Kiss Me, Kill Me

by Allison Brennan

  “Secrets are truly dangerous,” Hans continued. “Are you on your way home?”

  “We’re leaving at ten. Miss the traffic both leaving New York and getting back to Washington.” She looked out her window from which, if she stood just right, she could see Central Park. The traffic sounds were soothing, far better than the total silence. She was going to miss New York.

  “I made a few calls, Lucy.”

  She didn’t have to ask what for.

  “And?” Did she really want to know?

  “One person on the panel was emphatic that you not be hired. The other two voted to approve the application. But it has to be unanimous.”

  “Do you know the person?”

  “Yes. You won’t change her mind. She should have recused herself from the panel.”

  There had been only one female agent on the panel. “I didn’t know any of the agents.”

  “No, but one of them had worked with Fran Buckley and is still friendly with her. There are some people in the Bureau who don’t like the fact that you helped put a former FBI agent in prison. One of them was on the hiring panel.”

  Lucy was stunned. She’d expected to be rejected because of what happened with Adam Scott, the fact that she’d killed him while he was unarmed. But it was the role—a minor role—she’d had in putting Fran Buckley in prison that had sabotaged her chances?

  “Lucy, I hope you’ll appeal the decision. If you do, you’ll have a new panel. I promise, it will be fair.”

  Did she want to? Was this still what she wanted?

  “Hans, I didn’t trust my instincts on the Cinderella Strangler case. My gut told me the killer was a woman, but when I gave my analysis, Dennis Barnett fit the profile as well. He was dragged in for questioning and had a tough time. If I had only stood my ground—”

  “Nothing would have changed. Dennis Barnett fit the profile. Until you sit down with a suspect, until you dig deep and understand their psyche, you never know who is capable of murder and under what circumstances.” Hans paused, then added, “I read your report. You said everything you needed to, except a conclusion. Your profile was there, but you didn’t delineate it. Why?”

  “I’m not a profiler. I’m not even an FBI agent.”

  “But you can be. Both. It’s your decision, Lucy. Do you want it enough to fight for it?”

  “When I was in Whitney’s room,” Lucy said, “I mentally stepped back. I can’t explain it any other way. It’s like my personality wasn’t in the room, only Whitney’s. I looked at the world through her eyes. In her drawings, everything was perfect—in fact, too perfect. So when she distorted the faces, it was both beautiful and hideous,” Lucy said quietly, “Suzanne and the others didn’t have the same reaction that I did. There aren’t many of us, are there?”

  “No, Lucy, there aren’t. I’m happy to hear that you can separate yourself from the scene. That’s not easy to do.”

  “I didn’t even try. It just—happened. I’ll appeal the FBI panel’s decision. And if I don’t get in, I’ll be okay. I’ve put it in perspective.”

  “I’m pleased. And good work on the case. I’ll see you when you get back to Washington.”

  Lucy hung up and walked to the window. The sky had lightened, some blue showing. She felt relieved with her decision.

  Lucy’s cell phone rang. “I don’t have a lot of time,” Suzanne said without introduction, “but I wanted you to know I had NYPD check on Dennis and all is well on Staten Island. They’re driving by every hour. We have Wade secure. We’ll find the bitch.”

  “Good,” Lucy said.

  “Come back and visit sometime. I’ll show you the city.”

  “I’d like that. Let me know when you arrest Whitney.”

  “Absolutely.” Suzanne hung up.

  Sean returned to the room with coffee for Lucy. She smiled. “You didn’t have to get me coffee.”

  He kissed her. “Yes I did. Who was that?” He sipped his own drink.

  “Suzanne. What’s that?” She gestured to his cup. Sean didn’t like coffee.

  “Hot chocolate. Are you ready?”

  “Yes. I spoke to Hans. I’m going to appeal.”

  “I knew you would.”

  “You did?”

  He nodded. “Lucy—”

  “We’d better go now or we’ll be stuck in traffic when we hit the Beltway.”

  “I know, but I need five minutes.”

  His serious tone made her anxious. “What’s wrong?”

