“I called home and told everyone you were safe.”
Lucy didn’t say anything. Dillon continued. “We’re going to take you home tomorrow morning.”
“Fine,” she said, her voice far away. “I’m really tired,” she added, turning away from him.
“The doctor gave her a mild sedative,” Miranda explained.
Dillon said, “Okay. I love you, Luce.”
He turned for the door. Behind him, he heard Lucy’s voice. “Thank you, Dil.”
Miranda followed Dillon out. He rubbed his moist eyes, wishing he could trade places with his little sister. Miranda touched his arm.
“I know I don’t have to tell you that it will get better with time,” she said to him.
“I hate that she’s suffering.”
“Give her space. You want to help, she knows that. But you have to give her time to sort through what happened on her own.”
“I just wish I could go back to Thursday morning and change everything,” he said.
“You love her. That’s what she needs. Love. And time. Watch her, care for her, she’ll let you know when and if she wants to talk and who she wants to talk to. Every woman is different. You can’t put rape survivors in the same box.”
“I know that in my head, but in my heart—”
“She’s your sister. You can’t be her brother and her shrink. She’ll respond to your love and concern much better if she doesn’t think you’re waiting for her to fall apart.”
The elevator doors opened and Dillon turned to see Carina walking briskly down the hall.
Carina ran straight into Dillon’s arms, hugged him tightly. He returned the hug, letting his tears finally flow.
“Oh God, Dillon, it’s over.”
Dillon didn’t correct her. In the back of his mind he couldn’t help but think about Adam Scott waiting for his chance to get to Kate.
Carina stepped back. “Where’s Lucy?”
“In here.” Miranda led Carina into the room.
Through the doorway, Dillon watched Lucy reach for Carina, hug her tightly, and cry.
He turned away and saw Quinn Peterson approach. “How’s Lucy?” he asked.
“Alive. Safe. Thanks for asking Miranda to help.”
Quinn said, “Miranda knows what it’s like to survive Hell. Lucy is in good hands.”
Dillon rubbed his eyes, tired and weary. “What did Roger Morton have to say?”
“Not a word. Called his lawyer. We have him isolated. No phone calls, no visitors. I’m going to let him sit today and go back at him tomorrow.”
“But he could have key information about Adam Scott’s location.”
Quinn nodded. “Probably. But he’s not talking right now, and I can’t read his mind.”
“I want to talk to him.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He nodded toward Dillon’s hands, which were scraped and red from the beating he had given Roger.
“There’s other ways to get information.”
“You’re not going to beat it out of him.”
Dillon almost smiled. “No, not really my style.”
“Tomorrow morning. You can sit in on my formal interview with him. Hopefully his attorney will tell him to turn on Scott in the hopes of cutting a deal.”
“A deal?” Dillon exclaimed.
“I didn’t say we would. We’re talking the difference between life and death, not life and ten years. Roger Morton is never going to be a free man.”
“There are no leads on Scott?”
“Your brother Jack gave us a good description, so we used a forensic artist to update the old school picture we have based on Jack’s comments. It’s being sent to every law enforcement agency in the country and he’s now an FBI Most Wanted. I have a pair of agents in New York tracking down family and friends. His parents are dead. Car accident eight years ago.”
“Adam Scott is a methodical killer. He would have had a reason to kill his parents.”
“Money. Except that his father had disowned him years before, severed all ties with him. We don’t know why. So Scott received nothing from the estate. I have financial and legal experts going through the records, starting from when Scott was expelled. We’re going to try to piece together his past, but the car accident may be just that, an accident.”
“It’ll take weeks,” Dillon said. “We don’t have weeks. He’s going to go after Kate.”
“He’s waited for years to go after her. He’s patient,” Peterson said.
“True, but his entire network has been destroyed. He doesn’t care about Morton and Denise and the others on the island. It’s his financial network. Not being able to launder money through Ullman. Having his identity known. His legitimate assets seized. This is about revenge now. Payback.” Dillon frowned.
