Fear No Evil

by Allison Brennan

  “So Trevor Conrad is going to go to the cops and he kills him. Blows up the lab at school to cover up the crime.”

  Dillon nodded. “And Paul Ullman and Roger Morton are under his thumb. They aided and abetted. Even if Morton is right and Scott killed Trevor, and they only helped cover it up, Scott would still have control over them. They knew. And Monique Paxton was a high-profile victim. Her father was a politician. Not something they’d be able to walk away from easily, even with their family money.”

  “I need confirmation before I can go to the senator. At least a location where her remains are buried.”

  “They weren’t buried,” Dillon said solemnly.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Adam Scott would have obliterated her remains. There may be traces, but my guess is that he burned the body and spread the ashes, or used some sort of chemical to quickly eat away the flesh.”

  Quinn nodded. “Because there was physical evidence on the body.”

  “Exactly. His sperm, his DNA, skin under her fingernails, marks on her body. He had to literally destroy her to save his life. His DNA isn’t in the system. Whether he subconsciously knew he was going down this murderous path, or it was a natural sense of self-preservation, Adam Scott vanished Monique Paxton.” Dillon glanced at Quinn and said, “I think it’s safe to give Senator Paxton the news.”

  A man approached them. He was shorter than average with graying blond hair, a goatee, and dark circles under his eyes.

  “Merritt,” Quinn mumbled.

  “You interviewed Morton without me?” Merritt said without preamble.

  “It’s my case, my jurisdiction,” Quinn said.

  “I told you nothing happens on this investigation without me being informed.” He glanced at Dillon. “Who are you?”

  “Dillon Kincaid.”

  “The victim’s brother? What the fuck is he doing here?” he screamed at Quinn.

  “I’m not going to get into this with you right now,” Quinn said, keeping his voice low. “I’ve already talked to my superior about you sending Mick Mallory in to assassinate Adam Scott.”

  “That’s a lie!”

  Quinn raised an eyebrow.

  “Peterson, I’ll have your badge.”

  Another man approached, younger, in a three-piece suit that fit stiffly. “Agent Peterson?” he asked formally.

  “What is it, Carl?”

  “A message. It’s important.”

  Quinn took the paper and swore. Merritt gloated. “This isn’t over,” Quinn said. “You’re not going to railroad her.”

  “I’m not railroading anybody. I simply want her in jail where she belongs.” Merritt turned and walked off.

  “What?” Dillon asked. “You won’t put Kate in prison.”

  “I’ll do everything I can to keep her out,” he said and handed Dillon the note. It was from the director of the Office of Professional Responsibility.

  Quincy Peterson, SAC, Seattle Field Office, FBI:

  We are remanding Katherine Donovan, SA, Arlington Field Office, into your custody pending resolution of ongoing investigation. You are to produce SA Donovan at headquarters in Washington DC Monday, June 10, 2007 at 0800 for a formal debriefing and interview.

  SA Donovan is considered a flight risk and must not be allowed to leave on her own recognizance.

  Dillon frowned. “But this is good, right? You have custody of Kate, not Jeff Merritt.”

  He nodded. “I just didn’t expect it to happen so quickly.”

  Kate had been sitting in the interview room for hours. A secretary brought her lunch, but she only picked at it.

  She hated being caged.

  Her room at the observatory was smaller than the interview room she was being detained in, but she had the freedom to come and go as she pleased. Knowing she couldn’t leave this building unnerved her.

  She finally sat after pacing for what seemed like hours. When Dillon had walked in this morning after seeing his sister off, she had been surprised and grateful. And deliriously happy. After last night, she had feared that the connection they’d made would be short-lived. Dillon had a life, a career, his family in San Diego. A family who depended on him. Who was she to claim him? Who was she to want him to stay with her instead of returning home?

  But she didn’t want him to go. She couldn’t stop him, of course, but deep down she wanted him with her. She was strong—she would face whatever happened with the OPR. She owed it to Paige, to Evan, and to herself to tell the complete truth to the best of her knowledge.

