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  He met Vail’s eyes, and she could see his face was flushed, his remorse genuine.

  “I’m as concerned about Robby as you are,” he said in a low voice. “There are agents working the case. If there’s something to do, something that only you can do, I’ll let you know. But you’ve got other work. I have three units to run. And your unit chief’s not a happy camper, trying to juggle cases with a skeleton crew. It’s my job to make sure he can do his job.”

  “Well then.” Vail pushed herself up from the chair. “I guess that means I should get back to work. I don’t want my unit chief to be unhappy . Thanks for keeping me in the loop.” She walked out and closed the door behind her a tad harder than was necessary.

  42

  Vail sat down heavily at her desk. Finding out which agents were assigned to Robby’s case would not be difficult. A quick call to the field office would give her the information in a matter of minutes. She reached for her phone and noticed the light was blinking. She lifted the receiver and retrieved her voice mail.

  The automated faux persona said, “Message left at 8:46 AM, today.” A familiar voice boomed across the little speaker.

  “You know who this is, Agent Vail. I thought you should know that by now, your friend is dead. Don’t ask how I know this because I’ll never tell you and you’ll never find out. But I have my sources. You see, I may not always operate within the law, but apparently neither do you.”

  Click. The computer voice said, “Next message.”

  She dropped the handset at her side and sat there, attempting to absorb what she had just heard. Think! Concentrate. The voice. The voice sounded like César Guevara’s. Robby is dead? He’s screwing with me. Revenge for breaking into his house. How did he know I was back in Virginia? Is Roxxann at risk?

  “Hey.” Knock at the door. “Hey—”

  Vail pulled her face up toward the voice.

  “You okay?” Hector DeSantos asked. He walked toward her, but she did not move.

  Think, can’t think, Robby is dead? Can he be trusted, how do I check if he’s right—

  “Karen.” DeSantos had moved around her desk and was pulling her up and out of the chair. “Look at me. What’s wrong?”

  Vail hung there in his arms. Her gaze swung down toward the phone. Talk. Tell him. She licked her lips. Dry mouth, tongue thick, sticky. “Call. Guevara’s voice. He said—he said—” She pulled her eyes toward his. “He said Robby’s dead.”

  “The guy’s a scumbag, Karen. He’s just fucking with you. Ignore what he said.” He looked at her, then gave her a gentle shake. “Karen, focus on my voice. Listen to me.”

  She closed her eyes tight, then opened them.

  “Think for a second. Reason this through. Why would Guevara do something as blatant as leave you, a federal agent, a voice mail like that when he’s already under suspicion?”

  Vail took a deep breath. DeSantos was trying to wring out her emotions, make her think. Back to logic. My comfort zone. “Because Guevara’s not a guy that’s pushed around by anyone. Because I broke into his house and went through his things. Given who he is, that’s a huge insult. Who the hell am I to do that to him and get away with it?”

  “Leaving you a message like that may not be smart,” DeSantos said, “but he’s got a huge ego and he needed to strike back at you. Psychological warfare can be very effective.”

  Guevara’s showing me he’s above the law. He wanted to get inside my head. And it worked.

  DeSantos tilted his head, studied her face. “You look like you’re spacing out on me.”

  Vail shook her head. “Yeah. No. I mean I’m here.”

  “Good. Because I did some digging around, and I found out some shit you’re not going to like.”

  She looked at him but did not answer.

  “Come with me.”

  DeSantos led Vail by the arm out of her office and down the hall. She was still numb, in a fugue like none she had ever experienced. Things moving by her, noises in the background. Robby’s alive. It’s not true. Just psychological warfare. But what if it’s not, what if—

  “I accidentally came across something. It was classified and filed in a way that made my nose twitch.” He looked at her, then stopped walking and pushed her up against the wall. “You with me? I need your full attention, Karen.”

  “Yeah. Yes.” She took a deep, uneven breath.

  “I came across something unusual. So I sniffed under the rock, one thing led to another, I made a few phone calls . . . and I ended up at the deputy administrator for the DEA. But I hit a brick wall. I couldn’t get shit. Before I started calling in favors and getting the FBI director involved, I took another look at what I had, dug a little more, and found another name associated with all this, someone accessible who we’d be able to speak with.”

