“Would being home have changed anything?” Max asked. “Couldn’t Justin have been taken while you were there sleeping?” Each of the cases that Max had on her list, the parents weren’t home when the child was taken. Another similarity, which suggested that the killer had knowledge of the family schedule.
“I don’t know.”
“Guilt is a useless emotion, Andrew,” Max said. “It clouds judgment, it fuels self-loathing, it makes good people do stupid things. Someone killed Justin. And if the research that my staff and I have done is any indication that individual killed four boys over nearly twenty years.”
“This is why I need Lucy. She has experience in complicated cases like this. I find it difficult to believe that one person can kill four children over such a length of time with such a long wait in between. Why did no one notice the pattern? I don’t want to be grasping at straws. I want answers, but I don’t want to live through this and come out with nothing.”
“You want the truth. That should be enough.”
“I don’t know that you can find it.”
That bothered Max as well. She had never tackled such a difficult case—twenty years was a long time. And while on the surface there appeared to be a connection between the four cases, what if, in fact, they weren’t connected and there were four separate killers? How could she solve four separate cases where three of them were so cold?
“I need access to all the cases to see if there is another commonality … something that proves that we’re looking for one killer. If I can find that, I can open up far more avenues of investigation. I came here for two reasons. One, Justin is the first known victim. It’s the beginning for this killer. Second, you can get information from the other jurisdictions easier than I can.”
“Max.” Andrew leaned forward, his expression borderline hostile. “I didn’t want you here, but you said something yesterday on the phone that stuck with me. I am a prosecutor at heart. I’m not always a good person, I wasn’t a good husband, but I am a great district attorney. It sickens me that my son’s murder is unsolved. That someone killed him and destroyed my wife—my best friend—and tore her family to shreds with grief. It pains me that if you’re right, and Justin’s murder is connected to others, that the killer is still out there. And I keep asking why. Why, dammit! That question keeps me up late at night. It was a senseless murder, but until you contacted me, I never once thought that it was part of a pattern. If you and your resources can find the answers, I can work with you. But if—and only if—Lucy agrees.”
“Why is your former sister-in-law the decider for you?” That made no sense to Max, and it bothered her that she couldn’t figure it out.
“Lucy is not only good at her job, she has a unique skill set. Experience investigating serial killers—because honestly, if you’re right, that is exactly what we’re dealing with. And I think she’s the only one who might be able to figure out why. As I said, she’s the only Kincaid who will work with me on this. She’s the only one who might be able to convince her family to help. And if she doesn’t, then you’re back to square one, because I guarantee that the Kincaids will do everything they can to stop you. If you think they can’t, you’re lying to yourself.”
“Why wouldn’t they want the truth?”
“That’s not the question you should be asking. This isn’t about the truth, this is about protecting their family. Nell had an extremely difficult time after Justin’s murder. She hated me, hated herself, and I thought—her family thought—that she was going to kill herself. She moved out of our house, filed for divorce, lived with her parents. But I saw her—she wasn’t all there. When the police put the case on the back burner for lack of evidence, she moved to Idaho. Disappeared from everyone’s lives. The Kincaids will do everything to protect her. Carina went through hell and back during the investigation—she was interrogated, treated as a suspect. The Kincaids have powerful friends. You need a Kincaid on your side or you will get nothing.”
“I have two other cold cases.”
“But like you said,” he said, raising his eyebrows, “Justin was the first victim.”
He was right, and he knew he was right.
“If Lucy agrees to help, I’ll give you everything you need even if I have to go up against my former in-laws. If Lucy doesn’t, you’ll be on your own. And don’t be surprised if you end up in jail.”
“So the Kincaids would abuse the law to stop me from finding the truth.”
“The Kincaids would do anything to protect those they love.”
* * *
“You haven’t said a word since we landed.”
Sean pulled in to the US Grant parking garage. He turned off the ignition of the rental car and turned to face Lucy.
“Thinking.” A lot of thinking.
She reached for the handle but Sean took her hand. “Worrying,” he said. “You don’t have to do this.”
“I do.” She looked at Sean, saw the concern in his expression. Just having him here with her meant everything. She touched his face. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me—I would do anything for you. But this is going to hurt you and I don’t want to see you hurt.”
“I’ll get through it.”
“Of course you will, you’re a survivor. But I know you and I know your family. You’re going to tell them.”
Sean had suggested that she come to San Diego and work with the reporter without talking to her family—at least initially. She’d seriously considered it, but she didn’t think the situation was as awful as both Sean and Andrew thought it might be.
“My family may not be happy with my involvement in this, but they will understand. They want the truth just like I do, just like Andrew. I’m going to listen to what this Maxine Revere has to say first, then we’ll decide what to do.”
“It’s me you’re talking to, princess,” Sean said.
She leaned over and kissed him. “You know me well.”
“That I do. You want to wait until you hear all the facts, but in your heart you know you’re going to pursue it. No matter how thin a lead Maxine Revere came up with.”
