Losing Sarah (A Sarah Roberts Thriller Book 16) Read online

  The flight attendant returned with a cart on wheels and a bottle of red wine. She poured them each a glass and retreated back through the door to the area where Blair was. How much did he know? Was he privy to what his mother was doing?

  The captain came over the speakers to announce he was starting their descent into Vegas. They would be landing within twenty minutes. Local time was 20:00hrs.

  “We’re twelve hours early,” Jane said. “That’ll give us a chance to gamble a little and get a good night’s sleep. I have us booked into a motel off the strip tonight, but we check into the Venetian ahead of the conference tomorrow afternoon.” She tapped Sarah’s leg. “Right after we buy ourselves a little disruption device.”

  The glint in Jane’s eye revealed a madness heretofore unseen by Sarah. A shiver oozed down her back. Jane’s eyes widened briefly before she drank the rest of her wine in one go.

  Definitely insane. That made her unpredictable.

  Unpredictable to Sarah, but not Vivian.

  Right, Sis? You’re still with me, right?

  There was no answer.

  Chapter 50

  Las Vegas’ SAC for the FBI, Samantha Puig, had summoned Agents King and Fitzgerald to her office for 07:00hrs. Rested, filled with coffee, and ready for the challenging day ahead, King led the way down the hall to Puig’s office and shoved the door open without knocking.

  The office was filled with people. At first she thought she had entered the wrong room as she had only been here once before, yesterday, when they first arrived in Vegas. Her partner, Fitzgerald, came in behind her and whispered this was the right place. She had to have read the confusion on King’s face.

  “Good morning,” Agent Puig stepped out from behind her desk. “Agents King, Fitzgerald, I’d like you to meet Special Agent Buck Schaffer. He’s running point on this operation.”

  King counted eight people in the crowded office and instantly thought there were too many cooks in the kitchen. Aaron, Sarah Roberts’ boyfriend, and Parkman, were both here.

  How come they’re here? In the SAC’s office? In Las Vegas?

  King couldn’t make sense of any of this.

  A tall, well-built man with white hair stepped forward, his hand extended. “Call me Casper. Everyone does.” He shook King’s hand, then Fitzgerald’s.

  “What is this all about?” Fitzgerald asked.

  “First, I’ll go around the room and introduce everyone and why they’re here.” Puig moved into the center of the office as the crowd parted for her. “It’ll give you both a better understanding of what’s going on.”

  Fitzgerald nodded. King followed suit.

  “I think you’ve met Aaron and Parkman.” Puig glanced back at King. “In Mexico. Correct?”

  “Yes. The police station.”

  “This man’s name is John Whitman. He has known Sarah Roberts for several years and has an idea of how she thinks.” Puig moved on, using her hand to gesture at each person in turn. “This is Detective Spencer of the Toronto Police Department, Whitman’s handler. Next, the man by the window is Detective Bruce Collins of the Las Vegas Police Department and his partner, Detective Mara Munro. Both of them worked on a loan shark case with Sarah Roberts a few years back here in Vegas. They established a working trust, a bond. If she won’t listen to Whitman or Aaron or Parkman, Collins here has a thing or two to say that’ll make Sarah listen. He’s the father of her dead cousin, Russell Anderson.”

  “Wow,” was all King could utter.

  “In this room, we have the most amount of people we could get on short notice that could bring this deal with the Bulgarians to a close and bring Sarah in.”

  “You said something about running point.” Fitzgerald said. “I thought this was our case.”

  “Not anymore. Your files were given to Agent Schaffer when he arrived. He knows Sarah as well as anyone having worked with her in Toronto, Amsterdam, Athens and just recently in Mexico to destroy the Enzo Cartel. Between Schaffer, Aaron and Parkman, I’m not sure anyone else is needed. Although when I sent the Written Memoranda of Understanding to the Las Vegas Police Department for their cooperation in this matter, Detective Collins and Munro came up in the system as having worked with Sarah. That’s why they’re here. In an observation capacity.” Puig moved in front of King, glanced over her shoulder at Fitzgerald, then met King’s eyes. “We aren’t going to have a problem with any of this, are we?”

  “No,” King said. She wanted to offer a few expletives, but thought it better to hold her tongue.

  “Of course not,” Fitzgerald added.

  Puig turned away and moved behind her desk where she took a seat. “The FBI Joint Terrorism Task Force is already at the airport waiting for Jane Turner’s plane to land in forty-five minutes.” She nodded at Agent Schaffer. “Get whoever you’re taking and get out there as soon as you can. We are to take Jane Turner and Sarah Roberts into custody immediately. I want to know everything we can get on who they’re meeting, when and where and what Jane intends on purchasing with the money she transferred to Britain.”

  Everyone filed out of the office, walking past King’s stunned face. What the hell just happened? Her whole case, everything they had worked on was being handed over to the motley crew in front of her. In all her time as an FBI agent this had never happened.

