No Good Deed Read online

  “That would be fun.”

  “Must be serious, if you’re introducing Eric to your friends and colleagues.”

  “We’ll see—” She nodded at the ring. “So, when’s the big day?”

  “We’re not doing anything big, and I don’t know when. I suggested eloping, but Sean thinks my father will draw and quarter him if we don’t get married in the church.” That had been a big concession on Sean’s part. Lucy went to church semi-regularly, but Sean detested organized religion. “Sean’s been working on the boys’ home with the pastor at Saint Catherine’s, so we’ll ask him to marry us. Sean respects him.”

  “So I’ll get to meet your entire family—very cool. And what about your sister? Did she have the baby?”

  “Last Thursday. He’s perfect.” Lucy held out her phone, which had a picture of John Patrick Thomas set as the wallpaper.

  “God, I love babies. I feel my biological clock ticking. I’m thirty-four, Lucy! Maybe that’s why I want it to work out with Eric. He’s the first guy I’ve really liked in … well, years. At least you have a few years before you have to worry about that.”

  Lucy felt the twinge in her hollow stomach. It was the one truth that still bothered her, that she couldn’t have children of her own with Sean. She’d accepted that Sean was okay with it, and that when and if they wanted children they would adopt. There were so many children who needed homes—not newborns, who were easier to place, but older kids who’d been lost or forgotten by the system. Still, Lucy grieved that she couldn’t have a child of her own.

  But Kenzie didn’t know, and she didn’t mean anything by her comment. Lucy said, “Thirty-four isn’t old. Carina is thirty-eight. Nora, Sean’s sister-in-law, was forty when she had her baby.”

  “And that’s only six years away for me.”

  Zach Charles, the analyst assigned to the Violent Crimes Squad, jumped up from his cubicle and bellowed across the room, “There’s been a prison break—conference room, stat.”

  Half the Violent Crimes Squad was present, and they rushed to the conference room where they were joined immediately by Special Agent in Charge Ritz Naygrow. Twenty agents filled the room, with more trickling in as Naygrow spoke. Lucy’s cell phone vibrated in her pocket. She glanced at the number—it was Brad Donnelly with the DEA. She didn’t take it, but she had a bad feeling she knew who had escaped.

  “People, I don’t have many details but will tell you what I know. A federal prisoner transport unit taking former DEA agent Nicole Rollins to the courthouse was hit minutes ago.”

  The conference room television was on and muted. A news helicopter was circling a yellow school bus that was stopped in the middle of an intersection. The armored van could be seen on the bottom of the screen as the helicopter shifted perspective, but there was no movement in the van.

  “Multiple shots have been fired. We don’t know if the shooters are targeting her because she cut a plea deal, or if this is an escape attempt. SWAT team leader Leo Proctor just left with his team to assist the DEA and the US Marshals. As you can see on the television, a school bus of hostages is in play, possibly as a distraction. Be alert and ready to go in the field. We’ll be assisting in any way we can.”

  Kenzie said, “Kids are running out of the bus.”

  They all turned to the television, faces grim. A guard and several civilians were helping the children, but everyone appeared frantic. This wasn’t a typical rescue operation. A guard was seen carrying a small child as he ran out of the bus.

  Only seconds later the bus exploded.

  A chorus of curses and gasps filled the room.

  Naygrow told ASAC Abigail Durant to take over the meeting and he quickly left the room.

  Durant stepped up and looked around the room. “Agent Figueroa, put together a team of agents with medical training and get on-scene stat. Agent Proctor is our lead in the field, connect with him as soon as you arrive. The marshals’ office has point on this, but since there’s extenuating circumstances, the DEA will be all over it.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Emilio Figueroa said.

  Emilio had been a paramedic for eight years before joining the FBI. Lucy didn’t know him well because he’d been cross-training weekly with all first responders in the area.

  Lucy stepped up. “Emilio, I’m an EMT and search-and-rescue-certified.”

  “Okay. You, Kenzie, Ryan—oh, wait, he and Nate are with Proctor’s SWAT unit. Nelson—” Emilio looked around.

