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Mrs. Nocia. No one answered the door. Brad then drove to the Star, a top-rated hotel in downtown San Antonio. After ten minutes of the runaround, they were informed that Elena Garcia had called in sick that morning.
    “She’s involved up to her eyeballs,” Brad said as he sped out of the parking garage.
    “She could have been threatened,” Lucy said. “She has a mother, two kids.”
    “Or she could have used her mother.”
    “Why didn’t she just disappear with the boys?” Lucy said. “Mrs. Nocia said a man picked them up.”
    “If we believe Mrs. Nocia.”
    Brad was skeptical, but Lucy didn’t push her point. She said, “We’ll pull her finances, find out if she has other property, relatives, friends. Put someone on both the grandmother’s house and Elena’s house.”
    “When I get the details on the dad, I’ll have the marshals question him,” Brad said. “Get a warrant to search the house.”
    “I’ll talk to Father Mateo.”
    “Will he cooperate?” Brad said. “In my experience, priests don’t like to give up their parishioners.”
    “He’ll talk to me.” She didn’t add that sometimes, priests and others didn’t talk to police because the police hadn’t helped when they really needed it. Father Mateo had a sour history with law enforcement after one of his students disappeared—the police thought the kid was a runaway and hadn’t done more than a cursory search for him, if that. Michael Rodriguez had been kidnapped and nearly died at the hands of a drug cartel. Father Mateo might be a man of God, but he also had a long memory. Fortunately, Lucy had a good relationship with him, and Sean was instrumental in getting the boys’ home running and funded. Considering what had happened today—Father Mateo would help.
    Her phone rang. It was Sean.
    “Hey,” she said. “I only have a minute. Brad and I are on our way back to headquarters for a debriefing. Did you get my message earlier?”
    “I’ve been following the news. Michael called, so I’m heading over to Saint Catherine’s. He’s scared, though he won’t admit it. Says the others are worried and want me to check things out.”
    Her heart skipped a beat. Michael, even after his kidnapping ordeal, had been instrumental in helping the DEA identify many of the major players in the southern Texas drug trade. Along with Lucy, he’d seen the elusive Tobias who’d orchestrated so much violence over the last few weeks. Nicole knew who Michael was, and it wouldn’t be too difficult to find out that he—and the other boys they’d rescued from the cartels—were living at the new boys’ home across the street from Saint Catherine’s.
    “I didn’t think that she’d go after Michael.”
    “Honestly, I don’t think she will right now—her goal is to get away,” Sean said. “My guess is she’s long gone. But the bus she used was from Saint Catherine’s. I doubt that was a coincidence.”
    She hadn’t considered that Nicole planned her escape down to not only using a school bus, but which bus.
    “It’s about fear—these people use fear as a weapon. To scare the boys. To intimidate law enforcement.” And me.
    “You’re probably right, but don’t go anywhere alone, Lucy. Just in case retribution is in her game plan. I heard she’d escaped in a helicopter, but I’m not taking chances with the boys—or with you. Call me when you know anything. I love you, future Mrs. Rogan.”
    She smiled. “Love you too.” She hung up, and her smile disappeared. “Sean and I have a connection to Saint Catherine’s. So does Michael Rodriguez—and Nicole knows that Michael was instrumental in helping us stop Trejo Vasco’s operation and uncovering her involvement.”
    “I’ll get a detail on the boys’ home as soon as possible. It might be a few hours—everyone is spread thin right now.”
    “Sean’s going there now. He’ll stick with them today.”
    Lucy wanted to believe that Nicole had left town, but she feared there was a