Snake Skin (30 page)

She dialed Fletcher's cell.

"Jim Fletcher," he answered, his voice
bright and cheerful.

"It's Lucy," she kept her voice bright. "I
was wondering how the surveillance footage from this morning came
out. Was the quality okay?"

"Yes, Lucy. The quality was just fine. In
fact, I just hung up with the tech who was processing it. Why, is
there a problem I don't know about?"

"No. No problem. I was worried that with
everything going on things might have gotten garbled."

"Shouldn't you be worried about bigger
things than me doing my job? Like your daughter. Is she okay?"

"She will be. Thanks for asking. I was
wondering if you could meet me at the office, give us a hand with
the Ashley Yeager investigation."

Fletcher's laughter sounded relaxed and
carefree, hardly the sound of a killer on the run.

"Sorry, Lucy. Normally I'd be happy to
oblige, but you see, the tech guy also told me your team had
cracked Ashley's computer. Not to mention the fact that Taylor or
one of his klutzes just tried hacking into my server. Hope he
didn't have anything sensitive on that hard drive."

She spun around and slapped Taylor's hand
from his keyboard.

"So, Lucy, have I finally gotten your
attention? Before I go, I just want to let you know how much I
enjoyed working with you. Don't worry about Ashley. She won't ever
have to worry about anything again. I'll keep her safe."

The line went dead.

"He said something about your hard drive,"
she told Taylor. "He knew you had reached his server."

Taylor's fingers dashed across his keyboard.
"Not me, I wasn't even close."

They both turned to Bobby who had a wide
smile on his face. "Got him," he said triumphantly. "I got the
sonofabitch."

"Bobby, what did you do?"

"He had an early warning system, but I saw
it and made a back door in. Before I triggered his alarms, I sent
him a very nasty bit of code."

"Is it something I can use to track him? He
has Ashley and he knows we're onto him."

"Maybe. Next time he uses his password, his
C drive is going to be copied onto mine."

"He said something about destroying the hard
drive of whoever was going after him. Was he bluffing?"

"Nah. That early warning system of his
included a nice tape-worm. But the guy thinks pretty linear—it was
easy to contain once you knew it was there."

Taylor slapped Bobby on the shoulder and
beamed like a proud father. "Wow, kid. You're pretty amazing, you
know that? You can come work for me anytime."

It was good to see Bobby actually smile for
the first time since she'd told him about Ashley's disappearance.
Lucy just wished she had time to enjoy it herself. Instead, she was
back on the phone to Walden.

"I was just getting ready to call you. His
workstation is clean. No evidence there, unless it's on his
computer."

"Nevermind. We've enough for a warrant. He
admitted to having Ashley. Trace his cell and ask Burroughs to
issue a BOLO. I'll meet you at his house."

"We're are on our way," Walden told her.
"You might want to call the SAC first—Fletcher's boss is looking
for you."

"Of course he is. I'll take care of it, just
get me that warrant." She hung up and motioned for Taylor to gather
his gear. "I have to go now, Bobby, but I'm going to send one of
our tech guys over to monitor your computer. Is that all
right?"

"Sure, that'd be great. Let me know as soon
as you find Ashley, okay?"

"I will."

She let Taylor drive while she manned the
phone. Her first call was to John Greally, the Pittsburgh field
office's Special Agent in Charge.

"Lucy, what the hell have you done this
time?" came his greeting. "I've got ICE supervisors calling me from
DC, wanting to chew your ass, saying you're investigating one of
their guys without going through proper channels. What's the
deal?"

"James Fletcher, one of their support people
on Innocent Images, is the same guy who killed that woman in
Murrysville and abducted Ashley Yeager."

"Shit. Are you certain?"

"John, he just admitted it to me on the
phone. I'm heading out to his house now. Walden is getting us a
warrant as soon as he can find a judge on a Sunday afternoon."

"Just so happens I've one right here with me
on the eleventh hole. I'll expedite the warrant. You do your best
to document the hell out of everything and keep the press as far
out of this as possible."

"You know I can't—"

"Just do your best. Last thing we need is
for this to turn into a shark feeding frenzy and spook Fletcher
into killing that girl."