  “I’ll go,” an older agent said.

  “Thanks, Pete. Grab your go-bags and firearms and meet in the garage in three minutes.”

  For emergencies, they had prepared medical kits secured in the locker room. It had been a project Emilio had worked on when he first joined the San Antonio FBI office eight years ago. He worked closely with the SWAT team on training to ensure members of Proctor’s team were up-to-date on triage and other medical protocols.

  “Wear your vests,” Abigail ordered as they started out. “We don’t know what we’re walking into.”

  Five minutes later Lucy was in a tactical SUV with Kenzie and Emilio while the other two agents followed in a pool car. Lucy immediately returned Brad’s call—he’d texted her urgent multiple times.

  He answered immediately. “Did you hear?”

  “I’m on my way with a medical team.”

  “It was a bomb,” Brad said. “She’s gone.”

  “Nicole’s dead?”

  “Gone. It was a fucking escape. At least two guards are dead, possibly more—it’s a clusterfuck.”

  “The children?”

  “I don’t know. I’m getting reports—one indicated that one of the guards got all the kids out, but we don’t have confirmation. There were eight people assigned to transport her in three vehicles. Eight. Two were DEA. No one has checked in.”

  “We’re only a few minutes out.”

  “I just got here. Find me when you arrive.” He hung up.

  Lucy told the others what Brad had said.

  Emilio said, “I have a report from Proctor that there are at least three confirmed dead, guards who were in the transport van.”

  “Any word on Rollins?” Lucy asked.

  “Nothing. But SAPD put up roadblocks and helicopters. Border patrol is on alert. It’s not going to be easy for her to disappear.”

  “She planned this escape while sitting in solitary confinement for nearly three months,” Lucy said. “She will have planned it all the way through.”

  If it were her, she’d immediately head for the border, but not on any major thoroughfares. Rollins had friends in Mexico—criminals she’d worked with or helped while she was a DEA agent. Those were likely the ones involved in her escape. Staying local would increase her chances of being caught. The closest border was a two-and-a-half-hour drive away. But the fastest route wouldn’t necessarily be the safest. Nicole had a head start, but not a big one.

  Lucy sent Sean a text message.

  Rollins escaped. Alert Kane.

  If there was any chatter about the escape, Kane would uncover it. Not only did he have moles in key places, but his instincts were borderline psychic. His knowledge of the drug cartels and travel routes and heavy hitters in the criminal underworld could help them find Rollins before she disappeared permanently.

  Traffic was a mess as Emilio navigated through roadblocks and detours until they finally reached the crime scene. They were ordered to park a full block away. SAPD had cordoned off two square blocks and was still in the process of evacuating civilians. All that remained of the bus was smoke. The firefighters were doing their job to ensure that the fire was fully out before their investigation team went to work. Lucy stepped out of the SUV and was hit with a wave of humidity even though it was only nine twenty in the morning.

  The scene was controlled chaos. Dozens of cops, EMTs, paramedics, firefighters all doing their jobs. Emilio’s team pulled their medic bags from the back of the SUV. Most of the injuries appeared to be from glass and flying d
ebris.

  As a group, the five of them approached the staging area. Immediately SWAT team leader Leo Proctor flagged Lucy. “Kincaid, we need a psychologist.”

  “What happened?”

  “The officer who survived the transport attack—he’s the one who saved the kids on the bus. He won’t put down one of the kids. He seems to be coherent, but I think he has to be in shock.” He shook his head. “Dammit, Lucy, the gunmen killed the bus driver in front of the children. Shot the two guards driving the van.”

  “School’s out for the summer,” Lucy said. “Was it a camp?”

  “A summer program at Saint Catherine’s.”

  “Oh my God,” Lucy said, automatically crossing herself. “That’s where I go to church.”

  “If you want me to bring in someone else—”

  “No, I’ll do it.”

  “We need intel. Officer Harris gave a statement, but we still don’t know what the fuck happened. All he’s clearly said was that he had five minutes to get the kids out of the bus.”