  “Saturday night.”

  She sat down heavily on the sofa. What had she done wrong? Or maybe his I love you had just slipped out and he regretted it. She should feel relieved, but instead she felt cold. “It’s okay,” she said. “I understand.”

  He sat down next to her. “What do you think you understand?”

  “We all sometimes say things we don’t mean, especially in the heat of the moment, and it’s not going to change anything.” But it would. It would change everything. Because she could no longer trust him.

  “Stop it,” Sean said. He put his chocolate down, took her coffee from her grip, and placed it on the glass table. He squeezed her hands and said, “I love you. We’re not in the throes of passionate sex and I can still state emphatically that I love you.”

  Butterflies flitted in her stomach. She opened her mouth to tell him she loved him, too, but nothing came out.

  He kissed her. “Shh.” He rested his forehead on hers. “This is about the condom. Or that I didn’t have it on. And I have no excuse. I’ve never forgotten, not with you or anyone. And I’m not ready to be a dad. I don’t know if I’ll make a good dad, but if you’re pregnant, don’t expect me to walk away. Understand? Because I love you, and I’ll take the challenge, and—”

  Lucy squeezed back tears and turned her head.

  “What? Did I say something wrong? Luce—”

  “I can’t get pregnant. I can’t have a baby.”

  Sean wasn’t expecting that answer. He didn’t know what to say.

  “After the attack seven years ago, there was some internal damage. I had surgery. The doctor couldn’t save my uterus.”

  She’d lived with this truth for years, but hadn’t thought about it. When she was eighteen, having children had seemed so far away and unreal that it hadn’t affected her, not with everything else she’d had to deal with at the time. And then, she’d been so angry and hurt that she couldn’t even comprehend raising a family in such a violent and brutal world.

  But now, for the first time, she felt a wave of loss. She wasn’t ready for a family now—but even so, she’d never have the chance to have one in the future.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  Sean turned her face to his. “Don’t tell me you’re sorry.” He kissed her hard, holding her chin, his hand shaking. “Just, don’t.” His voice cracked. “I love you. That will never change.” He kissed her again.

  Lucy held on to Sean. With him, she felt not only strong enough to handle anything, she knew she’d be okay in the end. He was a rock, he didn’t budge, he gave her exactly what she needed even before she knew that she needed anything. In Whitney’s apartment, he had been an unmoving tower of strength, but didn’t coddle her or try to protect her from the cruel truths in Whitney’s drawings or writings. He understood without her telling him that any personal emotions would have undone her, so he let her do what had to be done. And afterward, he was still there, ready to listen or just hold her hand.

  “You’re pretty amazing, Sean Rogan,” she said.

  “So I’ve been told many times.” He kissed her again, then pulled her to her feet and gave her a tight hug. “You’re pretty incredible yourself, Lucy Kincaid.”

  “So I’ve been told,” she said with a smile.

  They stood there in the middle of the hotel room holding each other, neither wanting to let go. Lucy felt a peace she couldn’t voice, but didn’t have to.

  Several minutes later, she kissed him. “We really should go.”

/>   They grabbed their bags and left the room. In the elevator to the lobby, Lucy said, “Is there a route home that goes over the water instead of under it?”

  “Already programmed into my GPS.”

  “Thank you.”

  “The route goes through Staten Island.”

  “Okay.”

  “You were upset last night about Dennis Barnett.”

  “The interview was hard on him, and he didn’t have anyone to support him afterward. And now Wade is out of prison, but Dennis can’t go see him. And then there’s Whitney Morrissey still out there.”

  “Want to stop by? Check up on him?”

  “Suzanne sent NYPD over. He’s fine.”

  “Do you want to stop by?”

  “Do we have time?”

  “We’ll make time.”

  Wade tried to focus on an ESPN interview with the Yankees coach about the upcoming season, but even baseball couldn’t get his mind off Whitney and all the women she’d killed.

  He didn’t care what the FBI agent said; he blamed himself. He had been so damn selfish and blind to who she really was, but thinking about her behavior now, all the signs had been there.

