Arthur took a sip from his coffee mug, then cleared his throat, and continued. “Severe depression plays a bigger part in the makeup of lone female killers—meaning those who do not have a killing partner—especially those who target their family, like Andrea Yates. Women also tend to focus in the world they know. A nurse who thinks she’s saving someone a lifetime of pain and suffering—that is her justification—but in fact her psychosis is often much darker than that. She justifies it to herself—that she is noble or doing society a great service or ending the pain of another—but that’s her logical answer to her darker need to take a human life as punishment and the sense of power it gives her. A sense of … playing God. The killer we’re looking at has completely separated herself from the act of murder. She’s only looking at the outcome—making the family suffer—not the act itself. I suspect she takes so long between crimes for two reasons. First and foremost, she needs to relocate. She has a powerful self-preservation drive, and knows that the longer she stays, the more likely someone will look to her for murder—possibly because of her own guilt and obsession and inability to stay out of the investigation. Essentially, she doesn’t completely trust herself. Second, she doesn’t have a specific target initially. It takes time to develop this pattern. To find a cheating spouse who has one son and fits the profile of her own past.”
Dillon said, “Do you think that the killer was working with my sister Nelia—she was a lawyer for a defense contractor, she didn’t work in a law office—or with my brother-in-law, Stanton? Stanton was a prosecutor at the time, he had many more colleagues. Nelia worked for the legal counsel, who was a man and much older. I may be able to find out if there was anyone else with a legal background at her company, but it’ll be difficult.”
“I couldn’t say,” Arthur said. “I suppose I would be inclined to think that she’d work with the wife, only because she has some sympathy toward the female in the partnership, but the Stanton case is unusual because both parents were lawyers.”
“What we should be looking for then,” Dillon said, “is a list of female lawyers, paralegals, court reporters—anyone who worked for the County of San Diego or for the defense contractor, who came from out of state and then left employment within a year of Justin’s murder.”
“And moved to Santa Barbara,” Max said. “Because the Porters lived in Santa Barbara.”
“Employee records are generally private,” Arthur said. “It may be difficult to get any viable list.”
“I’ll talk to Andrew,” Lucy said.
“You may need to consider turning this over to the local field office, Lucy,” Dillon said.
“No,” Max interrupted. “Absolutely not. While I appreciate Lucy’s help on this, I’ve worked with law enforcement on many cold cases over the last decade. If we don’t give them something solid, they will shelve the entire investigation. I can’t go to them with this theory and expect them to expend resources when one of the crimes is ostensibly solved—Donovan—and one of the crimes is currently pending trial. They’ll laugh as they slam the door in my face if I suggest a grieving mother is going around killing little boys to force other mothers to grieve. Oh, and I only have evidence of crimes committed more than fifteen years ago.”
“Max is right,” Lucy said. “Every FBI office is spread thin right now, and has been for years. Violent crimes goes to the bottom each and every time.”
“We have friends, Lucy,” Dillon said.
“And when I have something actionable, I will call in every favor. But we don’t have it now.”
The room was silent for a long minute. Max wondered if they’d lost the feed, and she said, “I can file a Freedom of Information Act request and Andrew can expedite it—I’ve done it before when I had someone working with me. It’s a way to cover all bases in case there’s a legal challenge later.”
Arthur said, “Max, Lucy, I’m happy to consult further if you need advice, but I think you’re on the right path here. I’ll review the evidence and timeline again, if I see anything we haven’t discussed or have additional insight, I’ll send you an e-mail.”
“I appreciate your time, Arthur,” Max said. “Dr. Kincaid? Anything else from you?”
It was clear he wanted to talk to Lucy alone, but before that happened, Max needed a conversation with her. They had to be on the same page before Lucy started making promises to her family.
“No,” Dillon said. “Just—um, Lucy, tread carefully.”
Lucy thanked Arthur and her brother, then shut down the conferencing program.
“That was enlightening,” Max said. “You earned Arthur’s respect. He’s a good man, one of the brightest in his field. It’s hard to impress him.”
“He reminds me of someone,” Lucy said.
She was off in her own thoughts, Max realized. Now would be the best time to get more information from her. Out of curiosity.
“Your friend Hans Vigo?”
Lucy nodded, but didn’t elaborate. Max wondered if there was more to the story—Lucy was a difficult woman to read, but Max was learning. There was definitely something here.
“I need to call Dillon,” Lucy said. “It’s personal,” she added quickly. “We have to work through how we’re going to contact Nelia. I’ll let you know what we decide. I’m not cutting you out, Max, I just need to handle this delicately.”
“Your family is overprotective of everyone.”
“They’re my family. I’ve already damaged my relationship, but I’m not going to let the family take sides on this. I’m not going to destroy their relationships with one another because they don’t like the path I’m on.”
“That would be their choice, not yours.”
“Max, you’re astute, and a good study of human behavior. It’s why you’ve been so successful in your career. But some things you can’t learn from observation. Some things you can only understand through living them. I love my family. They have been to hell and back, and not just what happened to Justin. Standing against them on something so fundamental to who we have all become is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. I understand their pain because I lived it. I don’t want to lose them, but I made my decision. I’ve made tough decisions before and lived with the consequences. But I will be damned before I allow any of my brothers or sisters to take sides and divide us or further damage their own relationships. So I’m going to talk to Dillon and tell him I appreciate his assistance but he needs to stand down, you work on the FOIA, then we’ll talk to Andrew and I’ll delineate exactly what we need and he’ll figure out if he can get it. I will tell you what we decide, and honestly, you’re just going to have to live with it.”
