Exposing Ethan (Cassidy Kincaid Mystery Book 4) Read online

  “I don’t understand,” Cassidy said.

  “It’s leverage,” Special Agent Harris said, leaning on her forearms. “Bo pays his dad’s debt, which keeps him alive. If anything happens to Bo, like jail, then his father gets thrown to the sharks.”

  “Hang on a second,” Quinn said, letting go of Cassidy’s hand. “When you say ‘shipment,’ are we talking about people?” He frowned. “There’s people in those containers?”

  The room fell silent.

  “Sometimes as many as a hundred are packed in there, most of the time children,” Special Agent Santiago said.

  She heard Quinn moan in anguish. “That’s sick.”

  Cassidy tried to imagine a week or more of living in a metal box with no bathroom on a boat that pitched and yawed, but it was too awful.

  “If we can flip Bo, he can tip us off. We can not only intercept shipments but connect them to the next link in the chain.”

  The next image on the screen sent ice needles down her spine.

  “Here’s our henchman.”

  Cassidy stared into Saxon’s cold eyes.

  “We had his clubs under surveillance but had no probable cause until Cassidy’s interview. He’s been very good at keeping clean. Even from Mexico, he’s likely still pulling the strings.”

  Cassidy heard the strain in his voice, and grimaced. I’m the reason he’s not in jail right now, she thought.

  “We think he sets up the meets. Fixes what needs fixing.”

  Like murder? she wanted to say as a chill crawled up her spine.

  Cassidy remembered her slow realization that Saxon had tricked her into believing Izzy was in that neighborhood. Good luck, Dr. Kincaid, looks like you’re going to need it.

  “Though we don’t have any record of Saxon working with Bo and his gang, we suspect there’s a link. There has to be. Bo’s crew gets the can out of the port, then delivers it to some location. From there, Saxon’s crew puts them into service.”

  “Service?” Cassidy said, her stomach swirling. “You mean slavery.”

  A short moment passed before Special Agent Harris replied with a simple, “Yes.”

  “What we need is to get close to Saxon, but he’s been extremely careful. Bo could be the link we need. We’re waiting on approval for a wiretap, but he’s likely using burners. To nail him, we’ll need physical evidence, or to catch him in the act.”

  Cassidy exhaled a tight breath. “Do you think that’s possible?”

  “With your help, absolutely,” Special Agent Harris said.

  Special Agent Santiago rose and turned on the lights.

  “Do you think there’s anything to the teen runaway clinic being part of this?” Cassidy asked as the image of Brad’s boyish face returned to her mind.

  “We’re looking into it,” Special Agent Harris said. “It opens up a web of complications, so we’re proceeding very carefully.”

  Cassidy frowned. What kinds of complications?

  “Okay, let’s take a short break,” Special Agent Harris said, standing. “Then we’ll walk you through the call.”

  After the task force agents left, Bruce walked over to the water bottles in the corner and pulled three from the plastic wrapper.

  “Can I get you guys anything else?” he asked, handing each of them a bottle.

  Cassidy shook her head.

  “Nah, I’m good, thanks,” Quinn said, cracking the lid of his water.

  “Feel free to head outside for some air. I know this is a lot.”

  Quinn pushed back from his chair. “Yeah, maybe I will.” He glanced at Cassidy.

  “Go ahead,” Cassidy said, sipping from her water.

  Quinn gave a nod, then stepped from the room.

  Bruce leaned partway onto the tabletop. “How are you holding up?”

  Cassidy tugged at the label on her water bottle. “Okay.”

  “I wish you didn’t have to do this.”

  Cassidy gave up on the wrapper and set her bottle down on the table. “What if Saxon comes out of hiding and is at the meeting, if it even happens?”

  “We would never send you in there.”

  Her anxious mind switched gears. “What did she mean by ‘complications’?”

  “I’m not sure. Maybe there’s some sensitive information regarding the clinics that she can’t share.”

  “Sensitive how?”

  Bruce ran a hand through his thick hair. “Maybe they’re attached to someone important. Maybe the clinics provide an important service to the community, and we don’t want to disrupt that unless we’re sure.”

