LUCY: The Complete Lucy Kendall Series with Bonus Content (The Lucy Kendall Series Book 5)

by Stacy Green

  “She was always ready to run,” I said. “She and her father lived on and off the grid for so long she knows how to horde cash.”

  “The name thing, though. Nah, it’s probably nothing.”

  “Let me decide that,” Todd said. “What do you remember?”

  His father coughed again, wet and harsh. “Her medication from the hospital. It had the name Mary Kent. I questioned her on it, and she said it was for insurance purposes and none of my business. To be honest, I didn’t want to know.”

  Todd and I stared at each other, my pulse pounding. Mary Kent.

  “You’re sure you don’t remember seeing the name of the hospital or a doctor on her medications?” Todd said.

  “She never told me,” Josh said. “And I figured that was none of my business.”

  Todd’s tight expression warned he’d had enough. “All right, thanks for the call. You’ve been some help.”

  “Son, don’t hang up.” Josh’s sick-laden voice took on a note of plaintiveness that pulled at my conscience. “I’d like for us to get together when you’re back in town. I’m staying at the men’s shelter on 58th, I’m sure you know the place.”

  “We’ll see,” Todd said. “I’ve got to go. Thanks for your call.” He smacked the button to disconnect and stared down at the receiver, his arms shaking from the weight of his body. No one spoke until Ryan’s uncertain voice piped up.

  “There’s four different mental health facilities south of Philadelphia that would have been in operation during that time,” he said. “I can call and ask whether or not they had a patient named Mary Kent. If we get a hit, we’ll need a subpoena for her records.”

  “Do it, please.”

  We spent the next hour painstakingly going over the files while Ryan used the FBI’s resources to locate the hospital Mary Kent had been admitted to. The drone of his voice as he made phone call after phone call, combined with the sound of files rustling and the anger still seeping off Todd, made me feel like climbing the station’s concrete walls.

  “I’m going outside for some air.” I exited the room before anyone could stop me, shrugging on my coat. My sluggish system welcomed the bracingly cold air. I blinked against the afternoon sun glaring off the snow.

  Before I could sink into my thoughts, I heard a nauseatingly familiar voice.

  “Hi, Lucy.” Beth Ried shut the door to a red Honda Civic and approached me with a friendly smile. The reporter had evidently been squatting outside the station, just waiting for information.

  “Leave me alone.”

  “I think we got off on the wrong foot.” Her smile didn’t waver, but she kept her distance. “I really do just want to help.”

  “You want a career story,” I said. “And you want to get it before the rest of your flock catches wind of this and flies down. Time’s probably running out on that.”

  “Time’s running out on a lot of things.” Her false sincerity made me steam. “Have the police found the Chevy?”

  Stupidly, I stared at her. “What Chevy?”

  “The one the local guy reported seeing Tuesday night, the night the cabin was found.”

  Had I gone crazy? I flipped through my memory, but I knew I’d never heard of the Chevy before. Why would Lennox keep this from me? Or Todd? If he knew about it, he would have told me.

  “You don’t know?” Ried’s eyes lit up. She no doubt relished having the upper hand. I braced myself for her attempt at an information exchange. She’d learn very quickly that I got what I wanted without giving anything back.

  “Around six Tuesday evening, a farmer living on a dirt road adjacent to the property that cabin is on saw a navy, four-door older model Chevy race past his house. The car was going so fast they skidded on the ice and nearly hit his mailbox.”

  I waited, staring at her with my coldest expression.

  “He said a woman with dark hair was driving, and there was an old man in the passenger seat. He didn’t see any more than that, but he got a partial plate. The first two letters were BC.”

  I took my time, compartmentalizing my anger into something useful. “How did you find this information?”

  Ried smirked, raising her eyebrow. “I’ve got my sources. Sounds like you’re being left out of the loop.”

  I bit my tongue hard enough to draw blood. The taste of copper filled my mouth, and I latched onto it. Remember the end game. Fortunately, I still knew how to play.

