Dead Heat Page 3

  Lucy didn’t hear what Donnelly said, but Mirabelle snapped back, “I’m not talking without a lawyer.”

  Donnelly said, “That’s your right.”

  “Damn straight.” Mirabelle would have been very pretty, with dark hair, large dark eyes, and perfectly smooth light-brown skin—if she didn’t have a perpetual scowl.

  “We need the name and address of a close relative who can care for your girls,” Lucy told her.

  “Fuck you, puta.”

  “Kincaid,” Donnelly said, “that’s not our concern. CPS is on their way.”

  He gave her a slight nod, and Lucy wished they’d had more time to prepare because she wasn’t 100 percent positive what he wanted from her, but it seemed like she was on the right track.

  “It would be better for the girls if they were at a relative’s house. Someone they know and trust.”

  “We don’t know that they’ll be safe with anyone in this family,” Donnelly countered. “We need to keep an eye on them. Juvenile detention is the safest place.”

  “At least let me work on getting them into a foster home.”

  Mirabelle interrupted. “You can’t keep them. They can stay with my mother-in-law.”

  Donnelly turned to her. His face was hard and unyielding. Lucy would hate to be on his bad side, because she didn’t think this was all an act. “Your mother-in-law, Eliza Borez? She has had two felony convictions and is still on probation. No court will turn the girls over to her.”

  “She did her time, she loves my girls.”

  “We don’t know that she’s not involved in what your brothers are doing. I have a team over there now with a warrant searching for Jaime.”

  “You can’t take them. You can’t take me! You have nothing on me.”

  “Harboring two fugitives. Resisting arrest. The dogs are sniffing the house and grounds—think they won’t find any drugs?”

  “Illegal search!” she cried out.

  Donnelly rolled his eyes and stepped away from Mirabelle. “Kincaid!” he snapped, more harsh than necessary. “With me.”

  She followed Donnelly up three concrete steps that once might have been painted terra-cotta. They matched the cracked porch. Mirabelle was still shouting profanities at them from the driveway. Lucy took a quick look through the windows. George sat inside on the couch, an officer guarding him.

  Donnelly said to Lucy, louder than necessary, his Texas accent getting thicker as his voice turned angrier, “I don’t know what they teach you in the FBI, Kincaid, but I’m in charge, and if I say the kids are going to juvie, that’s where they’re going.”

  “Sir—they’re very young. They’re innocent—”

  “I arrested an eight-year-old drug courier who’d been recruited by his older brother. The innocent-looking kid was carrying a .38 special and could have blown my head off. I don’t care how young they are, they were living in this house, they know what’s going on.”

  “Let me talk to them, I can convince them to cooperate, then we can find them a decent foster home. They shouldn’t be in juvenile jail. You know what happens there, Agent Donnelly.”

  “The younger one might get placed with a family, but the older one—she’s trouble. You said it yourself.”

  “No,” she said emphatically, looking Donnelly in the eye, “I said she was distrustful of authority. I can bring her around. You’re not thinking about what’s in the best interest of the children. Is there something I don’t know about?”

  They’d drawn the attention of the San Antonio cops, who tried to hide their surprise at the loud, public argument. Donnelly glared at them, then grabbed Kincaid by the arm and pulled her into the house. The action startled Lucy, who hadn’t been expecting the move.

  Ryan Quiroz stood with the cop guarding George Sanchez. He was just as surprised as Lucy at Donnelly’s actions, but the surprise immediately turned to anger. His eyes narrowed and he said, “Donnelly, what the hell—”

  Donnelly cut him off with a look. “Where does the FBI find new agents these days? The DEA rejection pile? Are you her training officer? You have your work cut out for you.”

  Ryan reddened and stepped forward. Lucy put up her hand. This was getting out of control. If only she’d had more time to explain to Ryan that this was just an act. She couldn’t clue him in now, though; she’d seen the worried expression on Sanchez’s face. She had to play this out because it was working.