  Vail straightened up, pushed away from the wall. Like smelling salts under the nostrils, her brain whipped back awake. “Who is it? I want to talk to this guy.”

  DeSantos looked at her a long moment, then said, “I thought you might. Let’s go.”

  Vail followed DeSantos down the hall—and into Thomas Gifford’s office.

  “Can we have a moment with Mr. Gifford?” DeSantos asked.

  Lenka hesitated, glanced at Vail, then at the sharply dressed DeSantos. “And you are—”

  “Hector DeSantos, DoD.” He pulled a credentials wallet and held it in front of her face.

  “What’s this about?”

  “Agent Vail and I need a moment with ASAC Gifford.”

  Vail shook her head. “Hector, we’re wasting time. Let’s just go and see this guy. I don’t need permission from my ASAC to leave the building.” She turned toward the door, but DeSantos grabbed her arm. “We don’t need to leave the building. The person you need to talk with is right here.”

  Gifford’s door opened. Vail and Gifford faced each other. Gifford’s gaze flicked over to DeSantos.

  “Hector De—”

  “I know who you are,” Gifford said.

  “We’re here about Detective Roberto Hernandez,” DeSantos said, then stepped forward and pushed past Gifford into his office.

  Gifford stepped aside. “Sure, just come on in,” he mumbled. He turned toward Vail and said, “Are you coming, too?”

  43

  Gifford sat down in his chair. Very official and stiff. He folded his hands in front of him and rested them on the desk. “Is there something I can help you with?”

  DeSantos leaned forward. “Oh yeah, I’d say there is.”

  “Is there a problem, Mr. DeSantos? I detect an attitude.” DeSantos seemed to study Gifford a moment. Vail watched the warring male egos, relieved that she was not part of it.

  “I was asked to assist in locating Detective Hernandez and—”

  “I thought I told you there were agents working this case,” Gifford said, his hard brow and stern voice aimed at Vail.

  “I’m talking to you at the moment,” DeSantos said.

  “Excuse me? Listen here, Mr. DeSantos. I’m the assistant special—”

  “I know what you are. Acronyms aside, you’re a goddamn liar.”

  Gifford sat there, his entire head shading red with anger.

  “Hector,” Vail said. “Back up a second. Please. Let’s keep this civil. What are you talking about? You said you found some information on Robby’s case.”

  “Yes.” He turned to Gifford. “I got into a classified DEA file. I spoke with Deputy Administrator Donaldson but he wouldn’t tell me shit. But there was another name there. Yours.”

  Gifford did not move. “So?”

  “The other name in the file was Roberto Enrique Umberto Hernandez. Now I don’t know about you, but there aren’t two people I know of with that name. And I also know there isn’t a good goddamn reason why Roberto Hernandez’s name should be in a classified DEA file.”

  Gifford leaned back in his leather chair. Bit his bottom lip and examined the ceiling.

  Vail and DeSantos shared a glance as Giffo
rd began speaking.

  “Detective Hernandez—Robby—wanted in to the FBI. But he didn’t want any help. No favors, no strings, no one on the inside making it happen. He wanted to earn it.”

  “I already know that,” Vail said. “He and I have been down that road.”

  “He has a friend in Napa. Sebastian—”

  “We tried tracking him down,” Vail said. “Sebastian doesn’t exist.”

  “His name’s Antonio Sebastiani de Medina. Goes by Sebastian.”

  Vail cursed under her breath. Hadn’t seen that coming.

  “Sebastian is a veteran undercover DEA agent working to infiltrate a violent Mexican drug cartel. Sebastian’s partner was killed in a freak car accident a couple weeks ago and he needed a quick replacement who could step in for one transaction.”

  Vail felt her stomach beginning to turn. She closed her throat, fearing she might vomit.