"We're on the same wavelength there."

"And Lucy, this is going to get hairy,
political-wise. You'd damned well better bring home the bacon,
cooked and smelling so good no jury can resist."

"Don't worry." But she was worried—with
Fletcher's access to federal computers and resources, they might
have a tough time finding hard evidence. His unrecorded confession
wasn't enough. And he damn well knew it.

"Call me as soon as you finish at
Fletcher's."

"Yes sir."

"And Lucy, be careful. Just because this guy
isn't a fully trained agent doesn't make him any less dangerous."
He paused. "How's Megan?"

"She's fine. We're just waiting for tests
and seeing where to go next." The knot at the corner of her jaw
began to pulsate, and she gave up pretending that everything was
all right. "John, they say it might be cancer."

He made a tiny, aborted choking sound before
he spoke again. "I'm sure everything is going to be all right. I'll
try to stop by and bring Jackie to visit her." Jackie was John's
youngest daughter and was the same age as Megan.

"Thanks John. She'll appreciate having
someone other than us to talk to. You know how it is, being cooped
up with booooring adults all day," she mimicked Megan's whine.

Grimwald, the ICE Special Agent in Charge,
pulled up alongside Lucy and her team at Fletcher's modest house in
Lawrenceville, not far from Three Rivers Medical Center and Megan,
Lucy couldn't help but notice. She decided it was a good omen.

The SAC barged out of the unmarked black
Suburban like he was being launched from a cannon. "You can't do
this!"

Lucy waved her team inside Fletcher's
two-story bungalow. "Taylor, priority is the computer, any
electronics and any papers. Look for photos, maps, anything to give
us a clue where Ashley may be. Walden, look for any possible hiding
places on the premises. I'll join you in a minute."

"No. Stop. You cannot do this. You have no
right!" Grimwald shouted.

Taylor and Walden didn't hesitate, which
made her smile. She pivoted and blocked Grimwald as he stepped
forward. "I have a search warrant which I am legally serving.
Detective Burroughs, you're my witness. We are in Pittsburgh city
jurisdiction, are we not?"

"Yes ma'am, Supervisory Special Agent
Guardino."

"Am I violating any state or city laws as I
am lawfully executing this federal warrant?"

"No ma'am, not that I can see."

She darted a glance at Burroughs. A smirk
sprinted across his face and he rocked back on his heels, obviously
enjoying his stint as straight man.

"And is there any evidence that Immigration
and Customs Enforcement would have jurisdiction in this
matter?"

"No ma'am."

"To hell with jurisdiction," Grimwald
sputtered, his face now a apoplectic shade of red. "There's ways to
do things, intra-agency cooperation, you can't just—"

"This is a man who is holding a
fourteen-year-old girl, who already killed a woman!" Lucy was
shouting, leaning into Grimwald's space until her chest was almost
touching his. Grimwald stepped back.

"Fletcher is my responsibility. Let me
handle things my way. You're hysterical, jumping the gun. What if
the media hears about this? About the way you launched a one woman
witch hunt?"

"If you'd like to discuss this with the
media, be my guest. Detective Burroughs, if you would remain with
Special Agent in Charge Grimwald and ensure that he doesn't
interfere, I'll join my team."

She could swear she heard Burroughs snicker
as she turned her back on the men and started towards the
house.

"This isn't over, Guardino! I'll have your
job!"

Lucy ignored him. Her phone rang and she
grabbed it just as she stepped onto Fletcher's porch. "Guardino
here."

"Hi Lucy, it's Jimmy Fletcher. Boy, Agent
Grimwald sure does look angry. What did you say to him?"

She froze and pivoted, turning in a complete
circle. Ahh, up in the eaves overhanging the porch was a small
camera. Clever boy with his gadgets. She stood under the camera and
waved. "How's it going, Jimmy? Want to come on in and talk about
it? Maybe tell me where Ashley Yeager is?"

"You know I would never hurt Ashley. You of
all people should understand that. I've saved her. We're a lot
alike, you and I."

What warped planet was he living on? "Gee,
I'm flattered. Listen, let's talk about it. Where do you want to
meet? You pick the place, anywhere you feel comfortable."