  “I’m sorry, Paige,” she mumbled. But Dillon was right. Paige would never want her to live like this—on the run, in fear—to protect her name. And Evan deserved to be recognized as a hero for his actions, coming in at the last minute to try and save the situation, calling in the police. Their sirens chased Trask away and saved her life.

  “Thank you, Evan,” she said. Evan would have liked Dillon, and that thought gave her peace. She had loved Evan dearly. He was smart and fun and dedicated. But Evan would never want her lying to protect Paige or anyone. And he would want her to be happy, just as she would if the situation were reversed.

  Who wouldn’t like Dillon? she thought, remembering the way he had savored her body. Each kiss focused, planned, with the purpose of driving her wild. And he was smart. God, she loved smart men. Men who didn’t just survive on their brawn or common sense, but intelligent men who she could have a conversation with and not feel like she was talking to a brick wall.

  That he had returned, for her, gave her even more confidence that she would find a way out of this mess. She’d probably lose her job—had probably lost it already. She certainly hadn’t been receiving a paycheck for the last five years, living on her small savings, taking odd jobs, and relying on the kindness of Professor Fox. But if she could clear her name, come out of hiding, she could get another job. Maybe not in the FBI, but there were police departments everywhere.

  Even a few in San Diego where Dillon lived.

  And if she didn’t want to be a cop anymore, she could go into computer security.

  For the first time in five years, she saw hope in her future.

  Dillon walked in and came straight to her.

  “How are you doing?” he asked, taking her hands.

  “I’m going stir-crazy.”

  He gave her a half-smile.

  “What happened with Morton?”

  “He’s willing to deal.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Absolutely. Quinn’s putting it together with the U.S. attorney right now.”

  “Wow. Does he know where Adam Scott is?”

  Dillon shook his head. “He didn’t say one way or the other, but my guess is no. He was agitated when Quinn started pushing him about Scott getting off completely and leaving Roger holding the bag. If he knew anything for certain, I think he would have said something. But maybe there’s something he knows that will lead us to him.”

  He motioned for her to sit down. “What’s wrong?” she asked as she sat.

  He sat next to her, squeezed her hands, leaned in for a kiss. She pulled back, knowing something was happening.

  “What’s wrong?” she repeated.

  “The OPR set the hearing for next Monday.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “A week from tomorrow.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She nodded. “Absolutely. I need to tell them everything.”

  “You’re in custody until then.”

  “Custody?”

  He took a deep breath. “Merritt wants to transport you to the local jail until you fly to Washington, D.C.”

  She started shaking. “And?”

  “Quinn is battling it out now. He’s taking personal responsibility for your actions.”

  “Meaning I run and he gets screwed.”

  “Something like that.”

  “That’s okay. I’m not going to run.” She held Dillon’s face
in her hands. “I’m tired of running. I’m going to face the OPR and tell them everything. Then whatever happens, I’ll know that I told the truth.”

  He leaned forward and kissed her. “I’m not leaving you, Kate.”

  “I could be in prison.”

  “I’ll wait.”

  She stared into his intense green eyes. “You would, wouldn’t you?”

  He nodded, kissed her again. “You’re not alone, Kate. And you’ll never be alone again.”

  A knock on the door interrupted a more passionate kiss, then it opened.

  Quinn walked in, sat down across from Dillon and Kate. “You’re in my custody, Kate. I’ve sworn up and down to the director of the OPR that you’re not a flight risk.”

  “I’m not.”

  He nodded, turned to Dillon. “I have some news.”

  “About Scott?”

  “Not exactly. I’m going to San Diego tomorrow morning. To interview Lucy.”

  Dillon shook his head. “Why? You have enough evidence, you don’t need to make her go through that again.”

