Noah shook his head but he was smiling.

Lucy and Noah walked up to the front door. Lucy rang the bell and stepped back. Noah was surveying their surroundings. "Security cameras," Noah said.

The door opened two inches. It was on a security chain. A petite Asian woman stood there. "Hello?" she asked with a heavy accent.

Lucy showed her badge and ID and said, "Special Agents Lucy Kincaid and Noah Armstrong. Is Lance Dobleman here?"

The woman stared at her oddly. "English not good."

"Is Lance Dobleman your husband?"

She hesitated, then nodded. She said something in what Lucy thought was Chinese, but she'd never studied the Far East languages. She was fluent in Spanish and French, had a basic understand of German, Italian, and Portuguese, but the Eastern languages were far different than the Germanic languages. She wouldn't even know how to communicate.

"Is Lance home?" Lucy gestured to the house. She pointed to herself then at the door. "May we come in?"

The woman shook her head.

"What's your name? I'm Lucy, you are...?"

"Soon Li."

"Soon Li Dobleman?"

She nodded.

"We need to talk to your husband."

"Not home."

"When will your husband be home?"

"Don't know." She said something else in Chinese, then said, "I need go."

Noah handed Soon Li his card. "Tell Lance to call me."

Soon Li's hands shook as she took Noah's card.

"Do you know when he'll be home?" Lucy asked.

"He's not here."

"You said that," Lucy said. "When? When will he be here?"

She looked confused for a moment. "I don't know. Monday."

"He's gone until Monday?"

She made motions with her hands as if she was frustrated she couldn't think of the words.

"He was supposed to be home Monday?"

"Left Monday, not come home."

"Have you talked to him?" Lucy put her hand to her ear to mimic a phone. "Did he call you?"

She shook her head. "Business. Don't know. Business trip. No calls."

"Do you have a number I can call him at? It's very important."

Soon Li narrowed her eyes then shook her head. "No call, no number. I go now." She closed the door.

"She damn well has his number," Noah muttered.

They walked back to the car. "He left on Monday and hasn't returned or talked to his wife. We know he was in Freer on Sunday night. She seemed like she'd expected him, but he didn't return."

"He may know we're looking for him."

They got back into the car. Noah watched the house for a few minutes.

Lucy said, "Siobhan's SD card was stolen from her camera. That means that all the photos we have, they could have."

"Who is they, Lucy?"

She didn't know if he was being rhetorical or not. His tone was odd. "Siobhan thought that someone with access to her rental car took the SD card from her camera. That would mean either the deputy who arrested her, the teenager who chased her from the house, or someone they called. Dobleman was there, he could have easily returned, pulled the SD card, realized he could be identified."

"Why not grab the whole camera?" Noah asked.

"They did," Lucy reminded him. "Later that night, with her computer."

"Why not take the camera from her car?"

Lucy didn't know.

"Maybe they were tracking her," Nate suggested. "Didn't know where she was staying. Once they did, they grabbed everything."

"We have to assume they know what we know-who we have on camera, the connection between Siobhan and the de la Rosa sisters."

"That's a big leap," Noah said, but from his expression he was considering it.

"They dropped all charges against Siobhan," Lucy said. "It wasn't even us being there; they had made that decision before we arrived. Maybe it was because of Rick's call ... or maybe because they were worried that federal attention would get them in trouble. Maybe it's all Deputy Jackson, and he admitted to fondling Siobhan and inciting her to hit him."

"Logical. And the sheriff did seem upset with her deputy, and apologetic."

"A guy like that must have other complaints against him," Lucy said, "or when they realized Siobhan was a photojournalist, they didn't want the bad press."

"Dobleman is an obvious ID," Noah said. "He has a military record, and anyone with half a brain would know we'd have access to basic military records. He could be laying low. Or simply working for Jasmine and unable or unwilling to come home." Noah nodded to Nate. "I want to talk to that security guard at the gate."

The guard had no information because they didn't log when residents came or left. He agreed to call Noah when Dobleman came home and to tell the other guards, but they couldn't count on that information, or that one of the guards wouldn't give Dobleman a heads-up that the FBI was looking for him. Plus, once Dobleman came home and saw Noah's card he might bolt.

Or not. Because what did they really have on him? Nothing. He didn't have to talk to them and they had no reason to arrest him. Yet.

Noah got back on the phone and asked Zach to work with ICE on the immigration status of Soon Li Dobleman-if they were in fact married-as well as if she had a job, when she arrived in the country, and if there were any flags.

Nate drove to the property management company atop a high-rise in downtown San Antonio not far from the Riverwalk. But once they got up to the twelfth floor they realized that the office was a small one-room suite. A young woman who looked more like a model than a receptionist, with blond hair swept up into a chignon and an impeccably fitted black suit and white blouse, said, "May I help you?"

Noah flashed his identification and handed her a copy of the warrant. "We would like all files related to those two properties."

She didn't appear flustered by three FBI agents coming in with a search warrant.

"I'm sorry, I can't help you."

"The warrant grants us the right to those files."

"I'm sure it does, but we don't keep any property records on site. Everything we have is digital, and I don't have access to the database."

"Then what do you do here all day?"

She didn't answer. She handed Noah a business card. "This is Direct Property Holdings' law offices. They will, I'm sure, handle your request promptly."

Noah nodded to Nate and Lucy. Lucy said, "Ma'am, if you would please step away from your desk, we need to inspect your workstation."

