MONDAY
Max never had trouble falling asleep at night, but no matter what time she woke up, even if it was three in the morning, she couldn’t go back to sleep. She’d stopped trying to force herself, which usually resulted in a headache and daylong irritability.
Monday morning she slid out of bed just after four in the morning. Three hours of sleep. She was going to need extra makeup to hide the dark circles.
There was one benefit to waking early, and that was no one was trying to reach her. She made a cup of coffee and filled up the Jacuzzi bathtub. She turned on the jets and relaxed in the hot water. The tension left over from yesterday disappeared. One of her ex-boyfriends had suggested she work out in the morning when she couldn’t sleep, but nothing was better than a hot bath, morning or night, to clear her mind.
Thirty minutes later, she took a shower, washed her hair, and then spent a good hour getting ready for the day. She could get ready faster, but why rush? Lucy wasn’t meeting her until ten. By seven she was ready and decided to go downstairs for breakfast instead of calling room service.
She’d just ordered and was enjoying orange juice and coffee while reading a book—one that she’d started on the plane ride to Scottsdale a week ago, but hadn’t picked up since—when her cell phone vibrated. So the day begins, she thought as she closed the book. She assumed it was Ben, but it wasn’t.
“Nick,” she said when she answered.
“You’re still alive,” he said.
“I’m sure you would have heard it on the news if I wasn’t.”
“I left a couple of messages.”
He sounded an odd cross between upset and irritated.
“Busy case.” Her food arrived and she wished she could eat without the stress of this conversation.
Since when did talking to Nick become stressful? You always looked forward to his calls.
“When will you be done?”
“I’m going to cover the Caldwell trial in Arizona. It starts next week.”
“And then?”
“And then … I don’t know.”
“I’d like to see you. Even if you just fly in for a day … I miss you, Max.”
He sounded sincere. He was sincere, at that moment. Max knew they had a certain chemistry that worked.
“I miss you, that’s why I keep myself so busy.”
He laughed. “You wouldn’t know how to relax, sweetheart. Tell me you’ll be here for the weekend after the trial and I’ll take it off. Switch shifts with someone if I have to. You and me. I think we need a little time alone.”
“I agree.” And she did … on the one hand. When she and Nick were alone and didn’t talk about his life, everything was good.
But if she was going to be part of his life, she had to be part of all his life.
Lucy’s comments about Nick’s motivation for keeping her out of his personal life came back.
“Nick, I want to see you. Spend time with you. Talk. Really talk.”
He didn’t say anything.
“Do you have the idea that you’re somehow sheltering me or protecting me by keeping me out of the loop about your custody battle?”
“I told you, Max, I’m not talking about Nancy with you.”
“I know. And you know I don’t like these off-limits subjects. I’m a big girl, and I’ve been making great strides to keep my opinions to myself.”
“You don’t need to speak to make your opinions known.”
“I care about you, Nick. You need to be able to talk to me about anything. God knows I don’t hold back when something is bothering me.”
“Max, I know what you’ll say. You’ll tell me Nancy is manipulating me, using Logan as a pawn, and I know it. I know it, dammit! But I will do anything to be in my son’s life. Any damn thing. And if we talk about it, the conversation will just frustrate both of us. We don’t have much one-on-one time, so why do you insist that when we do it’s filled with conflict and arguments? Why can’t you just let it go?”
Why? Good question. Max was only beginning to understand why, and it went right to the heart of what she really wanted in a relationship. Trust. Respect. Honesty. How could there be any of those things when Nick shut her out of what troubled him the most?
“I don’t know, Nick.”
“Can we talk about it when you visit? I don’t want to fight with you over the phone. It’s much more fun when we fight and make up.”
And he nailed it. The crux of her problem with all her relationships. Nick was one of the longer-term relationships she’d had, other than Marco. And Marco fit the same pattern. Fight, make up, live in different states, so dealing with the day-to-day relationship commitment had never been a thing for her.
Before Nick, she didn’t care to be intimately involved in the personal lives of any of her lovers. But she recognized that if she was going to have anything permanent—if she wanted anything more than casual, long-distance affairs—she needed to be a real part of another person’s life. The good and the bad.
“Max,” Nick said quietly, “I promise. We’ll talk.”
She didn’t know if he meant it. Really meant it.
“I’ll call you when the trial’s over.”
“Call me before then—I miss our late-night conversations.”
Why? She wanted to ask. The conversations were superficial, sexy, fun … but nothing substantive.
Max wanted substantive. She wanted what Sean and Lucy Rogan had.
“Okay,” she heard herself saying. “I gotta go.” She hung up because she was feeling too melancholy and off her game. She needed to get it together before the meeting at SDPD later this morning.
She put her pleasure book aside and pulled out her notes on Danielle Sharpe while eating her cold omelet. Ten minutes later, all thoughts of Nick were pushed aside.
But not forgotten.
* * *
Lucy spoke to her boss, SSA Rachel Vaughn, at 7:00 A.M. Monday morning—9:00 A.M. San Antonio time.
She’d been dreading this call, and she knew that it would be worse when she returned and Rachel found out she was working on an investigation. But she didn’t want to share that information now.
“I have a family issue in San Diego,” she said. “I won’t be back for another day or two.”
“Does that mean you were lying to me on Thursday when you said you were sick?”
Lucy rubbed her stomach. She hadn’t eaten breakfast yet, but she felt nauseous. “I know I don’t have any vacation time.”
“You left two active cases that the squad has to now scramble to catch up.”
“I left detailed notes—”
“That’s irrelevant, Agent Kincaid. We are understaffed and overworked, and while I have sympathy for family issues, I don’t have sympathy for my staff lying to me. You need to decide whether you really want to be a federal agent.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Since you are not actually ill or caring for an ill child or spouse, I can’t allow you to use sick time.”
Lucy didn’t comment. Though technically sick time was only for illness, the squad had used it for what one of Lucy’s colleagues called “mental health” days. Since it was rare to use two weeks’ sick leave—which didn’t accrue year to year like vacation time—their former boss let them use sick time whenever they wanted.
“I’m new, and I understand that you and my predecessor were friends.” The way she said friends made Lucy angry—she implied far more in the tone. “You have become used to a certain level of autonomy and, if I may be blunt, freedom that I’m certain SSA Casilla would never have allowed. That ends now. When you return from resolving whatever family issues you have, we’ll have a discussion as to what exactly is expected of you should you want to continue working as a federal agent. Do you understand?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good. I am writing this incident up for your file. It’ll be up to ASAC Durant as to whether you’ll be formally reprimanded, but I will be recommending such. Good-bye.”
She hung up. Lucy stared at the phone with a mixture of anger and frustration and guilt. Her boss was right. Lucy had operated fairly autonomously, even before Noah Armstrong took over when Juan went on paternity leave. She’d overstepped, she’d been put on administrative leave, she’d put herself in the crosshairs of a violent drug cartel that, risked the lives of everyone she worked with.
But the crux of the problem was that she didn’t regret the decisions she made. Every tough choice she’d made ultimately saved lives. She’d resolved herself to live with the consequences of her actions, but that meant that she may not have a long career in the FBI.
What else could she have done? Justin was her nephew. Andrew was still family. Three other little boys deserved justice. And she knew, in her gut, that they didn’t have enough information to turn over to the police.
Until now.
Lucy and Max had stayed up half the night putting together all the evidence—all of which was circumstantial. But it was certainly compelling. And Lucy knew, as soon as she was confronted with the evidence, that Danielle would incriminate herself. All it took was the right questions, the right focus, and Danielle’s guilt would make her break.
Dillon needed to come to California and break her. There was no one better than him, and he was a civilian consultant for the FBI. He had the certifications and credentials necessary. He’d already agreed to go to Arizona and assess Blair Caldwell—she might not agree, but that was fine—Dillon didn’t need to have her agreement. He could give the prosecution more information into the mind of the killer, and testify as to the type of person who could commit this crime. He couldn’t flat-out say that Blair was guilty—without a psychological evaluation that he administered it would be problematic—but Lucy was pretty certain that there was a psych eval done at some point. That would help Dillon with his assessment.
Her phone rang. Caller ID informed her it was Carina.
Lucy took a deep breath and answered.
“Hello.”
“It’s Carina. Connor and I are in the lobby. Can we come up?”
Lucy wanted to say no. She was nervous about her presentation this morning, she didn’t want anyone else in her head. Nothing they could say would deter her from this path, but at the same time, this was family. She’d hoped that after her conversation with Carina on Saturday, her sister understood why she was pursuing this.
“I don’t have a lot of time,” Lucy said.
“I know, my chief called me this morning.”
Dammit. Lucy knew that might be a possibility because Carina was well respected on the police force. She’d only hoped that Andrew had convinced the chief to keep everything under wraps until they officially took over the case, or it was officially an FBI case.
“Lucy, Connor and I want to be there. We want to help. Can we just come up and explain?”
“All right.” Lucy gave Carina her room number and hung up. She sent Max a text message and said she’d meet her in the lobby at ten. Their meeting at SDPD was at eleven. Andrew was also talking to the special agent in charge of the local FBI office, after Lucy’s conversation with SSA Ken Swan yesterday. Lucy suspected her boss, SSA Vaughn, would hear about this before the day was out, but there was nothing else she could do.
A murderer would be in prison and that was the most important thing.
Lucy answered the door as soon as Carina knocked. She was dressed for work—slacks, a button-down shirt, and a blazer. Connor was right behind her in jeans and a leather jacket.
“I’m meeting Max downstairs in twenty minutes,” Lucy said.
“Nelia called me last night,” Carina began. “She told me about your conversation with her. She also talked to Dad.”
“I didn’t ask her to do that.”
“Connor and Julia were over for dinner when she called, and we all had a long talk. I don’t think Nelia and I have talked in years … not like that. Nothing more than superficial conversation. While I was thinking of her when you announced you were investigating Justin’s murder, I was thinking more about myself. What I went through, that the police suspected me, that I looked into Justin’s murder as soon as I became a cop and there was nothing—no evidence, no suspects, nothing. I assumed that if I couldn’t find anything and I was there at the time that you certainly wouldn’t be able to find anything, but that all this shit would be dredged up again and I would be … I don’t know. I really don’t know what I was thinking, but I was being selfish.”
“I understand.” In part. Maybe she wouldn’t completely understand why her family had been set against her on this, but she didn’t hold it against any of them, especially Carina.
“We’re also concerned about the reporter,” Connor said. “Reporters are not our friends.”
“Max is … different.”
Connor snorted and Carina shot him a look.
Lucy said, “Max is going to write about Justin’s murder when we catch Danielle Sharpe and she’s been arrested for her crimes.”
“And what about you?”
“What about me?”
“Is she going to write about you?”
“No.”
“You trust her that much? That she won’t dig up your past?”
Why did everything come back to her past? Was she supposed to hide and cower for fear that someone would find out that she’d been kidnapped and brutally raped? That she’d nearly died? That her injuries were so severe that she lost her uterus and could never have her own children? The truth was out there, if someone knew where to look and were really, really good at it. Max could find it if she wanted to. It would take her time, but she could figure it out.
Through clenched teeth, Lucy said, “Not everything is about me.”
“That’s not what we meant—” Carina began.
Lucy cut her off, forced herself to relax. “Whether she finds out the truth about what happened isn’t what’s important. She won’t write about it.”
“How can you be so damn sure?”
“Because Sean had her promise not to write about him or me without our permission.”
“And she’ll stick to it?” Connor shook his head. “A verbal agreement means nothing, especially to someone like her. I looked her up, she’s a bitch. What people have said about her—sure, she’s solved some cold cases and she doesn’t back down. But she’s all about ratings. What’s going to help her show. And if she thinks you will help her show, she’ll exploit you. We both know you’ve been involved in some situations that really wouldn’t be so great to be public. And I’m not talking about what happened when you were eighteen.”
“She’s not all about the ratings. Yes, she is focused on her show and what she can use for it, but she made me a promise, and I believe she will live up to it. But truthfully, even if she did find out everything there is to know about me, should I let that stop me from bringing Danielle Sharpe to justice?”
“There are other ways.”
“We would have nothing if Max hadn’t found the connection between Justin and two other boys. We would have nothing if Max hadn’t come in and asked the hard questions. She wouldn’t have a case without my help—she would have theories, but no one here was going to help her because Justin’s murder was essentially off-limits for fear of upsetting the Kincaids.”
“That includes you, Lucy,” Carina said softly.
“And Andrew asked me for my opinion. Max has a keen eye, and she has included me from the beginning. We’re presenting our evidence with Andrew’s blessing, with Nelia’s blessing, and the help of Detective Katella. Dillon is going to be on speakerphone because he helped with the profile. A representative from the FBI is going to be there. But this wouldn’t have happened if Max and I didn’t work together.” She looked from her sister to her brother. “You called not ten minutes ago and said you wanted to help. Now you’re challenging me? I don’t have time for this or time to doubt myself.”
“We’re not—” Carina began.
“You are. You’re testing my resolve or, hell, I don’t know! But I’m not going to back down.”
“I want to be there,” Carina said.
“I don’t know,” Lucy said. “I’d like you to be, but I don’t know that I can trust you.”
The sorrow that crossed Carina’s face was real. “Lucy, you’re a great cop. I really believe you found Justin’s killer. I want to listen to the evidence. I want to help stop her. It’ll give me closure, too. I need it—but if you really don’t want me there, fine. I’ll stand down.”
What could she say? No? Could she even keep Carina out of the room considering that she was an SDPD detective on good terms with her chief?
Sometimes, she still felt like a little girl. Her brothers and sisters were so much older than she was. Even Patrick, the next youngest, was nearly eleven years older than her. Was that what Thursday night was about? Lucy didn’t back down when her family ganged up on her, but would they ever see her as someone other than the lost girl she’d been after she’d been raped? Someone other than the little kid who tagged along with her older siblings?
She’d thought after last year, when she mitigated the hostage crisis at the hospital, that they finally saw her as a grown woman, a cop who knew what to do and when to do it.
“I’m not going to ban you,” Lucy said. “If you want to be there, I want you there. But if you undermine me, I will ask you to leave.”
Carina clearly wasn’t expecting that answer—whether that she wanted her there or that she would really ask her to leave. Lucy couldn’t have someone second-guessing her when she was already nervous about everything that they’d done. Not that she’d done anything wrong, but her job was on the line and she wasn’t going to allow her family to turn a difficult situation into an impossible situation.
“Thank you,” Carina said.
“Are you joining us?” Lucy asked Connor. She had never been as close to Connor as Patrick. Maybe because fifteen years separating them was too much, she didn’t know. And then after Patrick’s coma, Connor had distanced himself even further. It wasn’t his fault—he had watched Patrick nearly die when they went to rescue Lucy and walked into a trap. Lucy sensed that he was conflicted about a lot of things, and it was just better if she steered clear. Yet, there were many things she loved about him, including his loyalty to his family.
“No,” Connor said. “I shouldn’t have been involved in any way—this wasn’t my decision to make.”
“You’re family.”
“I was being overprotective of Carina, but in doing so, I hurt you. And I’m sorry.”
“Apology unnecessary but accepted.”
“It’s hard to see you all grown up. You aren’t the little girl who followed Patrick and me everywhere. You left for the East Coast practically a child and came back a woman, and it’s been … difficult, I suppose, to see you so focused and mature. And you’re close to Jack when no one else is. No one quite knows what he does or even if it’s legal.”
Lucy was surprised to hear that from Connor, but he was right about one thing—when her father disowned Jack, it had taken Jack years to start building a relationship with his family again. Lucy wasn’t part of that—and she and Jack had bonded. Over tragedy and adversity, but he was a rock. Her rock.
Connor continued. “If you trust this reporter, I’ll accept your judgment. And it’s clear you found something solid, otherwise the chief would never meet with you.”
“It is solid. Danielle will break as soon as she’s questioned—I’m ninety percent certain. So is Dillon. We’ll get her. We just have to find her, and we have enough information to turn over that the police should be able to locate her. We suspect she’s in California.”
Connor said, “Can Carina go with you? I drove her over here.”
“Sure.”
Carina was relieved, and they all walked down to the lobby together. Max was waiting—talking on her phone—and raised her eyebrows when Lucy approached.
“I’ll call you when I have something solid,” she said into the phone, then ended the call. “Isn’t this a pleasant surprise,” she said drolly.
“Carina is going to join us for the meeting with Chief Causey,” Lucy said.
Max didn’t say anything.
Lucy gave Connor a hug. “Thank you for understanding,” she said.
“If you need me, for anything”—he gave Max a sidelong look full of suspicion—“call me. Anytime.”
“I will.”
Connor left and Max said, “Ready?”
“Yes.”
Max turned and strode out of the lobby. Her rental car had already been brought around to the front. It was all Lucy could do to keep up with her long stride.
“Carina wants to be involved,” Lucy said quietly. “She wants to help.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I am.”
Max slid into the driver’s seat. It didn’t take long to arrive at SDPD headquarters, but Max was silent the entire drive. So she was irritated. Lucy didn’t regret bringing Carina along. Knowing the truth would only help her sister—and the rest of her family.
As soon as they arrived, Carina spotted her longtime partner and excused herself.
“I’m not going to apologize,” Lucy said to Max as they waited for their escort to the chief’s office.
“For what?”
“You’re mad that I brought Carina.”
“Not mad. Mildly irritated. She could have been helping from the beginning, but I’m not upset that she’s here. Truthfully, the more law enforcement on board, the better chance we have of building the case and for the DA or AUSA to get a conviction. I may not be a cop or a lawyer, but I’ve followed enough trials and investigations to know that with something like this, more cooks makes for a better meal.”
Lucy wasn’t sure she’d have used that analogy, but she understood what Max meant.
“Then why the silent treatment?”
“Truthfully? I had an argument with my boyfriend this morning. He’s in northern California and wants me to come up for a few days after I’m done with Blair Caldwell’s trial.”
“And? What’s the argument?”
“I took what you said to heart—that he might have this twisted thought that he’s protecting me or that he doesn’t want the negativity in our relationship or some such nonsense. So I told him as much. And he finally told me why he won’t share.” She glanced around, then lowered her voice. “He said he knows what I will say, that I will tell him he’s being manipulated by his ex-wife. But ultimately, he’ll do anything to keep joint custody of his son, and it would only frustrate both of us if we discuss it.”
“Is he right?”
“Partly. He is being manipulated, but it’s more than that. It’s like extortion. Nancy has something that Nick desperately wants—time with his son—and he’s willing to do anything for it. He’s going by the rules—the legal process, the court system—and she then changes the rules midgame. It’s wholly unfair, and Nick is being hung by his balls because he won’t call her bluff.”
“He doesn’t want to risk his son.”
“I get that. I don’t want him to risk his relationship. He says we’ll talk, but it’s more of the same. It’s tearing Nick apart and I can’t watch, especially when he won’t let me be involved.”
In a mere whisper, Max said, “And maybe I just don’t love him enough to ignore all this.”
Lucy felt for Max—it was clear she had feelings for Nick, but it was also clear that she was losing respect for him. “Sometimes, when I have a difficult decision, I consider each possible choice I could make and run through the outcomes—not what will happen, but how I will feel about each outcome. How would you feel if you ended the relationship?”
“I’ve thought about it a lot, especially since September. I would miss our conversations, I would miss the sex even though we don’t see each other all that often. Definitely miss the sex. But I don’t think I would be torn apart by ending the relationship. And I don’t think Nick would be, either.”
“I’m sorry.”
A uniformed officer came out to escort Lucy and Max to a large conference room. Lucy was surprised that they had such a large group of people. Andrew, Carina, Don Katella, two uniformed officers, and three detectives—or so she thought—that she didn’t recognize. The chief then walked in with FBI SSA Ken Swan. Lucy had met him a year ago when she was visiting her dad in the hospital over Christmas and became embroiled in a hostage situation.
“Agent Swan,” Lucy said.
“Agent Kincaid. Good to see you again. Do you have a minute?”
Lucy almost panicked, suspecting that this was going to be bad news considering her conversation with her boss an hour ago. “Of course.”
She stepped out of the room with Swan.
“Just wanted you to know that I got word from Denver—Sharpe made contact with her ex last night, and as you suggested, he spoke to her. When you’re right, you’re right—the woman is certifiable.”
“Were you able to trace it?”
“It lasted less than two minutes. Collins tried to extend the conversation, but no dice. We know what region, however—it came from Southern California. The techs narrowed it to Los Angeles, Orange County, or San Bernardino.”
“That’s more than we had before.”
“You need to hear it. She called just after midnight Denver time.”
“We have to present—”
“Two minutes.” He pulled out his phone and earbuds and handed it to Lucy. She put the earbuds in and Swan pressed Play.
Lucy closed her eyes.
“Hello,” Richard Collins said. Lucy could hear the strain in his voice.
Danielle didn’t say anything for several seconds.
“Who is this?” Richard said.
“Me,” Danielle said.
“It’s after midnight. You can’t keep calling me so late. I have to work.”
“Matthew would have been thirty on Friday.”
“I never forget his birthday, Danielle.”
“We didn’t deserve to have him.”
“That’s not true. We loved him.”
“No, we didn’t. If we loved him, we would have been there that night.”
“You don’t believe that. Listen, I have an idea. Let’s meet in Tallahassee on Friday, okay? Have lunch? Talk about this—talk about Matthew. You have to find a way to put this behind you.”
“Behind me? He was murdered, Richard! Because I wasn’t there to protect him. Because you were fucking another woman! He’s dead and it’s all our fault!”
That was new, Lucy realized. On the previous conversations, she hadn’t said anything about her blame. She was either escalating or something had happened with the family she was stalking.
“It’s not your fault or my fault. It was Paul Borell and he’s in hell.”
“I’m in hell! And I wish you were there with me!”
She disconnected the call. She said to Ken, “Can you send that to Dr. Dillon Kincaid? He’s going to be on the conference call, but I want him to listen to it first.”
“E-mail?”
She gave him Dillon’s contact information.
“She has a victim,” Lucy said. “She has a plan—we have to find her fast.”
“Denver is working on the tech, but I don’t think they’re going to get any closer.”
“We have a room full of smart people, we’ll figure it out before the morning is over,” Lucy said.
“How long can you stay here? I can clear it with your SSA—Richardson already gave me the approval.”
She needed to be honest with Ken from the beginning. “I took time off to be here, but I didn’t tell my boss why.”
“And he would have a problem with it?”
“She might. She’s new to the office. We’ve been in a bit of flux this year—my SSA left on paternity leave, we had a temporary guy, and now the original SSA is retiring early. I don’t want to make waves.”
“I can smooth over anything, but if you don’t want me to call, I won’t. Still, I can’t guarantee that your name isn’t going to come up. If we arrest this person and there’s a trial, you’ll have testimony, briefing the AUSA, any number of things.”
She hadn’t even thought that far ahead.
“Did you lie to her about what you were doing?” Ken asked.
“No, not really. I said family issues. I don’t lie well, so I thought being vague would be best.”
“I’ll talk to Richardson, see what she thinks we should do. I’d like you to be part of this—you earned it.”
“I just want this woman stopped.”
“You and me both.”
* * *
Lucy let Max present their findings—how she became interested in the cold cases, what she put together and when, and then the timeline. Lucy presented the profile of Danielle Sharpe—a woman so destroyed by grief and anguish that she had a need to spread the suffering to others. She had turned her actions into punishment of sorts—not only for herself, but for anyone who mirrored her own failed life.
They were in the middle of questions when Ken Swan excused himself from the room.
Something was definitely up—he had his phone to his ear before the door closed.
Chief Causey said, “Ken, Andrew, and I already hashed out jurisdictional details—the FBI is taking lead, our office is providing whatever support they need. Andrew has a conflict of interest, and it would be far better for the federal government to prosecute—especially since we’re dealing with a minimum of three jurisdictions and potentially more. But, Ms. Revere, I have a question for you. Do you think in any way that my squad was incompetent or made critical mistakes after Justin Stanton was killed?”
“No, sir,” Max said. “I’ve reviewed all of Detective Katella’s reports and he investigated Justin’s murder not only to the full extent of the abilities of his team, but went above and beyond. There were simply too many variables they couldn’t have known at the time. It was random on the one hand and highly personal on the other.”
Interesting way to analyze the case, but Lucy concurred with Max.
Ken came back into the room. “We may have a break. When we got Sharpe’s name yesterday, we ran her. Clean record, no criminal record. We ran all DMVs in California—got a hit. She has a driver’s license renewed in Sacramento, and owns a black Honda Accord registered to the same address. I have agents already en route to her house.”
“Good work, Ken, and everyone.” Causey asked Katella if he would work with a detective to bring them up to speed, and then dispersed the team. “Ken, do you need my office?”
“No, sir, I’m going to head back to headquarters. Kincaid, can you join me?”
Lucy glanced at Max, then Carina. She had a few things to do first. “Yeah, give me a minute.”
“I’ll meet you out front in five minutes.” He walked away, again on the phone.
“Give me a minute with Carina, okay?” Lucy asked Max.
“Take all the time you want.” Lucy watched as Max pulled Andrew away from the group and out of the room. Lucy couldn’t worry about either of them. She went over to her sister who looked frozen. There was no other word. She hadn’t spoken the entire meeting, hadn’t asked a question, just watched and listened.
“Are you okay?” Lucy asked.
She nodded. “You and Max built the case. It’s solid. I didn’t think it could be done … I’m floored.”
“Fresh eyes,” Lucy said. She sat down. “Carina, you can’t go back. You weren’t a cop then, you did everything you could. Don Katella did everything he could, believe me. At the time, there was no way of knowing that Danielle Sharpe had killed Justin. No evidence, no witnesses, no connection to Andrew or Nelia—except a tenuous connection at the district attorney’s office. She fixated on the family but except for one incident at work, she never did anything to tip her hand.”
“Incident?”
“Andrew can explain. Then she left months later and waited years before she killed again.”
“You did an amazing job, Lucy, really. And I guess you get along with that reporter.”
“She’s very smart. She thinks like a cop, but doesn’t have to follow the rules.” Lucy realized that she didn’t always follow the rules, either. Maybe she was a little jealous of Max’s freedom. Except that while Max could expose a killer, only Lucy and other law enforcement agents could bring a killer to justice.
“I don’t know if Mom and Dad are going to be satisfied,” Lucy said, almost surprising herself.
“I’ll talk to them. Nelia did, but they worry.”
About Nelia and Carina, Lucy thought. Did they worry as much about her? After what her father said, she realized she had a different place in the family than she’d thought. There were some things that couldn’t be forgotten, some things that—maybe—would never be forgiven. Lucy had made peace with what happened on her high school graduation. It had taken her years, but she was stronger now. Maybe her father was right and it changed her in a fundamental way. But she couldn’t go back. She couldn’t undo the past. She was who she was because of how she was raised—if she hadn’t been raised as she was, would she have been able to overcome her attack?
“I’ll come by before I leave San Diego,” Lucy said.
“When are you going back to work?”
“After we find Danielle Sharpe.”
Max was waiting for Lucy when she walked away from Carina. “I’m not cutting you out,” Lucy said. “But this is now an official FBI investigation. And I promise, they’re not going to drop it.”
“Oh, I know that. And I have what I need from Chief Causey and from Andrew.”
“What?”
“Promises of quotes and interviews. An exclusive. And I talked to your brother earlier.”
“Which one?”
“Dillon. The one who doesn’t want to strangle me.”
“You haven’t met them all,” Lucy said, trying to lighten the conversation.
“I’ve done enough research to know I don’t want to be on the bad side of any Kincaid—or Rogan, for that matter.”
“You’re not. Without you, we’d never have identified Danielle Sharpe and we’d never have known what really happened to Justin.”
“We still don’t. We have theories, but you need to stop her. I have complete faith in you, Lucy. And I don’t say that to a lot of people.”
“I appreciate it. I’ll let you know what’s happening.”
“Thanks. And if my staff or I learn anything new, I’ll shoot it to you.”
Lucy extended her hand. “Thanks for everything.”
Max tilted her head. “I’m sure I’ll see you tonight or tomorrow.”
“It might be a zoo, especially if we arrest her.”
“Before you leave, I’d like to take you—and your husband if he’s back—out to dinner.”
Lucy smiled. “I’d like that.”
Lucy left the police station and walked outside. A brief horn alerted her to Ken’s location parked in a red zone. She slid into the passenger seat.
“Where are you staying? Your parents’?”
“The US Grant.”
“Wow. They must pay you better in San Antonio.”
“Why?”
“You need to pack a bag, just in case.” He pulled rapidly from the curb and immediately into traffic. “I always have an overnight in the trunk—been stuck too many times in the boondocks.”
“In case of what?”
“We have three departments working double time on this right now. Sacramento already reported back that Sharpe no longer lives in the house up there—the landlord said she moved out more than two years ago. They’re getting her rental agreement and interviewing the neighbors and talking to her former employer, but it’s not going to get us anywhere. So I followed up with the lawyer in L.A.—Gillogley? Donovan’s partner, the tax lawyer. She’ll talk to us, but only with a warrant. Gave us a bone—said the lawyer is in Los Angeles. My boss is working with the AUSA, we should have it in an hour or two.”
“Andrew can expedite it.”
“Yeah, but we have to keep him out of it from here on out.”
“Then why am I involved?”
“You’re not the kid’s mother. You were related to him, but it’s a degrees of separation thing.” He glanced at her. “Do you want out?”
“No.”
“Good. So we’re heading to L.A. If we hit the road now I’m hoping to miss most traffic, though it’ll still be a mess once we reach Orange County.”
“Backtrack—why can’t the L.A. office interview Gillogley and her lawyer friend?”
“First, it’s going to take time—I’ll take bets on whether we get the warrant before or after we hit the L.A. County line. We’re going to talk to Gillogley about whom she referred Sharpe to—the lawyer who called to thank her, according to your reporter friend. L.A. can handle it, but we’d have to get them up to speed, and then we have the not-so-sensitive information about this chick. That she may be stalking another family. It could take a day to put together a team from L.A.—why take the time? By the way, based on the timeline that referral call was only a short time after Sharpe left Sacramento.”
“She’s built another nest,” Lucy muttered.
“Nest. Sure, I guess. Whatever it is, it’s likely she’s still there. She stays two to five years in each place. I got another agent building on the reporter’s timeline with addresses, employment records, filling in the blanks. By the time we get to L.A. we’ll have a broad warrant. Talk to Chris Donovan’s mother, the lawyer, and follow up with what we learn. Boots to the ground and all that. Sacramento may have been a dead end—but if her MO holds, she’ll be entrenched somewhere else. That’s what you said, right?”
“Yes.”
Lucy left Ken in the car and ran up to her room. She packed a bag, sent Sean a text message, and was back in the car in less than ten minutes.
Sean responded.
I’ll see you when you get back, Princess. I’ll make sure Maxine doesn’t get out of line.
She rolled her eyes and almost laughed.
“All good?” Ken said.
“Good.”
“Want to take that bet?”
“About the warrant? It’s what, two hours to L.A.?”
He laughed. “If you want.”
“We’ll have it before.”
“Or you buy dinner.”
“Fair enough.”