Cold Snap (8 page)

Elle left. Patrick had been right—Kami had been seen at TK. Why had she insisted on following her lead instead of his? Had she put Kami at greater risk because she was so stubborn? Maybe she just couldn’t accept that a bunch of basketball players would trust someone like Patrick enough to tell him the truth.

She looked up and down the dimly lit interior hall, but didn’t see Patrick. She walked to the end, then stepped out into the central garden of the complex and walked briskly toward the gated exit. The gates had no locks, hardly any barrier to keep out people who shouldn’t be here. As she reached the gate, two young men approached her. They were the same two who’d been talking to her inside the center.

“Richie wants to talk to you,” one said.

She kept walking until the other kid stepped in her path.

“Move out of my way,” she said in a voice that sounded stronger than she felt.

“After you talk to Richie.”

He stepped forward, she took two steps back. The kid smirked, knowing he’d scared her. She hated that, that this hoodlum got his jollies out of making her afraid. She didn’t like being afraid, and she glared at him.

His eyes flicked to her right, and Elle glanced over her shoulder. Patrick, right behind her. How had he snuck up on them?

“Let Ms. Santana pass, Ringo.”

The kid glared at him. “How do you know my name? Who’s been talking?”

“I have a lot of friends in law enforcement. When I called in to say I saw Raphael Clinton, aka Ringo, they were very interested, considering there’s a warrant for your arrest.”

“Bull-fucking-shit.”

“About my friends or that you have a warrant for robbing a liquor store on Third last month?”

Ringo’s eyes went to his friend.

Patrick continued. “You may have enough time to disappear before the cops arrive, but they’re on their way. Now we’re going to leave.”

He put his hand on the small of Elle’s back and almost pushed her forward. She started walking, trying not to shake, but the tension in the courtyard was thicker than the fog.

Patrick didn’t hesitate, he kept them moving to her car.

“Get in and drive,” he said.

She complied. “When will the police be here?”

“I didn’t call them.”

“You lied?”

“Bluffed.”

“There wasn’t a warrant? Then why was he so worried? How did you know his name?”

“There’s definitely a warrant. I took his picture, and the others’, when we were at the teen center and had RCK run their faces. ID’d four of the six, all with records, all under eighteen except for Ringo. He’s twenty. I’ll let the locals know where he can be found. Right now I just wanted to get us out of a sticky situation without having to pull my gun.”

Elle took several deep breaths. “You were right.”

“About?”

“She went to TK. She’s planning to break in, but her friend didn’t know why.”

“But you do.”

Elle was angry and upset and she didn’t know if she was to blame for everything. “Doreen did the same thing, and got killed. Kami knows that! Why is she doing this? Why would she risk her life?”

“Why are you?” Patrick asked quietly.

“Why am I what?”

“You’re doing the same thing. Risking your life to find Kami before something happens to her.”

“You are, too,” she said, averting the question.

“I’m trained for this. You’re taking risks without even realizing it.”

“If not me, then who? This world is fucked up enough because people pass the buck or turn their back. Not me, not on Kami.”

Not when it’s my fault she’s in trouble in the first place.

Patrick took her hand and squeezed it. She stared at him, wanting to let him do everything because she was scared. But she also knew what she was getting into. She knew the people and the players.

Patrick said, “If Kami is there, we’ll find her.”

Elle voiced her real fear. “What if she’s already dead?”

CHAPTER 6

Patrick told Elle not to drive directly to TK. He wanted to make sure that Ringo and his goon didn’t follow them. His phone vibrated and he answered.

“Kincaid.”

It was Jaye. “Christopher Lee is squeaky-clean on the surface. Too clean. I dug into his financials—”

“Jaye—”

“All legal, pinky swear. What he really needs is a good audit, because it feels fishy to me.”

“That’s not going to get anyone to look at him.”

“Hey, my word should be good enough.”

“It is with me, but I need something solid. Or did you call just to chat?”