  “A service to the community?” Cassidy said, her temper flaring. “Bruce, how is coercing runaways into the sex trade a service to the community?”

  “Just think about it for a sec,” he said, flashing the palm of his hands, as if to slow her down. “I’m only guessing here, but if Brad is right, and I’m not even saying he is, there’s like twenty free clinics in this city. If a clinic forced all of its teen patients into the sex trade, don’t you think word would get out, and we would have heard something about it?”

  Cassidy realized that he was right.

  “If this is true, they must be very selective, and very careful.” Bruce set down his water bottle. “Imagine if you were a teen living on the streets, and you had a friend that visited one of these clinics but you never saw them again. Those kids are smart. Word would spread.”

  “Maybe they don’t force the kids. Maybe they choose.”

  Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Now you’re thinking like a detective.”

  The door opened and Special Agent Harris breezed into the room, startling Cassidy. “Okay, Dr. Kincaid, are you ready to make the call?”

  Twelve

  “The goal is to arrange a meeting,” Special Agent Harris said. “That’s what he wants, so this should be easy. I doubt this is his first rodeo, so he’ll likely suggest some place public, with people around. He also might just ask for Quinn’s number, and if that’s the case, we’ll repeat this same process with him on the line.”

  Cassidy was unnerved by the word “rodeo.” As if this was some kind of adventure. This is my life we’re talking about here! she wanted to say, remembering Dutch’s outburst as he stormed from the building. Did she have the guts to do something so bold?

  “I know it’s tough, but try to be yourself,” Special Agent Santiago said. “We’ll be listening too, so pay attention to our cues.”

  “Try if you can to meet as soon as possible, but don’t be obvious about it,” Special Agent Harris said. “We don’t want to raise his suspicions.”

  A man knocked, then entered, holding Cassidy’s phone and two additional ones. “You’re all set,” he said, placing the phones on the table.

  “Thank you, Terry,” Special Agent Harris said, reaching for the two extra phones. One she kept and the other she gave to Special Agent Santiago. Terry slipped from the room and shut the door.

  Special Agent Santiago moved to her right side with a pad of paper and a pencil. She detected the scent of cigarette smoke on his clothes.

  “All right, Dr. Kincaid, go ahead and make the call.”

  Cassidy looked to Bruce, relocated to his original place to the side, then Quinn, who was standing with his back against the wall behind her, then picked up the phone.

  She forced a long breath into her lungs, but the butterflies tore into flight anyway. Her ears filled with a vibrating hum that seemed to block out the rest of the sounds in the room.

  Her fingers shook as she opened the phone. Bo’s number was already queued. Across from her, Special Agent Harris’s entire focus was trained on Cassidy. This time, the image of a cobra coiled to strike took hold. She plugged a set of earbuds into her ears and nodded stiffly.

  Cassidy exhaled through tight lips, then tapped the “call” button.

  She listened through a series of empty rings. After six, she glanced up at Special Agent Harris, who nodded.

  Leave a short message, Special Agent Sant
iago wrote on the pad.

  Bo’s message clicked on. “Yo, this is me,” his smooth voice sang followed by the beep.

  “Hey, Bo, it’s Cassidy, from Fort Point the other day?” She caught the “um” that threatened to leap from her lips just in time. “Did you surf today?”

  Special Agent Santiago gave her the “wrap it up” signal.

  “I talked to my brother. He’s interested, so…call me.”

  As she ended the call, she felt all the strength she’d held together leave her body in one giant whoosh. She dropped the phone and tried to inhale enough air, but it was like the oxygen molecules were too big for her throat.

  “Easy,” Special Agent Santiago said. “You did great.”

  Cassidy stood. “I’m going outside,” she said.

  Bursting through the door, Cassidy inhaled a gulp of the sun-heated air. She crossed to the shade of several trees planted along the back fence, craving space from the hot building and its cramped walls. Behind her, she heard the door open and shut, then Quinn was nearby.

  “If you want to pull the plug just say so,” he said.