  Lucy said, “Sir, I take full responsibility for my opinions, and I will not be shut down just because I’m new. You’re wrong about this.” Her heart was pounding in her chest and her stomach was queasy; she hated confrontations, even orchestrated ones. She kept her chin up. “Those girls need to be in a home. Not in a virtual jail. It’s not fair, just because their mother isn’t cooperating, to punish them.”

  “Life isn’t fucking fair, Kincaid. You heard the woman. She doesn’t care what happens to them. They’re not my problem. My problem is stopping the drug supply from increasing in this city. And, frankly, my other big problem is you. I’m calling your SSA right now because I want you off this team.”

  He stormed out of the house and Lucy let out a large, tension-filled sigh that wasn’t an act. She took a moment to compose herself and looked around the small living area. It was cluttered but very clean. A faint aroma of lemon cleanser underneath the warm smell of fresh bread. She turned to George.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Sanchez, I did everything I could.”

  Ryan had a million questions on his face, and he looked like he wanted to follow Donnelly out the door and deck him. “What happened to piss him off? You didn’t deserve that. Don’t worry about Casilla, I’ll explain Donnelly lost his fucking marbles.”

  “We have a fundamental difference of opinion. And unfortunately, he’s in charge.” She glanced at the door, then looked at Ryan until she caught his eye. Then she shook her head slightly. She hoped he understood.

  George said, “I don’t understand. My nieces can stay with their grandmother. Why is he sending them to detention? They didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Their grandmother has a record and DEA is searching her house.” Lucy wasn’t sure if that was another bluff on Donnelly’s part, but it sounded good. “They can’t go there,” she added. That wasn’t necessarily true; the court would have to make the determination as to whether it was safe for their paternal grandmother to be granted temporary custody. George’s father was in prison, and his mother had died of cancer two years ago. Mirabelle’s mother-in-law had a criminal background, and her father-in-law had died young on the wrong end of a gang battle. It was a cycle with the family. Criminals for generations. If CeCe and Bella didn’t get out now, while they were young, they would be trapped as well, marrying into other criminal families. It made Lucy ill to think about it. But she could only focus on helping them today.

  “There has to be someplace!” George pleaded. “Let Mirabelle stay. She didn’t do anything, she couldn’t. All she did was let us stay here. We’re family. Everything else, it was all me and Jaime. She’s not part of this.”

  Lucy sat across from him. “She’s not helping herself,” she told him. “She’s refusing to cooperate. The dogs are searching for drugs. You know they’ll find something.”

  He didn’t contradict her, so she suspected she was right.

  “She might get out on bail, but it’ll take time,” Lucy continued. “Those juvenile detention centers—they’re awful. If the girls are lucky, they’ll find themselves in a group home, but even those are filled mostly with troubled kids. And finding a place that can take both of them—almost impossible. It breaks my heart. That’s why I was fighting with Agent Donnelly about pulling some strings to get them placed together in the foster care system. It isn’t perfect, but it’s better than the alternatives.”

  Lucy was making it up as she went along. She had some familiarity with the juvenile justice system, and some with foster care, but she had no idea what the process was, especially here in San Antonio. But
this was a game, a bluff, and she had to get George to turn.

  “Why won’t he? Doesn’t he care about them? They’re just little girls!”

  “Honestly? I don’t think he cares about anything except finding your brother.” That was certainly true. From the beginning of this operation, Donnelly had been focused on Jaime Sanchez. Even before the raid this morning.

  “This is not fair, Agent Kincaid. This is not fair.”

  “I agree. But you heard Agent Donnelly. He wants me off his team. If my boss can’t talk him out of it—well, it’s out of my hands.”

  Ryan said, “Lucy, we’re not backing down off this. Casilla isn’t going to—”

  But Lucy had already given Donnelly the cue to reenter, and Ryan shut his mouth when Donnelly walked in with Officer Wyatt and Bella right behind him. Bella was asking, “Can I bring my doll? She’ll miss me.”

  “No,” Donnelly said gruffly. “Only a change of clothes. And any medicine you need. No personal belongings in detention.”