"Of course," she said and rose. She was taller than Lucy, and that's when Lucy noticed she wore four-inch spike heels. "May I go to the ladies' room?" she asked.

"Not right now," Noah snapped. After the big fat nothing at the Dobleman residence and now this front office, he was clearly angry.

Nate searched the desk. The computer was password-protected. "Password, ma'am?"

"I'm sorry, I can't share that information."

Noah turned to her. "Our warrant-"

"Says you can have two files, which are not in this office. As I said, our lawyer will be happy to provide you with the files. But your warrant doesn't grant you access to the computer system, which has information that isn't covered by your warrant."

This woman was definitely not a receptionist. She was a gatekeeper.

"Are you aware of the penalties for obstruction of justice?" Noah asked.

"I am not obstructing anything," she said. "I'm simply telling you that your warrant does not cover my computer. If you want the files that are covered by your warrant, you will need to talk to the law office, which has access to all records of this company. I wish I could be of more help." Her tone said anything but.

"Identification," Noah asked.

Now she looked a bit flustered. She crossed over to her desk and raised an eyebrow at Nate, who stood behind the desk. "May I?" She gestured toward the bottom drawer.

Nate stepped aside but kept eyes on her hands. She pulled out her wallet and handed her Texas driver's license to Noah. He wrote down the information and handed it back. "Phone number where we can reach you?"

"If it's related to this company, you can contact me through the law office."

Noah clearly wasn't happy with the results of their efforts. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed the number on the card she'd handed him.

"This is Supervisory Special Agent Noah Armstrong with the Federal Bureau of Investigation with a warrant for two properties managed by Direct Property Holdings. I am at your business office and they claim they have no access to the files in question. I want all records including owner information, maintenance, rental agreements, finances, and copies of every check or transaction. And I want them ready immediately."

He listened, then gave the two relevant addresses. He listened again and said, "Next week is not going to work. One hour ... I don't care if the lawyer who handles DPH is not in the office, I have a federal warrant." He looked at his watch. "One hour."

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO.

Siobhan had the driver take her back to the hotel, then picked up her rental car to drive out to the address Eric had given her. She didn't want to intimidate the midwife by driving up in a black Town Car. Now that she was alert, she was certain she wouldn't put herself in a position of danger.

She appreciated Sean-though she suspected Kane had a lot to do with it-providing her with a secure hotel and transportation, but she'd been a photojournalist for more than a decade and had taken care of herself more often than not. She'd traveled through dangerous countries and was hyperaware of her surroundings. She admitted to herself that being in the States had lulled her into a false sense of security, but now that she was reminded that the States could be as violent as Mexico and Central America, she wasn't going to be caught unawares.

The midwife Eric had identified, Cora Smith, lived in a small two-bedroom, one-bath postwar box house in the middle of a long line of two-bedroom, one-bath postwar box houses. It was late morning, and day laborers who couldn't find work at dawn were now back in their yards, watching Siobhan with cautious, quiet eyes when she stopped the rental car in front of house number 1127. She walked up the short, weed-choked concrete walkway and knocked on the door. The scent of fresh tortillas and chili powder wafted through the air as the door opened. "I've been expecting you," Cora said and opened the door wide.

"You have?"

"I heard a pretty redhead wanted to talk to me. That would be you, right?"

"I'm Siobhan Walsh," she said. "I'm looking for two girls-the daughters of my best friend-and I heard you might have some information."

"Come, I just finished making dinner." In true southern fashion, she called her midday meal dinner, while supper would be a smaller, lighter meal.

Cora wasn't what Siobhan expected. First, she was an octogenarian. And small-not even five feet tall and couldn't possibly weigh a hundred pounds soaking wet. Silver-white hair so short and straight she could have been mistaken for a man. Her house was immaculate but cluttered, with no television that Siobhan could see, and a crucifix over every doorway. An enormous paint-by-numbers of the Last Supper hung in the kitchen's eating area, dwarfing the small room. From a distance, it didn't look half bad.

Two young boys stood in the kitchen at attention. Cora finished filling a dozen lunch boxes with some sort of spicy stew, stacks of fresh tortillas, and small apples. She stacked six lunch boxes into each of two larger cardboard boxes. In Spanish she said, "Thank you, boys. When you return the boxes, I'll pay you. And your lunch will be ready."

The boys stared at Siobhan with wide eyes and nodded at Cora, then left through the back door, each carrying a box that seemed too large for him.

"Good boys," Cora said with a nod. "I prepare meals a few times a week for some of my older neighbors who can't get around so well. The boys help deliver for me. I'm not as spry as I used to be."

Older neighbors? Must be the ninety-somethings, Siobhan thought.

"Sit, I'll dish some stew."

"You don't have to-"

Cora gave Siobhan a look that told her not to argue. "I don't have to do nothing I don't want to. Sit."

Siobhan sat. "Smells delicious, Ms. Smith."

Cora smiled as she dished bowls of stew and put them on the table, one in front of Siobhan and one at an empty place. She brought out more fresh tortillas and then Cora sat, crossed herself, and said a blessing. Then she smiled when Siobhan said "amen" and motioned for her to eat.

Halfway through the meal Cora said, "You want to know about the dead girl."

Siobhan nearly dropped her spoon. "Yes. I think she'll lead me to Marisol and Ana." She explained who they were and why she was looking for them.