“Juan, with all due respect—” Dunbar began.
Juan put his hand up. “But do not approach Adeline Worthington or anyone on her staff without consulting with me first. Logan and his team have a good case against her, and I don’t want to risk losing that conviction on the thin chance she may have been involved with her husband’s murder. Logan and I will work out a way to communicate, should we uncover evidence that directly links the congresswoman to murder.”
“Thank you, Juan,” Dunbar said.
Ritz smiled. “I knew if I put you all in the room together, you’d work out a reasonable agreement. Logan, when are you expecting to wrap up your investigation?”
“Sir, the final decision will be with the AUSA and Assistant Director Rick Stockton. Director Stockton is the one who approved this op. Because it’s an election year, we don’t want to be perceived as being political by exposing her without an absolute clear, irrefutable case; at the same time, Stockton doesn’t want anything that could be perceived as an October Surprise, so we’re hoping to wrap everything up by the end of June and issue the indictments.” He hesitated, then turned to Lucy and Barry. “An olive branch—if I uncover anything that suggests Adeline was involved in her husband’s death, I’ll let Juan know. Likewise, if you learn anything about Adeline or her staff that might help in my investigation?”
“Of course,” Barry said. “Juan will know everything we know.”
“Good,” Ritz said. “I’ll call Stockton with a report of this meeting and our agreement. Thank you for coming down, Logan. If you need any help from my office, call me directly.”
“Thank you, sir.”
* * *
Barry followed Lucy to her cubicle after the meeting. “What did Logan mean about you pushing this investigation?”
“I don’t know,” Lucy said. But she had her suspicions.
Barry pulled a chair over from Kenzie’s empty desk and sat. “Lucy, this is the first time we’ve worked as partners since you’ve been here. I have my way of doing things, you have yours. So far, your instincts have been sharp. But I watched your expression in that room, and you were holding something back. What?”
“I’m not keeping anything relevant from you,” she said.
“What don’t you think is relevant?”
“Logan Dunbar is from D.C. I worked out of the D.C. office for a couple of months as an analyst before I started at Quantico. I butted heads with Dunbar’s boss on a case I worked.”
“That’s not it.”
“Then I don’t know what.” But she did. Only, she didn’t want to share with Barry. Or anyone.
“When he mentioned Assistant Director Rick Stockton, you reacted.”
“I did?”
“Don’t play poker with me.” He smiled. It was the first time since they’d started working this case together that Barry seemed to be relaxed around her. As if they were actual partners, not just colleagues.
She caught herself biting her bottom lip, a nervous habit she’d thought she’d lost. “I don’t like to name drop.”
“You didn’t.”
She hesitated, because she really didn’t want to make it seem like she’d enjoyed any favoritism. It had been difficult enough when she’d learned that her mentor, Dr. Hans Vigo, had pulled strings to get her into Quantico after her application had been denied. But if Barry called the right people, he could learn about her friendship with Rick and she didn’t want him to think that she was keeping anything from him. And trust was a two-way street.
“It’s really not anything,” she said, “but I worked on some projects for Rick Stockton while I was at Quantico. There’s a family connection.”
“You’re related to Stockton?”
“No—nothing like that. Rick is good friends with my brother and sister-in-law.” That was the simplest explanation, and completely true. She didn’t need to go into Rick’s connection to RCK or the Rogan family or talk about what specifically she’d worked on.
“Which brother?”
What did Barry know about her family? She said, “Dillon, mostly. He’s a forensic psychiatrist. And Jack, because of Jack’s work with RCK.” As she said it she realized she was connected to Rick on many levels. He’d also been in the Marines with Kane—at least Lucy thought he had.
“Aren’t your brothers both married to FBI agents?”
“Yes.” She frowned. “How do you know that?”
“I just heard it somewhere,” he said vaguely. Great, Lucy thought, her personal life was a discussion point in the office. “So you’ve known Stockton for a while.”
“A couple of years. Logan thinks it’s a bigger deal than it is. I haven’t even talked to Rick since I graduated.”
“Most of us aren’t on a first-name basis with an assistant director of the FBI.”
Then Lucy was definitely not going to tell him she was on a first-name basis with two of the ADs.
“This is why I don’t talk about this stuff,” Lucy said. “Yes, I have connections. I have family in the FBI. My brother is a civilian consultant to the FBI. But I just want to do my job.”
Barry leaned back. “I understand.”
She hoped he did.
“Don’t worry about Logan Dunbar,” Barry said. “He has his case, we have ours.”
“So, where do we go from here?”
“We need to get Elise Hansen to tell us everything she knows. As soon as the doctor clears her for release, we arrest her. It’s time to play hardball.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Lucy arrived home before Sean. She showered, then changed into her cut-off sweatpants and one of Sean’s T-shirts. She’d never told Sean why she liked to wear his T-shirts, because she thought it would sound silly, but they smelled like him and made her feel safe and loved, even when he was working.
