Stolen (24 page)

“They’ll know we’re coming,” Suzanne said.

“Then let’s not keep them waiting.”

“Warrant?” Tucker said.

“I have probable cause,” Noah said. It was thin, but he would stand by it. “Besides, the building owner is unreachable and the business is closed.”

“Just cover my ass with my boss if this goes south with the D.A.”

“You got it.”

Tucker instructed his men to cover the two exits and then took two officers with them to the main entrance.

Noah glanced at Tucker and he nodded. Noah pounded on the door. “FBI—we’re coming in! Keep your hands where we can see them!”

They entered the building with flashlights and guns drawn. It was filled with wooden crates and not much else. It hadn’t been used for anything business-related in quite some time.

They split up, NYPD going to the left, Noah and Suzanne to the right.

In the back of the warehouse was a row of makeshift offices. In the first one, they found a body.

The white male had been dead for several hours. He had cuts and bruises on his face and hands, probably from a fight, but he likely died from the bullet in his chest.

On the desk sat Hunter’s computer, or so Noah suspected. He sniffed. In addition to the blood, there was a burnt smell. Like burning metal.

He slipped on gloves and inspected the computer. The bottom looked, literally, fried—the case was warped and it looked as if the computer had overheated to the point of self-destruction.

Noah wondered if it was Nash’s fail-safe, to protect against any unauthorized access, or if the killers had destroyed the computer because of evidence inside.

While Tucker and his cops cleared the building, Noah looked through the office without disturbing any potential evidence. A printer was in the corner, but there was no computer. Newly installed wiring was evident. The file cabinets were also new, and they were empty, though loose papers littered the cement floor.

“Someone got out fast,” Noah said.

Tucker joined them. “We’re clear. How did they know we were coming?”

“I don’t think they did,” Suzanne said. “This body has been dead at least six hours, could be longer. And he was severely beaten before he was shot.”

“Which means,” Noah said, “he was killed shortly after the computer was destroyed.”

“Maybe he screwed up,” Suzanne suggested.

“Like killed Nash when he was just supposed to take the computer?” Noah frowned. “Maybe.”

“What are you thinking?”

“Sean swears that Thayer isn’t a killer, and I’ve studied every crime he’s been accused of in the last fifteen years. He’s never been violent. I don’t see him shooting a longtime friend in the head, then torturing this guy.”

“Got in with the wrong group,” Tucker said.

Suzanne had a theory. “Maybe the people he works for were pissed he busted the computer. Maybe they took it because they needed something on it.”

“That’s likely.” Noah suspected that Senator Paxton had ordered several murders, but Noah didn’t think the senator had killed anyone who wasn’t a known criminal. If Nash had uncovered his plans, would Paxton have ordered a hit?

It didn’t feel right. But without more evidence, it was a theory Noah had to pursue.

Noah searched the victim’s body, even though procedure required that he wait until it had been checked by the coroner. He didn’t have time.

He pulled the man’s wallet. “Timothy Alan Corbett, New York City address. Thirty-four.” He handed the wallet to Detective Tucker. “Is this address nearby?”

Tucker nodded. “It’s in Queens. If this guy is connected to Nash’s homicide, my people should take a look.”

“Agreed,” Noah said. “If you find anything at all—”

Suzanne nodded. “I’ll go with Hayden. Keep Noah in the loop. This isn’t my first rodeo.”

*   *   *

It was after dawn, much later than Sean had planned to leave, when he finally cracked Hunter’s system. He smiled, though his success was bittersweet.

“I’m going to miss you, pal,” he said to himself. He wished he hadn’t cut ties with Hunter or Colton. Now there was no going back. Colton wouldn’t forgive this betrayal when he found out Sean was working for the feds.

Sean reviewed the logs and saw that after he’d told Colton that Deanna Brighton had been following him, Hunter had changed the security system so that anyone who walked past Colton’s house was photographed and the file sent immediately to Hunter’s iCloud server. When Sean cracked the phone code, he had access to the iCloud and pulled down the images to his desktop.

He disregarded people on the sidewalk unless they stopped. He was particularly interested in anyone who watched or approached the house.

Only one person showed up who Sean didn’t know. Tuesday, late morning, only a few hours after Sean and Hunter met in Bryant Park.

Sean didn’t recognize the well-dressed, trim, blond stranger. From where his head matched up to the doorframe, Sean guessed he was about six feet tall. He looked like an accountant or businessman in his mid-to-late thirties.

Sean couldn’t see who opened the door, but the stranger entered. He left fifty minutes later.

Sean had to take a risk. He called Colton.

Colton answered the phone, groggy. “What?”

“Are you alone?”

“Carol’s sleeping.”

“I sent you a picture. Look at it.”

“Just a sec.”

Sean heard a door close, a computer being booted up. A moment later, Colton said, “Who’s this?”

“I don’t know. I cracked Hunter’s security. When he changed the security after Deanna Brighton followed you from the carriage house—”

“After you
think
she followed me—”

“He had pictures of anyone near the house sent to his external server. It’s a fail-safe, in case your system was tampered with.”

“No one touched my system.”

Sean wasn’t going to argue with him. “This is the only person who went inside. He was there from eleven thirty yesterday morning until nearly twelve thirty. You don’t know who he is?”

Colton said, “Hunter was spying on me?”

Sean squeezed his temples, his headache going from throbbing to pounding. “No,” he told Colton. “After Hunter beefed up your security, I talked to him. Someone tipped Brighton off about you and I working together again. No one knew I was in New York except for you and the group. I didn’t say anything to Hunter that I didn’t already tell you. What do we really know about Evan and Carol?”

