LUCY: The Complete Lucy Kendall Series with Bonus Content (The Lucy Kendall Series Book 5)

by Stacy Green

  “I’m coordinating with other state police as well,” Evans said. “And the FBI is mobilizing, according to Detective Beckett.”

  I looked again at the bathroom. For some foolish reason, I’d hoped to see some sort of sign from Chris, a message left for me to let me know he was still alive. A clue as to where that bitch had taken him.

  But there was only his blood.

  I left the bathroom and walked back to Todd. He nodded, dropping his phone in his pocket. “ADA Hale and Agent Lennox are here. They’ll be at the cabin in a few minutes.”

  Lucy Kendall working with the FBI.

  I’d be lucky to stay out of jail this time.

  10

  I chose to wait outside for ADA Hale and Agent Lennox. Cold pierced my layers of clothes, but my insides had overheated. Standing around, waiting to be told the next move, made me feel about as useless as a slug. If I could only get out there and do my thing, then I could…what? Find her? I laughed out loud, catching the surprised eye of a crime scene technician as he carried an evidence bag out of the cabin. Too tired and too jacked up to worry about looking crazy, I ignored him.

  I couldn’t find her on my own.

  The FBI couldn’t find her.

  Chances of us working together in harmony for a positive outcome were probably nil.

  Mary was going to win this game, and Chris was going to die.

  An imposing African American man in a long, wool coat and hiking boots approached. He didn’t hunch against the wind but walked straight into it, tenacious and bold, the regal leader come to save the day. Broad shoulders, leather-gloved hands and just the hint of a swagger–probably a former athlete. A few feet away, and his eyes latched onto mine and riveted me to the spot. I tried to play it off, act like I wasn’t intimidated, but the man’s attention felt like a weight dropped onto my shoulders.

  “Lucy Kendall.” His baritone waved over me so that I barely noticed his extended gloved hand. “Agent André Lennox, FBI.”

  Whatever bravado I’d gleaned from looking at Amy’s body evaporated at the agent’s dogged gaze. “Thanks for letting me help.”

  “I’m well aware of your history,” Lennox said. “I decided making an ally of you would be better than worrying about your running your own investigation.”

  I wanted to march back into the cabin and demand to know how much Todd had told Lennox, but I didn’t dare show that much weakness. “I’m counting on you to find Chris.”

  “So am I.” ADA Charles Hale appeared beside Lennox, looking far removed from the courtroom. Dressed in jeans and snow boots, with a thick parka and winter hat, he could have passed for any local. “Detective Beckett says you’re both sure his mother is behind this.”

  “There’s no doubt in my mind,” I said. “I didn’t need to see the crime scene to tell me that.”

  “Do you think he’s alive?” Hale’s voice didn’t waver.

  “For now, I’m still hoping,” I said.

  “I want to see this for myself.” Lennox went inside and Hale followed. I had no choice but to do the same.

  The main area of the cabin was filled to bursting, with each section of law enforcement officers in their own huddles. Evans and Frost stood at the bedroom door, as if they were considering blocking Lennox’s access. Todd stood against the sink, out of place and unsure. In the center of the room, Lennox’s imposing form commanded attention, but unlike Frost, he didn’t appear to be a hyper puppy in need of potty training. Lennox was the old dog who knew the tricks of the game, his relentless gaze showing no surprise at the violence that had occurred here.

  He introduced himself to Evans and Frost. “Thank you for allowing me to join the investigation.” His height easily allowed him to peer over Evans’s shoulder. “Poor girl.”

  Evans cleared his throat. “I assume Detective Beckett informed you of the medical examiner’s preliminary findings, as well as Ms. Kendall’s thoughts?”

  “He did, and I agree, this is Mary Weston. You’ve set up roadblocks and contacted other agencies, but they’ve got several hours on us,” Lennox said. “I’ve got my people trying to figure out where she used the Internet, but we’re not having much luck. What about any sightings in the community?”

