Stolen (38 page)

Skye stepped toward Sean, her eyes large and bright. She really believed what she was saying. “I watched you; I saw the excitement in your eyes. The thrill of the job. The adrenaline pumping through your veins until you wanted to do what you do so well. I saw the way you looked at me, what you wanted to do to me. You were meant to live on the edge. You were meant to take what you want because you can. We can have it all. Together.”

Sean laughed. “Obviously you and Kurt aren’t so close that you can hit on me. And what about pretty boy over there?” He jerked his thumb toward Evan.

“Evan’s not my boyfriend. That’s just how I got him into Colton’s group.” She winked at Evan, who stood stone-faced five feet away. “Evan has his benefits. And Kurt—well, I can handle him. But you and me, Sean—”

“Have been over for nine years.”

He couldn’t deny that many of the jobs they’d worked together were exhilarating, but it wasn’t the same as when they were younger. And not once since moving to New York did he want to touch Skye.

“We had it all,” Skye lamented. “You were the smart one. You let Colton lead you around with all his pet projects, his causes, which you couldn’t have cared less about, but you did it because you looked up to him. He gave you praise you lapped up like an abused puppy, unlike your brother who banished you across country after one little indiscretion.”

“This has nothing to do with Duke.”

“It has everything to do with Duke! You left us because you needed his approval. You ran back home and begged for his forgiveness. Guilt ate you up. Kurt’s partner was weak, he killed himself, and you feel bad about that? Like you said, he took money from old people. You tried to toe the line, but how many times did Duke look at you with disapproval and you felt like shit inside? Like nothing you did would please him. You couldn’t redeem yourself in his eyes, no matter what you did or said. But you kept trying. And trying. Yet, the one time a friend asks for help and you give it without checking with big brother, he fires you.”

Skye was getting too close to Sean’s core feelings, and she knew it. He had to stop her from framing this discussion.

“You don’t know me. I came here for Colton, and you killed him.”

“Good riddance. He was a thorn. His causes made us no money. He lives on his trust from selling the one good thing he created, and expects us to be grateful for his handouts?”

“Colton cares about—”

“Don’t talk to me about caring! I cared about you, but you cared more about your brother who doesn’t even like or respect you. And where is he now? I heard what he said. He doesn’t believe you, baby. He knows inside you’re just like me.” She smiled.

“Kurt’s going to kill both me and Duke. You know it. And yet you stand here and try to tell me you care?” There was something else going on in that calculating mind of Skye’s.

She smirked. “I can stop him.”

Sean shook his head. “You have an inflated sense of power.”

“And you have none!” Skye pushed him. “Who do you think has been whispering in Kurt’s ear for the last five years? Who gave him his purpose after you took everything from him?” She grinned, her face flushed, and she looked crazy. Sean didn’t know Skye anymore. Or maybe he did, and that was even more terrifying. Because she would do whatever it took to get what she wanted. She always had.

“So why would I help you when he’s just going to kill me?”

“Kill you? He’s not going to kill you. He wants you to suffer. Death is too permanent. But I can fix it all because I control the money. Whose idea do you think it was to embezzle from his last employer? They were criminals, and I saw it a mile away. So right before the feds came down on them, I hid the money and Kurt turned whistle-blower. It was brilliant. I learned it from
you.
Deflection. So as soon as we get into the evidence locker, I’ll have the control. And it’s not like you have a choice. You’re wanted by the FBI.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Oh? Then maybe they haven’t found the dead federal agent in your apartment yet. Killed when you have no abili—because you were with Colton and now Colton is dead. No one to back you up. And then there’s that little thing about your gun … hmm, wonder where it is now, don’t you?” She smirked. “I think it’s off killing someone. And since no one knows where you are, it’s very easy to set you up for it.”

Sean’s blood ran cold. “None of this is going to work.”

“I don’t even care if you’re working for the FBI or against them or whatever idiotic plan you had in your head. You think your little girlfriend is going to take you back after this?” She laughed. “You are the best fall guy. You did everything I expected. Fell right in line.”

No way could Sean reason with Skye. He was going to have to play along. And hope that Noah and Rick didn’t believe whatever evidence had been fabricated.

And his gun. God, who had they killed with his gun?

“Do you think that breakfast this morning was just to feed you?”

His prints. His DNA. His presence in the house. They were setting him up in more ways than one.

Skye’s face lit up. “Oh, I have a brilliant idea. Come with me, partner.”

“I’m not your partner,” he said.

“Well, maybe not, but when the police raid the house, they’ll think you were involved from the beginning.” She leaned over and kissed him. He grabbed her wrist and squeezed. Her eyes flashed, but she smiled. She put her hand up to stop Evan from hitting him again.

“When I’m done with you, everyone, even your precious Lucy, will believe that you had this whole thing planned. Remember that. Stay in line, Sean.” She said to Evan, “Get the blueprints ready. Sean has a lot of homework.”

Evidence? What was she having him steal? She and Kurt LeGrand had stolen from Kurt’s employer—had they hidden the money in a place they couldn’t get it? A bank? And now they needed Sean to retrieve it? A bank job would take a lot of time and planning to set up. He hadn’t hacked into a bank in years.

Kurt LeGrand stepped into the room and glared at Sean. “We have to leave now.”

“He hasn’t even looked at the blueprints.”

“Pack it up. We have the vehicles running. The feds are on their way. Someone fucked up. It’s only a matter of time before they find this place. I’m not waiting for them.”

“What about Duke?” Skye asked.

“We’re torching the barn. That’ll keep the feds busy.”

Sean clenched his fists. “Don’t—I’ll do what you want. Don’t hurt Duke.”

“Who cares about your brother?”

“If he dies, I won’t lift a finger to help you.”