  “Give me your source, and I’ll answer one question.”

  Her eyes darted between mine, her chin lifting with arrogance. Let her think she had the upper hand. My ego wasn’t so fragile I couldn’t give her that fantasy.

  “You answer my question first.”

  “All right.”

  “Is Chris Hale a suspect in the murder of the girl found in the cabin? Does Agent Lennox believe he’s working with his mother?”

  “That’s two questions. He’s not a suspect,” I said. “I can’t tell you what Agent Lennox believes. But he hasn’t said anything like that to me. Your turn.”

  Ried’s smile turned into a grimace that aged her. “You didn’t give me much.”

  I stepped down off the curb so that we were closer to eye level. Ried backed away, just as she had before. “But I answered your question.”

  “I need more.”

  “There’s been another sighting,” I said. “An hour away. Hanover. The FBI thinks they’re heading north.”

  She cocked her head, debating. Searching my face to see if she could spot the lie.

  Keep looking, bitch.

  “I overheard Chief Deputy Frost talking to the witness on the phone last night.” Ried hooked her thumb toward the section of the parking lot where the patrol cars parked. “She was over there, on her cell. I figured she was keeping the information to herself because I’ve heard rumblings the big boys think she screwed up by not calling in Major Case right away. I figured she was trying to redeem herself.”

  So Ried had guessed. Frost hadn’t shared the information. Instead of passing it on–because she cared so much about justice–she held on to it until she saw the opportunity to use it to her advantage.

  “Thank you. Hanover.” I left her standing there, hurrying into the warmth of the station. As soon as the doors closed, I called Lennox.

  “I’m on my way back with the security footage from the gas station,” he said. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. We’ll talk then.”

  “Fine. But I’ve got information you need now. Chief Deputy Frost has been holding out on you.”

  27

  Lennox strode into our makeshift headquarters with the grace of a bull after a cow. His suit pants were wrinkled from the drive, and the energy drink he clutched made it clear he’d dipped to running on fumes. “Lucy, did you mention your information to the others?”

  I shook my head, feeling everyone’s gaze on me. They’d find out soon enough.

  “Good,” Lennox said. “She’s coming in now. Let me do the talking.”

  Footsteps soon revealed the she in question. Chief Deputy Frost walked carefully into the room, a doe in the forest during hunting season. Like the rest of us, her face revealed the stress of the past few days. Her skin had lost some of its glow, and strands of hair were coming loose from her ponytail. She smelled of coffee and clothes that had gone too many days without being laundered. I wanted to admire her working around the clock to make up for her bad decision the first day, but I couldn’t get past her selfishness.

  “Agent Lennox, you wanted to see me?” Her cool tone gave no sign of distress.

  Lennox leaned against the back wall, arms folded over his broad chest and his feet crossed at the ankles. But he looked far from relaxed. The tension rippled off him, his jaw set hard and his brown eyes fierce. “Do you have something you want to tell me?”

  Frost’s eyes flickered around the room, seeking answers from one of us. Her gaze landed on mine, and I stared back, feeling the anger heating my entire system. She swallowed. “Not that
I can think of.”

  “That was your one chance.” Lennox drained his energy drink and slammed it into the trashcan. “I hope you’ve enjoyed your career because it’s about to be over.”

  Her mouth opened, and I saw the debate in her eyes. She still believed she could lie her way out of trouble. “I don’t understand.”

  “Let me spell it out for you,” Lennox said. “You have a witness who claimed a navy, four-door older Chevy drove past his house on a dirt road that runs adjacent to the property the hunting cabin is on. Our crime scene,” he emphasized, his voice deadly soft. “This person remembers a dark-haired woman driving, with an older male in the passenger seat. The car skidded on the ice and nearly hit his mailbox. You received this information early Wednesday, correct?”

  Frost looked like she’d been punched in the gut. What little color she had drained from her face. Her hands jammed into her pockets, her tall body slouching until I thought she might fall over. Disappointment flooded me. I’d hoped she would fight a little harder.

  “I can explain,” she said.