  “Agent King,” the man named after a ghost shouted from behind her. “Coming?”

  King blinked and looked around. The office had emptied except for Agent Puig who sat behind her desk writing something down. The man with the white hair gestured for her to follow.

  She put one foot in front of the other because that was her job. She had to see this through until the end. It would be a pleasure to arrest Turner and Roberts. She had been worried Sarah would fuck things up, but now she could arrest her. Stop her in her tracks. Maybe they’d even lay a few charges Sarah’s way. Teach her to not fuck with FBI investigations.

  That was the answer. In a world gone mad, where FBI cases were handed out to civilians and local cops were offered ride-a-longs, making a charge stick to Sarah Roberts would make things right again.

  At least for Agent King, it would.

  Chapter 51

  Sarah woke and felt more rested than she had felt in weeks. Ever since the Enzo Cartel debacle, she had been going non-stop. Her thoughts turned to Aaron. The time away had allowed her to heal, get rested, and think about their relationship. Perhaps she could look at the time at Jane’s house as her mini vacation. Time off from running Vivian’s errands.

  Aaron had been there since the Rapturites had come after Sarah in Toronto all those years ago. His unwavering support was only equaled by Parkman’s who had been her confidante a lot longer. Since the Armond Stuart days. Budapest and Italy. Had it really been five years since she met Parkman, the cop who idolized her, tracked her through the media and trusted her when other cops wouldn’t? She never had a problem with Parkman. Never had to worry if she lied to him to get him out of trouble, or steer him in a direction he needed to go. He just trusted her. Believed in her.

  With Aaron, that was a different story. He was more sensitive than Parkman and attached to her at a different emotional level. A more intimate one. She figured that meant a different level of trust, too.

  Maybe she needed a truce with Aaron. Perhaps a pact. Something similar to what others would call a commitment, but theirs would be different in nature. Theirs would be part relationship, part arrangement. When this was all over, she would sit him down and they would discuss it, navigate the pitfalls of their arrangement and make sure it was good for the both of them.

  Just when he thought he was losing her, she would come back with a pact and strengthen their relationship. She smiled as she stared at the ceiling of her Vegas motel room. Aaron would love it. Something he could sink his teeth into.

  Someone knocked on her door.

  “Time to move,” a man’s voice said. “You ready?”

  “No.”

  “Ten minutes. No m
ore.” Jane’s guard stomped away.

  “Fuck you and your horse.”

  Last night, after checking in, Jane had sent her guards shopping with a list while wine was sent to her room. Jane had a room of her own with her guards and Blair was in another room. Blair and Sarah had not said one word to each other this entire trip. Mostly because they hadn’t had a chance, and partly because he looked like a bag of walking depression.

  The guards had ripped the motel’s phone out of the wall and Jane had left one man at Sarah’s door. Had she wanted to, there were ways to escape, but she didn’t want to. This had become a mission. A mission she was prepared to see through to the end because there was no way she could ever allow Jane to use that dirty bomb in the convention center.

  After shopping last night, the guards had returned with clothes that fit her. Tight black pants and a black T-shirt. Over that, Jane told Sarah to wear the Kevlar vest she had sent over to her room half an hour ago. The guard stated that Jane wouldn’t stand to have anything happen to Sarah so the vest was mandatory.

  Where they got such a heavy-duty vest on such short notice amazed her. It was probably prearranged. And it was Vegas. With the right amount of money, many things could be had. Evidently, even weapons of mass disruption.

  Sarah was to carry no weapons. No guns, no knives. She was a spiritual advisor only. According to Jane, if Sarah was going to die, her sister would stop it, thereby stopping Jane’s death as they would be together. Again, that intense fear of death reared its ugly Reaper’s head. The guards would handle the weapons and security side of things. Sarah was fine with that, but she had yet to come up with a plan on how to secure the weapon once it was purchased from the Bulgarians and delivered. And how would she detain Jane Turner for the authorities?

  With or without a plan, she needed to move forward regardless. Walking away now was not an option.

  She got dressed, slid the Kevlar on over her T-shirt, then slipped a light sweater over the bullet-proof vest. The Kevlar was much heavier than she expected. On each side, she clamped the base of the Kevlar vest together with electronic clips of some kind. A red light blinked, then changed to green.

  She was ready.

  Before leaving the room she looked back at the bedside table’s clock. The red digits said it was almost eight in the morning. They were supposed to meet the Bulgarians at nine, check into the Venetian hotel by noon and start setting up the booth at the Expo center soon thereafter with a detonation time set for four that afternoon. Just when the conference hall began to fill for the first evening’s guests.

  Sarah would have no part in any of that. She planned to make the nine o’clock meeting with the Bulgarians. Then the device, Jane Turner, and if possible, the Bulgarians, would be delivered to the Las Vegas Police Department. Her job would be done. Nice and easy.

  Maybe Detective Collins was still in Vegas. They could go for dinner. She could offer her sympathy for the loss of his son, Russell, who gave his life for Sarah on top of that hotel in Toronto so many years ago.