  “Sebastian recommended Robby because he knew him and he figured they’d work well together. For Robby, it was an ‘audition’ of sorts—if all went well, he could turn it into a permanent position with DEA. We’ve done this before, but it’s usually with task force members who are federalized as DEA task force officers. There wasn’t any task force in place, but Sebastian was both desperate and insistent. And his ASAC, though reluctant initially, gave in because Robby fit the bill and they needed him.”

  “But—”

  Gifford held up a hand to silence Vail. “That’s not all. Behind the scenes, Robby mentioned this job to me. He and I had talked a few days earlier about applying to the Bureau. But there are problems with that. With the budget deficit, we’re on a hiring freeze and shifting personnel around toward antiterrorism efforts, and . . . the biggest problem, and which I didn’t know until I happened to ask, Robby never got his B.A. He stopped a few credits short, so he has to finish that out and get his degree before he can apply.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “He didn’t realize it was an issue until he got the app. It’s not something he talks about.” Gifford leaned the chair upright. “Robby doesn’t know, but I reached out to Sebastian’s ASAC, Peter Yardley, with the understanding that he didn’t tell Sebastian, because I didn’t want Robby to know it came from me. Yardley wasn’t going to do it, because he was being a prick and if it went south he didn’t want his ass getting whipped. But when I called, I told him Robby was a good fit because of his background growing up in LA, in gang areas. He grew up around the drug trade and spoke Spanish fluently. Yardley was still noncommittal, but I asked him to do me a favor. I vouched for Robby, and Yardley said he’d review the file again. Next thing I know, Robby tells me Yardley’s giving it a ‘go’ based on Sebastian’s recommendation.”

  “So this undercover op was in Napa?” Vail asked.

  “Your trip to Napa was a setup from the start. When I ordered you to take a vacation, I’d already planned to tell you to get out of town, based on all you went through with Dead Eyes. But when the shootout happened in front of the White House with Danny Michael Yates, it was an added bonus because it gave me an obvious and immediate reason to tell you to take time off.”

  “Going to Napa was Robby’s idea,” Vail said, half to herself. “And Sebastian arranged those wine cave tickets . . . ”

  “Certain details of his op, what he was doing, who he was meeting with, were classified,” Gifford said. He stopped, looked down at the desk.

  “You knew all along and you didn’t say anything,” Vail said. She rose from her seat and leaned both palms on the desk. “Do you know what I’ve been through? And this—this bullshit about coming home for the Rayshawn Shines case—”

  “That was true. Sort of. We do need you working the Shines case, and we are shorthanded. But I also didn’t want you poking around anymore. You’re too damn good, Karen. I was afraid the longer you were there, the greater the chance you’d figure out what was going on.”

  “Son of a bitch.” Vail held his gaze, refusing to blink.

  “Karen,” DeSantos said. “Take a breath.”

  “Sit down,” Gifford said, one word at a time. “And get yourself under control.”

  Vail ground her molars but didn’t move. DeSantos placed a hand on Vail’s forearm, but she shook it aside, then took her time returning to her chair.

  “You could have trusted me,” she said. “You could’ve told me what was going on.”

  “All I know is that it was dangerous. I didn’t want to take any chances. It’s undercover, for Christ’s sake. I shouldn’t have to explain this to you.”

  Vail sighed deeply. “But if we hadn’t found that vic in the wine cave, if the Crush Killer hadn’t—”

  “Robby said he had it all worked out. There were times when you’d be busy. He told me he booked a massage and some spa time for you. During those hours, he was off with Sebastian meeting their contact. According to Yardley, he also got called out during the night—he left, met with Sebastian and the contact, and was back before you woke up.”

  Vail shook her head. “If only you’d told me you knew where he was and that everything was okay . . . ”

  “Would you really have been satisfied with that?”

  Vail took a moment to answer. “No. But at least I would’ve known.”

  DeSantos shifted himself in his chair. “If all he had were those two meets, where was he when Karen was trying to reach him the day they caught John Mayfield?”

  “According to Yardley, the meet with their contact went extremely well,” Gifford said. “The guy took to him. So Yardley let him continue. And since you were busy with the Crush Killer, he knew you weren’t going to be a problem.”

