trade and spoke Spanish fluently. Yardley was still noncommittal, but I asked him to do me a favor. I vouched for Robby, and Yardley said he’d review the file again. Next thing I know, Robby tells me Yardley’s giving it a ‘go’ based on Sebastian’s recommendation.”
“So this undercover op was in Napa?” Vail asked.
“Your trip to Napa was a setup from the start. When I ordered you to take a vacation, I’d already planned to tell you to get out of town, based on all you went through with Dead Eyes. But when the shootout happened in front of the White House with Danny Michael Yates, it was an added bonus because it gave me an obvious and immediate reason to tell you to take time off.”
“Going to Napa was Robby’s idea,” Vail said, half to herself. “And Sebastian arranged those wine cave tickets . . . ”
“Certain details of his op, what he was doing, who he was meeting with, were classified,” Gifford said. He stopped, looked down at the desk.
“You knew all along and you didn’t say anything,” Vail said. She rose from her seat and leaned both palms on the desk. “Do you know what I’ve been through? And this—this bullshit about coming home for the Rayshawn Shines case—”
“That was true. Sort of. We do need you working the Shines case, and we are shorthanded. But I also didn’t want you poking around anymore. You’re too damn good, Karen. I was afraid the longer you were there, the greater the chance you’d figure out what was going on.”
“Son of a bitch.” Vail held his gaze, refusing to blink.
“Karen,” DeSantos said. “Take a breath.”
“Sit down,” Gifford said, one word at a time. “And get yourself under control.”
Vail ground her molars but didn’t move. DeSantos placed a hand on Vail’s forearm, but she shook it aside, then took her time returning to her chair.
“You could have trusted me,” she said. “You could’ve told me what was going on.”
“All I know is that it was dangerous. I didn’t want to take any chances. It’s undercover, for Christ’s sake. I shouldn’t have to explain this to you.”
Vail sighed deeply. “But if we hadn’t found that vic in the wine cave, if the Crush Killer hadn’t—”
“Robby said he had it all worked out. There were times when you’d be busy. He told me he booked a massage and some spa time for you. During those hours, he was off with Sebastian meeting their contact. According to Yardley, he also got called out during the night—he left, met with Sebastian and the contact, and was back before you woke up.”
Vail shook her head. “If only you’d told me you knew where he was and that everything was okay . . . ”
“Would you really have been satisfied with that?”
Vail took a moment to answer. “No. But at least I would’ve known.”
DeSantos shifted himself in his chair. “If all he had were those two meets, where was he when Karen was trying to reach him the day they caught John Mayfield?”
“According to Yardley, the meet with their contact went extremely well,” Gifford said. “The guy took to him. So Yardley let him continue. And since you were busy with the Crush Killer, he knew you weren’t going to be a problem.”
“So that’s what I was, a problem?”
“For an undercover op,” DeSantos said, “yeah, you’d be a problem.”
Vail shook her head. “I can’t believe this. He lied to me. Robby lied to me.”
Gifford leaned both elbows on his desk. “Karen, be realistic about this. Robby was prepped to make one appearance, to meet with this one contact. He hoped it could lead to something permanent with DEA so he could build his resume. But he did a great job and it worked. Yardley was impressed. All I know is that he was granted emergency TFO—task force officer—status. My guess is that circumstances dictated that he go deep. And when you go deep undercover—”
“He left, without telling me. He disappeared.”
“More than that I don’t know.”
Vail shook her head slowly. Almost to herself, she said, “That would certainly explain the delay in getting Robby’s cell phone logs.”
“Don’t expect those records anytime soon,” Gifford said. “Obviously, there’ll be calls to and from sensitive targets. DEA’s got that data locked down tight.”
Vail brought a hand to her mouth. “Oh my God. Oh my God—” She rose from the chair and nearly knocked it backward. She grabbed both temples.
“What’s wrong?” DeSantos asked.
She turned to Gifford and pointed. “Get the name of the contact, of the guy Robby and Sebastian were meeting.”
Gifford chuckled. “Were you not listening? I can’t get that information. It’s classified.”
“Bullshit. Call Yardley, tell him you need to know.”
“He won’t tell me, Karen,” Gifford said. He shrugged. “He won’t.”
“I’ll get the name,” DeSantos said. “You have a secure line I can use?”
Gifford reached over and pulled a phone from a drawer. He handed the receiver to DeSantos. “Who are you calling?”
“The director. He’ll have a chat with the DEA administrator, and he’ll get us the name.”
Gifford held up a hand. “Above my rank. Good luck with that.”
DeSantos punched in the numbers. “Keep your fingers crossed.”
44
Vail watched while DeSantos began his quest to track down FBI director Douglas Knox. As he waited for Knox to take his call, Vail’s BlackBerry buzzed. She thought about whether to answer, noticed it was Dixon, and grabbed it as she moved out of Gifford’s office. Dixon . . . pretty early in California. Must be important.
“Roxx,” Vail said, “you’re not going to believe—”
“Are you near a computer?”
“I can be. What’s going on?”
“Don’t laugh,” Dixon said. “But I want you to go to YouTube.”
“No, wait. I’ve got some news for you.”
“Listen to me. Open it up and type in ‘Lugo confession.’”
Vail continued down the hall and slipped into her office. Sat at her desk and tapped on her keyboard. Opened YouTube. “Okay, typing in ‘Lugo confession.’”
“Scroll down. See Ray’s face?”
“Scrolling,” Vail said. “Wait—did you say Ray’s face? Lugo
“Just find the video.”
Vail passed the thumbnail that displayed Lugo’s image, then fingered her mouse wheel and clicked on the video. “Got it.”
“Turn up your speakers.”
Vail pressed Pause, then said, “Wait, what am I watching? Where’d this come from?”
“WITSEC approval came through for Merilynn Lugo. Surprised the shit out of me—out of everyone. Just guessing here, but maybe they figured that since Mayfield and Cannon are still alive, there was still a reasonable threat against her. When I met the U.S. Marshals Service at her place, she handed me a piece of paper with the name of this video written on it. Now just watch it.”
As she moved her mouse toward the link, she noticed that it said, in fine print,
“Yes, right before we caught Mayfield. Press Play.”
Vail did as instructed. As on the DVD, Ray Lugo’s face appeared onscreen, in a dimly lit room. The image jerked a bit, the result of a low-quality webcam. “If you’re watching this, it means I’m dead. Hopefully, I was successful in taking out the man who’s made my life a living hell. I don’t know his name, but he’s someone who