“Solid. He does a lot of business with another squeaky-clean company in Stockton, which works with a shipping company that isn’t so squeaky-clean. Peeling back the layers and that not-so-squeaky-clean shipping company is actually owned by one of Lee’s holdings, but he buried it well.”

“Not well enough, if you uncovered it in an hour.”

“I can’t take credit for it. Chi Sun Shipping is on the RCK watch list.”

“What watch list?”

“Oh—right, you don’t do international. The human trafficking watch list.”

Patrick’s blood ran cold. “Are you sure?”

“Of course,” she said, sounding offended. “I wouldn’t have said it if I weren’t.”

“Can you do one more thing?”

“You know it’s after midnight, right?”

“Are you going to bed?”

“No.”

“Then please? Pretty please? Pretty please with a triple espresso on top?”

She giggled. “God, Patrick, you owe me big-time.”

“We all do.”

“What else do you want?”

“Our contact with DEA, can you find out if Lee or Chi Sun Shipping is under watch for drug smuggling?”

“Not until the morning—it’s three
A.M.
in Washington.”

“Right. Sorry. Thanks again.”

“Be careful. Jack said if you need help, call him.”

“I’m okay for now.”

“And JT wants an update if you uncover anything connected to Chi Sun Shipping.”

JT Caruso was the
C
in RCK. “You told him before me?”

“He pays me. But just so you know, I e-mailed him while we were talking, and he just responded. So technically, I told you first.”

“You’re a gem.”

“A diamond. I want to be a diamond.”

He laughed and hung up.

“You’re laughing,” Elle said.

Patrick sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Sometimes, Elle, you have to laugh, otherwise we’d be depressed all the time.”

“Did your people learn anything important?”

“Maybe. Chi Sun Shipping, owned by one of Lee’s holding companies, is on a watch list for human trafficking.”

Elle didn’t say anything.

“Elle?”

“That can’t be right.”

“You’re defending him now?”

“No! But—shouldn’t people have known? I mean, you waltz into town and six hours later you’ve connected my nemesis to trafficking in people?”

“RCK was started by two ex-military who specialized in hostage rescue. Since then, we’ve grown to do primarily corporate and personal security, but we still have one guy who works south of the border whose primary job is finding Americans who have disappeared—and likely were kidnapped and forced to be sex slaves. So RCK keeps tabs on human trafficking and forwards information to the appropriate governments. We can’t stop it all, but we do our part.”

“Which sounds like more than most.”

“I work with some good people. My brother Jack is one of them.”

“But—human trafficking. You’d think I would have heard something, sensed something.” She wasn’t sold on his information. And, truth was, Lee could have his fingers in a lot of illegal activities. Criminals like him—those with legitimate business and public ties—often had multiple illegal venues. Maybe he was running drugs in San Francisco—and running people out of Stockton. But in Patrick’s experience, it was likely connected. His legitimate business was the perfect way to launder money. And working with the teen center gave him access to throwaway kids.

“They prey on runaways—kids no one will miss.”

“Do you think they took Kami?” Elle’s voice turned panicky.

“We don’t know anything—we don’t even know if what’s going on here has anything to do with his shipping company. We just need to be aware that this could be a lot worse than drug trafficking.”

“It’s worse,” Elle mumbled.

“Excuse me?”

“That’s what Doreen said to me before she died. She said, ‘It’s worse than we thought.’ I didn’t know what she meant. I didn’t understand—I should have.”

Patrick reached over and took her hand again. “You had no reason to think that Lee was trafficking in slaves when you had proof he was tied in with a local drug dealer. Let’s go to TK. It’s nearly one in the morning, we should be able to snoop around.”

“He’ll have security, I don’t know how we’re going to get in—”

“There is no ‘we.’ I’m going in, if I can. And I promise, I won’t trip an alarm.”

“How can you promise that?”

“Because I know how to bypass virtually any alarm system ever made.” He squeezed her hand, then let go and took out his cell phone. “And if I can’t, I have someone who can.”

“And he’s just going to meet us here?”

“No, he’ll do it remotely.” He sent Sean a text message. How late was it in Denver? Two hours ahead?