  He’d been a fool to sleep with her after Alanna died. He did stupid things when he was drunk.

  His cell phone rang. He almost answered it, but Agent Hansen shook her head and took the phone from him.

  “Wade Barnett’s residence.” A moment later, she handed it to him. “He says he’s your brother Dennis.”

  Wade smiled and took the phone. “Denny. Hey, I’m glad you called me back.”

  “Whitney is here and she hurt Mom,” Dennis whispered. “She wants you to come right now with no one else.”

  Another voice came on the line. “Come alone, no police, or your retarded brother will die.”

  Dennis whimpered on the phone.

  Wade discreetly glanced at Agent Hansen. She was looking at the view from his window. How much attention was she paying to his conversation? “Sure,” he said cheerily. “I can do that.”

  Whitney gushed, “I knew you would come. I love you so much, Wade. It hurts how much I love you. Hurry.”

  The line went dead.

  Wade looked around his twelfth-floor apartment. How was he going to get out without the Feds knowing? The only way was the fire escape, but could he get out without attracting attention?

  He had an idea.

  “Okay, Denny,” he said into the dead phone. “I’ll talk to the FBI and I’m sure they’ll let you visit. I’ll call you back. Love you, too.” He put down his phone. “Agent Hansen, do you think my brother could come over for dinner tonight?”

  She said, “I don’t see why not, but I’ll clear it with Suzanne when she calls in.”

  “Great. Do you mind if I put on some music?”

  “Not at all.”

  THIRTY-TWO

  Sean turned into the exclusive Staten Island neighborhood of Todt Hill, where Dennis lived with his mother. Lucy hadn’t expected the sedately grand homes mixed with trees and gentle hills so close to the towering buildings of Manhattan, and the sprawling development in Brooklyn. She liked it here.

  “Thanks for avoiding the tunnel.”

  “It was truly a feat of engineering.”

  “It’s just plain creepy. Aren’t you scared of anything?”

  “Scared?” he said with mock indignation.

  “Bad choice of words. You know what I mean.”

  “Prison. I didn’t like the door closing and locking behind me at Rikers and I was even free to leave.”

  “Most normal people are scared of prison.”

  He stopped in front of a multilevel house surrounded by trees on a deep, narrow lot near the end of a cul-de-sac. He looked at her. Though his voice was light, his sentiment wasn’t. “The only thing I fear is losing you, Princess.”

  Lucy’s heart flipped. She leaned over and kissed him. “You’re not going to.”

  They got out of the car and walked up the short stone path that led to an elaborate curving staircase. The main entrance was on the second floor, with the first floor housing the five-car garage. Sean rang the bell.

  Lucy asked, “Does Kirsten want to see Dennis?”

  “After her surgery. She believes he saved her life, and he may well have.”

  “Good. Telling Dennis that should help him put this whole mess behind him.”

  Lucy saw movement on the other side of the leaded, beveled glass door. “I saw someone down the hall, just a shadow through the glass.”

  Sean rang the bell again, taking a slightly protective stance half a step in front of Lucy.

  Still, no answer.

  “Maybe it was a dog,” Lucy said. “A big dog.”

  “That doesn’t bark? Probably his mother.”

  “Why wouldn’t she answer?”

  “The police may have told them to stay indoors, not answer the door, any number of security measures,” Sean said. “I’ll check out the grounds.”

  “I’ll call Dennis,” Lucy said.

  They walked down the stairs and Lucy stood next to the garage while Sean walked around to the back of the house. She dialed Dennis’s cell phone, but on the fifth ring his voice mail came on.

  “Hi Dennis, this is Lucy Kincaid, remember me? I’m a friend of Kirsten’s. I just wanted to check if everything is okay at your house. Please call me back, okay?” She left her number and hung up. She stared at the house, filled with a nagging sense of dread.

  Sean returned. “We have a big problem. Whitney Morrissey is here.”

  “You saw her?”

  “No, but she made her mark. On the wall of one of the rooms is a life-sized drawing of Wade Barnett.”

