Mortal Sin

by Allison Brennan

  “If I can, I will.”

  “Don’t try to protect me anymore. I want to know everything you learn about Morton’s operation. Unless it’s directly related to national security and you’ll be tried for treason if you breathe a word of it, I want to know. Especially if it’s about me.”

  Lucy saw the conflict in Kate’s eyes.

  “I’m a big girl, Kate. I’ve faced much worse up close and personal. Bad news is not going to break me. Do not keep shielding me from the truth because in the long run, it will hurt both of us.”

  After Kate left, Lucy set the security alarm and went up to her room to check her messages. Specifically, any messages for “Tanya.” She still didn’t understand why Brad Prenter hadn’t shown.

  There were none.

  She pulled up all her chat transcripts with him and reviewed them again. What if she’d inadvertently sounded like a cop? She didn’t have a badge, she wasn’t a cop—local or federal—but because of her extensive training with Fran she had the mentality of a cop.

  Nothing that she read, even critically, made her sound like anyone but who she pretended to be.

  Maybe he had a family emergency out of town, and why would he bother to cancel a date with a girl he’d met online?

  She was overreacting to everything. It was this crap with Morton.

  She showered, then went downstairs to make something to eat. She didn’t feel hungry, but she had a headache that felt like a hunger headache.

  She surveyed the contents of the refrigerator, then the pantry. Nothing looked appetizing. She picked up a banana from the counter and had just taken a bite when her cell phone rang.

  It was Cody.

  “Hi,” she said, quickly swallowing.

  “Fran told me she talked to you about Prenter.”

  “That he didn’t show?”

  “I don’t know what happened, but I had Angel with me. She was inside, I was out. We stayed two hours. Not even a sighting.”

  “Did he see you?”

  “No, he didn’t show. Sorry, Lucy.”

  “I didn’t get a message from his chat profile yesterday canceling. I just checked tonight and no contact. I was thinking he might have had a family emergency, or maybe a better offer,” she added jokingly.

  “I think he made Tanya out as a cop. Sexual predators can smell cop, especially those as savvy as Prenter.”

  Lucy didn’t believe it, but she wasn’t surprised Cody sounded like Fran. “He didn’t think I was a cop.”

  Cody sighed audibly. “He didn’t show and he didn’t contact you. It’s happened before. You’re not the first. Considering the success you’ve had over the last few years, I’m surprised. But it’s not unusual.”

  She supposed Cody was right—there had been several parolees who had never shown, and Prenter wasn’t even the first of hers—but she hadn’t had the same feeling about the others as she did about Prenter. She’d thought for certain that she had him.

  Prenter bothered her more than most of the parolees. There were some who had more victims, some who were more violent, but Prenter was a handsome college student who had used his looks and money to his advantage. He didn’t look like a predator. He looked like an all-around nice guy. But even more than his deceptive appearance, he had a callous disregard for the welfare of the women he drugged. That went part and parcel with rapists in general, but he’d shown no remorse, no sympathy for the girl he left in a coma because he’d overdosed her. He’d denied it, had never been convicted, but the evidence was there—it was simply inadmissible. He didn’t even pretend to care about her fate. It was all about him all the time. He thought his money could get him out of every jam. And until Sara Tyson testified, it had.

  Lucy wanted him back in prison in the worst way. To give justice to the girl who could no longer speak for herself.

  “Lucy?” Cody said. “You still there?”

  “I didn’t tip him off.”

  “It’s not an accusation. We’ll get him back in prison. I’ll find another way.”

  “Before or after he rapes another woman?” she snapped. She instantly realized that was unfair. Cody had volunteered countless hours with WCF, often after a long shift. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound like a bitch. I’m frustrated, but it’s not your fault.”

  “You are never bitchy, Lucy. I understand how you’re feeling. Prenter will see justice again. I’m not going to let this go. But you have to stand down. If he doesn’t contact you soon, we’ll know he thought he was being set up. But he doesn’t know it was you. I’d never let you do this if your real identity could be uncovered.”