  “So that’s what I was, a problem?”

  “For an undercover op,” DeSantos said, “yeah, you’d be a problem.”

  Vail shook her head. “I can’t believe this. He lied to me. Robby lied to me.”

  Gifford leaned both elbows on his desk. “Karen, be realistic about this. Robby was prepped to make one appearance, to meet with this one contact. He hoped it could lead to something permanent with DEA so he could build his resume. But he did a great job and it worked. Yardley was impressed. All I know is that he was granted emergency TFO—task force officer—status. My guess is that circumstances dictated that he go deep. And when you go deep undercover—”

  “He left, without telling me. He disappeared.”

  “More than that I don’t know.”

  Vail shook her head slowly. Almost to herself, she said, “That would certainly explain the delay in getting Robby’s cell phone logs.”

  “Don’t expect those records anytime soon,” Gifford said. “Obviously, there’ll be calls to and from sensitive targets. DEA’s got that data locked down tight.”

  Vail brought a hand to her mouth. “Oh my God. Oh my God—” She rose from the chair and nearly knocked it backward. She grabbed both temples.

  “What’s wrong?” DeSantos asked.

  She turned to Gifford and pointed. “Get the name of the contact, of the guy Robby and Sebastian were meeting.”

  Gifford chuckled. “Were you not listening? I can’t get that information. It’s classified.”

  “Bullshit. Call Yardley, tell him you need to know.”

  “He won’t tell me, Karen,” Gifford said. He shrugged. “He won’t.”

  “I’ll get the name,” DeSantos said. “You have a secure line I can use?”

  Gifford reached over and pulled a phone from a drawer. He handed the receiver to DeSantos. “Who are you calling?”

  “The director. He’ll have a chat with the DEA administrator, and he’ll get us the name.”

  Gifford held up a hand. “Above my rank. Good luck with that.”

  DeSantos punched in the numbers. “Keep your fingers crossed.”

  44

  Vail watched while DeSantos began his quest to track down FBI director Douglas Knox. As he waited for Knox to take his call, Vail’s BlackBerry buzzed. She thought about whether to answer, noticed it wa
s Dixon, and grabbed it as she moved out of Gifford’s office. Dixon . . . pretty early in California. Must be important.

  “Roxx,” Vail said, “you’re not going to believe—”

  “Are you near a computer?”

  “I can be. What’s going on?”

  “Don’t laugh,” Dixon said. “But I want you to go to YouTube.”

  “No, wait. I’ve got some news for you.”

  “Listen to me. Open it up and type in ‘Lugo confession.’”

  Vail continued down the hall and slipped into her office. Sat at her desk and tapped on her keyboard. Opened YouTube. “Okay, typing in ‘Lugo confession.’”

  “Scroll down. See Ray’s face?”

  “Scrolling,” Vail said. “Wait—did you say Ray’s face? Lugo confession?”

  “Just find the video.”

  Vail passed the thumbnail that displayed Lugo’s image, then fingered her mouse wheel and clicked on the video. “Got it.”

  “Turn up your speakers.”

  Vail pressed Pause, then said, “Wait, what am I watching? Where’d this come from?”

  “WITSEC approval came through for Merilynn Lugo. Surprised the shit out of me—out of everyone. Just guessing here, but maybe they figured that since Mayfield and Cannon are still alive, there was still a reasonable threat against her. When I met the U.S. Marshals Service at her place, she handed me a piece of paper with the name of this video written on it. Now just watch it.”

  As she moved her mouse toward the link, she noticed that it said, in fine print, 4 days ago. “This was uploaded four days ago?”

  “Yes, right before we caught Mayfield. Press Play.”

  Vail did as instructed. As on the DVD, Ray Lugo’s face appeared onscreen, in a dimly lit room. The image jerked a bit, the result of a low-quality webcam. “If you’re watching this, it means I’m dead. Hopefully, I was successful in taking out the man who’s made my life a living hell. I don’t know his name, but he’s someone who kidnapped my wife and son five months ago. I guess Merilynn already gave you the DVD I left with her.