“Not even to save your girlfriend?”

LeGrand held up his cell phone. On the screen was a picture of Lucy, bound and gagged, unconscious. There was blood on her chest.

Sean literally saw red. He lunged for LeGrand and had his hands around his neck. “You touch her, I’ll kill you. I’ll—”

A sharp pain in his kidneys had him dropping to his knees. LeGrand kicked Sean in the chest and he fell over.

“Get him in the fucking truck,” LeGrand said, rubbing his neck. “We leave now.”

Sean’s stomach twisted in knots. “You have no idea who you’re fucking with,” he said through the pain.

“All I know is, I’m smarter and better prepared. By the time the feds figure it out, I’ll be so far out of their boundaries they won’t know where to start looking.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Rick Stockton stayed at FBI headquarters while Noah and Jack joined the SWAT unit headed to White Plains. He generally liked his job as an assistant director because he had a lot of authority and autonomy, but times like this he wished he were still in the field.

Rick joined Suzanne Madeaux to interview Joyce Bonner. Bonner had brought her attorney. Rick didn’t like it, but he would work around it.

“Ms. Bonner, I don’t generally interview suspects or witnesses,” he began. “I’m Assistant Director Rick Stockton from the national office. I hope you understand the severity of this situation and that you’ll cooperate fully.”

“Of course my client will cooperate,” her attorney, Harold Grove, said.

“Good,” Rick said. “I want to show you a tape.” He nodded to Suzanne, who played the tape of Joyce Bonner being beaten by her husband, then her husband being beaten by her father and Senator Paxton. Suzanne paused it right after the senator shot Thomas Lynch.

“My client wasn’t in the room when her husband was shot, and as you can see, she was under great duress. I’d like to authenticate the tape and we’ll—”

“Senator Paxton has already made a statement verifying the tape. He hired a group of thieves to steal the tape and everything else from your private safe at the pharmaceutical company. What I want to know is what were you working on with the senator.”

“My client—”

“Counselor,” Rick said, “enough. I know that a bio-toxin was taken from the lab. I have two missing civilians and a missing federal agent. I want my people back safe. I want to avert a potential act of domestic terrorism. I want the truth. I don’t have time to play legal games.”

He slid a piece of paper in front of Bonner and her attorney. “This gives limited immunity if you talk to me now. I’ll give you five minutes to read it and confer with your client. If you don’t sign it, we’ll be placing Ms. Bonner under arrest. If you do sign it, she’ll sleep in her own bed tonight.”

“My client wants full immunity—”

“I’m not prepared to grant her full immunity.” Rick stood up. “Five minutes.”

He left. Suzanne followed. He said to her, “I need you to lead the team at the FBI evidence locker in Brooklyn. That’s where the Avery and Block documents are stored. Figure out what they want and call me.”

She stared at him as if he’d asked her to fly to the moon. “I—sir—I don’t know where to start.”

“My head analyst, Dorothy Conner, will meet you there. She’s not an agent; she doesn’t have a gun; you will protect her with your life.”

“Of course.”

“She spent hours with Lucy yesterday. I think she’ll know what they want when she sees it.”

Suzanne left, and Rick went back into the interview room. Bonner was arguing with her lawyer.

“Your five minutes is up.” Rick sat back down and stared at them.

“Against my advice, my client is agreeing to the limited immunity.”

With a shaking hand, Bonner signed the paper. Rick put it back in his file.

“What bio-toxin did they steal and what is the potential damage?”

Bonner said, “From what I could determine from my research partner, they took a supply of mycotoxin. It’s not a bio-weapon; we use it for cancer research.”

She avoided looking at him and Rick knew she was holding something back.

“It’s not dangerous unless it’s ingested or injected,” she said. “It can’t be used as a weapon of mass destruction.”

“Unless it gets into the water supply.”

“They don’t have enough.”

“What exactly do they have?”

“Half a liter. It’s highly concentrated.”

“Tell me why Senator Paxton wanted prisoner codes and locations.”

Her eyes widened. “What? You know? Why these games if you already knew?”

It became clear to Rick. That must have been the information on the chip that Sean stole from Paxton. Bonner got cold feet and shut down the project. Paxton didn’t trust her, so he hired Colton to retrieve the tape and any documentation about their plan.

Rick pieced it together. “Senator Paxton wanted you to develop the poison so he could mass-poison sex offenders. How?”

“Don’t answer that,” her attorney said.

Bonner’s bottom lip quivered.

Rick slapped his palms on the metal table.
“How!”

“Through vaccines. We have the contract to provide tuberculosis vaccines for the federal prison system. Jonathan had obtained a list of sex offenders, and we were working on a fail-safe vaccine that would kill them and make it look like food poisoning. But I told him they would trace it to us, and he said he’d protect the company, but I don’t think he cared anymore.”

“He doesn’t,” Rick said. “He has tunnel vision. So you threatened him with the tape.”

“He was so good to me, Mr. Stockton. My husband—I would have been dead if it weren’t for Jonathan. He’s my godfather. When Monique disappeared, he became like my second father. But when he found out what happened to her, he changed. He’s not bad; he’s grieving. What’s going to happen to him?”

“Ms. Bonner, focus on this toxin. How can they use it to hurt the greatest number of people?”

She frowned as she thought. “A small water supply, like a water tank. Injections. Up to two thousand people. But if they tried for a bigger target, they would dilute it to the point where people might get sick, but no one would die.”

Rick was marginally relieved, though he suspected that LeGrand had a specific target in mind and knew exactly how much mycotoxin he needed.

“What are the symptoms?”

“Similar to mushroom poisoning, though we genetically altered the toxin to be more resistant to environmental factors for transport. Victims would succumb to stomach cramps, vomiting, muscle atrophy, organ failure, and death.”