  “I’m not worried about that.” And she wasn’t—she had enough safety protocols on her personal computer to rival the FBI, thanks to Kate. Nothing was foolproof, but even if Prenter had the extraordinary skills to track her communications as “Tanya,” he would get only as far as WCF—not Lucy, personally.

  “I think you should let it go, let me take care of it.”

  Lucy didn’t know if she could let Prenter go, so she didn’t say anything.

  Cody said, “You’ll be at the fund-raiser tomorrow, right?”

  “Fran would have my head if I weren’t. See you there.” She hung up before Cody asked to take her. She had been planning on going with Patrick, but since he was out of town she was simply going to take a taxi because she didn’t like driving in snow or ice.

  She finished her banana and poured a glass of milk. Hardly a meal, but she couldn’t eat more. She itched to send Prenter a message, but maybe Cody was right. She’d give him the rest of the weekend to contact her. If he did, she could play the offended date—why should she talk to a guy who’d stood her up?

  She had other things to worry about that were much more important than Prenter. She wished Kate had let her help with Morton’s computer files, because being proactive might allow her to forget, at least temporarily, that she was in limbo. That she had no real job, simply an internship with the D.C. Medical Examiner’s Office. That she was waiting for a slow-moving bureaucracy to grant her an interview, to get her to the next step in the too-long application process for the FBI. The more she sat doing nothing of substance, the more she realized how alone she was. Even with her family, her friends, her job, and her volunteer work, Lucy was very much alone.

  Sean decided at the last minute to check in on Lucy and clue her in to his plans. That was a lie, he supposed, because she’d been on his mind all afternoon and stopping by seemed to be inevitable.

  She answered the door dressed in sweatpants and a faded blue Georgetown T-shirt, the bulldog mascot prominent. Her hair was wet and loosely braided down her back, the end over her shoulder. “Sean?” she said, her surprise evident in her tone.

  “Can I come in for a minute?”

  “Of course.” She closed the door behind him. It hadn’t snowed all day, but when the sun disappeared the temperature had dropped dramatically—and it hadn’t been warm to begin with.

  “Is Kate here?” Sean asked.

  “No—did you want to talk to her?”

  Sean didn’t know if it was his own wishful thinking, but he thought he detected a hint of disappointment in Lucy’s voice.

  “I came to talk to you.”

  Lucy put up a shield, so obvious to Sean that he practically saw the veil fall over her expression. She walked down the hall to the dining room, but Sean said, “Let’s go in the family room. A little more comfortable, don’t you think?”

  She shrugged but led him back. He’d been to the house a couple of times with Patrick. It was far more formal than the RCK house, though the family room was cozy and well lived in.

  Lucy sat Indian style on the chair closest to the fireplace, not an open hearth like at RCK, but enclosed and functional, designed to heat the house.

  “Well, I thought we should celebrate,” Sean said as he sat on the couch, “but I forgot to pick up champagne.”

  “Celebrate?”

  “I talked myself out of a speeding tick
et.”

  Sean grinned widely and Lucy smiled, just a bit. “You did?”

  “Yep, the trooper was a hard sell, but that’s simply a new challenge.”

  “How?”

  “My charm and wit.”

  She laughed, then covered her mouth as if she’d surprised herself.

  “I can’t give away all my secrets,” Sean said. “But I did want to talk to you about something.”

  His tone, though he tried to keep it light, gave him away, and Lucy’s good humor quickly dissipated. She was exceptionally perceptive, even to the subtlest signs. It was unnerving, and Sean almost didn’t tell her what he was up to. But her family had kept her in the dark for years; he wasn’t going to start this new friendship—this relationship—with deception.

  “Patrick called me earlier and wanted to fly back, but I convinced him to stay in California and finish the job.”

  Lucy rubbed the back of her neck. “I talked to him late last night and told him not to come, that I’m fine. Morton’s dead; he can’t hurt me.”

  Physically was the unspoken word. “That’s what I said, but Patrick’s concerned and asked if I’d kind of keep an eye out for you. I wanted to be up front about that, because I promised him I would.”