Sean said he’d be home by eight, and it was quarter to that now. She was exhausted, the late night coming back to haunt her. She’d gotten her second wind that afternoon after lunch, but now if she sat down anywhere, she’d fall asleep. Instead, she walked through the house and watered their plants, then stood in the kitchen thinking about what to eat. Nothing sounded appetizing, and she didn’t feel hungry. She padded down the hall to the living room and curled into the corner of the sofa. She flipped through her satchel where she kept the files from the case, and pulled out the packet of notes that Harper Worthington had left on his tablet. She wished she knew what the dates meant. So far, no one in the lab had any idea what they were, but they were running a multitude of programs against local and national events to see if anything popped.
Her eyes were drooping, but then her phone beeped. She thought it was a message from Sean. Instead, it was a personal email from her sister Carina, with a photo attached—an ultrasound of her baby at thirty-eight weeks.
The kid will be here any day the doctor says. I’m ready. I feel like I’m carrying a giant pumpkin in my stomach. I have to pee every hour, on the hour, day and night. I hope you can visit when the baby comes. Nick totally rejected Nick, Jr. He suggested John Patrick, after his father and Dad. I think I’ll give in to Nick on the boy’s name. But we both agree on Rosemary for a girl. Rosie is just a joyful name. Rosemary Thomas. Like it? Connor and Julia are giving us a bad time for wanting to be surprised about the gender. But there’re not enough true surprises in the world anymore, and this is one of them.
Call me sometime. I’m going stir-crazy. I can live vicariously through you!
Lucy smiled. Carina was a workaholic, but being pregnant had certainly changed her. She’d been trying to conceive for two years, and suffered three miscarriages. She hadn’t thought she’d be able to carry a baby to term, and this little guy—or gal—was a miracle. Lucy was happy for her. Carina planned on going back to work eventually, but since her husband’s PI business with Connor, their brother, was finally in the black, Lucy wondered if she would.
Lucy hoped she could get away after the baby was born, even for a weekend, but she was also appreh
ensive. When she’d been a teenager, the idea of falling in love, getting married, and having a family was a distant dream—far in the future, but pretty much guaranteed. She’d never given it much thought.
Until she was eighteen.
Her rape and the brutality she’d endured for nearly two days resulted in extensive damage, and her uterus had been removed. The surgery had saved her life, but she’d never have children. She couldn’t even think about what ifs or maybe whens, because she had no choice. It had been stolen from her, and for a long time she’d been depressed. She hated visiting her counselor after the rape—she didn’t want to talk about it, she didn’t want to discuss her feelings or her anger or her fear. But the one thing the counselor said that stuck with her was that losing children she hadn’t known she’d wanted left her in a state of perpetual mourning.
It had gotten better over time. Sean had been a rock. He said when they were ready to have a family, they’d adopt. She liked that idea, because there were so many kids who needed a stable home. But that was far down the road. She was twenty-six, Sean thirty. They had time. They weren’t even married.
Yet … spending a week with Sean’s brother Duke, his wife, Nora, and their newborn, Molly, had brought back all those feelings of loss, and a deep sense of mourning for something intangible. Lucy couldn’t articulate it, and she didn’t want to talk about it with Sean. He’d do everything to understand her feelings. He’d listen and hold her and tell her he loved her.
But he’d never have a baby with her. Sean would make a wonderful father, and she feared by loving her, he was missing an amazing opportunity. That she was denying him a child of his own. Watching Sean with Molly reminded her that she wasn’t whole, she’d never have a child that was half her, half Sean. Then she’d feel guilty, thinking about all the other women who couldn’t have children. Why couldn’t she just accept it and get on with her life? Why did this overwhelming sense of loss keep coming back? Why did she feel like she was still broken?
She sighed and closed her eyes. Tears burned behind her lids, but she didn’t cry.
She hated feeling sorry for herself.
“Lucy,” a voice said. “Lucy, I’m home.”
She blinked and stretched. “I guess I fell asleep. What time is it?”
“Nearly ten. I’m sorry I’m so late. I got wrapped up in the files at HWI.”
She yawned. “I think I’ve been asleep for a couple of hours.”
“You needed it.” He sat next to her and kissed her. Looked her in the eyes as he rubbed her neck. “You still look tired. Did you eat?”
“I had a late lunch.”
He frowned. “That’s not sufficient. Sit, relax, I’ll make you a sandwich.”
“I’m not an invalid. I don’t want a sandwich. Are there any leftovers from last night?”
“I might be able to whip something up in the microwave. Stay. I’ll be right back.”
Sean seemed to like waiting on her. She appreciated it, but didn’t expect it. She stood and fully stretched, hearing her bones crack and pop. The couch was comfortable, but not good for sleeping.
Five minutes later, Sean returned with two plates of barbecue leftovers. “You gotta love microwaves,” he said when he set them down on the coffee table. He reached into each pocket of his pants and pulled out two beers.
“Wow. Anything else in there?” she teased.
“You’ll have to find out later.” He winked. “Eat. Tell me what all this is.” He picked up the package of paper from Harper’s tablet.