  “We’ve been analyzing her messages to and from Adam Scott. He said some cryptic things that we think she might have the answers to. In addition, we need to find out what she heard or saw while on the island. She may know what his plans are without knowing she knows. I shouldn’t have to tell you that interviewing the victim is crucial in an investigation like this.”

  “You have plenty of evidence without Lucy!” Dillon slammed his hand on the table, displaying a rare burst of anger. “She’s been through Hell. Just yesterday she was raped. I can’t—”

  “You don’t have a choice, Dillon. I’m going down there and I’m going to ask her to talk to us. She doesn’t have to, I know that, but it would help. We have to stop Adam Scott. If we don’t, Lucy will never be safe again. Neither will Kate. He’s not going to rest until they’re dead. You know that, Dillon. You told me that.”

  Dillon knew Quinn was right, but he hated the thought of Lucy having to recount her abduction and rapes. Kate squeezed his hand.

  “I’m going,” he said.

  Quinn nodded. “I expected you would.”

  “And so is Kate.”

  Quinn raised an eyebrow.

  “She’s in your custody, isn’t she?” Dillon said. “And I’m not leaving her up here where Jeff Merritt can get at her, or where Adam Scott might find her.”

  Quinn looked at Kate. “Okay?” he asked her.

  Kate smiled seriously, nodded. “When?” she asked.

  “Tomorrow morning. Early. Until then, you need to stay here.”

  “I’ll stay with you,” Dillon said.

  Quinn shook his head. “I’ve given you both as much latitude as I can. I wish I could do more, but please don’t push this.”

  “It’s okay,” Kate told Dillon. “Really.”

  Dillon didn’t want to leave her. But at least she was coming to San Diego. He’d show her what a family was, how they stuck together, how good a family could be. Show her the family she’d never had, a family that maybe she’d like to be part of. With him.

  “Are you sure?” he whispered.

  She nodded. “It’s only a few hours. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

  He kissed her lightly on the lips, wished he could keep her with him all night. “Tomorrow morning.”

  THIRTY

  IT WAS AFTER MIDNIGHT when Dillon spoke to Jack on the phone. “How’s Lucy?”

  “She’ll be okay.”

  “That’s not telling me anything.”

  “She knows about Patrick. She became hysterical, insisted she had to see him. Carina didn’t think that was wise. She ended up giving Lucy a sedative to get her to sleep.”

  Dillon frowned. “I think you should let her see Patrick.”

  “What good will that do?” Jack asked. “She’s already beating herself up over what happened. Seeing him like that will make it worse.”

  “I don’t think so. She needs to focus on someone other than herself. Her imagination over what might have happened to Patrick will be far worse than letting her sit with him for a while.”

  “He’s in a coma, Dillon.” Jack stated the obvious.

  “Seeing Patrick, sitting with him will help Lucy. Taking care of Patrick will give her mind a chance to stop thinking about what happened to her. It’ll give her a break. Keeping her locked in the house on sedatives, under what can be the stifling love and concern of the family, where all she can think about is the rape, is emotionally exhausting.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Look into Mama’s eyes. You’ll see a reflection of pain and suffering. Lucy sees the same thing, and that fuels her guilt and anguish. If she wants to see Patrick tomorrow morning, take her.”

  “All right. But I’m telling Carina it’s your idea. She’s damn protective of Lucy. She’s acting more like the bodyguard than me.”

  “That’s Carina.” Dillon paused. “I’ll be coming home tomorrow.”

  “I thought you were staying up there with Kate?”

  “She’s coming with me.”

  “Really.”

  “So is Quinn Peterson. He needs to talk to Lucy.”

  “Debrief her.”

  “Essentially.”

  “Do you want me to prepare her for it?”

  “No. I don’t want her imagining the questions or trying to think up what she’s going to say. I’ll meet you at the hospital at noon. That’ll give Lucy time with Patrick, which should calm her.”

  “You’re the boss,” Jack said.

  “How’s it going with Mom and Dad?”

  “You’re not talking about Lucy, are you?”

  “No.”