  “Harris—SAPD?”

  “Corrections. Isaac Harris. He’s married and I think he has a kid.”

  “Where is he?”

  Proctor motioned at a pair of US Marshals, introduced Lucy to them. They escorted her down the street to a restaurant that was being used to contain the children. Sitting on a bench outside was a man in uniform, dirty and bloodied, rocking a little girl with long dark braids who couldn’t have been more than six.

  Lucy asked one of the marshals in a low voice, “Have you contacted the school?”

  The marshal said, “Yes. They’re sending over staff and contacting parents. We’re setting up a tent to process each family, make sure all children are accounted for and picked up by legal guardians.”

  “Do you have a roll call?”

  “We’re working on it. Forty-two children are assigned to the bus, and we have forty here. We don’t know if the other two were inside when it exploded.”

  Lucy glanced inside the restaurant. The staff had served water or juice to all the kids, and several SAPD officers were sitting with them. Some were crying, some were staring blankly, and some were blatantly curious. But all had their innocence stolen today.

  “Can you leave me with him?” She motioned toward Isaac Harris.

  The marshal nodded and went back to his station.

  Lucy assessed the officer. Tall, broad, early thirties. He was sitting like a sentry outside the restaurant, watching everyone who went in with a critical eye. The little girl clung to him, her face buried in his chest, and he cradled her like an infant. Both Harris and the girl were bleeding.

  “Officer Harris?” she said as she approached. “I’m FBI Agent Lucy Kincaid. I’m also an EMT. I noticed you and this little girl are bleeding. Can I—”

  He cut her off. “We’re fine. We’re fine.”

  “I’d like to clean the cut on her face. We don’t want it to scar, do we? What’s her name?”

  “Mary.”

  “Hi, Mary,” Lucy said and sat down.

  Harris tensed and stopped rocking. He stared at Lucy with deep suspicion. The girl clung to him even tighter.

  “My name is Lucy. May I look at the cut on your head?”

  Mary didn’t move.

  “Isaac,” Lucy said, “if I don’t clean her wound, it could get infected.”

  He hesitated, then nodded. In a soft voice, he whispered to the girl, “Mary, can you turn your head just a little so Ms. Lucy can help?”

  The girl immediately obeyed, but didn’t open her eyes. Lucy pulled on her gloves, gently pulled back Mary’s hair. The wound was superficial—it had bled a lot, but the bleeding had stopped. She might need a couple of stitches. Lucy pulled gauze and a disinfectant from her medical bag.

  “Mary, I need to clean the cut on your head. It’s going to sting a little bit, but that means the medicine is working.”

  The girl flinched but didn’t cry when Lucy touched the antiseptic to her head.

  “You are very brave,” Lucy said. She finished cleaning the wound, then bandaged it. “Father Mateo will be so proud of you.”

  Mary looked at her for the first time, eyes wide, but didn’t talk.

  Lucy smiled. “Father Mateo is a friend of mine. Would you like to see him?”

  Mary gave an almost imperceptible nod. Then she closed her eyes again and settled back into Officer Harris.

  “Isaac,” Lucy said, “Mary may have a concussion. She needs to be checked out at the hospital.”

  “I’ll take her,” he said.

  “You can go in the ambulance with her, would that be all right?”

  He nodded and kissed the top of Mary’s head. He had his own injuries and she wondered if he was more seriously hurt than he’d initially let on.

  Lucy figured that once Isaac could leave Mary in a safe environment, like a hospital, he would be able to let go. She didn’t understand exactly what he’d gone through—Mary’s reaction was normal, but Isaac’s wasn’t.

  “Before you go, I need information, Officer Harris.”

  “I told the marshals everything I know.”

  But he wasn’t looking at her.

  Lucy said, “I know Agent Rollins.”

  He tensed. Mary whimpered, and he whispered in her ear.

  “I know what she’s capable of,” Lucy continued. “What I don’t know is what happened in the van.”

