Lucy - 05 - Stalked

by Allison Brennan

  “Thank you.”

  “One more thing. Who told you about the hiring panel?”

  “Are you ordering me to tell you?”

  “No. But I will if that makes you more inclined to share.”

  “Why is that important?”

  “Because the only people who knew, until you found out yesterday, were the three people on the hiring panel, Hans, and Rick Stockton. That means that one or more of those three agents who interviewed you told someone after they were debriefed and told never to discuss the situation. It’s a security breach. Personnel issues may seem minor on the surface, but revealing confidential information leads to other breaches.”

  “It wasn’t someone on the panel.”

  “If I guess will you tell me?”

  Lucy was intrigued. “I’m not going to play twenty questions.”

  “It was Rich Laughlin.”

  Lucy was stunned. “How did you know?”

  “I noticed him watching you and his body language told me he was angry. I couldn’t imagine what you might have done, so I kept my eyes open. Then Friday I walked out with Kosako and he said your score plummeted from ninety-three to thirty-two. It surprised him, and me, so I asked if there was a weapons problem. He noticed Laughlin standing in your peripheral vision and how your eye kept moving toward him. He thought it was a problem because of tactical training issues—but I put two and two together.”

  “He doesn’t like me, but I think it has something to do with Kate. I’ll take care of it myself,” Lucy said. “I appreciate your understanding, but just as I don’t like being singled out in my training, I don’t like being cut any slack. I’m going to have to deal with more agents like Rich Laughlin when I get out of here.”

  “You will. Hans asked me to find out for him, because he needs to know who on the panel can’t be trusted.”

  She stood, uncertain what Harden expected from her, and simply said, “Thanks.”

  “I may not be a federal agent, Kincaid, but I have your back.”

  She smiled. “I’m glad.”

  *

  To her surprise, talking with Harden helped Lucy put her assignment in perspective. Lies and deception weren’t in her personality, but this was an assignment. She didn’t have to like it, but she had to get it done—and do it right. The obvious reason was because someone here may have killed Tony and put Hans in ICU. That person needed to be exposed.

  But the other reason, just as important as justice, was that this was her job. If she couldn’t perform a basic undercover investigation, what kind of agent would she make when it counted?

  It was why Laughlin’s presence was the true test. If she couldn’t handle the pressure he put her under, then how could she handle real pressure in the job? If she let his hatred affect her—to the extent that she quit—who won? Certainly not her.

  Lucy made her way over to where Carter and Eddie were eating at the table their group usually spread out on. Carter had heaped comfort food on his plate—mashed potatoes, meat loaf, and green beans.

  “No loud noises,” he said. “My hangover is almost gone.”

  Eddie laughed and Carter hit him in the arm.

  “I’m getting too old to go out with these young Marines.”

  “I thought they were your friends?” Lucy said.

  “Two of the guys, Dorman and Renko, were in our unit. We met up with some of the new guys.”

  “You’re thirty-four, buddy,” Eddie said. “You shouldn’t have even tried.” He winked at Lucy.

  “You were sober; you should have dragged my ass out of there.”

  “I don’t need alcohol to have fun.” He leaned over to Lucy and in a loud stage whisper said, “I’ll show you the pictures later.”

  Reva rushed over and dropped her tray on the table next to Lucy. Carter groaned.

  “Tell me everything,” she demanded.

  “Excuse me?” Lucy stared at the energetic Reva who plopped down on the seat next to her.

  “About your weekend with your hot boyfriend. Where’d you go? What’d you do? Does he have a brother?”

  Margo sat down across from Reva. “I’m sure Lucy doesn’t want to share details here.” She waved her hand toward the men at the table, then gave Lucy a half smile. “Reva and I will expect the scoop after dinner.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about. I’ve been seeing Sean since January.”

  “How did you meet?” Reva asked.

  Lucy didn’t feel comfortable talking about her personal life. But wasn’t that what friends did? Share details about their life and hobbies?

