Sinclair Justice (18 page)

Her startled gaze leaped to meet his. But his deep blue eyes were veiled as he continued, “I have no control over what the international task force decides, and ultimately the Mexican government will make the call on whether to try to seize the compound or not. They won’t do it if they can’t confirm that Arturo Cervantes is nearby. It will be a hugely expensive operation and they’ll only green light it if they think there’s an excellent chance of success.”

Emm snatched her hands away. “Meaning Yancy and Jennifer are expendable. Tiny little pawns in the big, bad game of international chess.”

Ross sat back on his heels, but his only response was a small nod. “I don’t like it any more than you do, but that’s the way the system works.”

Emm leaped to her feet and ran from the office. Tears streamed from her eyes, making her path down the steps blurry, but she finally fumbled out her keys and got her car door open. She pressed the Start button, wiping her eyes on her sleeve, and roared out of the lot, uncaring that she broke about three laws as she did so.

 

On the steps, Abby and Ross peered after her.

“She’s going to look for them herself,” Abby said softly.

Ross raked his hands through his hair in frustration. “Why do you think I asked to be replaced as head of the task force? I’m also taking a leave of absence as soon as the reunion ends so I can chase after her if need be.”

Abby looked up at him, her wide mouth stretching into a skeptical half smile. “And what if you have to arrest her for interfering in an investigation?”

“As you know, even off-duty Rangers have that right, when the situation warrants it. And I’ll do whatever I have to in order to keep her safe, even if it means tossing her in a jail cell.” Ross spun on his heel and stalked back up the steps, leaving Abby walking down in a contemplative mood, wondering what she could do to help. It seemed to her Emm and Ross were made for each other, but her own limited forays into romance had ended disastrously, so who was she to play matchmaker?

On the other hand, she could certainly use her considerable expertise to help keep Emm safe. And the only thing that would make Emm back off was a breakthrough leading to Yancy and Jennifer’s locations.

Abby paused when she got to her car to look at the latest e-mail message in her secure account. There it was, the one she’d been waiting for. The undercover DEA operative in Mexico City had found three pharmacies that had recently filled the script for Yancy’s unusual hemophilia medication. They’d hacked into each store’s database and found evidence that one pharmacy had supposed US ownership, so large sums were being wired back and forth between Mexico and the United States. It smelled like money laundering to the operative, as it did to Abby.

A bit more digging yielded the fact that a maid at an estate outside the city had filled a huge variety of prescriptions, among them Yancy’s favored hemophilia medicine, Effluenatasis, Xanax, and the morning-after pill. The maid had been followed once, when she’d come to pick up an entire bag full of scripts, back to the estate where she worked. Nothing could be seen behind the walls, even with the latest technology, for they were too thick, but the link had been deemed strong enough to warrant electronic surveillance.

Which was how the task force had finally been able to get pictures of Yancy and Jennifer in their finery; they’d sent a drone high overhead with the blessing of the Mexican government. After immediately forwarding the e-mail to Ross for his inclusion in the database, Abby started her car, wondering if she should go straight to Emm’s hotel. She decided it was best to let Emm calm down before she told her they’d tracked down Yancy’s prescription at the same mansion where they’d taken the picture of the two women.

Besides, she had more digging to do.

 

The night after the interview, Emm ignored her phone calls and increasingly urgent texts from Ross to meet him for dinner. Even though it was still early, she wore her teddy as she folded her arms over her knees and stared into the darkness. Her room service sandwich and soup sat untouched on her nightstand. She knew Ross was worried about what she’d do, and well he should be. Her duties here were almost done. If tomorrow she was able to convince the Sinclair family to redevelop both buildings instead of tearing them down, her first assignment would end a success.

Then what? Logically, she should return immediately to Baltimore, write up her final recommendation, and get her next assignment. Her boss probably wouldn’t be happy if she asked for a leave of absence so soon after being hired, but he’d accept it if she used her sister’s health as the reason.