  Cassidy wrapped her arms around her middle and pulled everything close. “Should I?” she asked. “Maybe I made a mistake. I know you’re game, but what if I can’t do this?”

  “You’re going to do fine,” he said, his gaze locked on hers.

  “What if I blow it and he realizes that it’s a setup? You’ll be in danger. Or what if he’s known all along and is setting us up?” She shuddered. “If anything happened to you, Quinn…”

  “Nothing will, okay? I know it’s scary, but these guys are pros. They wouldn’t do this if they didn’t think it was safe.”

  Cassidy groaned. “I just don’t know.”

  “C’mon, Cass, you went into that warehouse. With no backup. No plan.” He glanced back at the building. “This’ll be a cakewalk in comparison. You have an entire team behind you.”

  The door to the building opened and Bruce’s head emerged. “Cassidy! He’s calling!”

  Cassidy exchanged a quick look with Quinn, then they both sprinted to the door. Back inside the room, Special Agent Santiago held her ringing phone.

  Afraid they were about to lose the connection, she tapped the screen. “Hello?” she said, trying to calm her fast breaths.

  “Whoa, where’s the fire?” he said, his voice playful.

  “Sorry, I stepped out for a second.”

  “Fort Point was pumping today. You missed out.”

  Keep him talking, Special Agent Santiago wrote. Establish trust.

  “Did you go?” she asked.

  “Nah. Work.” He paused. “I thought you were leaving town?”

  “I did, but just for the day. It’s sort of a long story.”

  “Maybe you’d like to share it over drinks tonight,” Bo said. “Bring Quinn.”

  Cassidy looked up in a panic. She watched both agents exchange some kind of coded glance. Sound interested, Special Agent Santiago wrote.

  “Where?” Cassidy asked, wondering what had caused the agents to look suddenly worried.

  “How about the 500 Club? Nine o’clock.”

  Special Agent Santiago nodded.

  “Sounds good,” Cassidy said.

  Bo ended the call, and Cassidy set her phone down, the adrenaline ebbing slowly.

  “There’s a bit of a problem here,” Special Agent Harris said, placing her hands on her hips. “Why does he want Cassidy there?”

  “You don’t think…?” Special Agent Santiago asked, his voice trailing off.

  “Oh, hell,” Bruce muttered.

  Cassidy frowned. “What?”

  “If he just wanted to do business with Quinn,” Special Agent Harris paused to glance at where Quinn stood against the wall, “why not get Quinn’s number and set it up directly with him?”

  “What if he’s using Dr. Kincaid as a shield?” Special Agent Santiago said. “For deniability. Then wait for an opportunity to get Quinn alone, and make his proposition then.”

  Special Agent Harris looked pensive for a moment. “Possibly.” She paced behind her chair. “I think there’s a romantic interest here.”

  “What?” A rush of heat blasted into her brain.

  “He wants you there,” Special Agent Harris said, her eyes flashing. “Let’s go back to the first moment you spoke to him, Dr. Kincaid. Walk me through everything again.”

  Cassidy looked at Bruce, whose face was pinched tight. “Um,” she said, her mind spinning back through time. She remembered the look Bruce had given Bo and his friends and realized that he had recognized them. Were their pictures on the wall in the war room down the hall? She hadn’t gotten a close enough look at the board to identify anyone. Had Bruce gone to Fort Point on purpose to spy on Bo and his crew?

  “I met him at Drift first,” Cassidy said. “We started talking while he waited for the bartender. I thought maybe he knew Quinn.”

  “Did you flirt with him that night?” Special Agent Harris said, tapping the tip of a pen against a blank piece of paper.

  “No!” Cassidy gasped as the back of her skull throbbed.

  “Did you smile at him, show interest in him, lead him on?” Special Agent Harris continued, her words fast and harsh.

  She remembered what Bo had said at the bar: Do I gotta flash some titties around her to get a drink or what? And her reply: It might help.

  Was that considered flirting?

