After lunch Sean walked into the small US Marshals’ office in the San Antonio federal courthouse. His contact was Marshal John Jimenez, who had facilitated meetings between Sean and Jesse during the year Jesse was in WITSEC. He was privy to the Spades’ new arrangement with the FBI in Sacramento, and Jesse’s visitation with Sean this summer. Though the marshals’ office considered the threat level against the Spades low, they were keeping the file open. After all, Carson Spade had worked for a brutal criminal organization for years. Sean’s brother Duke had installed security in the Spade house in Sacramento, and Sean had tested it vigorously. Nothing was foolproof, but it was better than most home-based security systems.
“Thanks for meeting me, John,” Sean said.
“You didn’t give me a choice, did you?” John motioned toward the coffeepot in the reception.
“No thanks, and I really do appreciate your time.”
John poured himself a cup and sipped. “I need ten minutes, Mags,” he said to the administrator. Mags Cortez scared Sean. She looked at him as if she could read his mind, which would rarely be a good thing. She ran the office and the four deputy marshals permanently assigned here. The director position was open, and had been for most of the time Sean had known John.
John closed the door to the conference room and sat down. Sean followed suit. John had Jesse’s file in front of him.
“I can’t give you the threat assessment, Sean. I told you that last month, and nothing has changed.”
“Jesse and I were followed yesterday when we left the Rib House. I lost the tail and haven’t seen them since. And I’ll admit—it might have something to do with my business, and not Carson Spade, but I need to cover all bases here. I’m working with my people at RCK on our own internal threat assessment, but this situation could be related to Spade.”
“Jose Flores is the lone survivor of the Flores cartel,” John said, “and our contacts at the DEA are confident that the entire cartel has disbanded. Other cartels are gaining strength—as I’m sure you know, considering your brother’s work—but they wouldn’t be out for Spade’s hide. The destruction of the Flores cartel gave them a bigger share of the pie, so what would be the reason?”
“Kane’s making sure that Jose Flores is truly retired,” Sean said, choosing his words carefully. “But you and I both know that Carson Spade was up to his eyeballs in money laundering. He may not have been completely honest with you.” Spade was a liar, and Sean had been suspicious of him from the beginning. That hadn’t changed.
“I can’t talk to you about his plea agreement.”
“Which was bullshit,” Sean muttered.
John didn’t say anything.
“I manipulated the tail into running a red light at Military and Roosevelt. There’s a red-light camera on the corner.” He slid over his business card with the time of the breach, and make and model of the car. “I can’t legally get this information, but you can.”
John picked up the card and sighed. He put it on top of his folder. “I can’t give you the information, Sean. But I can pull up their images and run them against the criminal database. If something pops that may indicate that there is a threat, I’ll call you.”
“That’s all I’m asking.”
“How’s Jesse?”
“Great. Irritated that I have him on house arrest today until I get this figured out.”
“You left him alone?”
“He’s well protected.” Kane had arrived right on time, and they reviewed external security just to be certain Sean’s system was functioning properly. But Sean wouldn’t leave Jesse with just anyone.
John sipped his coffee. “We wouldn’t have supported the move out of WITSEC if there was a viable threat against any member of the family. You know that, right?”
Sean conceded the point. John was a good guy—a stellar record, former military, and smart. “I don’t trust Carson Spade. He hated the arrangement from the beginning. I can’t help but think he either didn’t know everyone he could have pissed off, or he didn’t tell the US Attorney everything.”
“I wouldn’t go around making accusations you can’t back up.”
“It’s my gut telling me something was off about what happened last night.”
“They must not have been very good if you picked up on them.”
“No front license plate. Dark sedan. Tinted windows. Two burly guys in the front seat. Yeah, definitely flagged for me. They weren’t amateurs, but they weren’t professionals. I don’t think they wanted me to see them, but they didn’t back off when I did.”
“Who have you angered recently?”
The question angered Sean because he didn’t think the tail had anything to do with his work, but it was still a valid point.
He said, “You heard about the human-trafficking ring that went through San Antonio a few months back.”
“I did.”