“I read one of her books last night. Her college roommate disappeared over spring break in Miami. Karen Richardson.”
“I don’t know the case.”
“She went out with a group of people and never returned. Blood was found at the suspected crime scene—Karen’s blood, they proved later—but her body was never found. Revere hounded the police, the FBI, search and rescue, but the book was not just about the investigation. It was about predators, about knowing someone committed a crime but being unable to prove it. It was also about friendship and victims and survivors. How crime affects everyone.” She paused. “After the whole Rosemary Weber situation, I thought the worst. True crime writer? I wanted no part of it.”
Weber intended to write a book about the Cinderella Strangler, a case Lucy and Sean had assisted with before she was in the FBI. But Lucy had a great fear that some reporter would uncover her past and write about her. When Andrew first called her, she thought of how it would hurt her … which is why she had to read Maxine Revere’s books first. To see what she wrote about, how she wrote, whether Lucy could even trust her enough to work alongside her to see if maybe there were clues others had misinterpreted when Justin was killed.
“I think she’s different.” She hoped she was different, but Lucy didn’t think she was wrong.
“I did my own research,” Sean said. “The jury is still out.”
“You’re being protective.”
“Of course I am.” He caressed her cheek. “I’m going to be there when you tell your parents.”
Lucy hesitated.
“Lucy, you shouldn’t have to face your family alone. Not about this.” He frowned. “What’s wrong? Do you not want me here?”
“I do, but you have to promise to stand down. I don’t want to go through the conversation with everyone separately—I’m going to ask my mom to have everyone over for
dinner. Bite the bullet. I think it’s going to be okay.”
“I can’t promise to let your family jump all over you.”
“They’re not going to jump all over me.” Lucy had thought about this all night. She understood why her family would put up a brick wall with Andrew, but not with her—they would understand, she was certain of it.
“What if it doesn’t work out the way you think?”
“I know them. Carina is a cop. Connor used to be a cop. They want the truth just as much as I do. As Andrew does. They had a hard time forgiving Andrew for having an affair, I get that. Family is everything and he blew it. So I see why they won’t listen to him, but this is different.”
She could see that Sean didn’t believe her, but he didn’t have the same family growing up as she did. And lately, he’d had to reconcile that his family had dark secrets that nearly got them both killed. He was still having a difficult time working through the aftermath.
“I don’t have to be in Sacramento until tomorrow morning, and I’m not going to leave you alone tonight. Well shit, not again.” Sean pulled out his phone. “My phone has been buzzing my butt for the last five minutes.” He frowned.
“Who is it?”
“Suzanne.”
Suzanne Madeaux was one of Lucy’s closest friends, an FBI agent in New York City. She’d been in their wedding and indirectly helped with one of Lucy’s recent cases.
Sean answered the phone. “Suz, what’s up?” He listened, his expression turning to stone. He said after a moment, “What else?” A minute later he said, “Keep me in the loop—and thanks, Suz.” He hung up.
“Bad news?” Lucy said.
“That fucking bitch,” Sean mumbled.
“Suzanne?” Lucy had seen Sean angry before, but she couldn’t imagine what Suzanne could have said to set him off.
He spat out the name. “Maxine Revere.”
“I don’t understand.” But maybe she did. Maybe her worst fears were coming true.
“Her staff has requested all the files on the Cinderella Strangler case and the Rosemary Weber homicide—both from the FBI and NYPD. Her staff also wants to talk to Suzanne about the use of ‘civilian consultants.’ That means you, Lucy—you were involved with both cases.”
Lucy didn’t know what to say. “Maybe it’s just background—”
“Maybe she’s a chameleon, maybe she found out something about you and is now going to try and write some big story. It will not happen. I will shut her down so fast—”
“Don’t jump to conclusions, Sean.”
“Would Andrew set you up?”
“No.”
“You sound so confident. He’s a damn politician, Lucy.”
“He wouldn’t,” she said firmly. “Andrew isn’t a bad guy.”
“Good people do shitty things. Give me a minute.”
He took out his phone again. A moment later he said, “JT, it’s Sean. Has RCK received any press inquiries in the last twenty-four hours?… Who?… Shit. What’d you say?… Okay. Hold off on any follow-ups, I’ll explain later.” He hung up. “Maxine Revere has been a busy little bitch. All press inquiries regarding RCK go through JT, and he had a call two hours ago from NET—that’s the network that hosts Revere’s television show. The inquiries were general, JT sent the standard press packet, but I’ll bet they’ll follow up wanting more information about me, Jack, and Patrick.”
“Why?”
“Because the media sucks.”
She almost laughed, but her stomach felt sick.
Sean took her hand, squeezed it. “I won’t let her dig around into your past, Lucy. I won’t.”
“I’m not going to let her scare me off,” Lucy said.
“She already has two strikes against her, Lucy. One more, and I will skewer her.”
“Promise me you’ll listen to what she has to say.”
“That’s about all I can promise.”