“Carol is not a spy!”

“Hunter said the same thing. He said he’d check old surveillance feeds and see if anyone on the team had met with Deanna or if he could spot her staking out the carriage house. Phone records, GPS tracking, anything he could get. Hunter accessed this photo thirty minutes before he left me a panicked message. I think he knew who this guy is.”

“I wasn’t here yesterday.”

“Who was?”

“I—I don’t know. I didn’t think anyone.”

“Can you check the logs?”

Colton typed. “No one came in or out yesterday during that time.”

“Obviously someone did. And they hacked your security to erase it.”

“I’ll recover it.”

Sean doubted that would work. If the hacker was good enough to manipulate the logs, they were good enough to destroy them. “You can’t let anyone know what you’re doing.”

“Who would betray us?” Colton said.

Again, the guilt ate at Sean’s gut. But he wasn’t the one who met with this stranger, and he wasn’t the one who killed Hunter.

“If you want out, I understand.” Colton’s voice was defeatist. “I never kept evidence on you. Never. You can walk free and clear.”

“I didn’t help you because I thought you’d turn over anything to the feds. I helped you because we are friends.” He felt grossly uncomfortable playing both sides, but if he told Colton now about the undercover operation, Colton would ice him out. Sean focused on the end goal: stopping Paxton. And now finding out everything he could about this man.

Sean said, “I’m not leaving you in the middle of this mess. I think you’re in danger.”

“I’m willing to take the risk. This is more important than me.”

Colton would not budge. Sean had no choice: Not only did he have to stop Paxton, he also had to protect Colton.

“I’ll be back in three hours. Don’t tell anyone about this. Please, Colton—keep this between you and me.”

“I promise.”

*   *   *

Noah took the subway back to his apartment so he could shower and change. He’d been up all night, except for the hour he slept on the floor of Suzanne’s cubicle. When he’d been an Air Force Raven he’d slept in far worse conditions, but he was no longer as young as he once was. At thirty-six he was feeling the effects of too little sleep.

The shower woke him up, followed by strong coffee. He was sitting at his desk finishing his cup when his phone rang. It was Sean.

“I’m on my way back to New York. I found something on Hunter’s phone. It’s a picture taken outside Colton’s late yesterday morning. A guy I don’t recognize, but it was after Hunter downloaded the photo that he left me the message.”

“Call me as soon as you land. Stockton is here; he wants to shut this thing down, but is willing to give you time with Colton to see if he’ll turn state’s evidence against Senator Paxton. Can you do that?”

“I don’t know,” Sean admitted. “But we still have thirty-six hours—have you gotten any closer to finding out who killed Hunter?”

“His security cameras went directly to his laptop. We found it this morning, at the warehouse you told us about. Destroyed. Dead guy there. Timothy Corbett—name ring a bell?”

“No.” Sean hadn’t found any security footage from Hunter’s apartment on the cloud server.

“He was beat up and shot. NYPD is processing the scene. Suzanne and the detective in charge, Tucker, are at Corbett’s apartment.”

“I’m going to talk to Colton as soon as I get there.”

“Don’t do anything without talking to me.”

“I’ll play it by ear.”

“Sean—” But he’d hung up.
Dammit!
Noah’s phone vibrated and he got the image from Sean. Blond, thin, late thirties. Noah didn’t know him. He sent the image to Rick Stockton, then left for FBI headquarters.

It was going to be another long day.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Noah arrived at headquarters before Suzanne. He took the time to go over his notes and looked at the preliminary reports from the Hunter Nash shooting. Noah hoped to get Deanna Brighton into an interview room later this morning—while he understood that the Office of Professional Responsibility might be getting involved, he had urgent questions that needed immediate answers.

Noah had a hunch that Paxton’s mole might be Deanna Brighton. Paxton found ways to use people with grudges, and if Deanna was vulnerable—possibly by having broken the law in her pursuit of Sean—Paxton could manipulate her far more easily. What Sean had said about Sergio Russo yesterday—how Paxton used a father’s grief to turn him into a hired gun—could also apply to someone like Agent Brighton, who felt cheated somehow when Sean didn’t go to prison for his crime at Stanford.

Somehow it made a twisted sense—if Paxton knew that Sean was working for Colton, he had to believe that Sean was going to try to screw him. What better plan than to get Sean out of the operation by having an agent with a vendetta detaining him?

Noah realized he might be the one to blow Sean’s cover. There was no good reason for Noah to be in New York when he worked out of D.C., and Paxton knew Noah worked special projects for Rick Stockton. If Russo followed Sean, he might see Noah and make the connection. Or, the mole might have already talked to Paxton, which made Sean’s position more precarious.

If Paxton called Colton off the PBM break-in, then Noah would know that someone he’d met in the last twenty-four hours was the mole. It would certainly narrow down their search. He’d bring each and every one of them into interrogation with him and Rick Stockton, search phones and computers, whatever it took to find out how Paxton was getting inside information, and why.

Ultimately, it might be the best way to shut down the operation and bring Sean in safely. Noah hoped that the next call he got was from Sean telling him Colton was backing down and had evidence to force Jonathan Paxton to cut a deal.

The flip side was that even if Paxton suspected it was a setup, he might go through with it and find a way to wiggle out of any crime. The senator was very good at that. Noah hadn’t had time to track him down yesterday after Sean’s confrontation with Russo, and then Hunter Nash was killed. There was no way of knowing if Paxton was at his New York apartment. Rick Stockton was sending two trusted agents from national headquarters to keep an eye on Paxton, but they were still en route, ETA noon.

An e-mail from Sean popped up on Noah’s computer. The message was clear: