“It’s worse when you have a hangover,” Eddie teased.
“Thank God I was a Marine, or I would be dead now,” Carter said.
“Hoo-rah!” Eddie said.
“Hoo-rah!” Carter repeated.
“Where’s Alexis?” Oz asked. “Working with Gordon on her shooting?”
Reva leaned forward and in a conspiratorial tone said, “I think she and her husband got in a huge fight last night.”
“Knock it off,” Margo said.
“Just saying, she was yelling at him, then she went for a run late. I asked if she wanted company and she blew me off.”
“Because you’re a big gossip,” Oz said.
Reva looked hurt. “I don’t mean anything by it. I just think you should know, so when you see her you’ll know why she’s so upset.”
Lucy understood where Reva was coming from. She was a gossip, but she wasn’t malicious. However, this was the perfect opportunity to start filling in the time line.
“Next time,” Lucy said, “maybe you should ask her. I think she’s lonely and missing her family.”
“It’s not like I wanted to knock on her door at midnight,” Reva said. “I was beat. But maybe next time.”
“Hopefully they work it out,” Lucy said. Midnight, that wasn’t going to help. Most of the new agents would be in their dorm rooms by midnight. Alone. That wasn’t going to make this easy.
Eddie changed the subject. “I didn’t know you were a fish, Kincaid.”
“College swim team,” Lucy said, glad Eddie had taken the lead in diverting the conversation.
Reva snorted. “What she’s not telling you is she had a chance to try for the Olympic team.”
Lucy reddened and stared at her food. “It wasn’t like that,” she said. She didn’t want to talk about her past, and even though it wasn’t a secret that she’d been a championship swimmer in college, any discussion might bring up what happened at her high school graduation. She didn’t even know how Reva found out. It wasn’t a secret, but it wasn’t like Lucy had announced it.
“You gave up that opportunity?” Margo said. “Wow.”
“I swam in college because I enjoyed it. I didn’t want to make a life out of it.”
Carter bumped Lucy with his shoulder. She shot him a surprised look—then he winked. It was a reassuring look. Did he understand her need for privacy? “Aren’t you search and rescue certified?” he asked, gradually changing the subject.
She said, “Water search and rescue. Mostly search, not as much rescue, when I was with the Arlington County Sheriff.”
“I didn’t know you were a deputy,” Jason said.
“I wasn’t—I was in the office developing first-responder plans, plus I worked on the search-and-rescue team.”
“I thought you’d worked at a morgue,” Reva said.
For all her effort not to be the subject of any conversation, Lucy found herself in the middle. She ended up lying just to get the attention off her. “I guess I really didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life.” She grinned. “And all of you are in second careers in the FBI as well, aren’t you?”
“Don’t know if I’d call my three-year tour a career,” Margo said.
“Didn’t you do something before you were a paramedic, Oz?” Carter asked.
Oz glared at him. “Thanks, Nix, buddy.”
“What?” Reva asked. “What’d I miss?”
Carter laughed. “Before Oz was a paramedic, he was a stuntman.”
“Seriously?” Reva asked, eyes wide. “In Hollywood?”
“How’d that happen?” Jason asked.
“By accident, really. I used to skateboard, surf, bungee jump—when I was a teenager, I did some really stupid things, trust me. I think I’ve broken half the bones in my body. But my true love was dirt bikes. A director saw some of my stunts when I was at a competition and hired me. It paid my way through college.”
Carter had Oz talking about some of the movies he worked on, and Lucy was both interested and relieved that the conversation had turned away from her.
Oz, Jason, Margo, Reva—all on campus when Hans was attacked. And Lucy had to confirm where everyone was between midnight and 2:00 a.m. without them knowing.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Georgetown, Washington, D.C.
Little surprised Sean, but when he saw Assistant Director Rick Stockton waiting in front of his Georgetown town house when he and Patrick arrived back late Sunday he was surprised.
“You could have called first, Director,” Sean said.
Stockton smiled with half his mouth. “You think I came out here without knowing you’d already landed?”
Score one for the director, Sean thought. Sean unlocked the door, disconnected the alarm, and gave Patrick a glance. Patrick nodded and said, “I’m beat. It’s been a long two days. Director.”
“Good to see you again, Patrick.”
Patrick went upstairs and Sean led Stockton to the back of the town house. “Beer? Scotch?”
Stockton shook his head. Sean grabbed a beer from the refrigerator.
“Hans Vigo’s condition hasn’t improved,” Stockton said.
“Noah told me what happened. It doesn’t sound like it was an accident.”
“I sent Armstrong to investigate. Only he; the Bureau chief, Lynda O’Neal; another staff member inside; and Lucy know that it was attempted murder.”
“Prognosis?”
“None yet. They know they need to do surgery, but can’t until the swelling on his brain has gone down.” Stockton sat at the bar. “I’ll take that Scotch now.”
Sean poured the best Scotch he had, an eighteen-year-old Laphroaig whiskey.
Stockton looked at the bottle with a grin. “JT.”
JT Caruso, one of the founders of RCK, had served with Stockton and Sean’s oldest brother Kane as a Navy SEAL. Sean had known him since he was a kid. “He sends me a bottle now and again, but I’m not much of a Scotch drinker.”
Something was definitely up with Stockton. Sean leaned against the kitchen counter and let Stockton enjoy the drink. He avoided asking questions, though he had many.
Eventually it came.
“Why did you run a background check on Special Agent Richard Laughlin?”
“How do you know I did?”
“Cut the crap, Rogan.”
Sean wasn’t about to tell Stockton anything, not until he found out why it mattered. “I didn’t break any laws or obtain any classified information, so why do you care?”
Stockton’s expression was stern. “He’s an FBI agent.”
“Why would the assistant director care about a legal background check on an agent? I run backgrounds all the time, usually a lot deeper than what I did on Laughlin.”
Stockton sipped his Scotch and didn’t break eye contact. Sean had run the search quietly; there shouldn’t have been any flags thrown up, unless the FBI was already watching Laughlin. Most of Sean’s research was passive—except for the credit reports.
“You flagged his financials,” Sean said. “That’s the only way you would know that I ran his credit.”
“Who hired you to investigate a sitting FBI agent?”
“No one.”
“Stop bullshitting me.”
“I did it because I wanted to.”
Stockton stared at him, a tick in his jaw, and Sean realized there was something bigger here.
“What did he do?” Sean asked.
“I want the truth, Sean.”
“So do I.”
Stockton slammed his glass down. “Why the games? Why won’t you just tell me?”
“I’m not playing games. You asked me who hired me. I told you no one. I’m not lying. Is he a suspect in Hans’s accident?”
“No.”
Sean believed him. “What do you want?”
“If no one hired you, why did you run a background?”
Sean decided to give him most of the truth. “He’s harassing Lucy.”
That
response seemed to surprise Stockton. “Lucy asked you to do it?”
“No,” Sean lied. “But when she told me he was making her nervous, I decided to dig around and find out why.”
Stockton reached over and retrieved the Scotch, poured a finger, and sipped. “And did you find out why?”
“More or less. As much as I could find out legally.”
“You have a theory.”
“I do.”
Stockton didn’t say anything. Sean decided it didn’t matter if Stockton knew or not. “Lucy wants to handle it herself. She doesn’t want me, or you, or anyone butting in.”
“But you ran a background check anyway.”
“And again, I ask, why do you care?”
“Agent Laughlin has been undercover for the last year in a major drug and money-laundering sting in a joint operation with the DEA. We sent him to Quantico as a class mentor until the trial.”
“As protection?”
“It was a dicey op, but we have the bad guys in custody. Just wanted to make sure one of them hadn’t hired you.”
Stockton wasn’t being completely honest with him, but Sean let it slide for the moment. “I’m stunned you’d think I wouldn’t check out my clients,” he said.
“Point taken.” He sipped. “Why does Lucy think Laughlin is harassing her?”
“I said, she wants to handle it.”
“I’m not getting involved. Just curious.”
Sean didn’t believe that, but it couldn’t hurt for Stockton to know that one of his agents held grudges. He told him what he knew about Laughlin’s and Kate’s shared work history.
Sean put his beer down. “Now my question to you is, how does Laughlin know Lucy didn’t pass her FBI panel, and why would he tell her Hans got her into the Academy?”
Stockton kept a poker face, but his eyes told Sean the information came as a surprise.
“I’ll answer that,” Sean continued. “To demoralize her. To make her doubt herself. He doesn’t know her; he doesn’t have any connection to Lucy except through Kate. So I think Laughlin was buddies with Standler and he blames Kate for Standler’s death.”
“That’s weak.”
“Maybe it is, but unless you have other information, that’s what I’m going with.”
Stockton drained his Scotch and put the glass down. “Thank you for the Scotch, and the truth,” Stockton said.
“Anytime. You’re practically family.” Sean trusted few people in law enforcement; Rick Stockton was an exception. In addition to being close to RCK, Stockton had proven to be both discreet and smart.
“Learn anything in New York?”
“Already gave the intel to Noah.”
Stockton nodded. “You’re still searching for Peter McMahon?”
Sean walked Stockton to the door. “That’s the last thing Hans asked me to do, as I explained to Noah. He never legally changed his name to Peter Gray, but he was using it for years. Peter Gray disappeared six years ago. My guess is he either went completely off the grid or changed his name, this time legally. I’m working on a couple angles from his time at SU.” Sean had a buddy in Syracuse who would be pulling files at the police station first thing in the morning.
“Kate’s also working on tracking down McMahon. A little competition never hurt.” Stockton smiled and left.
Sean ran up the stairs and logged in to his computer. Lucy was online. He called her.
“Rick Stockton just paid me a visit. I think he’s looking at Laughlin for something completely different than we are.” He told her about the case in Detroit and the “protection” by being put at Quantico. “There’s something fishy about the whole thing.”
“It’s Stockton’s job to protect his agents. It makes sense to me. Laughlin may be a great agent and a jerk at the same time.”
“It was the way he asked, the way he assessed my answers.”
“Did he have an update on Hans?”
“He’s the same. How are you holding up?”
“I’m okay. Better now, anyway. All I have to think about is Hans lying unconscious after someone hit him over the head—if these people are really my friends, they’ll understand.”
“Did you get the photo I sent?”
“The guy in the subway station? I didn’t recognize him, but it’s not a lot to go on. I don’t know if I saw him that I’d recognize him.”
“And the articles?”
“I’m reading them now.”
“I sent Noah a message about a notebook of Rosemary Weber’s that Tony took before leaving New York.”
“We went through his overnight bag—it was in his car—and the notebook wasn’t there. Are you sure he took it?”
“He could have brought it into his office. Maybe it went the same way as his file.”
“Meaning, someone stole it. What year was it?”
“The anniversary week of Rachel McMahon’s disappearance. That’s why I sent you the articles from that week. You read Tony’s file—maybe you’ll notice something.”
“I’ll try.”
“It’s all we have for now. Watch yourself, Lucy.”
“I love you, Sean.”
Sean hung up, wishing he could just pop in and see her. But he had his own tasks, and if they were going to get to the bottom of what was going on in New York and at Quantico finding Peter McMahon was one major step.
The guy might be innocent in all this and just trying to disappear from his past.
Or he could have a vendetta he was in the middle of enacting.
Sean sent Lucy an encouraging e-mail, then went back to his notes on McMahon. He itched to find the guy. Kate was good—one of the best—but Sean was better.
Especially since Stockton didn’t say anything about Sean having to find McMahon legally.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Three Years Ago
I walked out of the courthouse expecting freedom, but only fear followed me.
How long until that crazy woman found me again? Cami. I had loved her, but I’d loved a lie.
I’d always thought whoever was harassing me was a bully. Some jock who liked to pick on the little kids who couldn’t, or wouldn’t, defend themselves. But I’m six foot two now, I work out at the gym every morning, and I can defend myself.
But only if I see them coming.
I changed my name for a second time. The first had been to protect me from the media, and I’d taken Grams’s last name. But this time, I needed to do more than fill out a form. I needed to be a new person. Someone the woman who wanted me dead couldn’t find.
I was getting in my new car, the one registered under “Gray Manning,” and saw Detective Charlie Mead striding toward me. He’d made detective fast, but I wasn’t surprised. He was a smart man and the only person on earth I trusted.
No bad news. I can’t take any more bad news. “Gray Manning,” he said.
It would take a bit of getting used to, I realized.
“Charlie.”
He stopped just short of my car and scratched the back of his neck. I was going to miss him. He was like Rachel, only a big brother rather than a big sister. We’d become friends. I went to his wedding last year. I liked his wife, and she liked me. It was normal. The only normal I’d ever had.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t find her.”
“You tried.”
Trying didn’t satisfy him.
“I’ll keep on it.”
I shook my head. “No prints, no photos, no name. She found me when I transferred from SU. The sketch gave us nothing. This is the only way.”
“I’m not giving up,” he stated. “You deserve to have your life back.”
“No. I don’t want that life. I’m going to make a new one. But I’m going to miss you and Tina.”
“We’ll keep in touch—through that account I set up for you, okay?”
I nodded. “You’re the only one who knows where I’m going.”
“As far as I’m concerned, you’re in witness protection, of so
rts.”
Some people might think that a twenty-one-year-old man going into hiding—legally changing his name, burying his past, teaching at a poor public elementary school in Brooklyn to avoid seeing anyone who might know him—was a weak man.
But I need peace. Anonymity that a big city can provide. I need to be someone else. I don’t need to know why someone wants to hurt me just like I don’t need to know why my parents are selfish or why my sister was murdered or why I’m here.
These things just are.
I said, “Thank you.”
“Peter,” Charlie said softly. “If anything feels strange to you, if you think she’s found you, call me, okay? Anytime, day or night.”
“I will.”
But I knew I wouldn’t. If she found me again, she’d kill me.
Because even now, after everything she’d done to me, I don’t think I could kill her.
How can I kill someone I don’t even know?
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
FBI Academy
Sean had e-mailed Lucy nine articles that Rosemary Weber had written during the month that Tony seemed to have been interested in when he returned to the Weber house. Lucy read them multiple times, made a list of names, places, and facts, and nothing jumped out at her as being important. She put them aside in the wee hours of the morning to sleep for a couple hours, and she woke up tired.
“Great,” she muttered. It was defensive driving time, and Lucy was exhausted.
“Up late?” Reva asked as they walked the half mile to the car track.
“Catching up.”
“I’ll bet. I wouldn’t want to study if I had a boyfriend as hot as yours.”
Lucy shook her head but smiled. Reva was predictable, which made her comfortable.
Carter caught up with them. “How you doing?” he asked Lucy.
“Fine.” She eyed him suspiciously. “Shouldn’t I be?”
“You’ve often said how much you were dreading the driving test.”
“This isn’t a test,” Reva said.
“I don’t like driving, but I got a pep talk from Sean.” Lucy didn’t feel apprehensive like she thought she would. In the whole scheme of things, driving didn’t feel as weighty as it had in the past. Though her rape and near death seven years ago had been traumatic and terrifying, the thought of losing her family was in many ways worse. Talking to Sean about the car accident when she was five had helped her come to terms with her fears.
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