  “There’s no explanation that would excuse your decision not to pass this information on to me or Detective Adams from Major Case. You know this isn’t some Goddamned small town criminal. This is an FBI-wanted fugitive.” His cheeks puffed as he spoke, his voice sharp enough to cut glass. “Yet you chose to be selfish and stupid in an attempt to redeem yourself.”

  “I’ve put out a BOLO for the car,” she said meekly. “The witness couldn’t remember what state the license plate was from, but he got the first two letters. I’m having our people run all possible combinations in Pennsylvania, Maryland, and Virginia. And I notified the state troopers about the car.”

  “But you left me out of the loop,” Lennox said. “I’m the one making the decisions. Detective Adams is in Virginia right now, where we’ve had two sightings. Don’t you think it would have helped us if we’d known to look for the Chevy? The Maryland State Troopers are checking their own roads–they don’t know about the Virginia sighting, which means they didn’t know to pass the information on. And I’m sure the car’s been dumped now.”

  “I just wanted to show that I could handle a big case.” Frost looked down at the floor.

  “I don’t care what you wanted.” Lennox pushed off the wall, standing straight. “You made a mistake by not calling Major Crimes when Detective Beckett and Lucy told you exactly who you were dealing with. A bad judgment that was forgivable, chalked up to inexperience. But this was pure selfishness, and it’s going to cost you.”

  “I’m doing everything that you would have done,” Frost tried.

  Lennox slammed his hands down on the table, making the entire thing tremble with his rage. “Do you have access to our FBI analysts? Do you have the same resources we do? Don’t you think it’s possible we could have found the car when you couldn’t? And doesn’t the chain of command mean anything to you? The rules exist for a reason. And because of your stupidity, we might have lost our chance to bring closure to a lot of hurting families.” He pounded his fist on the table. “That’s what you have to live with now. If we don’t find Mary Weston and her accomplices, part of the blame is on your shoulders. And if I have my way, you’ll go to each family waiting for answers, starting with the dead girl in the hunting cabin, and explain to them why the bitch who murdered their child is still at large.” He breathed heavy, spittle forming at the corner of his mouth.

  Tears stained Frost’s flushed face. “I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t want to hear your excuses. I want the name of the witness so I can go talk to him, and then I want you out of my sight. Your superior is expecting you in his office.”

  Frost slouched farther, scrubbing the moisture off her face. “Earl Evans.”

  “Dismissed.” Lennox glared at her as if he’d prefer her to stay and let him chew on her a little longer. She turned and walked away, her shoulders rounded.

  I still didn’t feel sorry for her.

  No one spoke. Lennox’s anger had sucked all of the normalcy from the room and replaced it with white-hot tension. Kelly trembled beside me, and I squeezed her hand.

  “Now,” Lennox took a deep breath, turning to Ryan. “I got your message about Mercer Mental Health.”

  “In Allentown.” Ryan nodded. “It’s a state-funded facility which would explain how Mary could have afforded it. Here’s the interesting part: even though Mary gave Todd’s father the name of Mary Weston, that’s not the name she used to check into the hospital.”

  “She used Kent?” Lennox bounced on the balls of his feet.

  Ryan grinned. “I managed to get the administrator to tell me that a Mary Kent was treated from January 1992 until the middle of June of the same year.” He checked his notes. “But he refused to give me anything else. He said I’d need a court order.”

  “You’ll get it,” Lennox said. “You guys should have Mary Kent’s records from Mercer Mental Health by tomorrow morning.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  I cut him off before he could say anything more, my mind already past Frost’s demise. “What about the security video? Did you find any witnesses?”

  “I’ve emailed Ryan a copy of the video.” Lennox’s gleaming eyes turned to me. “Employees at the gas station confirmed Mary and the older man came in early yesterday and purchased basic necessities: toilet paper, dried food, that sort of thing. This morning around three A.M., the same elderly man came in along with Chris and another unidentified male. He appears to be roughly the same age as Mary, and judging by the security tape, he thinks he’s in charge.” Lennox’s gaze remained on mine, making a hollow pit in the bottom of my stomach. “You’ll see that Chris stays close to the old man, and it’s obvious the guy needs help walking. Whatever’s wrong with him looks to have affected his basic motor skills. Go ahead, Ryan.”

