Allison Brennan - Fatal Secrets

Why had he gone after Sonia at the stadium? Attempting to kill a federal police officer would make law enforcement more resolute in tracking him down.

He also didn’t need to kill the three Chinese girls in the warehouse. He’s left a message- you are too late -as a taunt. He knew Sonia was involved in the investigation because of Greg Vega. And he had to have known Sonia was his daughter he’d sold.

The assassination was personal on the one hand-he wanted Sonia dead. Not because she knew something important per se, but because she irritated him. She was pushing, and he probably couldn’t stand the fact that his own daughter-a woman-could get so close to taking him down.

But it was also functional. The attempt would divide their resources just as the murders of the Chinese girls did. As Hans said, the killer didn’t care if they knew who was responsible because he believed he was untouchable.

And if Sergio Martin, aka Pierre Devereaux, left the country, he very well could get away with everything.

Dean would not let that happen.

Black came back inside. “I know what the killer was looking for in the conference room.”

“What?”

“A listening device. The room was bugged.”

Victoria Christopoulis had been gracious when she allowed Sam and Trace to come into her home, but she gave them no answers. She played ignorant. Yet Sam suspected the woman was shrewd. He saw it in her eyes.

So he drove away, circled the neighborhood, and came back, parking far down the street. Just barely able to see her driveway. If she left, he’d know.

Thirty minutes later, the Mercedes skidded out of the garage.

“Good instincts,” Trace said as Sam pursued the car. He picked up his phone and called Dean.

As soon as Dean stepped into the office where Sonia paced while Officer Jerry Strong stood at the door, she knew her father had slipped away.

“I’m sorry,” Dean said.

“Dammit,” she said. “It’s not anyone’s fault. He’s like two steps ahead of us! We need a break.”

“We have one. The conference room was bugged. That’s how the killer knew where to find you.”

“How long were they listening?”

“I don’t know-”

“Yesterday? When we asked Gleason all those questions about Jones’s clients? That’s why they killed those women.”

“Don’t-you have no idea why they killed the women. We’ve done everything by the book, we’we responded immediately when we learned information, and we have been proactive. Excuse me.” He picked up his BlackBerry.

Sonia tried to figure out her father’s next move. He killed-or had ordered killed-three of the women. Why? To torment her. To send them on a wild chase. To keep them away from finding the truth. He wanted to jerk them around so they didn’t know which lead to pursue-so he could sell the remaining women and leave the country before they could find him, or the victims.

It made sense. Throw a half-dozen murders out there and all of them were running around trying to make the connection. But it wasn’t the murders that were important-at least, not right now. The only thing they should focus on was where the girls were taken when moved from the Weber warehouse.

San Joaquin County sheriffs were looking for Joel Weber and his son, Jordan, but hadn’t found them yet. They could even be dead-Sonia wouldn’t put it past her father. The Webers might be the only living people who could put a face on the man who now called himself Pierre Devereaux. Or maybe they felt the heat of the investigation and ran.

She and Dean had found the warehouse by tracking the property records of Jones’s clients; would Devereaux use an existing location? Would he be able to find anything else? Based on the evidence at the warehouse, there had to be at least thirty women who’d been smuggled in. They wouldn’t be easy to hide for long.

Dean said, “That was Sam. He’s tracking Victoria Christopoulis.”

“Oh shit, the woman in the picture-”

“Is Victoria,” Dean finished.

“How’d you know?”

“Sam said she looked familiar and he went through the photos I’d sent him related to the case.”

“Charlie told me but it slipped my mind, I’m sorry.”

“After being shot at?”

She rubbed the bridge of her nose with her knuckle. “Maybe I am too close to this.”

“We’ll find him, Sonia.” Dean’s voice was full of anger and confidence. “He’s not getting away this time.” Dean glanced at his phone again. “It’s headquarters.” He answered, listened, then hung up and said, “Sonia, they broke part of the code in Jones’s journal. They have a couple ideas where the women are being held. We have to get to FBI headquarters immediately.” He paused, glanced at his dirty clothes, and back at Sonia. “I think there’s time to change.”

Noel threw a glass against the wall.

“Does no one have pride in their work? A military sniper can’t take out one little woman? You couldn’t kill one fucking witness and we have to leave my hotel?”

He hated the pressure of not being able to come and go as he pleased. He hated thinking that people were watching him, waiting for him to fuck up.

He wasn’t going to. Noel had a backup plan, didn’t he?

They were in a house on the Indian reservation. The Indians owed them-hadn’t Noel made them rich? It had been Xavier’s idea, and it had been brilliant, but it was mostly Noel’s money. So he had no problem coming to collect.

Once the casino was built, they’d have far more freedom. He didn’t need Gleason after all, Ling had developed a rapport with the Rio Diablo tribe.

He threw another glass against the wall. It felt good to destroy something. He turned to Ling. “Call in every pilot, everyone you can trust. Have them on call to meet at the exchange site tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“We’re moving everything up twenty-four hours. If the buyers don’t agree to my terms, we’ll kill the women and get out. I’m not staying in this fucking country to see another sunrise.”

“And Sonia Knight?”

“She’ll be dead before we leave.” Noel rubbed his face. Damn, he wanted to kill her himself. He wanted to slit her throat and watch her die. He hated her, hated her with more passion than he’d felt for anything in a very long time. Some of his colleagues said they appreciated a worthy adversary. Not Noel. He preferred idiots he could fool, bribe, or kill.

“You put yourself at risk if you pursue her alone,” Ling warned.

“Ten thousand to whoever kills her,” Noel said reluctantly. “And I’ll double it if they bring her to me, alive, before sunrise. But after that, I’ll be on my way home. I’m never setting foot on American soil again.” He spat on the floor to show his disdain.

“I’ll make the arrangements.”

Dean drove a circuitous route to his temporary apartment so he and Sonia could shower and change after the sniper incident and subsequent raid of Devereaux’s hotel suite. On Dean’s orders two agents followed to keep close watch on Sonia, though Dean wasn’t about to let her out of his sight.

While she showered, Dean called Sam Callahan to make sure he got the message about the task force meeting at headquarters. As far as Dean was concerned, they were on duty until Devereaux and the women were found.

“Callahan.”

“Did you get my message about the meeting?”

“Yes, but I’m still following Victoria Christopoulis. She just left Bank of America. She was inside for sixty-nine minutes. I stayed behind, while Trace followed her in my car. I talked to the manager, found out that she withdrew two hundred thousand in cash. Also learned that she had a safe-deposit box jointly with her son. He didn’t know what was in it, but she went in and cleaned it out-left the box on the table, open and empty.”