Tomorrow was the first day of the Sinclair reunion, and it was the only free time the partygoers would all be unoccupied and together to hear her PowerPoint presentation. She’d worked on the presentation for over a week now, trying to perfect it, for she’d known what the complete survey would say just from following the engineer around: The buildings were both structurally sound. And only yesterday, he’d e-mailed a detailed report that showed exactly that—borings, elevations, steel beams, building sections, foundation, soils survey, and all. He’d agreed with her that the crumbling base around the bigger structure was only a cosmetic curtain wall and easily enough repaired, though it would be costly because it would require a skilled hand mason. Virtually the entire interior, from the doors to the stairways to the wood floors, even to the old elevator, could be repaired and preserved to save the historic character.

As challenging as the project had been, her thoughts were only for Yancy and Jennifer. She wished she could save them so easily. While she’d initially felt a jolt of relief that both were alive, still in Mexico City, given the careful placement of the fabric from their dresses, it was obvious their days were numbered.

Emm appraised the sequence of events and the various players, trying to deduce the best way to get into Mexico City. Finding the mansion would not be difficult; she’d appraised the wall behind the limo and it was pretty distinctive, brick with ornate wrought-iron pillars that looked more English than Mexican. Massive, on the hills outside the city. Google Earth was a handy piece of software . . . but what good would it do to breach the compound as an historic expert interested in Mexico City architecture only to find them gone?

No matter how she looked at it, Curt Tupperman was her best potential lead. She believed him when he said he still cared about Yancy. She suspected he was involved somehow with Los Lobos, though at this point she was sure of nothing. However, whether he was an investigative reporter or a criminal, she had few options. He could help her get access to the compound where Yancy and Jennifer had been sighted, and that was all she cared about.

She also knew something Ross and Abby apparently didn’t: Curt had a small interest in a private jet network. He’d told Yancy when he swept her away to Aruba for a long weekend while they were dating that as costly as it was, given the peripatetic nature of his work, it ultimately saved him time and money because he often had to travel on a moment’s notice. Ross and Abby also didn’t know Yancy had a good friend on the company’s executive board. Someone who could pull up all reservation records.

In the quiet of her reflections, Emm recalled that Miami area code and why it had stuck in her memory. Emm even remembered the woman’s name: Louise. She’d actually e-mailed her sympathies to Emm when she’d heard the news about Yancy’s abduction so soon after Jennifer. Emm turned on the light to check her watch. Eight p.m. her time, nine p.m. Miami time, where the company was based. Emm grabbed up the pad next to her bed and scribbled several phone number combinations. She stared a moment at the numbers and was pretty sure she had the last four right, but she wasn’t certain about the first three. She wrote down several combinations, picked up her cell phone, and started dialing.

As she waited for someone to answer, she made a mental checklist. After she spoke to Louise to find out if Curt had made any recent reservations, or had flown to Mexico around the time of either kidnapping, she’d pack. Tomorrow, immediately after the reunion, she’d approach Curt again and try to get him to go with her to Mexico City. If he refused, she’d book a flight on one of the majors.

Even as the scholar coolly, systematically went through her phone list, the soft, tender, lonely Emm was crying inside.

After tomorrow, she would never see Ross Sinclair again. But she’d have at least one happy memory to pull out and enjoy as she got old . . . For that, she couldn’t be sorry.

When she got back to Baltimore, hopefully accompanied by Yancy and Jennifer, she’d stay so busy that the desolation lapping at the shadows would recede back where it belonged. At the edges of her life, kept at bay by a career she loved and a fractured family that needed her.

 

Ross slammed his desk phone down, frustrated. He drummed his fingers on the top of the desk in his study, debating just showing up at Emm’s hotel, but he knew where that might lead, and his family arrived in the morning. He’d also seen the e-mail and final analysis from the engineer and skimmed the write-up carefully enough to realize both how comprehensive it was and that Emm had been right in her initial analysis. She was going to recommend they first be fined and cited with possible huge fines and then felonies if they tore either building down in defiance of a federal stay . . . He’d already checked the statutes.

