Sean frowned. All this information about her changing behavior did not bode well. He barely remembered his oldest sister, Molly—she was a drug addict by the time she was eighteen, and committed suicide when Sean was five—but from everything Duke had told him about her, she’d run hot and cold and was seriously depressed the three months before she offed herself. Their parents had tried to force Molly into rehab, but she wouldn’t go.
They hadn’t found evidence of drugs in Kirsten’s room, but Sean asked, “Was Kirsten using drugs?”
Trey shrugged. “No. I mean, we smoked pot a couple times, but that’s it. But you can’t say anything—if my coach found out I’d be cut.”
“When was the last time you saw her, or talked to her for any length of time? How did she seem then?”
Trey took a minute to think about it. “Friday in English class, right before lunch. It’s the only class we have together. She was all distracted, into her own head, and the teacher called on her a couple times and she didn’t know the answer. I asked her if everything was okay, and she said she just had to get away for a while.”
Sean asked quietly, “Did she seem depressed? Suicidal?”
“Kirsten wouldn’t kill herself, no way.”
“If she were doing drugs, that might contribute to depression.”
“I don’t know.” Trey bit his lip.
Patrick asked, “Is there anyone you know outside of the school who Kirsten might go to to ‘get away,’ as you said?”
Trey shook his head. “Only her dad in California. She missed him a lot, but she also blamed him for her mom being so bitter. But she said that no matter what, when she graduated on June fifth, she was moving back to L.A.”
That explained the June 5 circled on her calendar.
Patrick still didn’t look satisfied. Sean said to his partner, “What are you thinking?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. This isn’t adding up.”
Sean disagreed. He felt that he was getting a clear picture of Kirsten Benton. Her parents were split, her mom lied to her, her dad started it by having multiple affairs—he could see her running away. But what didn’t make sense was her involvement in the Party Girl website. Why post naked pictures? Why post the sex video with Trey? Did her disappearance have anything to do with the website, or was it something completely different?
“I really don’t know where Kirsten is!” Trey insisted.
Patrick asked, “Do you know if Kirsten ever hooked up in person with someone she’d met online?”
“No, never,” Trey said emphatically.
“Are you sure about that? Because it happens all the time, even with smart girls who should know better.”
Sean glanced at Patrick. His face was tight, and Sean knew he was thinking about Lucy. This case was getting to him—a missing high school senior was too close to what had happened to Lucy nearly seven years ago. But it was not the same, though Sean couldn’t explain that to Patrick now.
Trey ran his hands through his hair. “Last summer, I’d have said no way would she ever hook up online. Now? I never thought she’d quit softball. I don’t know her anymore.”
Sean took down Trey’s contact information, then gave the kid his card and his cell phone number. “If you hear from Kirsten, call me immediately. If you remember anything else that might help, call me.”
After Trey left, Sean turned to Patrick. “What do you think?”
But Patrick was in his own world, staring at the wall. Sean continued, “I believe him, though I think he might know something more, even if he doesn’t know it’s important. We’ll check back with him tomorrow after he thinks more about it.”
Patrick said, “We need to spend more time at Kirsten’s computer.”
“I’m working on breaking her password to the Party Girl site, and then we can dig into it.”
“We need to find out who she was talking to and if she agreed to meet him in person.” His voice vibrated with restrained anger, something Sean had rarely seen in the three years he’d known Patrick.
“That’s a given. What’s up? What are you thinking?”
Sean didn’t like Patrick’s aggravated expression. He looked more like his hard-edged military brother Jack. He didn’t answer Sean’s question, but said instead, “Specifically, we should look for any communication about college and boyfriends.”
It was not so much his words as his tone. There was only one topic that could make Patrick this angry.
“You’re thinking about Lucy,” Sean said.
“It was all about her excitement at going to college,” Patrick said quietly, his resentment taking a backseat. “And a predator taking advantage of it.”
“We’ll cover every possible connection,” Sean said, “but this isn’t the same situation. Kirsten has a habit of running away. It could be the same guy each time, or different guys. We’ll find her and bring her home.”
“She knew better,” Patrick said.
Sean snapped his head, shocked by what Patrick had said. He couldn’t have meant it. “Don’t—”
Patrick rubbed his eyes. “Sorry. I have a headache.”
“We need to talk.” In all the time Sean had known Patrick, this was the first time he’d hinted that Lucy was even partly to blame for her kidnapping nearly seven years ago when she’d agreed to meet someone she’d been talking to online. Lucy had enough blame for herself, especially after Patrick nearly died searching for her. If she suspected that he had unresolved issues, it would shake her to the core. Sean would do anything to protect Lucy, starting with setting Patrick straight.
Patrick stood and paced the Bentons’ kitchen. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Bullshit.” Sean began to seethe, knowing that Patrick was being unfair. What had happened almost seven years ago was incredibly complex and it remained a volatile issue with all of the Kincaids, but until now Sean had never thought he had to protect Lucy from her own family.
Patrick stared at Sean. The anger was back, a flash, then it disappeared.
“What were you going to say?” Sean asked, his voice low, not wanting a fight but unable to let the conversation stand.