  “So far, not many, but we’re just starting that end of the search.” Frost cut in, standing tall and rigid. “She’s a woman who stands out, and this is a small town, so I’m hopeful.”

  “She didn’t go into town,” Lennox said. “She’s too smart for that. We need to find out if there’s any strange men out there, ages mid-forties and up, who are new in the community. I wish the road blocks had been set up immediately, but we’ll have to move forward as best we can.”

  Frost’s face reddened, but she nodded. “Someone who came in and bought a lot of supplies at once. Maybe some of them for a woman. Someone who didn’t want to talk or share anything about himself. Probably paid in cash.”

  “Good,” Lennox said. “Get your people on that, if you don’t mind. I’d like to take a closer look at the body. Your medical examiner can run through it with me.”

  “Sure thing,” Trooper Evans said before Frost could respond. I rolled my eyes. Had these people never seen an FBI Agent? They weren’t actually godlike creatures, despite what half of them wanted the public to believe.

  “Charles,” Lennox said as he headed into the bedroom. “Why don’t you go back to the station with Lucy and Detective Beckett and show them the emails? Might as well let them know what we’re dealing with. I’ll follow shortly.”

  Hale nodded, his gaze drifting toward the bathroom. I thought he’d ask to see it, but instead he turned and walked out of the cabin.

  A warning pinged in my head. I caught Todd’s eye and felt a flash of relief that his expression mirrored my own questions. What exactly were we dealing with?

  The ride back to the police station was spent in silence, partially because the blowing snow had turned the roads into a wicked sheet of ice. Todd gripped the wheel hard, hunched forward so his chin hovered over the steering wheel. Hale seemed unbothered by the danger, sitting quiet and still. I wondered why he’d driven out with Lennox in the first place. I supposed he needed to see the place Chris had been taken.

  Treacherously steep ditches gradually gave way to smoother embankments, and soon we eased into Jarrettsville. This time of night, most shops were closed, their dark windows like spying eyes in the winter night. Only the bright signs of the fast food joints, an all night department store, and a couple of gas stations offered a chance at sustenance. I realized Todd and I had no place to stay and hoped this town had a motel.

  Inside the police station, we were taken past the entrance by a yawning deputy. “Sorry, I’ve got a newborn at home. I’ve set you up in the administrative conference room.” He yawned again. “It’s actually our only conference room, and it’s also the break room, so there’s coffee and a few donuts from this morning. I can order a pizza if you guys are hungry.”

  “No thanks,” Todd said. “We just need a table and chairs.”

  And warmth. My fingers were still stiff from the cold, my toes barely moving. My face burned from the wind. I wished I’d packed lotion.

  Hale set down his bag and shrugged out of his green parka, draping it over the chair. He took off his hat and ran his fingers through his silver hair. He braced his hands on the back of the chair and sighed. “I think I always knew this day would come.”

  I wanted to ask why, but suddenly felt too tired to speak. And now that I was inside, sheltered from the scene, Chris’s foolishness sparked new anger. He was the calm one, always urging me to think things through. Of course he was emotionally attached this time, but still, how could he be so naïve? I regretted shutting him out more than ever, because I just could not get into his headspace right now, almost as if I were dealing with a stranger. We had to be missing information. The pinging returned, this time in the form of a whine deep inside my ears. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear what Hale had to say.


  Todd pulled out a chair and motioned for me to sit. I didn’t want to even though my legs felt like jelly, my muscles weak from laziness. But sitting implied I wasn’t doing anything, and I needed to do something.

  Todd waited, and I sat. He did the same and then Hale reached into his leather bag and produced several printed pages. He looked at me. “Last month, you and Chris discovered Jake planned to sell you to Mary Weston. Correct?”

  His cool demeanor surprised me, but then again, he was a prosecutor. And he’d experienced the aftermath of the Lancaster killings as a shamed family member. His skin had to be thick as a dragon’s. “Yes. I have a computer specialist who helps me with business. She searched in depth to find a physical location to the email address but couldn’t. I…took a vacation.”