The family would not be pleased. Sighing, he printed out six copies, one for each member of the LLC they’d formed to develop the building, but as he did so he wondered if Emm would still show up to try to persuade them to save her buildings. Her buildings. For some reason, he liked the ring of that.

His doorbell dinged. Ross went to the door himself, thinking it might be one of his guests, arriving early. He was surprised when he opened the door to see Chad standing there. He wore a jacket and his badge, so he was dressed for business. “Hey, Chad, what brings you here so late?”

“Can I come in?”

Ross stood back. “Of course.” He led the way to his favorite spot, the two chairs before the fire, which was still crackling in the spring chill. He poured them each a drink and sat down, waiting for Chad to begin.

As usual, Chad didn’t mince words. “They want to make me head of the task force, and I had to ask how you felt about that. You know I’d never take your job behind your back.”

Ross nodded, unsurprised. He swirled his brandy, searching for a tactful way to say this. There was none but the plain truth. “I asked to be removed, actually.”

Chad tilted his hat back, as he did when he was confused about something. “Why in God’s name would you do that? Pulling off this investigation would get you to Austin.”

“If I wanted to go to Austin. Which I don’t.”

“Okay, but that’s still an extreme reaction unless . . .”

Ross tossed back the rest of his brandy. “Unless I have a blatant conflict of interest.”

Chad took off his hat and cradled it on his lap. “Ah, I see.” He peered more closely at his former boss’s shadowed face. “I take it Ms. Rothschild is the conflict?”

Ross nodded, hoping his flush couldn’t be seen in the dim lighting. “I’m going to ask her to marry me at the end of the reunion.” He smiled, as if mystified a bit at his own haste. “If nothing else, that will get her to shut up for five minutes.”

Chad laughed. “Don’t count on it.” He sipped his own drink more judiciously. “Isn’t your family likely to be opposed?”

“Yep. At least my mom and my aunt will be. If Emm had won a Nobel Peace prize
and
a Pulitzer and personally owned the Rothschild trust fund, they’d still be opposed. Why do you think I’m rushing things?”

Chad grinned ear to ear. “Fait accompli, in your fancy-schmancy, Yalie parlance.”

“That ‘aw shucks’ BS may work with Jasmine—”

“Actually, it never did—”

“But it doesn’t work with me.” Ross stood and offered his hand to his friend. “You’re the first to know about my resignation from the task force and about my marital plans. I don’t have to ask you to keep them quiet. Even from Jasmine.”

“I’ll try, but Jasmine reads me like a book. She knows I drove here to talk to you and she’s going to ask me what happened.”

Ross grinned. “So can you read her yet?”

Chad smashed his hat back on his head. “I’m working on it. Ask me again in about, say, fifty years. . . .”

Ross’s laughter followed him toward the door. But before he exited, Chad turned back to Ross. “And if we have to go into Mexico? Do you want to be in on that operation . . . in an advisory capacity?”

“Yes, but only because I know the data so well. I’m also taking a leave of absence, so I’d have to be included on that basis.”

Chad nodded, unsurprised. “And Ms. Rothschild?”

Ross scowled. “She has the bit between her teeth to find her sister and niece. I’m worried about how far she might go.”

“I figured as much.” Chad opened the door. “Okay, I’ll be sure you’re included on the task force if we do go in.”

“Thanks, Chad.”

On the door sill, Chad paused to look at his mentor and friend. “You know, Jasmine and I probably wouldn’t be together now if I hadn’t kidnapped her and asked you to arrest her.”

This startled a smile from Ross. “Are you suggesting I follow suit?”

“I’m suggesting you don’t let her get away even if you have to hog-tie her to your bed.” With that plain speaking, Chad nodded and closed the door behind him.

The sound of Chad’s words echoed more loudly to Ross as he climbed the stairs to his room than all his fears put together.

So what would he do if Emm refused his proposal? Ross smiled grimly, reaching for the handcuffs he kept handy next to his bed. Not for the obvious reason; merely so he could grab them quickly with his badge and gun. He’d had no likely candidates to take to his room. Until now . . .