  Lucy’s heart broke at the tears that filled Bella’s eyes. The girl stared at Donnelly, then looked at her shuffling feet. Did he really have to go this far?

  “Brad,” Lucy said, intentionally using his first name, “you can’t do this.”

  “I can and I will,” he said. “First, I’m writing you up for insubordination and disobeying orders. Casilla won’t pull you, but he’s going to get an earful from me.”

  George pleaded with Donnelly. “Por favor, don’t do this. Don’t send Isabella to a bad place.”

  A bad place. That was the same phrase that Bella had used in relation to Michael, the boy in the basement.

  Bella leaned into Officer Wyatt, her little body shaking.

  “Her mother has tied my hands,” Donnelly said, focusing on George. “I told her if she cooperates, she can stay here with the girls. I offered probation. I had the AUSA on the phone willing to write it all up. She refused. Now I’m stuck. You think I like being an asshole? It comes with the job when women like your sister care more about themselves than their kids.”

  “I will. I’ll—I’ll help you. But only if you don’t send the girls to a bad place. Please, I beg you.”

  The room was silent.

  George turned to Lucy. “Please, appeal to him. Tell him the girls need to be together, that they need a home. Not a jail.”

  Lucy looked at Donnelly. “Sir?” she said quietly. “Brad? It’s the right thing to do.”

  “What do you know?” Donnelly asked George.

  He shook his head. “I give you nothing until I know that you won’t break your promise. I don’t trust you.”

  “I give you my word.”

  He snorted. “Your word means nothing. You would do this to little girls? Send them to a prison? Make them cry? I want it written. I want it legal.”

  Donnelly appeared to consider the request. Then he swore under his breath and said, “I need to call the AUSA.” He stepped out again.

  Bella looked from Wyatt to Lucy. “Lucy?” she said in a whisper. “Am I being locked up? Did I do something bad?”

  Lucy knelt in front of her. She spoke quietly in Spanish. “No, Bella, you did nothing wrong. You will not be locked up anywhere. Officer Wyatt is going to take you to your room. Pack a suitcase of everything you think you need. Including your doll. Especially your doll. Then pack a suitcase for CeCe.”

  “She doesn’t like me touching her stuff.”

  “This one time. You can tell her I made you do it.”

  Bella bit her lip, then nodded.

  Lucy stood. Quietly, in English, she said to Wyatt, “Thank you.”

  “What was that about?” he asked.

  “I’ll explain later.” She glanced at George, who looked broken and defeated sitting on the sagging couch. “It was necessary.”

  “She’s a sweet kid. She’s scared.”

  “Thanks for watching out for her.”

  Wyatt and Bella walked down the short hall. Ryan fumed. “I’m gonna smack that guy, Lucy. He wants to write you up? Hell, I know his boss. She would never put up with that shit. I’ll write him up, see how he likes it.”

  “It’s okay,” Lucy said, but Ryan wasn’t paying attention to her. He was watching Donnelly through the window. She had some feathers to unruffle when this was all over, but she couldn’t do it in front of George.

  Wyatt and Bella were done before Donnelly came back. “Where now?” Wyatt asked Lucy.

  “Donnelly’s working on it.”

  “It’s getting hot outside.”

  “There’s a back patio, take her there.”

  Bella pulled on Wyatt’s hand. “Mr. Wyatt?” she asked. “Can I say good-bye to Uncle George?”

  Wyatt looked at Lucy. She took Bella’s hand and walked her over to George. Bella handed her uncle a photograph. It had the plain gray background of a school picture. Bella wore pink and her hair was shiny and pulled back with a pink-and-blue headband. “So you don’t forget me.”

  Since he was cuffed, he couldn’t take the photo. Lucy took it from Bella and slid it into George’s pocket, after she looked at the reverse. Just in case there was something that shouldn’t be written on the other side.

  BELLA BOREZ AGE 7 written in painstakingly perfect letters.

  “Okay?” she said.

  Bella nodded, then gave her uncle a tight hug. “I love you, Uncle George. I’m sorry you’re in trouble.”