“I need aspirin and food.”
“Patrick—”
“And another thing: don’t ask Lucy to help on this case.”
“She’s the one who found the Party Girl site and the video. This is right up her alley. Honestly, if we’re going to move quickly, we need her expertise.”
“How do you think she feels watching shit like that sex tape? Going to sites like Party Girl? You let her create a profile!”
“Hold it, I didn’t know she’d done it until afterward, but it makes sense, and it’s nothing she hasn’t done before for WCF.”
“Yeah, and look where that’s got her,”
“What’s the problem here, Patrick?”
“Just keep Lucy out of this. I mean it.”
Sean was stunned by Patrick’s anger. He’d been on edge since returning from California, leaving his typical calm, reasoned personality on the West Coast. But this venom was so uncharacteristic that Sean didn’t know how to respond.
He said, “Lucy knows what she’s doing. I wouldn’t ask her to do anything she wasn’t comfortable with.”
“Yes, just like she knew what she was doing when she was setting up those parolees for WCF and the vigilantes?”
“Wait just a minute—”
“Like she knew what she was doing when she got herself kidnapped in front of the church? Or when she nearly died on that island?”
Sean slowly rose from the table, his hands splayed firmly on the oak top to keep them from fisting up.
“Those are different situations,” he said through clenched teeth. “And Lucy is not to blame for either of them.”
Patrick blinked, as if he hadn’t known what he’d said. “I meant the fire.”
“You said the island.”
“You know what I meant!”
Unfortunately, Sean knew e
xactly what Patrick was thinking, and it took all his willpower to control his temper. It was bad enough that Patrick’s tone suggested that what had happened five weeks ago when Lucy’s stalker pounced was somehow her fault. But the reference to the island where Adam Scott had held her captive nearly seven years ago was unforgivable.
“Let it out, Patrick. Tell me what you’re feeling.”
“Don’t go all Dillon on me,” Patrick said, referring to his brother the shrink. “I’m just saying that Lucy gets too involved. She gets in way over her head, and she’s not ready for this kind of pressure. Can’t you just give her some time to heal? Or is this a way to make her dependent on you?”
“You are way off.”
“Just—why her?”
Sean realized Patrick was now talking about his relationship with Lucy, and that the conversation was taking another direction, diverting Sean’s attention from Lucy’s past. Patrick had clearly been harboring these hostile feelings a long time.
“I care about Lucy,” Sean said.
“Like you cared about Ashley? Jessica? Rachel? Emily—both of them? And then there was Shelley—”
Sean listened to Patrick list his ex-girlfriends before cutting him off. “It’s not the same thing, and you damn well know it.”
Patrick shook his head. “In the three years I’ve known you, you’ve had more than two dozen girlfriends, the longest lasting a record-breaking ten weeks.”
“You’ve been keeping track of my relationships?”
“Not until you started sleeping with my sister!”
“You’re crazy.”
“You’re a playboy.”
“I may have been, but—”
“So you and Lucy have been together for five weeks? You’re halfway to breaking her heart.”
“I’m not going to break her heart—”
“Like hell you aren’t.”
Sean wrestled with his temper, and Patrick pushed.
“Do you think it’s healthy for Lucy to help in a case like this? Do you ever think about anyone but yourself?”
Sean came extremely close to decking him. Patrick knew it and stepped forward, almost daring him.
Sean had a sudden thought. He wondered if Lucy’s distance from him since Patrick had been back in D.C. was Patrick’s doing. “What have you been saying to Lucy?” he asked.
“Nothing yet. But I’m watching you, Rogan.”
“Don’t.”
Had they ever been friends? How could he think he’d gotten to know Patrick so well only to realize that he didn’t know him at all? If Lucy heard his diatribe about Sean’s ex-girlfriends, she might be upset. Patrick’s approval meant more to her than that of any other member of her family. But if Lucy heard Patrick’s comment about the island, she’d be completely devastated.
“I’m going to talk to Kirsten’s other friends,” Patrick said, signaling that this conversation about Lucy was over. “You finish with her computer. We’ll leave at four.”
“Agreed.” Sean wanted to settle it, but they were at an impasse. If Patrick forced Lucy to choose between her family and Sean, Sean feared that Lucy would pick her family. And even if she did choose Sean, she would be miserable. He couldn’t do that to her.
He had to convince Patrick that Lucy was truly the only woman for him. Otherwise … no, he had to convince him. There was no alternative.
FIVE
While Sean drove in silence back to D.C., in the passenger seat Patrick received a call on his cell from Kate that Lucy wasn’t feeling well. Her birthday dinner was postponed until the weekend.
Sean dropped Patrick off at the town house that housed both the RCK East offices and their separate residences, then drove to the Kincaids. Kate answered the door. “I told Patrick that Lucy isn’t feeling well.”
“I know. I just wanted to see her.”
Kate let him in. “Make it quick. Lucy doesn’t get sick often, but when she does she usually overdoes it and makes it worse.”
Sean crossed his heart and held up his hand. “Promise.”
