Lucy - 05 - Stalked

by Allison Brennan

  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 sorts.”

  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.

  “He’s a good guy,” Carter said.

  “Yes, he is,” Lucy agreed.

  Her fellow new agents gathered around the driving instructor, Agent Chris Robinson, and listened to his instructions. The course seemed easy enough. They’d be practicing defensive driving, driving through obstacles, and accident avoidance. No high-speed chases or high-end tactical.

  Driving would take all morning, but Robinson had it down to a well-oiled system. Two separate tracks were set up to expedite the lesson.

  She looked at the others waiting for their turns behind the wheel. Could one of them have killed Tony? Attempted to kill Hans? Lucy had already ruled out a small group of agents who’d been in the lounge watching a movie until 1:30. Gordon, the gun expert, had been there as well, and she’d learned through him that the group of five had walked back to the dorm together. It would have been extremely unlikely for any of them to have rushed off to the construction site and attacked Hans. Oz was part of the group, and Lucy was relieved. One more of her inner circle cleared.

  A van drove up to the edge of the driving track and two people got out. One of them was Rich Laughlin. He looked right at Lucy. She didn’t turn away. She’d been upset Saturday after he told her about the hiring panel; now she was simply angry.

  He may have planned to try to upset her, but she wouldn’t allow herself to be intimidated.

  When it was Lucy’s turn behind the wheel, she felt Laughlin’s eyes on her. She had a hard time controlling her physical tension—her hands clenched the wheel and her jaw tightened.

  Robinson said, “Relax, Kincaid.”

  “You should know that I was in a serious accident as a young child. I’ve been a nervous driver most of my life.”

  He smiled. “No pressure. All I want you to do right now is get to know your vehicle. Drive around the track twice, keeping your speed at a steady thirty miles an hour. Then we’ll run through the drill. The obstacle course is simple; it’s all about control.”

  “Okay.”

  “You keep looking at your classmates.”

  She hadn’t been; she’d been glancing over to find out where Laughlin was. She didn’t say anything.

  “Don’t worry about them—it’s just you, me, and the vehicle. Good. Keep going, one more lap.”

  By the time she was done with the second lap she wasn’t focused on Laughlin. She listened to everything Robinson told her to do—speed up, stop, avoid, do a one-eighty—and by the time her session was done she felt good about it.

  “Not bad for a nervous driver,” he told her. “You did very well on the obstacle course; you have a good eye. You’re still hesitant to speed up quickly, and you need more confidence with high
er speeds, but we have time to work on that. Would you object to two extra sessions over the next two weekends?”

  “I’d like that.”

  “You won’t be the only one. There’s a half dozen of your class I’ll be working with.”

  “Great.” She let out a long breath and got out of the car smiling.

  “Not bad, Kincaid,” Carter said as he took her place in the driver’s seat.

  They had an hour break for lunch after the driving lessons, and Lucy needed to meet with Noah about the personnel files. She grabbed a sandwich to go and went into the main building.

  “Looks like you need to go back to driver’s education,” a voice behind her said.

  She turned and saw Laughlin.

  She glared at him but didn’t say anything. An anger she was unfamiliar with bubbled up, and she worked on containing it.

  He stepped close to her, his body only inches away, and said in a low voice, “You may have cut corners to get here, but there’s no way I’ll let you graduate if you don’t perform.”

  She clenched her jaw. He was deliberately goading her, just like he’d been silently doing since she’d arrived on campus.

  “I don’t know what your problem is with me, Agent Laughlin. I don’t think it’s fair that you’re basing your opinion of me on your problems with my sister-in-law.”

  “And what exactly did Kate tell you?”

  “Nothing. I can read between the lines.”

  He smiled, and that irritated Lucy more. “You think you know everything, don’t you?”

  She stared at him. “I know a lot more than you think.”

  “Watch yourself, Kincaid.”

  It was a threat, over and above what would be called for in this situation, and Lucy’s stomach clenched as she realized maybe she didn’t know what was happening, maybe there was something bigger going on.

  Laughlin turned to go and thought he had the upper hand. Lucy said, “There’s a time and place for everything, Agent Laughlin. I will figure out exactly why you hate me.”

  Lucy thought he was going to continue walking away, but he stopped and faced her again. “Do you want to know why you shouldn’t be here?” He stepped closer. “Because people like you, people who cut corners, who become martyrs, who think they are somehow owed something, get killed or get their partner killed. Don’t ever forget it. You’re the weak link.”

  He walked quickly away and Lucy stared after him. She should be upset, but she was more confused than angry.

  Laughlin was projecting. She hadn’t seen it before because she’d been certain he and Kate had an unpleasant past. And that may have contributed to it, but the reason why Laughlin had it out for Kate, and for her, was because he had lost someone he cared about—and blamed them.

  This definitely wasn’t about her or Kate, not exclusively. Sean hadn’t found out everything she needed to know.

  It was time to call in a favor.

  *

  Lucy tracked Noah down in Tony’s office, shutting the door behind her.

  “I set up my laptop in the corner for you to access the personnel records,” Noah said without looking up. He had his own stack of paperwork.

  She sat down and looked at the list of names in the folder. The new agents who were cleared were crossed off. She crossed off Oz, Gordon, and the other three guys who’d been watching movies until late Saturday.

  Noah said, “Sounds like you’ve been busy.”

  “Hit a lot of birds with one stone,” she replied. She pulled up “Reva Penrose” and started reading. She was looking primarily for inconsistencies—things in her official record that didn’t match what she’d said. Background checks were extensive but not perfect. The further back, the easier to hide potential problems.