  She frowned but didn’t say anything.

  Sean continued. “One of the things we’re concerned about, from a security perspective, is that we don’t know why Morton came to D.C. It probably has nothing to do with you, but because he was killed nearby, and we don’t know what he was up to, I’m going to look into Morton’s death. On the q.t.”

  Lucy had to have heard Sean wrong. Her stomach churned uncomfortably, her light dinner now feeling like a lead ball. She could understand Patrick asking Sean to check up on her, that didn’t really bother her that much—in fact, it bothered her not at all—but what did that really have to do with Morton?

  She said, “I don’t get it. Why?”

  Sean leaned forward, his forearms on his thighs. “It’s my job, it’s what I do best, Lucy, but I don’t want to do it behind your back. I’m not going to interfere with the FBI investigation, but some of my research may cross paths with theirs, and I don’t want you to be surprised.”

  She shook her head. Nothing about this would end well, she was certain of it. “I can’t have you crossing any paths with the FBI. It could hurt my chances getting accepted.”

  “I have many contacts, and the FBI has many limitations.”

  But maybe it wasn’t just that Sean might get in hot water with the Bureau. It was that he would be digging into her life and her past. It would be inevitable, even if Morton’s murder had nothing at all to do with her.

  Except that wasn’t the case. Kate was at Quantico now because Morton had been starting Trask Enterprises all over again.

  “Lucy?”

  “The FBI found evidence in Denver that Morton was re-creating a new online sex website,” she said quietly, unable to look Sean in the eye. “Kate’s going through the files at Quantico.”

  Sean didn’t say anything. Her stomach tightened even more, and she thought she might be sick. She didn’t want to talk about any of this with Sean, but she didn’t see how she could avoid it.

  “Luce.” Sean took her hands into both of his. She stared at their joined hands, a warmth spreading through her, relaxing her better and faster than any of her panic-control techniques, as if he were drawing her tension into him.

  “You’re not alone. Kate is good at her job, you know that. I’m good at mine. I can find answers. At the very least, we need to know if you’re in any danger.”

  “The only danger I’m in is of being humiliated and exploited on the Internet,” she said bitterly.

  His hands tightened around hers. “I won’t let anyone exploit you.”

  She jerked her head up and stared at Sean. She had never heard him sound so venomous. Every time she’d seen him, up until last night, he’d been witty and seemingly lighthearted. Smart, but shallow.

  He had far more depth than she’d thought. It made her wonder if his typical carefree attitude was his protective shell.

  “The FBI isn’t going to let this case go. Kate won’t let them.”

  “I agree. But it won’t hurt if I sniff around. Quietly.”

  “Just don’t get in trouble.” And don’t get me in trouble.

  “I’ll do my best,” he said, trying to sound casual but failing. “Patrick said there’s something you need to do tomorrow. Said if you won’t cancel, I should go with you.”

  “It’s a fund-raiser for WCF, the victims’ rights group I volunteer for. You’d be bored.”

  “But you’re going?”

  “I have to. And honestly, whatever Morton was here for, if it was to hurt me—he’s dead. I don’t know any of his other cronies, so I highly doubt anyone is after me. There’s no reason.”

  “I agree, but humor us, okay?”

  She nodded. She hadn’t wanted to go alone, anyway.

  “Good. Now, how formal?”

  “Business attire.”

  “And here I thought I could wear my tux. I bought it for my brother’s wedding and haven’t worn it in two years.”

  Suddenly, there was nothing Lucy wanted more than to see Sean in a tuxedo. He would look good in anything, but a tux would be … incredible. “That might be a tad too formal,” Lucy said.

  “Another time.” He smiled at her and Lucy knew he was talking about them, a date—her and Sean. Just the way he smiled, the way his blue eyes brightened mischievously, the way his fingers began to tap on the palm of her hand, she realized he was flirting. Subtle, but she couldn’t miss it. She was speechless.

  She couldn’t just stare at him. “You want to drive tomorrow or shall I?” Lucy asked Sean.

