Sinclair Justice (Texas Rangers #2)(58)
On the other hand, she could certainly use her considerable expertise to help keep Emm safe. And the only thing that would make Emm back off was a breakthrough leading to Yancy and Jennifer’s locations.
Abby paused when she got to her car to look at the latest e-mail message in her secure account. There it was, the one she’d been waiting for. The undercover DEA operative in Mexico City had found three pharmacies that had recently filled the script for Yancy’s unusual hemophilia medication. They’d hacked into each store’s database and found evidence that one pharmacy had supposed US ownership, so large sums were being wired back and forth between Mexico and the United States. It smelled like money laundering to the operative, as it did to Abby.
A bit more digging yielded the fact that a maid at an estate outside the city had filled a huge variety of prescriptions, among them Yancy’s favored hemophilia medicine, Effluenatasis, Xanax, and the morning-after pill. The maid had been followed once, when she’d come to pick up an entire bag full of scripts, back to the estate where she worked. Nothing could be seen behind the walls, even with the latest technology, for they were too thick, but the link had been deemed strong enough to warrant electronic surveillance.
Which was how the task force had finally been able to get pictures of Yancy and Jennifer in their finery; they’d sent a drone high overhead with the blessing of the Mexican government. After immediately forwarding the e-mail to Ross for his inclusion in the database, Abby started her car, wondering if she should go straight to Emm’s hotel. She decided it was best to let Emm calm down before she told her they’d tracked down Yancy’s prescription at the same mansion where they’d taken the picture of the two women.
Besides, she had more digging to do.
The night after the interview, Emm ignored her phone calls and increasingly urgent texts from Ross to meet him for dinner. Even though it was still early, she wore her teddy as she folded her arms over her knees and stared into the darkness. Her room service sandwich and soup sat untouched on her nightstand. She knew Ross was worried about what she’d do, and well he should be. Her duties here were almost done. If tomorrow she was able to convince the Sinclair family to redevelop both buildings instead of tearing them down, her first assignment would end a success.
Then what? Logically, she should return immediately to Baltimore, write up her final recommendation, and get her next assignment. Her boss probably wouldn’t be happy if she asked for a leave of absence so soon after being hired, but he’d accept it if she used her sister’s health as the reason.
Tomorrow was the first day of the Sinclair reunion , and it was the only free time the partygoers would all be unoccupied and together to hear her PowerPoint presentation. She’d worked on the presentation for over a week now, trying to perfect it, for she’d known what the complete survey would say just from following the engineer around: The buildings were both structurally sound. And only yesterday, he’d e-mailed a detailed report that showed exactly that—borings, elevations, steel beams, building sections, foundation, soils survey, and all. He’d agreed with her that the crumbling base around the bigger structure was only a cosmetic curtain wall and easily enough repaired, though it would be costly because it would require a skilled hand mason. Virtually the entire interior, from the doors to the stairways to the wood floors, even to the old elevator, could be repaired and preserved to save the historic character.
As challenging as the project had been, her thoughts were only for Yancy and Jennifer. She wished she could save them so easily. While she’d initially felt a jolt of relief that both were alive, still in Mexico City, given the careful placement of the fabric from their dresses, it was obvious their days were numbered.
Emm appraised the sequence of events and the various players, trying to deduce the best way to get into Mexico City. Finding the mansion would not be difficult; she’d appraised the wall behind the limo and it was pretty distinctive, brick with ornate wrought-iron pillars that looked more English than Mexican. Massive, on the hills outside the city. Google Earth was a handy piece of software . . . but what good would it do to breach the compound as an historic expert interested in Mexico City architecture only to find them gone?
No matter how she looked at it, Curt Tupperman was her best potential lead. She believed him when he said he still cared about Yancy. She suspected he was involved somehow with Los Lobos, though at this point she was sure of nothing. However, whether he was an investigative reporter or a criminal, she had few options. He could help her get access to the compound where Yancy and Jennifer had been sighted, and that was all she cared about.
She also knew something Ross and Abby apparently didn’t: Curt had a small interest in a private jet network. He’d told Yancy when he swept her away to Aruba for a long weekend while they were dating that as costly as it was, given the peripatetic nature of his work, it ultimately saved him time and money because he often had to travel on a moment’s notice. Ross and Abby also didn’t know Yancy had a good friend on the company’s executive board. Someone who could pull up all reservation records.
In the quiet of her reflections, Emm recalled that Miami area code and why it had stuck in her memory. Emm even remembered the woman’s name: Louise. She’d actually e-mailed her sympathies to Emm when she’d heard the news about Yancy’s abduction so soon after Jennifer. Emm turned on the light to check her watch. Eight p.m. her time, nine p.m. Miami time, where the company was based. Emm grabbed up the pad next to her bed and scribbled several phone number combinations. She stared a moment at the numbers and was pretty sure she had the last four right, but she wasn’t certain about the first three. She wrote down several combinations, picked up her cell phone, and started dialing.