“What?”
“He has nothing to lose. Before, he had time and money to play with her. But now he’s going to be scrambling to stay one step ahead of us. His picture is all over the media. His money’s been cut off. He probably has alternate identification, but he isn’t going to leave the country without first trying to kill Kate. He sees her as the reason for his failure and will feel an urgent need to make her pay so he can rebuild. He has patience, but less than you think. I don’t think he ever knew where she was in Mexico.”
“But he said—”
Dillon shook his head. “He’s a liar. You can’t believe what he says. If he knew where she was, he would have gone after her instead of Lucy. He smoked her out, made her—and you—believe he knew where she was. That makes her a sitting duck because now he knows. He’s been savoring this revenge for five years.”
“We cut off some of his money and resources, but he didn’t lose a fraction of his assets then.”
“But a woman thwarted him. A woman figured out his game. That eats at him like nothing else. To him, women are receptacles to serve him. They only exist to give him pleasure. They are worthless and lesser humans.”
Peterson grabbed his vibrating cell phone off his belt loop. “Peterson. Okay, I’ll be right there.”
He said to Dillon, “Mick Mallory is in recovery. I have clearance from his doctor to talk to him. Want to sit in?”
Dillon followed Peterson to the elevator and they went down to the second floor. “Jack believes Adam Scott was using Mallory as a hostage to lure Kate off the mountain, or to see if she sent backup. Scott must have seen what happened on the island—we have checkpoints set up all around the San Juan Islands and he hasn’t shown. We found an abandoned boat in Bellingham that has evidence that Lucy was on it. We think he left the island to meet Kate in the mountains, and either one of his people told him about the raid on the island, or he watched it on the webcam before you destroyed it.”
Peterson glanced at Dillon. “He knows who you are now.”
“I think he’s always known who I was. And everyone else in the family. He wouldn’t have gone after Lucy without knowing. But why her?”
“I should be asking you that question.”
“If I had to guess it’s because she reminds him of someone. Or she was a challenge. Or she was easy.” Dillon rubbed his face. “Seriously, I think she responded to him online, the easy part, and he researched her, learned about her family. Considered Lucy a challenge. He despises authority. His father was a judge. He was expelled from school. He’s never worked for anyone other than himself. He’s always been in charge, even when he was younger. He doesn’t take orders or advice from others. Every decision is his, but when things go wrong he’ll be the first to blame the other people involved. They aren’t worthy, they aren’t smart enough, they don’t see his vision.”
Mick Mallory was on a respirator, the monitors tracking his heart and lung function. “Jack said his kidney?”
“His right kidney is gone. Fortunately he can survive with one. He lost a lot of blood. Your brother saved his life. He would have bled to death.”
“Is he conscious?”
“Yes.”
<
br /> They walked into the room.
Peterson stood next to the bed. “Mallory, wake up.”
The man opened his eyes. He was forty with a short military cut and hard brown eyes. His face had been through an ordeal prior to being shot, but he might have been handsome if not for a three-inch scar across his cheekbone.
“Who are you?” His voice was scratchy.
Peterson flashed his ID. “SAC Quincy Peterson, Seattle. I have a few questions.”
Mallory stared at him. “Did you find the girl in time?”
“Yes,” Peterson said.
Mallory’s entire body seemed to relax. He closed his eyes, let out a long breath. “I’m sorry.”
“When did you go undercover in Scott’s operation?”
“Scott?” Mallory opened his eyes, questioning.
Peterson explained how they had learned Trask’s real identity, then repeated, “When did you join his operation?”
“I’m not allowed to tell anyone but my supervisor.”
“Merritt?”
Mallory nodded. “It’s bad. I know it’s bad.” He looked at Dillon. “Who are you?”
“Dillon Kincaid. Lucy’s brother.”
“I didn’t want to hurt her.”