“My wife was involved in that operation, and I had a peripheral role through RCK.” No reason to give John too many details of RCK’s role in shutting down Zimmerman’s human pipeline. “Most of the low-level operatives are in prison, they don’t worry me. Most of the high-level operatives are dead. But there’s always one, isn’t there?”
“Prison?”
“He wasn’t granted bail—a small miracle—pending trial. I’ve already put a call into the right people to find out if he’s been making calls and to who.”
“You have a lot of friends.”
“When I need to protect my family, I’ll call in every chit I have.”
“Can I give you some advice?”
“Do I have a choice?”
John smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You’ve been in security for a long time. You know what you’re doing. But you also have only three more weeks with your son. Don’t let this cloud your time with him. Be cautious, but have fun.”
* * *
The more Sean thought about it, the more he thought that Carson Spade was somehow responsible for yesterday’s tail. It was the only thing that made sense. If Spade hadn’t been honest with the marshals, then there could be a threat they weren’t prepared for. The family had been officially out of WITSEC for six weeks—more than enough time for the bad guys to figure it out and trace them.
He called FBI ASAC Dean Hooper on his way back to the house. Dean was a longtime friend of the Rogans. Kane had known his wife long before Dean came into the picture, when Sonia was an undercover ICE agent. When a threat emerged against Sonia and her family, Sean and Duke had provided bodyguard protection. They’d met Dean and had been close ever since.
“Rogan? Can I put you on hold a sec?”
“Sure.” Sean had called Dean on his cell phone—he didn’t need this call going through FBI channels.
Still, Dean was one of those straitlaced FBI agents that generally made Sean squirm. If they hadn’t had a history, Sean didn’t think he and Dean would like each other very much. Sean tended to skirt the law while Dean was diligent in upholding it. He had worked out of FBI main headquarters for years in the White Collar Crimes Division, moving to Sacramento so that he could marry Sonia, whose career and family kept her in Northern California. Though the relocation had necessitated giving up his assistant directorship, it seemed that over the last few years he’d become the point person for white-collar investigations and consulted with FBI offices all over the country. That Carson Spade was put on probation in Sacramento was no surprise—not only did it put him under the purview of one of the smartest FBI white-collar crime agents Sean had ever met, it kept Jesse close to the Rogan side of the family. A win–win.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Dean said when he finally picked up the phone.
Dean sounded busy, so Sean got to the point. “I think Carson Spade is up to something. I can’t put my finger on what. Last night Jesse and I were followed coming out of a restaurant. I’m not working on anything big right now, I don’t think it’s my job.”
“Do you have any evidence?”
“Instincts.”
“I trust your instincts, Sean, more than most. But it’s a big leap from ‘I’m being followed’ to ‘Carson Spade is up to something illegal.’”
“I want to set up a sting.”
“Whoa. Stop right there.”
“Look, he hasn’t changed his stripes. I know it, you know it.”
“I know nothing of the sort.”
“If he’s not up to something, then he wasn’t honest with the US Attorney and he has more enemies than we know.”
“We have no evidence that he wasn’t completely honest.”
“He’s a good liar.”
“Sean, you’re grasping at straws. You’re letting your emotions cloud your judgment.”
Sean tensed. “That’s not it.”
“I get it, Sean—Carson Spade is guilty of a multitude of crimes, he put Jesse and your family in harm’s way. I know this is difficult for you, but if Spade’s attorney gets wind that you’re accusing him of a new crime, everything goes back into the courts and I won’t have any leverage. He could argue any number of points, including a conflict of interest because of our friendship. If Spade is transferred out of my jurisdiction, I have no way of keeping an eye on him.”
Sean knew that Dean had done everything in his power to keep Spade in Sacramento, but his instincts were rarely wrong, even when his emotions were involved.
“So he’s done everything you’ve asked?”
“I can’t talk to you about the terms of his probation. You know that.” Now Dean sounded angry. Sean didn’t want to make him mad, but this was his son’s life.
“I’ll bet if you dangle a carrot, he’ll go for it. If he thinks he can get away with it.”
“You cannot dangle any carrot, Rogan,” Dean said sharply. “You’re too close to this. And I get it—he put your son in danger. I don’t like the guy. But so far, he has met every term of his probation. I can’t accuse him of breaking the agreement when I have no evidence, and I can’t let you of all people set him up. This isn’t a closed FBI operation. The marshals are involved. RCK has a lot of leeway because of Rick Stockton; that doesn’t transcend to other branches of law enforcement.”