  “I’ll call Suzanne,” Lucy said.

  “Let’s go to the car. I have an idea.”

  They got into the car and Sean circled the cul-de-sac and drove past the Barnett house. If Whitney was watching, she’d see them leave.

  Lucy called Suzanne.

  “Lucy, what’s up? I’m in the middle of a crisis.”

  “Something’s wrong at Dennis Barnett’s house. Sean and I are here, no one’s answering the door or phone, and Sean saw one of Whitney’s signature drawings through a window.”

  “Shit!” She talked to someone in the background. “That must be why Wade took off down the fire escape. I’ll call the locals, because I can’t get there in less than thirty.”

  “Tell them to steer clear of the house. No sign of cops. If Whitney’s in there—”

  “I know. Two, maybe three, possible hostages. You and Sean keep your eye on the house, but don’t engage.”

  “When did Wade leave?”

  “Between fifteen and twenty minutes ago. He didn’t take his car, so he’s probably in a taxi.”

  Lucy hung up. “She said don’t engage. Wade disappeared.”

  “If Whitney’s inside, she’ll kill Dennis as soon as Wade shows up.”

  “If she hasn’t killed him already.”

  Sean turned the car around again and parked two houses up from the Barnetts’, around the bend in the cul-de-sac, out of sight. “We’ll cut through the neighbor’s side yard and enter the Barnett property from the rear,” Sean said. “You make your way around to the far side of the garage—you won’t be seen from the house, but you’ll be able to watch for Wade. Keep him out of the house. I’ll find a way inside and assess the danger.”

  Lucy didn’t like that idea. “Be careful, Sean. Whitney is volatile, and won’t care who she kills.”

  “I’m more concerned about you. She seems to hate women more than men.”

  Lucy considered that. “Women are her adversaries, but so is Dennis because he takes Wade’s attention away from her.”

  “Our goal is to secure the house until the police arrive.” He retrieved his gun from the trunk and a small pouch with tools. “If I can get Dennis or his mother out, I will.” He kissed her quickly and handed her a .22 pistol strapped into an ankle holster. “Just in case.”
/>
  She checked the ammo and the safety, then strapped on the holster, but she wouldn’t be able to easily get to it under her jeans. She tucked the gun into the small of her back instead.

  “When we get home, I’m getting you fitted for holsters,” Sean said.

  “I have my own gun.”

  “Which you didn’t bring.”

  “I was following the law. No guns in the city.”

  “Tell it to the criminals.”

  They cut through the neighbor’s yard around the back of the Barnett property. Sean motioned for Lucy to run low along a path camouflaged by neatly trimmed hedges, which would put her on the far side of the garage.

  It took Lucy less than a minute to get into position. When she looked back, she couldn’t see Sean anywhere. She wondered how he’d disappeared so quickly.

  Near where Lucy hid there was a side door leading into the house. She checked the knob; locked. She moved to the other side so she could watch the road and the door at the same time.

  How long ago had she called Suzanne? Lucy looked at her phone. Only four minutes?

  An NYPD car drove slowly past the house. Lucy froze, unsure if the officer would be able to see her. The car turned around in the cul-de-sac, then went back up the road.

  If Whitney was watching, would she suspect that the cops were coming for her? Were the Barnetts in greater danger?

  A taxi pulled up in front of the house a minute later. Wade Barnett got out and strode up the path.

  “Wade.” Lucy turned toward him as he walked past her hiding spot.

  He jumped. “Who are you?”

  “Lucy Kincaid. Agent Madeaux is on her way.”

  “No! Tell her to back off.” Wade rubbed his palms repeatedly on his slacks. His temples were damp with sweat.

  “Don’t give Whitney what she wants. She’s dangerous and suicidal. She’ll kill your family, then you, and then herself.”

  He shook his head. “She’ll kill Dennis if I don’t go in.”

  “Give the police time to get into position. They have hostage negotiators who know how to handle situations like this.”

  “No one can negotiate with that nutcase!”

  “Shh!” Lucy glanced around. “Please trust me.”