Sean responded:

Yes, I’m awake. We have a dead body here. At least, we think we have a dead body. There’s a lot of blood, no body. What do you need?

Patrick blinked at the message. He decided not to ask questions.

Can you be on call for the next thirty minutes? I might need to tap into your expertise.

Though Patrick’s phone was secure, he didn’t want to explicitly type that he might need Sean to hack into a security system.

Sean replied:

I’m going to start charging RCK for my services. But since you’re Lucy’s brother, I’ll give you a freebie.

Patrick shook his head.

Thanks, pal, you’re all heart.

“We’re good,” he said to Elle.

“I don’t even want to know what that was about.”

Patrick directed Elle to park halfway down the street from TK Clothing. He didn’t want her car to be caught on external cameras. The building was dark, except for faint security lighting, dim through the heavy mist.

“No one’s here,” Elle continued, looking around.

Visibility was next to zero. The fog was so thick, the security lights simply provided a lighter color to the eerie mist. There were two cars parked around the side of the building, but that didn’t mean anyone was there. There were no external windows so no way to tell if anyone was inside.

“I’m going in. Under no circumstances are you to follow, understand?”

“You’re bossy.”

“If you see anything, text me.” He sent her a quick message so she’d have his number. “If I don’t return in thirty minutes, or contact you, call the police.”

“And say what? My friend just broke in to TK Clothing?”

“Whatever you need to say to get the police here.”

“Fine.” She pouted, but her brows were creased with worry.

Patrick zipped up his jacket against the cold and walked along the street across from TK Clothing. There were no security cameras on the outer gates, but several were attached to the building. He took out the jammer he’d grabbed from his car, which would interfere with the cameras if they were digital. Unfortunately, he couldn’t tell from this distance and would have to take the risk. He pulled his hood over his head to obscure his face if he was, in fact, recorded.

The gates were locked, but they were electronic. He didn’t even need to call Sean for help. He decoded them in less than a minute using an app on his phone that Sean had originally written. The gate released, and Patrick slipped in. He didn’t close it all the way, in case he needed to get out fast.

He made sure his jammer was set on high, pocketed it, and stayed close to the building. He walked around to where the cars were and touched their hoods. Both were warm, but not hot. An hour? Maybe. But it didn’t matter: people were definitely inside.

He snapped pictures of their license plates and sent them to Jaye for identification.

Patrick assessed the door. It, too, was a keyless entry, but different from the gate and like nothing he had hacked before. And he couldn’t risk going in without knowing the layout of the building.

He decided to circle the building and see if there was another entrance or windows. First, he downloaded an app from the RCK server that would turn his cell phone into a listening device. He put a wireless transmitter in his ear.

His phone vibrated. It was Elle.

Status?

He responded:

Be patient.

He almost laughed. “Elle” and “patience” didn’t belong in the same sentence.

He set the transmitter on high and held his phone in front of him. There were voices coming from inside. He walked toward the rear of the building and the voices grew louder.

He turned the corner and noted that there were several windows on the back facade of the building, two lit bright. Venetian blinds covered the windows, but it would be easier to pick up the conversation through glass. He hit Record.

Through a narrow crack in the blinds he made out three distinct people, but based on the voices, there were at least four in the room. He took several pictures.

It was the female voice that threw him off guard. She spoke English, but in a thick Chinese accent.

“I need your assurance, Mr. Lee, that you can deliver per our agreement.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Jonny tells me there’s a problem.”

“There is no problem.”

“That woman, she’s been a problem, no?”

“She’s an annoyance, not a problem. I’ve been searched, I’m clean.”

A male voice said, “Yet she brought a cop around.”

“That has nothing to do with this,” Lee said.

“Don’t be so certain,” the woman said. “I want you to find out everything about him. Who he is, what department he’s with. If I lose my merchandise, you will pay.”

“I told you to stay off the river, but you didn’t listen.”

The woman answered in rapid Chinese, and Patrick had no idea what she was saying. Lee, whose English had no accent, also spoke in Chinese, and the two argued until the third person said, “This isn’t getting us anywhere.”