  She stopped for a minute and looked over at Noah. “Do you know Agent Laughlin well?”

  “I don’t know him at all, other than he’s one of your field counselors. I met him briefly this morning at a staff meeting.”

  “I need to find out if he lost a partner on the job.”

  Now Noah looked up. “Why?”

  “Something he said to me today.”

  “You have to give me something more.”

  “He has a problem with me, because Hans pulled strings. He’s the one who told me about it. And he doesn’t like Kate. I thought he had an issue because he knew Kate’s former fiancé, who was killed in the line of duty. Some people blamed Kate and her partner for the ambush. But I think he’s projecting his own pain and guilt, blaming us for whatever his partner did.”

  Noah leaned back in his chair. “If I find out, how are you going to use it?”

  “I don’t know. But his attitude is only going to get worse until he confronts why he has this animosity.”

  “What did he do to you?”

  She looked back at Reva’s file. “Nothing.”

  “Lucy.”

  Noah didn’t have to ask. But Lucy didn’t want to complain, especially now that she was beginning to understand the source of Laughlin’s struggle.

  “He’s been watching me closely—closer than my peers. I think because I’m managing under the scrutiny, he’s challenging me. That’s why he told me that Hans got me in, for example.”

  “But that’s not the only thing he’s said.”

  She shook her head. “It’s not important what; it’s important why.”

  “I’ll find out.” He went back to his files. “Chief O’Neal hasn’t been able to clear Laughlin. He has insomnia and walks around campus at all hours of the night. He used his card key to access the dorms at three oh five Sunday morning. But this isn’t unusual for him.”

  “Motive?” Lucy pondered the situation. “I don’t see Laughlin as sabotaging the scaffolding and then when Hans is down hitting him over the head with a rock.”

  “Until we know for certain, be careful with him.”

  Noah’s phone rang. “It’s Suzanne,” he told Lucy. “Suzanne, I have you on speaker. Lucy’s here.”

  “Hey, Luce, I gotta make this quick. I know what Agent Presidio did with the notebook he took from Weber’s place. He mailed it from the airport to the analyst who is transcribing all of Weber’s shorthand. With a note.”

  “Read it,” Lucy said.

  “‘Ms. North’—that’s the analyst,” Suzanne explained. “‘Please transcribe this notebook as soon as possible. Weber wrote about another missing girl, but I don’t understand her shorthand. Call me when you get this.’”

  “That’s it?” Lucy asked.

  “That’s it. North is working on it right now. I’ll e-mail you the file when she’s done.”

  “Would Weber’s assistant know about that case?” Noah asked.

  “I’ll ask. But why would Presidio care about a completely different case?”

  “Maybe he saw a connection. Or,” Lucy said, “he was in Newark at the time. He said something was lurking on the edge of his memory.”

  “I hate when that happens,” Suzanne said. “Noah, did you get my report on Theissen’s case being reopened as a homicide investigation?”

  “I did. Thanks for copying me into it.”

  “It’s part of the bigger picture here. I just wish I could see it, because nothing makes sense.”

  Lucy glanced at her watch. “Noah, if you don’t leave now, you’re going to be late for your first class.”

  He sighed. “This is the part I’m not looking forward to at all.” He said to Suzanne, “I have to go. Keep me in the loop.” He hung up and his phone immediately vibrated. With an odd expression, he answered, “Hello, Rogan.”

  Sean was calling Noah? Had he found Peter McMahon?

  Noah did a lot of listening, then said, “Call me if you learn anything.” He hung up. “Sean has a lead on Peter McMahon in Syracuse. He’s already there.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Syracuse, New York

  “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”

  Syracuse police detective Charlie Mead had agre
ed to meet Sean at a Starbucks near the police station. Mead looked younger than Sean thought he’d be considering his distinguished record. He’d been a rookie six years ago when Peter Gray filed a police report for vandalism. Now, Mead was a detective on the sex crimes squad, two years younger than Sean but with a seasoned air that made Sean think more of Noah Armstrong.

  “It’s not everyone who’s willing to fly a couple hours for a copy of a police report.”

  “Faster than mail, and no one would fax it to me. Apparently, you are the gatekeeper of all things about Peter Gray.” He handed Mead his business card.

  The cop looked at it critically, then put it on the table in front of him. He sipped his coffee. “Why is Peter Gray’s file so important to you?”

  Sean had a suspicion that Mead knew exactly why it was important, but decided being as honest as he could be would yield him the answers he needed. Mead was a cop, through and through, one of the guys who had an internal lie detector and uncanny instincts.

  “Mr. Gray seems to have disappeared off the planet. I need to find him.”

  “Why?”

  “You know that Peter Gray was born Peter McMahon, correct? That his sister was killed when they were kids?”

  Mead nodded once.

  “Two federal agents and one detective, all involved in the investigation into his sister’s death, were killed within the last two months.” That was a stretch. There was no proof that any of them were murdered, but Sean would bet his last dollar he was right.

  Mead didn’t respond, but his body tensed. He was definitely interested.

  “Last week, Rosemary Weber, who wrote the book about the McMahon family, was stabbed to death in Queens. All her files related to her research into the Rachel McMahon murder and trial are missing.”

  “Why is a private investigator contacting me and not the feds? Or NYPD?”

  “RCK consults for the federal government on many cases. If you need confirmation that I’m assisting the FBI in this matter, I can give you the name and number of my contact.”

  “You still haven’t told me why you want to find McMahon.”

  “He’s either a killer or a potential victim. We won’t know which until we talk to him.”