She was glad to talk about work. It distracted her from all the emotions she didn’t want. She explained that the files had been on Harper Worthington’s tablet, that they suspected the list of numbers were land parcels, but admitted she was a bit lost on the dates.
“I know exactly what this is,” he said.
“Really?”
“I’m guessing. But I’ve been going over the BLM audit all day, trying to figure out what had Harper so obsessed with it. Now I think I know—it wasn’t the audit numbers, it was the transactions. I think these dates match up with these parcel numbers, and I think these parcel numbers are properties that the government sold or purchased over the last seven years.”
“Since Adeline Worthington was elected.”
Sean glanced at her. “You think she’s corrupt?”
“I know she is. There’s an undercover FBI investigation ongoing right now. Barry and I almost got pulled from the murder investigation because the UC thought we had exposed him.”
“You met with the undercover agent?”
She told Sean about Logan Dunbar and his fear that she would blow his cover.
“He wanted us off the case because we’re making Adeline nervous.”
“Do you think she’s guilty of murder?”
“If she knew her husband was investigating her—forget the FBI—then yes, I think she could have done it. She has a spine of steel, and it’s much easier to hire someone than to do it yourself. But the method? It’s … bizarre. Poison him and have the room set up like he’d been with a prostitute? Why would she do it that way?”
“Because the spouse is always suspected. Such an embarrassing situation would immediately put her lower on the list.”
“Maybe. I don’t like her.”
“I can tell.”
“If I were planning a murder, especially if I would be a suspect, I wouldn’t create something so elaborate. I would find a way to make it look like an accident.”
“And I’m sure you would get away with it.”
She glanced at him and almost laughed. “Hardly. I don’t lie very well.”
“Maybe.”
She ignored Sean’s comment because it bugged her. She didn’t want to become a good liar. The few lies she’d told weighed heavily on her.
“We found the prostitute,” she said. “Whoever hired her shot her last night.”
“Is she okay?”
“She will be. She’s in the hospital, but Tia sent me a message earlier that the doctor is releasing her at noon tomorrow, provided there are no complications. We’re going to arrest her.”
“For murder?”
Lucy nodded and sipped her beer. “She’s scared and defiant. She’s been on her own for a long time, and she doesn’t trust anyone. But when we pushed her on the murder, she swore up and down that she thought she was giving him a knockout drug. She said a ‘happy’ drug—maybe XTC or ketamine or a combo drug. She claims that she was hired to take dirty pictures of him, not to kill him, that she didn’t even know him. She was sent to the room and told to wait for Harper to arrive, then drug him and take sex pictures.”
“And did she?”
“She said she turned over the photos. She met her contact to get the rest of her payment, and he shot her, twice. She ran into a busy street at midnight and the shooter disappeared.”
“Poor kid.”
“I hate playing the bad cop.”
Sean leaned back and frowned. “Where’d that come from?”
“Tia. She’s the one who knows the programs, how to help Elise, halfway houses, school, whatever. I was forced to be the hard-nosed cop who is pushing for a murder charge. I really felt uncomfortable doing that.”
He rubbed her arm. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. But you got the information, right?”
“Some, not everything. We don’t know who hired her, and she’s scared of him.”
“He shot her—I’d be scared, too, if I were in her shoes.”
“She wants to run, doesn’t trust us to protect her. We have a cop sitting on her door—to keep her in as well as the shooter out. But tomorrow—I don’t know what we’re going to do. Juvie, I suppose, if she doesn’t give us his name.”
“If anyone can convince her to do the right thing, it’s you and Tia.”
“Aw, thanks.”
“I’m serious.” Sean kissed her. “Are you done for tonight?”
“Yes. I’ll clean up.”
“Later. Now, I want t
o take you to bed. I’ve missed you, Lucy. It’s been a long day without you.” He kissed her again.
She raised her eyebrow. “So can I see what else you have in your pants?”
He grinned. “Be my guest.”
* * *
Brad didn’t get home until late Tuesday night, but he had nothing to complain about. His doctor had officially cleared him for duty.
He’d grabbed takeout and for a split second considered calling Sam and seeing if he could come over. He missed her. Seeing Sean and Lucy last night reminded him how alone he was. Nicole was wrong; he wasn’t attracted to Lucy. She was pretty and smart, but it was clear that she had something special going with Sean. He liked her, though. Not only because she’d saved his life, but because she was a good cop who bent the rules when necessary.
Instead of calling Sam, he went home alone. Trying to rekindle anything with his ex-girlfriend would be a mistake. She was his boss now. When they were equals it was frowned on but not forbidden, and they had been discreet. Now as his supervisor, she’d get in serious trouble. One of them would be transferred. Sam was dedicated to her job. Brad liked San Antonio and had built a network here stronger than the networks in the two other offices he’d worked in.
Some people were born to lead, like Sam. Others, like him, were born to act.
He grabbed a beer and sat down in front of the television with his food. He flipped through until he found a baseball game, but didn’t pay much attention to it. He had the forensics report from the shooting, and a follow-up report from Jerry Fielding. He’d read through it earlier, but wanted to give it more attention.
Best Laid Plans Page 26