“But you would have. Had Kate not made the deal with Adam Scott, you would have raped her to protect your cover.”
“Kate? She got my message in time? I was afraid Trask—Scott—had intercepted it and that’s how he knew I was undercover.”
“Kate got your message. Can you explain what led to your being shot this afternoon?” Peterson asked.
Mallory frowned. Sweat formed on his brow, and his heart monitor started beating faster. “He called me off. I…I didn’t want to hurt her. I really didn’t. But if I exposed myself, I would be dead and who would have protected her?”
“But Scott figured out who you were anyway.”
“At first I didn’t know. He said he had a job to do off the island and needed me as backup. I thought, this is my chance. Except he had a fail-safe plan with Roger Morton. If he didn’t check in, Roger was to kill the girl and disappear. I wouldn’t have enough time to get back to her. And I didn’t know if Kate had gotten the message or understood it. So I went with him.
“He told me all about Kate Donovan. How she had put an end to his legitimate business and he had to resort to illegal porn. How he set a trap for her. That no one would believe her anymore because of all the false leads. He pulled Lucy off-camera to entice Kate to come.
“Then he told me that I was the bait. He decked me before I could reach my gun, disarmed me, and then drugged me.”
“Where does Merritt fit in all this?” Peterson demanded. “This was not a sanctioned undercover operation.”
Mallory started coughing. His heart was racing and sweat poured from his skin. Dillon said, “He needs a doctor. He’s going into shock.”
Peterson stopped Dillon from pressing the call button. He leaned forward. “Mick, talk to me. What’s Merritt up to?”
“He…revenge. For Paige. He wanted me to kill him.”
Dillon pulled his arm from Peterson’s grip and pressed the nurse call button. Almost instantly one came in, checked Mallory’s vitals, and paged the doctor.
“You need to leave,” she said.
“Where’s Scott going now?” Dillon asked Mallory.
“I don’t know! I—” Mallory flopped on the bed. Two doctors rushed in and pushed Dillon and Peterson out of the room.
“Shit,” Peterson said, running a hand through his hair.
“Kate’s in trouble.”
“She’s in more trouble than from a killer on the run. I heard from my people in San Diego. Merritt is up here and he’s going to take her into custody.”
“No. She saved Lucy’s life!”
“There’s nothing I can do about it tonight, but tomorrow I’ll call in every favor I have.”
“She didn’t do anything.”
“She needs to answer for her actions, face the Office of Professional Responsibility. They’ll decide whether to prosecute or not.”
“But prison?”
“Merritt is high-ranking. I’ll do what I can. He crossed the line sending Mick Mallory into a deep undercover job. I’ll push Merritt, maybe get something we can cut a deal with.”
Peterson went down and Dillon went up three flights of stairs to where Kate had had her arm sewn up. She sat on the edge of her bed, alone. She was still wearing the white, bloody tank top. Her arm was bandaged. She was dirty, pale, and so tired it was all Dillon could do not to gather her in his arms and hold her.
“How’s Lucy?” she asked.
“Alive. Thanks to you.”
“And you.” She sighed. “No word on Scott?”
“No.” Dillon sat next to her, took her hand. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine. The arm was nothing. More messy than anything. I just want to find a place to take a hot shower.”
“I have a hotel reservation.”
“What about Lucy? Aren’t you going back to San Diego?”
“She’s going back in the morning. She’s resting now. Peterson put a guard on her door. My sister Carina is with her now.”
“And you’re not going?”
“I’m going to talk to Roger Morton tomorrow morning. He called for his attorney, but Peterson and I are going to tag-team him. I’ve had experience interviewing killers.”
Dillon took a deep breath. “You need to know something. Your boss, the one you told me about, Merritt, is coming here. He wants to arrest you.”
“I expected it.”