  Lucy followed Wyatt and Bella to the covered porch. Bella said, “Lucy, Uncle George isn’t a bad person. He sometimes does bad things. Is that why he’s going to jail?”

  “Yes,” she said. “And you know what? I don’t think he’s a bad person, either. Maybe he just needs the chance to do the right thing. Like you did, this morning, when you told me about Michael.”

  Bella thought on that. Then she crooked her finger until Lucy’s ear was close to her mouth. “Uncle Jaime is a real bad person,” she whispered. “Sometimes he’s nice, but he makes my mama cry.”

  Donnelly was talking through her earpiece, asking her to come out front. Wyatt was on the same frequency and said, “I’ll stay with her.”

  Lucy walked around to the front of the house and was surprised that there were twice as many police cars and tactical vehicles as when they’d first arrived. Donnelly was talking with the head of the K-9 unit, and Mirabelle was restrained in the back of a police car. She didn’t see CeCe.

  Lucy said, “You wanted me.”

  Donnelly motioned to the K-9 leader. “They found a small amount of heroin packaged for sale hidden behind a panel in the room the children shared. We’ll get prints off it. There were trace amounts in other parts of the house, but it looks like Jaime cleaned them out when he left this morning.”

  “You think Mirabelle is part of this?”

  “Yes—during the search we found several illegal guns. Coupled with the drugs, we can go either misdemeanor or felony, depending on what she says. But she’s not helping her case, and she’s protecting her brother. First said she gave him the car, then said he stole it. She definitely knows more. A lawyer will have her out on Monday, my guess, after arraignment, unless the AUSA can get a judge to set a prohibitive bail.”

  “George?”

  “The AUSA wants Jaime bad enough, I can make a deal with him. But he has to give us something solid.”

  “And the girls?”

  “They’re being sent to a foster home that has worked with at-risk kids before, far from this neighborhood. They’ll be safe.”

  “I think Bella knows more than she told us,” Lucy said. “But I don’t think she’s intentionally withholding information. She might not know what’s important to us and what isn’t.”

  “I’m not stopping you from talking to her.”

  Lucy considered. “We should let her adjust and talk to her tonight or tomorrow morning. It’s overwhelming right now. I don’t think I can get anything more until she feels safe.”

  He gave her shoulder a brief squeeze. “Good
job, Kincaid. Casilla was right about you.”

  “You really called my supervisor?”

  He eyed her quizzically. “No—you know that was all an act.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “He’s the one who recommended you and Quiroz for the task force. I was skeptical since you’re a new agent. Ask anyone around here—I’m not a fan of rookies.”

  The K-9 officer concurred. “He’s not.”

  “I want you as part of the takedown when we locate Jaime Sanchez. I’m sure Casilla will agree. You earned it.”

  “Thank you, Agent Donnelly.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. This isn’t going to be easy, and it’s certainly going to be dangerous. Ready to tackle George Sanchez?”

  “Yes.”

  They walked back into the house. Donnelly said, “My AUSA wants good-faith information. Something that proves to us you’re willing to cooperate. If it pans out, the girls go to a nice, safe foster home in a very good neighborhood until this situation is resolved. If it doesn’t, they go in the system, just like every other kid with family in jail. Do you understand?”

  George glanced at Lucy. “I get this in writing, right?”

  “Yes,” Donnelly said, not giving Lucy a chance to answer. “Give us one thing we can verify now.”

  He seemed skeptical and kept looking at Lucy. She said, “George, I won’t let anything bad happen to Bella and CeCe.”

  “What if you can’t stop him?” George asked in Spanish. Lucy didn’t know if Donnelly had picked up on the comment, but if he did, he didn’t react.

  Lucy replied in Spanish. “I have friends in high places. I’ll keep them safe. I promise you that. They aren’t part of this. But you need to be honest with us. Verifiable information. Do you understand?”

  George hesitated. He looked into his lap, as if the answers were written on his dirty jeans. Then he said, “We use a place on Thirty-Ninth for storage. Jaime just moved a bunch of guns there. But he has people guarding it, you know.”