That elicited a smile from Lucy’s sister-in-law. Sean went upstairs and down the long hall to Lucy’s room, set back from the rest of the house. He knocked on the door. “It’s Sean. Can I come in?”
There was no answer. Sean wondered if she was sleeping. He didn’t want to disturb her, but he needed to see her. Partly because he missed her, and partly because he wanted to make sure she was okay with what had happened today with Kirsten Benton and the sex tape. If he had known she’d uncover something like that, he would never have let her help—or would he? Patrick’s gut reaction was to shelter Lucy, but Sean knew she’d faced far worse not only with what had happened nearly seven years ago, but during her tenure at WCF.
Still, the Party Girl site was offensive, and Lucy was particularly sensitive to the sexual exploitation of young women. He hoped she hadn’t canceled her party because she was upset about what she’d seen.
He knocked again. “Luce?”
“I’m not feeling well,” came her muffled reply.
He tried the door. It was locked. He couldn’t remember her ever locking her door. “Lucy, let me in—I won’t stay long.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Sean frowned. She didn’t sound like herself. He hesitated a brief moment before pulling out his lockpick kit. Ten seconds later, he was inside.
Lucy sat on the far side of the dark room in her oversized chair, the only illumination coming from the streetlight outside.
“I can’t believe you picked my lock.”
He closed the door behind him. “I was worried about you.”
“I’m fine. You can go.”
Lucy’s face was pale and splotchy, her black hair hung in tangled waves down her back, and she was sitting with her chin on her knees. She was anything but fine.
He crossed the room, then stopped. Her body language was unlike any he’d seen from her. She was truly angry with him.
“You don’t know any boundaries, do you?” she snapped.
“Are you upset about the video you found? I’m sorry, Lucy, I didn’t know that was there. I should have; I should have thought twice about asking for your help—”
She stared at him and shook her head. “No, I’m not upset about the video.”
“Please tell me what’s wrong. I didn’t do anything, did I?” Maybe he’d hurt her and didn’t know it. “Talk to me, please.”
She let out a long sigh and closed her eyes. At first he didn’t understand what she was doing with her hand, but then he realized she was pointing at her desk.
He went over and saw a notebook full of detailed information in her small, clear block printing. He looked at the pictures of her family, some framed and some loose on the desk. There was a series of four black-and-white pictures of her and Sean from a booth at the mall when he’d taken her window-shopping so he could figure out what she wanted for her birthday without directly asking her. That had been a fun afternoon, and the smile on her face was proof.
And then there was a letter, facedown.
He picked it up. It was from the FBI. He didn’t need to read it to know that it contained bad news.
“Lucy—”
“Now you know,” she said, cutting him off, “and you can leave.”
“No—”
“Sean, can’t you just leave me alone? For tonight? You don’t understand. I have nothing left. I need to figure out a bunch of stuff, and I need to do it by myself.”
“You’re in no condition to make decisions tonight.” He walked over to her and knelt in front of her, putting his hands on her shoulders. She was so tense and rigid, her eyes red from her anguish. “I don’t know what was going on with that panel, but they’re a bunch of incompetent jerks who don’t know what the hell they’re doing.”
She didn’t say anything, but her body began shaking.
He kissed her on the top of her head, holding her face against his chest, wishing he could draw all her pain into him.
He didn’t know what to say or do to fix it. And that hurt nearly as much—that he couldn’t solve this.
“We’ll work this out,” he said.
“This isn’t your problem,” she whispered.
“Your problems are mine.” What did he need to do to prove to her that he was committed to her, through thick and thin, the good and the bad?
“No, Sean.”
He ignored her comment. He wasn’t going to get into an argument, not when Lucy felt so miserable. “We have a lot of work to do over the next couple days; maybe by the weekend you’ll have a different perspective.”
She pushed him away. He tried not to take it personally, but it was hard. “I can’t help you anymore,” she said.
“Of course you can—”
“Don’t you get it? I’m done. I’m not going to be an FBI agent. I’m not going to be a cop. I’m not going to be working in cybercrime. It’s over.”
“I never thought you were a quitter.”
“Leave me alone.” She turned away.
He stood. “Does your family know?”
She shook her head. “I’ll tell them, but not now.”
“I won’t say anything.”
“Thanks,” she mumbled without emotion.
He walked toward the door, then stopped in front of her desk. “I need your help on this case. You’re smart, you understand these teenagers, and you understand these websites. I could have found all this, but it would have taken me a lot more time because I don’t know exactly what to look for. You saved us hours of work, bringing us many steps closer to finding Kirsten.”
“And what if I get something wrong?” Lucy countered. “What if I miss something completely?” She shook her head. “I don’t want that kind of pressure. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“That’s a lie, and you damn well know it. Go ahead and feel sorry for yourself tonight.” Sean wanted to say something reassuring, but he realized that the last thing Lucy needed right now was someone telling her everything was going to be all right. Self-pity and Lucy didn’t go together, and she’d see it herself soon enough. “I’ll be here at eight o’clock in the morning and I expect you to come to Woodbridge with me. I need your help or I wouldn’t have asked in the first place.”
Kiss Me, Kill Me Page 5