  “He’s my brother’s partner. They’re private investigators.” Rogan-Caruso-Kincaid Protective Services did a lot more than cut-and-dried investigations, but Lucy didn’t want to go into details. “I met Sean when he and Patrick opened the D.C. office of RCK. Sean’s brother and my other brother run the California office.”

  “Keep it in the family,” Oz said as he sat down with Jason. He grinned at Carter and Eddie. “I’m surprised you guys are still standing. I walked by the gym after my run and Hard-ass was working you both into the ground.”

  “It’s worse when you have a hangover,” Eddie teased.

  “Thank God I was a Marine, or I would be dead now,” Carter said.

  “Hoo-rah!” Eddie said.

  “Hoo-rah!” Carter repeated.

  “Where’s Alexis?” Oz asked. “Working with Gordon on her shooting?”

  Reva leaned forward and in a conspiratorial tone said, “I think she and her husband got in a huge fight last night.”

  “Knock it off,” Margo said.

  “Just saying, she was yelling at him, then she went for a run late. I asked if she wanted company and she blew me off.”

  “Because you’re a big gossip,” Oz said.

  Reva looked hurt. “I don’t mean anything by it. I just think you should know, so when you see her you’ll know why she’s so upset.”

  Lucy understood where Reva was coming from. She was a gossip, but she wasn’t malicious. However, this was the perfect opportunity to start filling in the time line.

  “Next time,” Lucy said, “maybe you should ask her. I think she’s lonely and missing her family.”

  “It’s not like I wanted to knock on her door at midnight,” Reva said. “I was beat. But maybe next time.”

  “Hopefully they work it out,” Lucy said. Midnight, that wasn’t going to help. Most of the new agents would be in their dorm rooms by midnight. Alone. That wasn’t going to make this easy.

  Eddie changed the subject. “I didn’t know you were a fish, Kincaid.”

  “College swim team,” Lucy said, glad Eddie had taken the lead in diverting the conversation.

  Reva snorted. “What she’s not telling you is she had a chance to try for the Olympic team.”

  Lucy reddened and stared at her food. “It wasn’t like that,” she said. She didn’t want to talk about her past, and even though it wasn’t a secret that she’d been a championship swimmer in college, any discussion might bring up what happened at her high school graduation. She didn’t even know how Reva found out. It wasn’t a secret, but it wasn’t like Lucy had announced it.

  “You gave up that opportunity?” Margo said. “Wow.”

  “I swam in college because I enjoyed it. I didn’t want to make a life out of it.”

  Carter bumped Lucy with his shoulder. She shot him a surprised look—then he winked. It was a reassuring look. Did he understand her need for privacy? “Aren’t you search and rescue certified?” he asked, gradually changing the subject.

  She said, “Water search and rescue. Mostly search, not as much rescue, when I was with the Arlington County Sheriff.”

  “I didn’t know you were a deputy,” Jason said.

  “I wasn’t—I was in the office developing first-responder plans, plus I worked on the search-and-rescue team.”

  “I thought you’d worked at a morgue,” Reva said.

  For all her effort not to be th
e subject of any conversation, Lucy found herself in the middle. She ended up lying just to get the attention off her. “I guess I really didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life.” She grinned. “And all of you are in second careers in the FBI as well, aren’t you?”

  “Don’t know if I’d call my three-year tour a career,” Margo said.

  “Didn’t you do something before you were a paramedic, Oz?” Carter asked.

  Oz glared at him. “Thanks, Nix, buddy.”

  “What?” Reva asked. “What’d I miss?”

  Carter laughed. “Before Oz was a paramedic, he was a stuntman.”

  “Seriously?” Reva asked, eyes wide. “In Hollywood?”

  “How’d that happen?” Jason asked.

  “By accident, really. I used to skateboard, surf, bungee jump—when I was a teenager, I did some really stupid things, trust me. I think I’ve broken half the bones in my body. But my true love was dirt bikes. A director saw some of my stunts when I was at a competition and hired me. It paid my way through college.”

