The irony was Brody might not even believe me, but I had to try. I owed that to the Bureau, didn’t I? If not that, then I owed it to the men and women who might be hurt if I said nothing. People Carlos might hurt.
I headed straight for Brody’s office, on a mission. Praying I could do this. Needing to stay silent. It was like flipping a coin into the air and finding out which side you wanted it to land on. Heads, and you finally, finally found someone in the world who understood you. Who accepted you. Tails, and you were responsible for his execution. Fuck.
“Sam?”
I didn’t have time for Lance. I waved, trying to put him off. He refused.
“I need to talk to you,” he said urgently.
“I have a meeting with Brody.” My voice sounded unnatural. Flat. Was this really me?
Dissociation. Another fancy term the textbooks were fond of using. But one thing I’d figured out about labels early on: naming something didn’t actually help you fix it. That was really all psychology was. It catalogued mental diseases, made neat little charts with symptoms and checkboxes. It couldn’t cure a damn thing—least of all me.
Lance touched my elbow. “Please. It’s about Hennessey.”
That got my attention. “What about him?”
He cocked his head toward a corner, and I followed him there, feeling numb and unafraid. The worst thing had already happened. Nothing else could faze me. At least, that was what I thought until he spoke.
“Hennessey is in trouble.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What kind of trouble?”
Lance wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“Shit. What did you do?”
He flushed. “I started digging, that’s all. I wanted to know more about him. Make sure everything was on the up-and-up.”
Oh God. Everything wasn’t on the up-and-up. Had Lance figured that out as well? That would save me from having to tell Brody. But I found, inexplicably, that the idea of Hennessey being caught horrified me. Carlos was one thing, an abstract evil who’d done everything in his power to maintain that image. But Hennessey was a real person. A man. And I loved him.
How was it possible? I didn’t know. How was it possible to kill and rape and steal and do a thousand other illegal things that Carlos had done? I didn’t have the answer to that either, but despite all that, because of all that, the biggest travesty still seemed to be loving a madman.
Lance was going on about the timetables lining up, and I cringed, knowing what was coming.
“So look. I’m really sorry, but there’s some pretty strong evidence that he’s been in Carlos’s pocket the whole time. Helping him evade arrest. Maybe even helping him kidnap you.”
He didn’t know. He thought Hennessey was just helping Carlos, which was pretty reasonable if he found some evidence linking them. He wouldn’t know they were the same man, though. We didn’t have enough surveillance to be sure of that. There were only grainy pictures that might or might not be him. Most of the people who had done business with him and seen him in person were dead now.
Except Mia.
No wonder he hadn’t wanted to go question her. It wasn’t because she wouldn’t have anything useful to say. It was because she’d know. She would recognize him.
“What evidence?” I asked Lance, stalling for time. Would I tell Brody what I knew? Combined with whatever Lance had already found, it would almost surely be enough for an arrest. And a search warrant, which might uncover the truth. Even as an accomplice, he was looking at serious jail time.
“Hennessey tipped him off about the raid. Both times, probably. But the second one we know for sure.”
“How?” Panic began a steady thrum in my chest.
He glanced toward the hallway and Brody’s office, but it was empty. His eyes filled with anxiety. “I’m not even supposed to be telling you this, but he’s going to be in that meeting with you and Brody. That’s when it’s going to come out. They’re going to pull guys in, in case he tries to flee. But it might get dicey. I didn’t want you walking in blind.”
Oh Jesus. “I appreciate you cluing me in, but you’re accusing my partner of flipping on us. On me. I need to hear exactly what proof you have, and I need to know it now.”
“Brody had me pull the cell tower records for the call you made while you were…”
“Kidnapped,” I said flatly.
“Right. The phone was a throwaway, of course, but we wanted to see if anyone else had called that number, maybe get lucky with a lead. There was only one number that had called. Repeatedly. Another throwaway, but when we called it last night…” Oh God. I remembered hearing the phone ring. I remembered him ignoring it. “We were able to locate the cell tower it was closest to. The one right next to Hennessey’s hotel. I had the address because I’d looked it up for you.” He cringed, looking guilty. “I showed it to Brody this morning. He basically shit himself, and he’s been on the rampage ever since. It’s going to be bad.”