Dillon turned her chin so she was forced to look him in the eye. “I will do everything in my power to make sure you don’t go to prison. Quinn Peterson will call in every favor. My brother Jack seems to know everyone on the planet. I’ll ask him to call the president of the United States if we have to.”
A tear slipped out of the corner of her eye and Dillon wiped it with his thumb. Put his thumb to his lips and tasted her agony.
“I think you should do the right thing, face the board and tell them everything that happened five years ago. Including what you told me on the plane. That your partner wasn’t honest with you from the beginning. I know she’s dead, and she’s not here to answer the charges for herself. But she was your best friend. She would not want you to go to prison for something that wasn’t your fault. You acted to the best of your ability and knowledge. No one can expect anything more.”
“I—”
Dillon put his finger to her lips. “But,” he said, his voice low, “if you think the deck is stacked against you, if you think you can’t face it, I’ll help you disappear.”
“You’d do that for me? Why?”
He didn’t know why. A torrent of emotions assaulted him, feelings he’d never had. He’d never been an emotional man. He was reasonable, intelligent, professional. Reason over feelings, logic over emotion.
But here with Kate Donovan, his feelings refused to remain buried. He just didn’t know what to call them. He’d never experienced them before.
For a person who made his living working with other people’s emotions, Dillon was at a loss to understand his own heart.
“You saved Lucy,” he said simply.
“You’ll help me out of duty,” she said flatly.
“No, not duty. It’s more than that.”
She stared at him. “What? If not duty, why would you break the law to help me?”
“You’ve shown me more about myself than I’ve ever seen. You pushed me. You trusted me. You trusted me even when everyone you’ve trusted has let you down.”
“You’re a man who inspires trust,” she whispered, glancing down. “But do you trust me?”
He pushed her chin up again, his eyes falling to her lips. A small cut on her upper lip where the tree branch hit her was already healing. He leaned over and kissed it lightly. Then he kissed her again. Her hand came up around his neck and held him to her, a so
b escaped her throat.
He swallowed her sob, kissed her again, opening her mouth, tasting her, pulling her tongue into his mouth. His arms went around her back, holding her. She molded perfectly to his body, her small breasts pushed flat against his chest, her hand clutching his hair.
He reluctantly pulled back. “Let’s go.”
“They haven’t released me.”
He smiled. “I’m a doctor. I’m releasing you.” He pulled her up, held her close. “Let’s see about that hot shower.”
Jeff Merritt started to walk into Lucy Kincaid’s hospital room and was stopped by a broad man in quasimilitary garb.
Merritt flashed his badge and started to walk past. The man put his hand out and held him back. “You can’t go in there.”
“I need to debrief the girl,” Merritt said.
“You are not allowed in there.”
“Out of my way, soldier.”
The man shifted his stance, from protective to offensive. “You need to leave,” he told Merritt.
“I don’t take orders from local law enforcement,” Merritt said. What did these people think he was? Some two-bit cop? He was an assistant director in charge in the Federal Bureau of Investigation. He had more authority in his little finger than they had in their miserable lives.
The door opened and a woman stepped out. She shut the door firmly behind her and frowned at them. “What’s going on here? She’s sleeping.”
“I’m in charge of this investigation. I need to speak with the victim and get a statement.”
“Hell no,” she said, crossing her arms.
Merritt fumed. “And who are you?”
“Detective Carina Kincaid, San Diego Police Department. You’re not talking to Lucy until she’s ready.”
Merritt needed to find out what the girl knew, what Adam Scott had said or she had overheard. He had to find Scott. He couldn’t rest until that part of his life was over. He was so close, but once again Kate Donovan had fucked it up.
“If Scott abducts another girl, it’s on your conscience.”
The woman raised an eyebrow at him. “Go away.”
Merritt turned and left. He’d already tried to see Mallory, but he was in emergency surgery. Internal bleeding. He might not make it. Dammit, why couldn’t Merritt have spoken to him first? He might know something important about Adam Scott’s next move.
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