  Carter had Oz talking about some of the movies he worked on, and Lucy was both interested and relieved that the conversation had turned away from her.

  Oz, Jason, Margo, Reva—all on campus when Hans was attacked. And Lucy had to confirm where everyone was between midnight and 2:00 a.m. without them knowing.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Georgetown, Washington, D.C.

  Little surprised Sean, but when he saw Assistant Director Rick Stockton waiting in front of his Georgetown town house when he and Patrick arrived back late Sunday he was surprised.

  “You could have called first, Director,” Sean said.

  Stockton smiled with half his mouth. “You think I came out here without knowing you’d already landed?”

  Score one for the director, Sean thought. Sean unlocked the door, disconnected the alarm, and gave Patrick a glance. Patrick nodded and said, “I’m beat. It’s been a long two days. Director.”

  “Good to see you again, Patrick.”

  Patrick went upstairs and Sean led Stockton to the back of the town house. “Beer? Scotch?”

  Stockton shook his head. Sean grabbed a beer from the refrigerator.

  “Hans Vigo’s condition hasn’t improved,” Stockton said.

  “Noah told me what happened. It doesn’t sound like it was an accident.”

  “I sent Armstrong to investigate. Only he; the Bureau chief, Lynda O’Neal; another staff member inside; and Lucy know that it was attempted murder.”

  “Prognosis?”

  “None yet. They know they need to do surgery, but can’t until the swelling on his brain has gone down.” Stockton sat at the bar. “I’ll take that Scotch now.”

  Sean poured the best Scotch he had, an eighteen-year-old Laphroaig whiskey.

  Stockton looked at the bottle with a grin. “JT.”

  JT Caruso, one of the founders of RCK, had served with Stockton and Sean’s oldest brother Kane as a Navy SEAL. Sean had known him since he was a kid. “He sends me a bottle now and again, but I’m not much of a Scotch drinker.”

  Something was definitely up with Stockton. Sean leaned against the kitchen counter and let Stockton enjoy the drink. He avoided asking questions, though he had many.

  Eventually it came.

  “Why did you run a background check on Special Agent Richard Laughlin?”

  “How do you know I did?”

  “Cut the crap, Rogan.”

  Sean wasn’t about to tell Stockton anything, not until he found out why it mattered. “I didn’t break any laws or obtain any classified information, so why do you care?”

  Stockton’s expression was stern. “He’s an FBI agent.”

  “Why would the assistant director care about a legal background check on an agent? I run backgrounds all the time, usually a lot deeper than what I did on Laughlin.”

  Stockton sipped his Scotch and didn’t break eye contact. Sean had run the search quietly; there shouldn’t have been any flags thrown up, unless the FBI was already watching Laughlin. Most of Sean’s research was passive—except for the credit reports.

  “You flagged his financials,” Sean said. “That’s the only way you would know that I ran his credit.”

  “Who hired you to investigate a sitting FBI agent?”

  “No one.”

  “Stop bullshitting me.”

  “I did it because I wanted to.”

  Stockton stared at him, a tick in his jaw, and Sean realized there was something bigger here.

  “What did he do?” Sean asked.

  “I want the truth, Sean.”

  “So do I.”

  Stockton slammed his glass down. “Why the games? Why won’t you just tell me?”

  “I’m not playing games. You asked me who hired me. I told you no one. I’m not lying. Is he a suspect in Hans’s accident?”

  “No.”

  Sean believed him. “What do you want?”

  “If no one hired you, why did you run a background?”

  Sean decided to give him most of the truth. “He’s harassing Lucy.”

  That response seemed to surprise Stockton. “Lucy asked you to do it?”

  “No,” Sean lied. “But when she told me he was making her nervous, I decided to dig around and find out why.”

  Stockton reached over and retrieved the Scotch, poured a finger, and sipped. “And did you find out why?”

  “More or less. As much as I could find out legally.”

  “You have a theory.”

  “I do.”