  “I don’t blame you,” Hale said. “Chris apparently didn’t have the patience. He emailed the account three days after you discovered it.”

  The pinging turned into a loud crash. My head throbbed. “What?”

  “She didn’t respond immediately, and he continued to contact her.” Hale placed two printed sheets in front of me. Todd leaned closer to read over my shoulder.

  The first message, sent three days after I’d killed Jake and Riley, just as ADA Hale said.

  My name is Christopher Alan Hale, born Christopher Alan Weston. You contacted the Candy Market specifically wanting them to locate and deliver Lucy Kendall to you. I know you are Mary Weston, and I know you are my mother. Let’s talk.

  The second email, sent two days later, reeked of Chris’s trademark impatience. I bit my lip, overwhelmed with the stark realization that he was out there somewhere, hurt and terrified, while I sat here trying to unravel the puzzle he’d screwed up.

  Mom. Can I still call you that? Mommy certainly doesn’t fit. I know what you’re doing. I have questions. If you don’t respond, I’m going to the police.

  More messages in the same vein–threatening, nagging, cajoling. It wasn’t until the fourth, when Chris said he just wanted to know about his family and her background, about why she’d done the things she had, that he received a response.

  Why do you care?

  “Because I need to know.” I read the words out loud in the hopes they might make sense. “Not just why you did the terrible things you did, but why my father took the blame for you. Why you allowed that to happen to your son. Why you ruined Justin’s life. Why are you such a monster?”

  More messages like that, with Chris taking a pleading tone. Desperate. He unraveled in words as vividly as if I’d been sitting beside him and watching it all happen.

  “Why in the hell didn’t he contact the police as soon as she responded?” Todd’s indignant voice added to the general off balance feeling of the room. “Someone might have been able to track her down.”

  “I doubt it.” My eyes remained glued to the paper. “She knows how to go deep on the Internet and hide. Impressive, actually. Some of her generation still fumbles with technology.”

  “He should have called the police.” Todd looked at Hale, who’d sat with his head down listening to the exchange. “Why do you think he didn’t tell someone?”

  The assistant district attorney finally looked up, weary. “He wants answers she can’t give. Or won’t give. He always has.” He rubbed his temples. “I thought maybe, after all this time, he’d made some kind of peace with it, but finding out about Justin just brought everything back.”

  “He was only five when he found Jenna Richardson. He had the chance to start over.” Todd either couldn’t or wouldn’t hide the bitterness. “Did you get him therapy?”

  “Of course,” Hale said. “He spent two years with a counselor, and then, after…an unfortunate event at school, we were forced to move to another part of the city. Give him another fresh start.”

  “What happened at school?” Todd asked.

  “Some kid found out about Chris’s parents, and he beat him up pretty badly.” I answered without looking up. The tone of Chris’s emails still mesmerized me. His desperation made me feel strange, like I was standing outside myself, watching.

  Hale’s silence caught my attention, and I finally raised my eyes to meet his. A chill shuddered through my already cold hands. The assistant district attorney’s eyes bore into mine, and I struggled to maintain eye contact.

  “He told you about that?”

  I managed to nod. “After a bad shift a few months ago. It reminded him of what he’d done.”

  “I see.” Hale continued to stare, and irritation prickled through me. Why did he care that Chris had told me?

  “What happened to the kid?”

  Hale finally shifted his attention back to Todd. “He moved on as well.”

  “Were you guys sued?” Todd asked.

  “We settled.”

  I listened to the verbal volley with nagging interest, as if I knew I’d forgotten something but whatever it was clung stubbornly to the dark areas of my brain. My attention was still diverted by Mary’s words, the simplicity of the web she spun, sucking Chris in bit by bit.

  “You don’t need to know these things. They’ll do you no good.”

  “I’m no one in your life, I’ve got nothing to say. And if I did, you wouldn’t believe me anyway.