  Ryan cued up the video, and we all leaned over his scrawny shoulder. My heart beat hard enough I could have sworn I tasted the blood in my throat.

  “It’s plain-ass luck on our part that the station’s camera is well hidden. It’s the only modern thing in the entire store,” Lennox said. “You’ll see the unknown man come in. He’s wearing a plaid overcoat.” His words came just as the man entered the frame. The low-quality tape did little for facial recognition. The man looked to be around six feet with a beer belly, beard, and shaggy hair. His pants sagged around his butt, and one of his shoes was untied. He kept his gaze left, and it quickly became apparent why.

  Despite the low quality, I’d recognize Chris’s profile anywhere. The set of his jaw, the slope of his nose. He wore the gray, wool coat I’d seen him in so many times. And he looked straight up at the camera, as if he knew someone might be watching.

  Good. Relief slipped through me. He wants to be seen. That’s good.

  An old man–the same one from Jarrettsville, judging by the coat and the shock of white hair, along with the unsteady, painful looking gait–clutched Chris’s left arm. Chris ducked his head, putting his ear to the man’s mouth, and then nodded. Together they shuffled to the medicine section, picking out bottles. Their watcher stood closely the entire time, shifting nervously from foot to foot, holding a forty-ounce beer, a loaf of bread, and a bag of nacho chips. He paid in cash, and the three men left. I bit back the shout that raced to my lips.

  Don’t go, Chris.

  “They’re getting careless,” Todd said. “Going to the same place twice. But where’s Mary?”

  “We don’t know,” Lennox said. “I’m thinking she stayed behind, figuring she could trust whoever this new guy is not to make any mistakes. Good thing he’s not that smart. We’ve got a manhunt down in Dale City, and I think we’re getting close. Of course, we might have them if we knew about the damned Chevy.” He took another breath, blowing it out hard. “I’ve got the local police searching for it, but she probably dumped it long before Dale City.”

  “This is more than twelve hours ago,” I said. “They could have been on their way out
of the area by then. Did the store have any outside cameras?”

  “None that caught anything. I don’t think they left the area,” Lennox said. “Call it instinct, but I think they’re running on fumes. The old man is obviously sick–they bought over the counter flu medicine–and assuming he’s Mary’s father, she’s probably worried about him. Could be his health’s thrown her for a loop, and she’s decided to lie low. Ryan, you find any medical records for Alan Kent yet?”

  “No sir,” Ryan said. “I’ve checked the other known alias too.”

  “What about vet hospitals?” Kelly asked, her voice still shaky from witnessing Lennox’s anger.

  Ryan’s eyes widened. “Shit. I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “If he’s Alan Kent and he was born in 1934, he might have served in the Korean War,” she said.

  “That’s 1950.” Lennox sounded doubtful. “He’d have been sixteen. Even if he enlisted in ’52, at eighteen, he’d have been lucky to have made it to Korea before the conflict ended the next year.”

  “Unless he lied about his age,” I said. “That happened a lot back then. Boys wanted to go to war, especially after seeing the vets come back from World War II. They wanted to be heroes.”

  “You might be right,” Lennox said. “Ryan, go ahead and check the vet hospitals in Pennsylvania, Maryland, and Virginia. Look for any one of them treating an Alan Kent as far back as their records go. For Christ’s sake, try to find an address.”

  “Okay,” Ryan said. “But this guy’s eighty years old. How in the hell is he still killing?”

  “I don’t think he is,” Lennox said. “But he wants to. And he enjoys seeing it done. Believe me, these guys develop a taste for pain and suffering like some people get addicted to crack. They never quit unless they die or they’re caught. If he can’t perform the act, he’s got his daughter to do it for him and find a way to get his jollies.”