carefully.”
“I didn’t know you were involved in his original investigation.”
“I wasn’t directly, but I know the family. Hunt was in charge, but he was removed from the day-to-day management because he was hiding out in Mexico after the state indicted him. He lost control, and he knows it deep down, but I doubt he has acknowledged it to himself or to people who work for him. Remember—according to what we learned about Nicole Rollins, Hunt orchestrated every move in her early life so she could infiltrate the DEA for the purposes of building their family drug operation. He’s not stupid, he thinks multiple steps ahead. Family is very important to him, use your maiden name. Don’t let him know you’re a Kincaid—you won’t get anything out of him, and you’ll put yourself on his radar.”
“Point taken. I still use Elliott at work and it’s on my business cards.”
“Good. While he’s smart—cunning, methodical, a detailed planner—he’s also a narcissist. He’s blind to his faults. His primary fault is that he’s a coward. Not in the traditional sense—I don’t think he would shy away from violence or from making bold moves—but remember that he fled the country to avoid prosecution, leaving his family to pick up the pieces. No one knew about Nicole, but his wife was left having to deal with the FBI, the local cops, the IRS, a whole host of issues. And he was in Mexico having fun and running his drug empire from afar. I think he prefers that than to running the business day to day. And we destroyed it.”
“He’s angry.”
“Very. He’s in prison, which makes him bitter. The agreement with the DEA to testify against this hit man? He’s not doing it out of the kindness of his heart. He’s not even doing it for a reduced plea—I looked at his record, he’s serving life in California because he was convicted of conspiracy to kill a peace officer. He didn’t pull the trigger, but he ordered it done. There’s another reason for him to testify, but I don’t know enough about the case to know what it is. Revenge? Maybe. But it makes me very nervous that he’s in Texas right now, even if he’s behind bars.”
“I have all the files from the recent trial, I’ll look for something. I’m meeting with the AUSA when I get to Houston, he seemed cooperative when I talked to him. My flight’s boarding, I need to go.”
“Be careful, Megan.”
“You too, Lucy. For what it’s worth, I’m confident that we’ll prove Sean innocent.”
“Thank you. I needed that.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
CHAMBERS COUNTY, TEXAS
Beaumont was ninety miles from Houston, but they were stuck in traffic getting out of the city. Once they reached the city limits, they cruised comfortably.
If being shackled and chained in a prison bus could be considered comfortable.
Sean had gone through every possible scenario as to why he was being transferred and nothing made sense. His lawyer would have told him if it was a possibility. If there had been a threat against him, someone would have said something, right?
He didn’t know. He could barely think. He hadn’t slept. He was tired and scared.
He hated being scared.
Sean stared out the window. There was minimal traffic on I-10. A narrow frontage road—probably the old highway—ran parallel. Lots of open space, farmland. Green. Freedom.
Sean didn’t know how he would survive prison. The idea of being behind bars for days … months … years. He couldn’t. He couldn’t do it. Even if he survived his enemies … and Kane’s enemies … he would die inside. His freedom meant more to him than anything. How could he raise his son, love his wife, if he was locked up?
You’ll get out of this. You have to believe it.
He didn’t believe because he didn’t know. He’d never lacked confidence. Sean had always been the one who was convinced he could get out of any trouble, because he’d proven he could. Most of the time. Even when he was expelled from Stanford after hacking into his professor’s computer and exposing him as a pedophile, he didn’t spend more than a night in jail. Of course, his brother Duke had banished him to MIT and he’d been angry and resentful, but he had still managed to make something of his life.
What would you have done yesterday if you’d known the police were coming for you?
He wouldn’t have made it easy for them. Would he have run?
Running makes you look guilty.
But this was a frame job. If he had just