Chapter Ten
Max recognized Sean Rogan and Lucy Kincaid as soon as they entered the lounge. Not only because she was expecting them, nor because the lounge was quiet before happy hour, but because they looked exactly as she expected.
Rogan reminded her not a little of David—the way he stood protectively next to his wife, scanning the room and immediately assessing the people, the layout, identifying the exits. Had he been in the military? Perhaps, that hadn’t been in Ben’s notes. All she knew was that he was thirty-two—same age as her—and was a principal of RCK who had graduated from MIT and specialized in cybersecurity. When Rogan caught her eye, she had the strong sense he disliked her. She was used to that—reporters often brought out the worst in people—but this was different. It felt more … personal, and she wondered what his story was.
She would find out.
Max had wrongfully assumed that since Rogan was a computer security expert, he would appear a bit more … nerdy, for lack of a better word. He obviously had brains—evident from his educational background and his position in his company—but he was definitely built more like a personal bodyguard. Interesting. She had Rogan pegged pretty quick—he was protective of his wife, he was smart, shrewd, even, and self-confident. It oozed from his every pore to the point that it might become a problem. Perhaps it wasn’t a fair assessment because he hadn’t even spoken a word, but physical presence plus what she learned about RCK? Rogan wasn’t a man to lie to or manipulate.
Which was good for her, because she didn’t lie.
Lucy Kincaid Rogan—Max didn’t know what name she went by—looked exactly like a federal agent. She, too, scanned the room, but she focused more on the people than the environment. She dressed the part as well—functional clothes, a bit drab Max thought, with the dark slacks and thin off-white sweater. A little color would do wonders for her, a blue scarf, or red—yes, definitely red or a vibrant purple. Lucy was classically attractive, just needed a little brightness. Her half-Cuban ancestry showed in her complexion and thick dark hair. The two made a good-looking couple—in business, they would certainly be known as a power couple, like the owners of NET.
What stuck out the most to Max was the icy exterior—Lucy radiated stay away as if she wore a blinking neon sign. Max was a good judge of people, but she made snap judgments—often on first impressions. She’d been trying to break herself from the habit, and Lucy Kincaid was a classic reason why. Lucy’s coolness didn’t seem to be introversion or arrogance, but something else … something so deep-seated that Max would have a hard time figuring it out.
But she would. She always did.
Lucy caught her eye. She didn’t change her expression, but there was a subtle shift in her posture, as if she knew Max had been watching her.
Andrew rose from his seat and greeted Lucy with a hug when she approached, then shook Sean’s hand. “Thank you, Lucy. Sean. I appreciate you coming out with such short notice.” He turned to Max. “Maxine Revere, this is my sister-in-law, Lucy Kincaid Rogan, and her husband Sean. Maxine Revere is an investigative reporter with Maximum Exposure, a cold case crime show on NET.”
“I’m familiar with the network,” Sean said. “It was one of the first to successfully integrate television with the Internet in an interactive way.”
“The Crossmans are visionaries,” Max said. No one ever commented to her about the network she worked for.
Sean and Lucy sat down. The bartender immediately came over. Lucy asked for coffee; Sean asked for a beer. Definitely not someone who followed conventions.
“I want to make something clear from the beginning,” Sean said. He glared at Max. Was he trying to intimidate her?
“By all means, Mr. Rogan.”
“If you write one word about Lucy or me without our express permission, I will destroy you.”
“My investigation isn’t about you or your wife. But I don’t like threats.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Max was a lot of things, but a liar wasn’t one of them. “You’ll have to take my word for it.”
&nb
sp; “I don’t trust you.”
“I don’t care.”
Lucy cleared her throat. “Sean and I are very private people, Ms. Revere. It came to our attention that your staff has been making inquiries about us.”
“I need a more discreet staff.” If she was going to get anywhere with these people, she was going to have to adjust her strategy. “When I come into any investigation, I research everyone involved. It’s standard. I need to know every possible angle, who’s important, who isn’t, their background, the whole nine yards. But I can assure you that my focus is not on either of you. My focus is on solving the deaths of four little boys.”
Though she was intensely curious about what these two people were hiding. People with nothing to hide didn’t generally lead with threats.
“My statement stands,” Rogan said.
She didn’t want to give an inch, especially since Rogan was making her angry—and calling her a liar—but if Andrew needed Lucy Kincaid’s blessing before he would get her the information and files she needed, she would relent. Reluctantly. Very, very reluctantly.
“Fair enough,” she said as calmly as she could. “I won’t mention either of you without your express permission.”
“Thank you, Ms. Revere,” Lucy said. Her hand was on her husband’s arm. Was there something else going on here that she wasn’t privy to?
Just because she promised not to write about them, didn’t mean she couldn’t learn more. And she would.
She always did.
Max said to Lucy, “You’re an FBI agent. A rookie?”
She nodded. Didn’t offer anything else. Open-ended questions usually resulted in information—either by what they said or how they said it. How people answered such questions gave Max extensive insight into them—primarily to help her figure out how to gain the most information from them.
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