  “Why upset your perfect world now? Aren’t you happy with the life you were given?”

  “What could I possibly offer you?”

  “After we moved,” Hale continued, “we enrolled him in a summer camp for kids who’ve experienced traumatic experiences and needed help channeling their feelings, namely anger. It worked quite well.”

  My once cold skin suddenly felt flushed and clammy beneath my sweater, and the nagging feeling became a full-fledged rash of panic. “What was the name of the camp?

  “Camp Hopeful, on Blackwood Lake.” Hale tried to smile. “He spent three summers there. I think he was twelve when he last attended. The place did wonders for him. He donates to them every year, and he even volunteered as a counselor during college.”

  I tried to act like I was listening, but my thoughts scrambled as if I’d just come off a rollercoaster. This simply could not be.

  But it very clearly was. And Chris’s original interest in me made a lot more sense.

  I’d gone to Camp Hopeful the summer I was fifteen. Chris would have been eleven. I didn’t remember him, but that meant nothing. I was an angry teenager just waiting for the hot summer days to fade into fall so I could go back to school and hide.

  I tried to grab onto some kind of logical explanation, but all I could think of was the way Chris had popped into my life last year. His eventual explanation–that he’d heard my name from his uncle and followed the Justin Beckett trial and subsequent parole–seemed plausible enough, especially after he’d admitted who his parents were. He’d been afraid of where he’d come from, and believed he might have some sort of genetic blueprint to turn into his parents. He’d thought it was his destiny, and so he’d reached out.

  But Camp Hopeful? Was it really possible that our paths had crossed all those years before and neither one of us knew it? I certainly hadn’t, but what if Chris had known all along?

  Todd jabbed at the paper containing the emails. “I think it’s safe to say Chris isn’t over his mother’s decision to leave him. He’s begging her to tell him why she did those things. Not just why she killed but why she chose killing over him.”

  “He feels abandoned,” Hale said. “My wife and I brought him up as though he were our own, but he’s never let it go. Now knowing his father is in prison, choosing to remain silent, when he could have had some kind of a life with Chris, for this Mary? Chris can’t get past it.” His chin sank to his chest, and he stared at the table.

  “He wants to meet her as an adult,” I said. “Because he doesn’t understand how she could have fooled so many people and manipulated them.” I looked back at the emails with a sickening feeling. “But he’s being manipulated during these communications. Her responses are deliberately making him
more agitated. She wanted him to beg.”

  “Of course she did,” Hale said. “That bitch is a sadist.”

  “How well did you know her?” Todd asked. “I don’t remember her as anything but pleasant, but until I got older, I didn’t realize how bad she was. Did the rest of your family ever like her?”

  Hale sighed. “By then, there wasn’t a rest of the family. My parents were killed in a car accident when my brother John–Chris’s father–was fifteen. I was twenty and in school. John lived with our grandparents, and I was too selfish to watch over him. I think his finding out the truth after our parents’ death is what really shook his confidence. That and living with my grandmother, who resented him.”

  I tried to focus on what ADA Hale was saying, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Camp Hopeful and everything its connection implied.

  What else did Chris keep from me?

  “What truth?” Todd asked.

  “John was adopted,” Hale said. “My parents couldn’t have any more kids after me, and so they adopted him when he was just a year old. I’m sure they planned to tell us, but they never got around to it. He already felt like the black sheep. Finding this out after their death just solidified it.”

  That caught my attention. “So his real parents are named Weston? I thought your wife’s maiden name was Hale and you took it to protect Chris’s identity.”

  “That’s what we told Chris,” Hale said. “John never found his real parents that I know of. But when he married Mary, he took her name. He wanted nothing to do with the Hales.”

  “Chris doesn’t know this.” I alternated between anger and pity for Chris. He’d been lied to his entire life. How should he know any better?

  “I didn’t see the point,” Hale said. “He was young and troubled, and we just wanted him to get better. I thought a clean break from all of those people was the best thing.”