  So many years, so many people dead. And what of Drake Bellamy, back from the dead? Where was he? In Mexico still?

  Sarah held the doorknob and wondered how her life had gotten so messed up. How many people had come and gone? Was it all worth it? Could she add up the lives she’d saved and somehow justify what she was doing?

  The guard knocked on the door. Her hand was clenched on the knob. She let out a small shriek and jumped at least two feet back.

  “Shitty asses,” she bellowed before she could stop herself.

  “Let’s go,” the guard shouted through the cheap wooden door.

  “Coming,” she shouted back. “Fuck,” she added under her breath.

  Lives saved? Add them up? Yes, she could. Because the ones that died deserved to die. Something she used to say years ago came back to her. ‘Some people should die.’ It made the world a better place.

  Jane Turner’s death? The Bulgarian’s death? Or innocent lives at the trade show later today?

  Easy answer.

  She tightened her grip on the door to the motel room, ripped the door open and stepped out into Las Vegas’ morning sun a new woman. Revitalized, rejuvenated, rested and ready. Sarah Roberts was prepared to fight. Even if stopping Jane meant losing her own life, it would be a noble end. Jane had to be stopped at all costs. It was the way of things. The order of things. It seemed death was a way of life for Sarah and one more would make her life easier.

  Sarah slammed the door behind her. She didn’t look back as she crossed the broken pavement on her way to the waiting SUV. She didn’t look back because she didn’t want to give any extra attention to the room.

  Inside her room, hidden under the bedsheets, was a note for the person assigned to clean the room. A note for that person to contact the police. Call Detective Collins with the Las Vegas Police Department with a message.

  Sarah Roberts is in town and would love to see him later at the International Lawmakers Conference at the Venetian Hotel, Sands Expo. The note said to bring his friends, but to be there before four in the afternoon.

  It was a matter of life and death.

  Chapter 52

  Casper stood in front of the twelve men and women who made up the tactical team of the FBI’s Joint Terrorist Task Force near a gate of the McCarran Airport. Jane Turner’s plane was supposed to pull in and deplane twenty feet from their current position. Neither pilot nor passenger would see them as all team members were assembled behind a large food service truck.

  Parkman stood at the back of the team and observed as Casper gave them orders. Jane was expected to have armed security guards with her. She did not currently pose a threat. Neither did the woman, Sarah Roberts, who was reportedly traveling with her.

  Casper continued talking to his assembled team as Parkman scanned the faces of each member. They were strong, lean, armed to the teeth, and ready to storm the plane upon its arrival. All he wanted was Sarah back safe. Then they could walk away from this and let the authorities handle it from here.

  The original two detectives he had met in Mexico were obviously perturbed by the latest development. The case they had worked so hard on was slipping through their fingers and they were forced to be bystanders at their own show. Both King and Fitzgerald had been added to the JTTF team, but they were not to take the lead on the raid. Both agents were here to come in last to make the identifications of Jane Turner and her son, Blair Turner.

  Aaron, Detective Collins and his partner, Munro, Whitman and Spencer were one level above with the SAC, Samantha Puig, watching from an observation deck where they could see the entire gate and the team hidden behind the service vehicle.

  Casper looked at his watch. He spoke into a lapel mic that relayed everything he said to the team, Parkman included.

  “Has the tower picked them up yet? It’s almost eight.”

  “Nothing yet,” Puig said from somewhere above them.

  “Okay, team. Be ready. Spread out. No deadly force unless they initiate. Jane Turner, her son, Blair Turner, and Sarah Roberts are to be taken into custody unharmed.” He stopped to meet their eyes. “Get into position and hold there. Wait for further instructions.”

  The team slipped away to take prearranged hiding positions. Casper moved closer to Parkman. He unclipped his mic so only Parkman could hear him.

  “I got a bad feeling about this.”

  “Me too,” Parkman said.

  “What if the FBI were wrong on this one and Sarah’s still in Mexico. We can’t help her from here.”

  “I know. I thought of that.”

  Parkman turned his gaze skyward as the morning sun crept higher. A WestJet passenger airline was coming in for a landing. Lined up behind it was another one, lights blinking upon approach. No sign of a smaller private jet.

  “What now?” Parkman asked.

  Casper checked his watch again. “It’s a minute to eight.” He clipped his mic back on. “Agent Puig?”

  “Here.”


  “Anything?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Okay, either they’re not coming, they’re already here, or they’re late.”

  “I’ll look into it.”

  Casper unclipped his mic. “Parkman, I don’t like this at all. Something tells me they’re already here.”

  Parkman watched as the WestJet touched down. His mind wandered to Sarah. Wherever she was, she had to be on the job. For Jane Turner to garner this much FBI attention and to have Sarah reportedly with her on a private jet sounded like Sarah was back to work. Lying to Aaron back at their hotel wasn’t about buying drugs as much as it was about not telling him what she was up to.