His laugh was a tinny echo as if
machine-made. "I might not be a special agent, but I've read the
protocols. Please, don't insult me."

"If you don't want to talk, then why did you
call?"

"I thought it only fair to warn you. And
your people. I'm not like the scum you're used to dealing with.
Like I told you, I don't want to anyone to get hurt. You've twenty
seconds to evacuate my house. Starting now." He hung up.

Lucy sprinted into the house. "Taylor,
Walden, out! Now! There's a bomb, clear out, clear out!"

Walden came pounding from the rear of the
house.

"Where's Taylor?" she asked.

"Upstairs." He started towards the steps but
she beat him to them.

"Get out. Get fire, police rolling," she
called over her shoulder as she dashed up the steps. "Taylor!"

She was counting seconds down in her head as
she ran. Three open doors, one closed. Seven, six... Taylor was in
the front room, the solid oak door shut behind him. She burst into
the room, the door bouncing off the wall with a loud bang that made
him jump to his feet. He held an evidence bag in one hand and a
laptop in the other. Ruffled edged lace curtains danced around the
large open window beside him.

"LT, what's the deal?" he asked.

Four, three.

"Bomb," she cried out. She hurled her weight
across the room, propelling them both out the window. They hit the
porch roof as the world shattered.

A fireball of heat and glass and wood and
flame launched them into space. Lucy grabbed onto Taylor, his eyes
registering shock and fear.

Heat seared her back. A loud roar devoured
her senses, obscuring everything except the sight of the ground
racing up to slam into them.

A shock wave smashed through her. Her ears
popped and suddenly she could hear again. Sirens and a car alarm
and men yelling and someone screaming. She tried to inhale, tasted
dirt and grass. Coughed, gasped and coughed once more.

That wasn't her screaming was it? She rolled
over onto her side, regretted it as pain spiked through her back.
No. She wasn't screaming, she could barely breathe. It was Taylor
who was crying, whimpering in pain.

The peaceful blue sky had been ripped
asunder, now filled with swirling debris, smoke and flames. They
weren't far from the house, only twenty feet or so. Flames shot out
of the old frame structure, greedily reaching out to neighbors on
both sides. Then she spotted the propane tank in the neighbor's
side yard.

She tried to struggle to her feet, to reach
out to Taylor, but strong hands beat her to it. Burroughs and
Grimwald dragged Taylor back, away from the inferno while Walden
and Lucy did their own bizarre version of the three-legged
race.

"Need to evacuate," she managed to grate the
words past her tattered vocal cords. "Propane—" She couldn't speak,
so she raised a finger in the direction of the tank.

"Already working on it," Walden reassured
her. "You okay, boss?"

"Fine." She straightened against the car
bumper and immediately regretted it as more pain lanced through
her. So much pain that she wasn't even certain where it came from.
"Taylor?"

An ambulance screeched to a halt beside
them. Burroughs and the medics helped Taylor onto a stretcher.
Taylor's left forearm arm was bent like a Kennywood roller coaster.
Medics crowded around him, blocking her view.

Lucy looked around, her gaze swimming. She
must have lost a few minutes because firefighters already swarmed
over the house, hoses blasting water in every direction, sending
rainbows arching over the crowd of cop cars and gawkers.

The grins on their faces told her this was
another fun day at the office for them—no fatalities, no collateral
damage, they had things under control, this was their kind of
fire.

"Make sure they know this is a crime scene.
We need as much evidence preserved as possible." Her voice was
stronger now. If she didn't move, didn't really breathe, the pain
wasn't too bad. "Someone take a look around the yard. Taylor was
holding a laptop when we went out the window."

"Got it," Burroughs told her, holding the
splintered remains of a laptop keyboard aloft like a prize. "He
fell on it." The detective sauntered over. "Think I'm going to
think twice about letting you feds step on my turf again."

"Bastard. He was watching us through a
wireless camera. Probably more than one."

"I've got guys scouring the neighborhood,
but with all the hubbub, he's had plenty of time to get away. If he
was ever even here—he could have the cameras rigged so he can watch
them from anywhere, through a computer." He took a step back and
stared at her long and hard. "The medics see you yet?"