  Stockton didn’t say anything. Sean decided it didn’t matter if Stockton knew or not. “Lucy wants to handle it herself. She doesn’t want me, or you, or anyone butting in.”

  “But you ran a background check anyway.”

  “And again, I ask, why do you care?”

  “Agent Laughlin has been undercover for the last year in a major drug and money-laundering sting in a joint operation with the DEA. We sent him to Quantico as a class mentor until the trial.”

  “As protection?”

  “It was a dicey op, but we have the bad guys in custody. Just wanted to make sure one of them hadn’t hired you.”

  Stockton wasn’t being completely honest with him, but Sean let it slide for the moment. “I’m stunned you’d think I wouldn’t check out my clients,” he said.

  “Point taken.” He sipped. “Why does Lucy think Laughlin is harassing her?”

  “I said, she wants to handle it.”

  “I’m not getting involved. Just curious.”

  Sean didn’t believe that, but it couldn’t hurt for Stockton to know that one of his agents held grudges. He told him what he knew about Laughlin’s and Kate’s shared work history.

  Sean put his beer down. “Now my question to you is, how does Laughlin know Lucy didn’t pass her FBI panel, and why would he tell her Hans got her into the Academy?”

  Stockton kept a poker face, but his eyes told Sean the information came as a surprise.

  “I’ll answer that,” Sean continued. “To demoralize her. To make her doubt herself. He doesn’t know her; he doesn’t have any connection to Lucy except through Kate. So I think Laughlin was buddies with Standler and he blames Kate for Standler’s death.”

  “That’s weak.”

  “Maybe it is, but unless you have other information, that’s what I’m going with.”

  Stockton drained his Scotch and put the glass down. “Thank you for the Scotch, and the truth,” Stockton said.

  “Anytime. You’re practically family.” Sean trusted few people in law enforcement; Rick Stockton was an exception. In addition to being close to RCK, Stockton had proven to be both discreet and smart.

  “Learn anything in New York?”

  “Already gave the intel to Noah.”

  Stockton nodded. “You’re still searching for Peter McMahon?”

  Sean walked Stockton to the door. “That’s the last thing Hans asked me to do, as I explained to Noah. He neve
r legally changed his name to Peter Gray, but he was using it for years. Peter Gray disappeared six years ago. My guess is he either went completely off the grid or changed his name, this time legally. I’m working on a couple angles from his time at SU.” Sean had a buddy in Syracuse who would be pulling files at the police station first thing in the morning.

  “Kate’s also working on tracking down McMahon. A little competition never hurt.” Stockton smiled and left.

  Sean ran up the stairs and logged in to his computer. Lucy was online. He called her.

  “Rick Stockton just paid me a visit. I think he’s looking at Laughlin for something completely different than we are.” He told her about the case in Detroit and the “protection” by being put at Quantico. “There’s something fishy about the whole thing.”

  “It’s Stockton’s job to protect his agents. It makes sense to me. Laughlin may be a great agent and a jerk at the same time.”

  “It was the way he asked, the way he assessed my answers.”

  “Did he have an update on Hans?”

  “He’s the same. How are you holding up?”

  “I’m okay. Better now, anyway. All I have to think about is Hans lying unconscious after someone hit him over the head—if these people are really my friends, they’ll understand.”

  “Did you get the photo I sent?”

  “The guy in the subway station? I didn’t recognize him, but it’s not a lot to go on. I don’t know if I saw him that I’d recognize him.”

  “And the articles?”

  “I’m reading them now.”

  “I sent Noah a message about a notebook of Rosemary Weber’s that Tony took before leaving New York.”

  “We went through his overnight bag—it was in his car—and the notebook wasn’t there. Are you sure he took it?”

  “He could have brought it into his office. Maybe it went the same way as his file.”

  “Meaning, someone stole it. What year was it?”

  “The anniversary week of Rachel McMahon’s disappearance. That’s why I sent you the articles from that week. You read Tony’s file—maybe you’ll notice something.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “It’s all we have for now. Watch yourself, Lucy.”

  “I love you, Sean.”