  “No,” Cassidy said again. The last person she had flirted with—if showing Mel her attitude was considered flirting—had nearly ended her life. “It was maybe a one-minute conversation. He noticed that I hadn’t paid; I told him Quinn was my brother. He mentioned that he hadn’t seen me around, so I told him that I was from out of town, and then he left.”

  “And then you saw him in the water,” Special Agent Harris said. “What was he like then?”

  Cassidy exhaled a stiff breath. “I didn’t talk to him until right before I got out. We were the last two people, so we were waiting side by side. He recognized me. Asked why Quinn wasn’t surfing.” Another pang of remorse flared when she remembered calling Quinn chicken, even though he would have easily agreed. But in admitting that to Bo, had she revealed too much? Had Bo seen that intimate admission as some kind of encouragement?

  “Then, in the parking lot, he came by.” She remembered his washboard abs and bulging biceps and the tattoos. Had he been strutting for her benefit? Or was he just one of those cocky males that liked the attention? “He brought up Quinn again, said he could save him money, and would I find out if he was interested.”

  “Did you flirt with him then?” Special Agent Harris asked.

  “I was there with Bruce,” she replied, as if this would explain.

  Special Agent Harris glanced at Bruce. “But you weren’t at the vehicle at that time, correct?”

  Bruce nodded.

  “Think back, Dr. Kincaid, he’s obviously got it in his head that you’re interested in him. I need to know how this happened.”

  “I’m not interested in him!” Cassidy cried, glaring at Special Agent Harris. “Whatever vibe he got is manufactured. The only thing I’ve done is talk to him like I would talk to anyone.”

  Special Agent Harris returned the glare, and a long silence expanded into the room, like a balloon slowly filling the space, pressing against them.

  “This means they both have to go in,” Special Agent Harris said to her partner.

  Special Agent Santiago nodded. “I’m already on it,” he said, flipping open his laptop.

  Bruce crossed his arms and leaned back. “I’m going in, too,” he said.

  Special Agent Harris whipped around. “Absolutely not,” she said. “You walk in there with Cassidy, he’ll be thrown off. We can’t take that risk and you know it.”

  “I don’t like this,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “I don’t, either, but it’s what we got.” She turned to Cassidy. “We’ll meet back here at seven p.m. to get
you ready. I suggest you try to go about your day like normal. Rest, eat, get some exercise, but no surfing, I can’t risk you getting hurt. Take a walk, do some yoga, okay? And no alcohol.”

  Cassidy bristled at the lecture, but deep down, the realization that she was somehow repeating her past mistakes was taking root. It had started long ago with Luke and the loser boyfriends she’d had before him, then started up again with Mel. She remembered Saxon’s frightening charisma during their first meeting and how it pulled on her despite her awareness.

  What had she done this time to attract yet another dangerous person? What would it take for her to break this cycle?

  Thirteen

  Cassidy was quiet during the ride back to Quinn’s, her mind preoccupied. In the backseat, Quinn was on the phone with a woman—she could tell by the tone of his voice.

  “You okay?” Bruce adjusted the air conditioning.

  “What did I possibly do to make Bo think that I was interested in him?”

  “I don’t know. I wasn’t there, remember?”

  Cassidy turned away, feeling hurt, though she knew that wasn’t fair.

  “I just wish I could be in there,” Bruce said. “Let’s just hope that if this moves forward, you can bail.”

  “But if it’s successful, he’ll need Quinn,” Cassidy said, her gut tightening.

  “Right,” Bruce said, though he sounded distracted.

  Once they neared Quinn’s apartment, Cassidy wondered if he was supposed to come up with them, make sure they rested, ate, did yoga. But Bruce pulled his SUV behind a row of parked cars and idled.

  “See you later, I guess,” she said.

  Bruce gave a quick nod, but didn’t look at her.

  Cassidy followed Quinn from the car and into the apartment as Bruce’s SUV rolled away from the curb behind them.

  “I’ve got some inventory and payroll stuff to do, that’ll keep me busy for a while,” Quinn said as they trudged up the stairs. “I’m sure you’ve got three papers to write or five years of data to analyze, right?”