Shut up, Siobhan! Don’t talk without a lawyer.
Amazing that everything she knew went out the window when she was stuck between a rock and a hard place.
“Put your hands on top of your head. Now, Ms. Walsh.”
She didn’t want to spend the night in jail, but it was after nine and there was no way they’d let her out if this was the route they were going. She would have to make the best of it. Jail was better than the morgue. They’d give her a call, right?
She slowly put her hands on her head. Deputy Jackson took one wrist and pulled it behind her back and cuffed it. He stood so close behind her that she could feel his breath on the back of her neck. She grimaced. “I’m just playing with you, missy, lighten up and enjoy it,” he said.
He reached around the front of her shirt and squeezed her breasts again. She wasn’t expecting it and swung out with her free arm, catching the deputy in the face with her elbow.
“Shit! Fuck!” he screamed. He pushed her to the ground and roughly cuffed her. Blood dripped from his nose. “We’ll add resisting arrest and assault of a peace officer to the charges. You’ll be doing some serious time, missy.”
Siobhan closed her eyes. She was so screwed.
Okay, Kane, you were right this time.
I always am, sugar.
She heard Kane’s voice as clear as day and glanced around to see if he was standing there.
He wasn’t.
CHAPTER THREE
FBI SSA Noah Armstrong spent the first thirty minutes of their two-hour drive south talking on the phone to Zach Charles, the analyst for San Antonio’s Violent Crimes Squad. Lucy tried not to eavesdrop, though it was difficult considering she was sitting in the passenger seat. Noah was going over active cases with the ease and confidence of someone who’d been running the squad for years instead of two months.
“Kincaid is with me,” Noah said. “I sent Quiroz a message that I had to pull Lucy from the double homicide they’ve been working with SAPD. I’ve assigned Agent Cook to replace her.” He listened to something Zach said, then continued. “If Agent Cook has an issue with the assignment, she can call me and discuss it.” He hung up a moment later.
Lucy itched to discuss the case with Noah, but thought better of it. She’d barely spoken to Elizabeth Cook in the nine months she’d been in the San Antonio field office. The only thing Lucy knew about her was that she was divorced, had two daughters, and planned on retiring early at the end of next year at age forty-five, after putting in twenty years. Lucy’d never worked a case with her, and Cook rarely went out into the field. The Violent Crimes Squad handled a variety of crimes, but as their official name—Violent Crimes and Major Offenders—suggested, most of the cases dealt with physical crimes against people. Multi-jurisdictional homicides, kidnappings, special circumstances cases, and similar situations. They worked extensively with other law enforcement agencies to pool resources. Cook tended to assist more than investigate, and primarily from the office. While most agents abhorred desk work and writing reports, Cook preferred it.
Three months ago, the local DEA and the San Antonio PD—as well as the FBI to a lesser degree—had been decimated after a major corruption conspiracy was uncovered. Five DEA agents and two prison guards were murdered, an SAPD cop arrested for attempted murder and conspiracy, and FBI Agent Barry Crawford’s injuries were so extensive he was still on disability and would likely never return to active duty. Juan Casilla, Lucy’s boss, left on paternity leave after his wife nearly died in childbirth. Nita was still ill, and while he had a month more of official leave, the rumor was he would either be taking a sabbatical or resigning.
Noah Armstrong had come to San Antonio from Washington, DC, the first week of July as the acting SSA of Violent Crimes, but he was also here to liaise with other agencies as everyone had to clean house and rebuild. Lucy liked working with Noah, who’d been her first training agent last year before she’d entered the FBI academy. They’d become friends and Lucy greatly respected him. But in the ten weeks he’d been here, they hadn’t worked together on a case. Though she didn’t like passing off her current case to another agent, she was glad he wanted her help on this new case in Laredo.
“Ask,” Noah said.
“Excuse me?”
“You’re biting the inside of the your cheek, which tells me you want to say something. But I won’t discuss personnel issues.”
“It wasn’t that.” Well, yes, in part it was, but she’d never have asked about Elizabeth Cook and why she didn’t work in the field—or why Juan went along with it. “You haven’t told me why we’re going to Laredo.”
“I’m sorry, I assumed you knew.” Noah passed a slower driver and maintained his speed. It was still early, the sun barely up, and Lucy wanted more coffee.
“I’m good at my job, but I’m not psychic.”