  Jack paused. “With Mama, it’s like I never left. Dad…you’re the shrink, you figure it out.”

  “He’s acting like you betrayed the family and him, personally.”

  “Bingo.”

  “Can you hang on a couple more days?”

  “Think you’ll find Scott by then?”

  “I think Scott will find us. Be diligent, Jack. He wants Lucy and he’ll kill to get to her.”

  It wasn’t yet dawn when the door to her room opened.

  The fog of sleep disappeared immediately as Kate jumped up. The fluorescent lights blasted on and Kate blinked rapidly. She reached for a gun that wasn’t there.

  Merritt. And two cops. “What’s going on?” she asked.

  Merritt nodded to the cops, who approached her. “You can’t do this,” she said. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  “No, you’re not. Sit down.”

  “What do you want?” she asked.

  It wasn’t until one of the cops took out handcuffs that a tingle of fear crept up her spine.

  One cop held her while the other handcuffed her to the chair and the table. Why the table?

  So she couldn’t move.

  “I want to show you something.” Merritt dismissed the cops, and they left.

  “Where’s Quinn?”

  “It’s three in the morning. He’s probably at home with his wife.”

  Merritt had a briefcase in one hand. He placed it on the table, opened it, took out a DVD player. While it booted up, he said, “I watched Paige die.”

  She didn’t say anything.

  “Then I watched you. And all I could think about was that I wished you had been in Paige’s place.”

  Her stomach churned.

  “You had no one. Evan had been killed. Your grandparents were dead. No one knew where your mother was, or even who your father is. No siblings, few friends. Paige had everything! A family who loved her. Lots of friends who cared for her. Me.”

  He leaned over and for a moment Kate believed he was going to pull out his gun and shoot her.

  “Paige was pregnant when she died. You thought she was your best friend? She didn’t even tell you. She told me the week before she died.” He turned from her, punched some buttons on the player.

  Paige was pregnant? Ka
te was shocked. Paige hadn’t said anything. Not even hinted about it.

  She’d thought they’d been best friends. Closer than sisters. But Paige had been drifting back then. Focused on the job. And Jeff. Had Kate missed the clues? Not only about Paige’s pregnancy, but about the reality of their relationship?

  “Why do you think I wanted her pulled off the investigation?” Merritt said. “But no, you pushed, pushed, pushed.”

  “I never pushed Paige on the investigation,” Kate said. “She told me you said everything was a go. She lied about the backup. Maybe you wanted her pulled, but she was going full-steam ahead.”

  “Paige never lied to you!”

  “Yes, she did!” Suddenly Kate remembered something about that fateful investigation five years ago. What Evan had said. Kate, get out. There’s no backup. How did he know? Had he been following them? Or had he been privy to inside information? Kate had told Evan everything about the investigation. He knew where she was going and why. He wouldn’t have come there unless he knew she was in danger.

  “Unless you lied to her,” Kate said slowly. Maybe Paige believed she’d convinced Merritt to give them support against Trask. But he never had. He didn’t want his pregnant girlfriend to push it. Maybe he placated her?

  But that didn’t make sense, either. Why would Merritt intentionally pull backup and jeopardize their lives?

  Unless he thought the whole sting was a fraud and they weren’t in danger? But that would mean he had inside information—inside information that wasn’t even true. Or he really believed there had been no real threat in the first place.

  “Don’t even go there,” he said with venom.

  He stepped away from the computer screen. Kate stared as she saw Paige naked on a thin mattress, and a masked man—Adam Scott—naked and towering over her.

  Kate couldn’t move, couldn’t swallow, couldn’t even breathe. Scott raped her, his hands around her neck. He was strangling her. But not completely. He gave her enough air to live, leaned up, and suddenly there was a knife.

  Without preamble, he slit her neck. Not deeply, but the blood poured out. In a frenzy, he sliced her. No deep stab wounds, just numerous, repeated slices as she screamed, the sound hollow and tinny coming out of the player’s speaker.