  He scowled at her. “They killed my partner and the only reason they didn’t kill me was because I put my gun down. I could have taken her out. I thought about it…” His anger disappeared, and he whispered, “I didn’t know about the bomb. I never would have thought about it if I knew.”

  “How many in the escape?”

  “Three that I saw. Probably more. All masked. Plus Rollins. They must have had a car stashed somewhere, but I didn’t see it. When she told me I had five minutes—”

  “Five minutes?”

  “Five minutes, twenty seconds before the bomb went off. They’d already set it before they breached the van. If I hadn’t let them in—” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

  “The bomb would have gone off no matter what.”

  He nodded. “She said that I could go after her or save the kids.”

  “You did the right thing.” He had to believe that. Lucy didn’t know if mistakes were made, but there was no doubt that Nicole would have killed those children. She was playing the odds. And this time, she’d won.

  The bomb was a distraction. It diverted attention from Nicole’s escape. Isaac Harris didn’t see where Nicole and her henchmen had gone or what they were driving because he was focused on getting the kids off the bus.

  Tears pooled in the corner of his eyes. “They killed Trevor. He’d just gotten married. He’s dead because he did his job. I didn’t, and I’m still here.”

  “Listen to me, Isaac,” Lucy said firmly. “You did your job. You saved forty children. Forty kids with parents and grandparents and aunts and uncles and siblings who would all be suffering right now if not for you.”

  “What do I say to Gina? I was at their wedding…” His voice cracked.

  “You tell Gina that Trevor died a hero. He died doing his job. Isaac, if you hadn’t put down your gun, you would be dead. And so would everyone on that bus.”

  “I never wanted to be a hero.” His voice cracked. “Not like this.”

  She squeezed his hand. What else could she say?

  “I didn’t get everyone,” he whispered.

  “How many?”

  “The driver. And—I don’t know.”

  “The driver was already dead.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “No, but an autopsy will be done and we’ll find out.”

  “What if I missed someone?”

  “They’re doing a roll call.”

  He didn’t say anything.

  “Isaac, I need more information. Did Nicole say anything, did one of her people say anything, that can help
us find her?”

  He shook his head. “No. Nothing.”

  Lucy waited. She didn’t talk, just let Isaac remember on his own. Because there was more, there had to be.

  “She knew,” he suddenly said.

  “What did she know?”

  “That I had five minutes to get the children off the bus. She asked her partner the time, and then told me I had five minutes and twenty seconds. She knew about the bomb, knew about the timing. She must have planned the entire thing.”

  “That’s good, Isaac. She was in solitary. There weren’t many ways she could have planned and put together this operation. We’ll find out how, and then we’ll find out where she went.” She suspected there was something else in Isaac’s head, but she didn’t know how to get him to remember.

  Out of the corner of her eye Lucy saw Brad Donnelly approaching, but she held up her hand to keep him away.

  “How did the men get into the back of the transport?” she asked.

  “I opened the door. I had to. She said I had ten seconds or they would start killing the children.”

  Mary whimpered in his arms and he hugged the girl tightly.

  “You did the right thing,” Lucy said again.

  “And they killed Trevor. I did the right thing but they killed a good man.” He closed his eyes.

  “Isaac?” Lucy said quietly. “I know a thing or two about survivor’s guilt.” She slipped her card into his pocket. “Call me anytime you need to talk. But remember this—you did what needed to be done. You’ll replay the scene over and over in your head, but in the end, you need to know that had you done anything different, Mary would not be here right now. Do you understand?”

  He nodded but didn’t look at her.

  “I’m going to send over a paramedic. You can go with Mary to the hospital.”

  He looked up through the window at the rest of the children. “I can’t leave them. Someone has to watch over them.”

  There were a dozen medics and cops in the restaurant tending to the needs of the children. But Isaac didn’t see them. Maybe he was blind to everything but the kids.

  “Father Mateo is coming,” she said. “He’ll take care of these kids, I promise.”

  Lucy got up and walked over to Brad. “It was planned down to the last detail. They had the bomb set on a timer, multiple gunmen, knew the route, how to breach the van. They left nothing to chance.”