Принцесса фениксов. Допрыгалась?. Ольга Янышева
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Saunders. If what the man said was true, all kinds of federal laws have been broken. But the reason she’d pleaded with her superior to be assigned to the case was the fact it involved children, her specialty.
Benson cleared his throat. “Now that Saunders is here in Denver and settled into a safe house, we need more. He has additional information he’s promised the marshals in St. Louis once he was out of the area. That office went to a great deal of trouble to make it look like Saunders escaped the police so Saunders could maintain his ties with the organization. He insisted on coming to Denver because of some contact he has here. He told them he has a good reason and would tell us when he safely arrives. He has arrived. Time to question the man, and if he’s bluffing, call him on it if he wants to remain in WitSec.”
“I heard from my boss there was an incident yesterday in St. Louis. What happened? Will that affect his usefulness within the organization?” Shifting toward Colton, Lisette peered at him, wiping any kind of expression from her face. She’d learned to shut down her emotions. She couldn’t make a mistake like her mother, a former FBI agent, had. Emotions could get in Lisette’s way of doing the best job possible. Her mom had been accused of taking dirty money from a crime scene and then later not backing up her partner. When she’d tried to talk to her mother right after it happened, she wouldn’t say much at all, leaving Lisette to think the worst—her mom had betrayed her partner and the FBI.
“A couple of guys interrupted our transport to the airport. I talked with Marshal McCall in St. Louis this morning. They have interrogated the three men involved in the wreck and run background checks. There doesn’t appear to be any connection to the criminal elements in St. Louis. The marshals are digging deeper to make sure the trio is exactly what they claim to be. We have to assume at this time they are what they say and proceed forward if we’re going to use Saunders’s contact in Denver.”
“Who are the people involved in the wreck?” Lisette kept her gaze trained on the cleft in Colton’s chin, chancing only an occasional glance at his eyes, which were a beautiful sky-blue—attention grabbing. I never call a man’s eyes “attention grabbing.” What in the world is going on here?
Colton zeroed in on her. “The two in the white truck are ranchers who were in St. Louis yesterday on business. The guy in the Mustang works at a hospital and was late for his shift.”
“Or so they say. With enough money and expertise a background and identity can be built. You all do it all the time.” Lisette lifted her gaze to his, as intense and direct as he was. She could play this game—she could see he was trying to exert his dominance over her early on in their partnership.
“We had him at a safe house in St. Louis—not the U.S. Marshals’ office. A limited amount of people knew about him even within the U.S. Marshals Service, so it’s not likely he was compromised.”
“Could Don Saunders have orchestrated an escape somehow?”
“Again not likely. It’s not as if he had access to a phone at the safe house or as if he ever left the place. The only time he made calls was to support the story that he got away. Those calls were monitored.”
“Cell phones are small and can be concealed,” Lisette said, aware that suddenly it was as if she and Colton were the only two in the office, that his supervisor was a bystander following their conversation. “If he wasn’t kept in a jail cell, he had some freedom at the house. I doubt they had eyes on him twenty-four hours a day.”
Colton shifted toward her, his large hands clasping the arms of the chair. “I was one of his guards that last day in St. Louis. He was thoroughly checked for a cell. I’ve been doing this for years. I know my job.” A grin flirted with the corners of his mouth for a few seconds before becoming full-fledged.
“But if he has been compromised in any way, our chance to find out more about this organization and catch the others involved will vanish. A smuggling ring like this can’t exist. Children are involved.” She hadn’t meant for the last sentence to come out so vehemently, but she’d never forget her first case with the FBI—a child abduction that didn’t end well. It left a mark on her that she’d never be able to erase, especially since her younger sister had died of SIDS when Lisette was a child. There had been a time she’d wanted a family—children. Now she found that focusing entirely on her career was safer for her emotionally. It was too hard for her to depend on others who could let her down.
Dead seriousness replaced his smile. Colton sat forward, closer to her. “I know exactly what’s at stake with this case.”
He snared her attention as though trying to read her mind. Silence ruled. Tension charged the air. Her voice had given her away. Had she revealed something else in her expression?
Marshal Benson coughed. “You have a drive ahead of you. Hash it out in the car. We’re lead on this case, Agent Sutton, but we value the FBI’s input.”
In other words, Marshal Colton Phillips would run the show. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t make her views known. She had six years of experience in the FBI, and before that, she’d been a police officer. “Who is Saunders’s contact in Denver? And is this going to help us?” Lisette dragged her gaze from Colton and directed her question to his boss.
Before the man could open his mouth, Colton answered, “That’s what we’re going to the safe house to find out.” He stood. “I’ll bring the car around front.”
He left his supervisor’s office without a backward glance toward Lisette. The atmosphere defused with his departure.
She’d heard Colton was a maverick who often got results by acting and thinking outside the box. She had serious misgivings about working with someone like that. She’d even considered asking her superior to assign another FBI agent when she’d heard who her partner would be. But she couldn’t walk away, not when children were involved. That overrode all misgivings she had about her partner for this case. Which left her working with the type of law enforcement officer she tried to steer clear of. Her mother had been like that, doing whatever it took to get the job done, and she’d ended up discredited. She resigned from the FBI not long after Lisette had graduated from the FBI Academy at Quantico. It was not a stellar way to start her career—the daughter of a disgraced agent who hadn’t backed up her partner and had been suspected of taking money from a crime scene.
She stiffened her spine. She would make the best of a bad situation and rise above any shortcoming Colton Phillips might have. Then she remembered something else she’d heard about the man: he got results so the U.S. Marshals Service tolerated him.
She wanted to be more than just tolerated. She wanted to prove not all Suttons were the same. She wasn’t anything like her mother.
“Agent Sutton, Marshal Phillips is a bit unorthodox, but he does get the job done. After you two get the rest of the information from Saunders, we can then decide the best way to proceed. My children are teenagers, but it wasn’t that long ago they were babies. One crime that bothers me more than anything is one against a child. We need to get the people behind this ring.”
Lisette rose, gripping the straps of her purse. “I totally agree. If Saunders has any info, we’ll get it out of him.”
Marshal Benson pushed to his feet and stretched his arm across the desk. “We don’t have a lot of time to play with here. According to Saunders, something is going down soon.”
Lisette shook his hand. “I understand. Good day.”
She took the stairs to the first floor and exited the building, scanning the cars for Colton. A honk sounded in the early morning, drawing her attention. The man climbed from a black Firebird—obviously not a U.S. Marshals Service’s vehicle. The highly polished car gleamed in the sunlight.
She approached him. “I’m surprised this Firebird isn’t red.”
“I thought about that, but I didn’t want to be too obvious. I’ve got to blend into traffic sometimes.” He started to round the front. “Let’s go.”
She watched him. “You want me to drive?”