“I get that, but—”
“Have you considered that Carson or Madison hired a private investigator to follow you? Madison gave you liberal visitation rights when she didn’t have to—she could have tied you up in court until Jesse was eighteen. What if she’s having second thoughts? Or wants to make sure her son is okay? She’s been through a lot in the last year.”
Sean didn’t have a lot of sympathy for his ex-girlfriend. She’d lied to him for years. She never told him she was pregnant. When she first asked for help in finding Jesse, she didn’t even tell him that Jesse was his son—he knew it only after he saw the boy’s photo. Jesse looked just like Sean. Hair a little lighter, skin tone a bit darker, but Jesse had the same deep-blue eyes that Sean and Kane shared. She couldn’t deny it then. Still, forgiveness was hard, because Sean had missed out on the first twelve years of his son’s life, and then lost him again to witness protection for a year. It was only now that he could finally have a relationship with his only child.
“Maybe I should just ask her.”
“Or not.”
“She won’t lie to me again.”
“I wish I had your confidence in everything, Rogan.”
“It’s my gut, Dean. She feels guilty for keeping Jesse from me, she won’t lie to me. She’ll justify it, but she won’t lie.”
“Your call.”
“And Spade?”
“You’re still going with this?”
What could he say? He wanted to take him down, but Dean was right. If Sean’s fingers were anywhere near a sting, Spade could use Sean’s personal involvement against him. Sean didn’t want to risk never seeing Jesse again.
“Just … please watch him closely, Dean. You’re the fucking smartest cop I’ve ever known. If you think something is up, you’ll do something about it.”
Dean sighed. “Sean—look. I can’t talk to you about Spade or anything that we’re working on. But I’ll take your warning to heart, okay? Let me handle this. I’m going to pretend this call was solely personal. Sonia is doing great, thanks for asking.”
“Give her a kiss for me.”
Sean hung up and called Madison before he could change his mind. She answered on the second ring.
“Sean?”
“Hi, Madison.”
“Is Jesse okay?”
“Of course. We’ve been having a blast.”
“Can I talk to him?”
“I’m not home.”
“You left him home alone? After everything he’s been through?” Her voice rose in pitch.
“He’s with Kane.”
“Oh.”
Sean could hear her biting her nails. “Madison, Jesse is great and I’ll bring him home two weeks from Sunday, just like I promised.”
“I know. I just miss him. A lot.”
“You talk to him almost every day.”
“It’s not the same thing.”
“No, it’s not—and I’m glad you recognize that, Madison.”
“How many times do I have to tell you I’m sorry?”
“I don’t want to fight, Madison.” His heart wouldn’t be in it. “I know you’re sorry.”
“Okay. Good.”
“Did you hire a private investigator to check up on Jesse?”
“No, why would I?”
“Because you don’t trust me.”
“Trust you? What has that got to do with anything?”
She sounded confused, and Sean didn’t think she had any knowledge of the tail. But it was harder knowing whether someone was lying if you weren’t face-to-face.
“Someone followed me yesterday. I thought maybe you’d hired a PI to, I don’t know, catch me doing something or whatever. I don’t know how you think, I just know you weren’t happy about Jesse wanting to spend so much time with me.”
“Someone followed you? Who? Why?”
“I’ll find out.”
“Is Jesse okay?”
“I told you he was.”
“Maybe I should come out there.”
Odd. She didn’t ask Sean to send Jesse back, but she wanted to come to San Antonio?
“Go right ahead, but you’re not staying at the house. This is my time with Jesse, and I’m spending every available minute with him.”
“I know. I get it, Sean, and I really am sorry.”
This time, she sounded sincere.
“I’ll have Jesse call you tonight.”
“Thanks.”
He ended the call as he drove into his neighborhood.
Madison was a good liar, but he didn’t think she was lying about hiring a PI. How could he be sure?
And of course that didn’t mean that Carson Spade didn’t hire someone. Men like Spade had a lot of shady friends.
Sean would get to the bottom of it, and if Spade was behind it he would skewer him.