  He looked at her with mocked indignation. “I always drive.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “You do?”

  “I’m a guy. You have brothers, you must understand that it’s our right. Isn’t it in the male code book? Men always drive?”

  He said it with such a straight face she couldn’t help but smile. “What if I drive your car?” she asked.

  Now he really did look pained. “My car?”

  “What, you don’t let anyone take it out?”

  “No.” He was serious about that one. “I might let you drive it someday,” he said cautiously. “But not tomorrow.”

  “I’m going to hold you to that.”

  “Yeah, I thought so,” he grumbled.

  TWELVE

  Lucy had heard Kate come in late, and hoped she’d get a chance to talk to her about Morton’s files first thing in the morning, but while Lucy showered, Kate left. She’d sent her a text message on her cell phone:

  I’ll be at Quantico all day. We’ll talk later. Love you, sis.

  —Kate.

  “Kate.” Lucy shook her head, her smile more bittersweet than happy. She loved her sister-in-law so much, which made the lies that much harder. She had to find a way to forgive her, and Dillon, or she wouldn’t be able to live under the same roof. More than that, she didn’t want this distrust to become a chasm between them, but she didn’t know how to get rid of it. It was easy to say “I forgive you,” but it was much harder to feel it. She prayed time would help.

  She went downstairs and heard the thump of the newspaper hitting the front door as she poured a cup of coffee. Lucy rarely read the paper, but her brother Dillon was old-fashioned, maintaining a subscription to a physical newspaper rather than reading online the way Lucy and Kate preferred. The papers had stacked up in his study, and Lucy picked the Saturday morning paper off the stoop to add to the five that were already there. She couldn’t miss the small headline in the bottom right corner.

  American University Student Killed in Robbery

  Possible drug deal gone bad. Story B-3.

  She brought the paper to the kitchen table. Normally she didn’t care about drug-related crimes, but since a student from a nearby college was involved, it piqued her inte
rest.

  The story was shocking.

  WASH DC—In a crime all too common in DC, an American University student was gunned down at approximately 9:45 p.m. Thursday night on the 900 block of T Street.

  Bradley Harper Prenter, 25, had been at Club 10 prior to the murder, according to DC police. He left with a woman at approximately 9:30 p.m. According to witnesses, a man who appeared to know the woman confronted Prenter in the alley, but an eyewitness who asked to remain anonymous said that after a brief confrontation, Prenter left the alley alone. The man and woman, who authorities are looking for as possible witnesses, left in the opposite direction. Police sources would not confirm nor deny the eyewitness account.

  Prenter was shot at point-blank range and was missing his wallet when a couple walking their dogs found him lying next to his vehicle, a late model Porsche.

  Prenter was convicted of two sexual assaults in 2008 and was paroled three months ago from the Maryland Correctional Institution at Hagerstown. One DCPD officer who spoke on condition of anonymity said possible drugs were found on his person.

  “Our lab is testing a clear liquid packaged in small, plastic vials that were found on the deceased.”

  When pressed, the officer stated that the packaging was similar to how date-rape drugs such as ketamine, Liquid Ecstasy, or Rohypnol might be packaged.

  Police are looking for any witnesses who may have spoken to or seen Prenter at the club, or who may know the woman who was seen leaving with Prenter. Please contact DCPD Hot Tips line.

  Liquid date-rape drugs. Lucy dry heaved, waves of first fiery heat then icy cold coursing through her nerve endings. Her skin turned clammy, and she stumbled as she stood and ran to the bathroom, fearing she’d get sick.

  Her stomach tightened painfully, but she put her head between her legs and breathed deeply until she felt the sensation pass. She ran cold water into the sink and washed her face, drenching a paper towel and putting it on the back of her neck.

  She wanted a shower, the urge to scrub herself clean almost overpowering. But she’d showered only thirty minutes ago, and she wouldn’t give in to this unnatural obsession with cleanliness. Instead, she washed her face and hands long enough for her fingers to turn red. Her stomach ached and she leaned against the counter, willing herself to pull it together.