabric walls, humorous quips and scenes from “The Far Side,” “Blondie,” and “Peanuts,” some yellowed with age. A corkboard held a collage of pictures, most of them three happy blond girls of varying ages. Laughing. At the zoo. Eating ice cream. Being hugged. Being loved.