[Quinn 02] - The Deceived

“Not gas, then?”

“No,” Quinn said.

“Intentional?”

“I tripped a switch,” Quinn said, recalling the click as he’d been opening the bathroom window. “My guess is it was on a timer anyway. The booby trap was a backup in case someone tried to get in the house.” Quinn knew there was no way the suits in the Volvo would have left the house intact. They needed to destroy it and cover their tracks. “What did you find out?”

“Jennifer Fuentes is listed as the current owner of the house.”

“What about the history?”

“That was a bit more difficult. The files had been flagged, which meant a higher level of security was added to them.”

“Really?” Quinn said, interested.

“Nothing too drastic. I used a few of the tricks Orlando taught me, and got in.”

“Did you trigger any tracers?”

“I found a trace program, but I bypassed it. Too risky to figure out who it was set to notify, but I could tell it wasn’t anyone at the county records office.”

“What did you find?” Quinn asked.

“The previous owners were Bradley and Gabriella Fuentes. Jennifer got the house four and a half years ago. Title transfer only, not a sale.”

“Her parents?” Quinn asked.

“I checked her medical records. Again, added security and a tracer.”

“And?” Quinn asked.

“Her parents are listed as Miguel and Cecilia Fuentes.”

“Not Bradley and Gabriella.”

“No. They’re her grandparents,” Nate said. “Bradley passed away eight years ago. Gabriella followed three years later.”

Quinn nodded to himself. Now the house made sense. Jenny had inherited it. “Good work. What about the car?”

“Stolen plates. Came off a Camry.”

No surprise there. “I need you to check someone out for me.”

“Okay.”

“A woman named Tasha Laver.”

“You got anything else on her?”

“Early thirties at most. About five-six, in decent shape. Might live in Houston, but that’s not a for sure.”

“That’s it?”

“She claims to have gone to college with Jenny. Says they’re old friends.”

“I’ll see what I can come up with,” Nate said.

“Anything else for me? The message? The photos I sent you?”

“The photos are running through the system. And I’m still nowhere with the message.”

“You’re just full of useful information, aren’t you?”

“I’m doing this by myself, you know,” Nate said. “I did ask for help, but if you recall, you said no.”

“Relax, Nate. Do the check on Tasha Laver first, then go back to decoding.”

“Sure. Fine. Whatever.”

Quinn called Orlando next, but was routed straight to her voice mail. He left a quick message, then hung up.

He rubbed his hands across his face, pulling the skin tight against his cheeks and jaw, then slipped his fingers up to his temples and began rubbing up and down. A low-grade headache had settled in like a cloud, hovering just below his skull but focused in no particular place.

Part of it was due to his lack of sleep, he knew that. The hour-and-a-half nap he’d been able to grab on the plane had not been enough. But the bigger part, the thrust that was pounding hardest, was due to Markoff and Jenny. The uncertainty, the anger, the wanting to be able to do more.

He stretched out on the bed, thinking at first that if he just closed his eyes for a few moments he might be able to recharge a little. But before a minute had passed, he was deep asleep.

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