Lucy stood up and Max had a snide comeback, but something in Lucy’s expression stopped her from commenting.
“Fine,” Max said. “I’ll meet you at the restaurant downstairs at eight—you can tell me then what we’re going to do next.”
Lucy started to walk out. She then turned and said, “Is there any way you can find out if Peter Caldwell was buried with a stuffed animal?”
Max wasn’t certain John would even take her call. “I will most certainly try.”
Chapter Twenty-one
“I was expecting your call,” Dillon said as soon as he picked up the phone.
Lucy wasn’t surprised. “I don’t like it when we argue.”
“Argue? That’s kind of strong, don’t you think?”
“I need to talk to Nelia.”
“No.”
“I’m not going to let you damage your relationship with Nelia or with everyone else.”
“Why do you think this is you against the family?”
“You weren’t there!” Lucy rarely lost her temper, but it had been a really awful two days. She pinched the bridge of her nose and willed herself to be calm.
“Luce,” Dillon said softly, “I know this is difficult for you and for our family. You’ve never chosen the easy path. It’s one reason I love you so much. Let me be a buffer. It’s somet
hing I’m very good at.”
“It’s too late.”
“It’s never too late.”
Lucy didn’t want to tell Dillon exactly what their father had said. She didn’t want to dump her frustration on her brother. Instead she said, “I guess I was expecting a different response. In hindsight, I screwed up. Why did I think having a nice family dinner would soften the blow?”
“You’re probably right, though I can see why you did it—you were expediting.”
“Exactly. But I was too blunt. I should have considered all the ramifications first, especially on Carina.”
“Did you read her interview?”
“I haven’t had the chance. I will after dinner tonight. Then I’ll talk to her. One-on-one.”
“I think that’s smart.”
Lucy was relieved.
“Just like it’s not smart for you to contact Nelia. I will do it, and I will accept any fallout. She needs to know—even if this reporter you’re working with doesn’t reach out to her, someone will. She’ll hear about it and it’ll be far worse if she hears about it from anyone other than family.”
Lucy hadn’t thought that far ahead. She hadn’t thought about what happened after they found the killer and when the news became public. “Thank you, Dillon.”
“I recognized your focus on the video conference—you’re not going back, are you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re not going back to San Antonio until you solve this.”
“I don’t know that I’ll be able to take that much time off.”
“But.”
Dillon was right. “I can’t walk away. I don’t want to lose my job, but this might be my stand. I’ll accept the consequences.”
“You always do.”
“My new boss already doesn’t like me.” She rolled her eyes. “That sounds so junior high.”
“Yet.”
“She started while I was on my honeymoon. I met her the Monday I returned and it was extremely uncomfortable—I can’t pinpoint it exactly. But I’m not comfortable with her knowing so much about me, and I know she has read my files, and talked to Juan as well. I’m sure she talked to Noah, but she knows that Noah and I are friends. She made a comment about it, and maybe I’m reading into the subtext, but it seemed that because Noah and I had been friends, she doesn’t believe anything he says about me. Not to mention that everything that happened in Mexico last October is sealed. No one in my office knows, except for Nate, and I think that bugs her. Because she doesn’t know what happened.”
“It’s difficult for a supervisor to have a staff member who has, for lack of a better word, protection from on high.”
“I don’t want that kind of protection.”
“But it’s there. It’s not something you can turn on and off. Just recognize that her perception is tainted. But also recognize your own motives.”
“I want to find Justin’s killer. That’s my sole motive.”
“Motive was the wrong word. Motivation, because you have been given a lot of leeway in pursuing cases, both on and off book, that in the back of your mind I’m pretty certain you think that you’ll get a pass no matter how long this takes.”
She was about to object, but maybe Dillon was right. “That would make me a total prima donna.”
Dillon laughed. “You’re hardly a prima donna, but you have a certain confidence. How do I explain it? You have an intuitive understanding of how the system works. That there are give-and-takes and some people are treated differently than others. While the FBI is a bureaucracy, it’s still run by human beings, and there is always a level of friendships and trust that supersedes certain situations.”
“I don’t expect Rick to swoop in and rescue my career,” Lucy said. Rick Stockton was the second-highest-ranking director in national headquarters.
“I know, but—”
“I see what you’re saying, and you might be right—except my excuse is that I will find Justin’s killer. I have to. Knowing that we’re this close—I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if I walked away and another little boy died. If I lose my job over it, I can live with that.” She didn’t want to lose her job, but she’d resolved that sometimes her decisions didn’t fit into the structure of her chosen profession. She just had to take each situation as it arose.
“Are you sleeping?” Dillon asked.
“Enough.”
“I’ll call you after I reach out to Nelia. Tread lightly with Carina, but I think you’re doing the right thing. She needs to hear from you what you’re doing and why. She’s a cop at heart, but she’s also a mother.”
“Thanks, Dillon. Tell Kate I said hi.”
Lucy hung up.
She still had a hour before she needed to meet Max for dinner. She took a deep breath, considered what Dillon had said. He was right—she did have confidence about her job. Not that she could “do no wrong” per se, but that she could justify her actions.
She considered the situation—would she be willing to walk away if quitting was the only way to solve Justin’s murder?
She wanted to make a flip answer—yes—yet she loved her job. She was good at it. She’d saved people. Last September she had worked on a particularly emotional case involving black-market babies. She’d not only saved several of the women who had been used as breeders, she and her partners in the San Antonio office—in fact, FBI agents across the country—had located nearly every baby who had been sold.
She did good. She didn’t want to quit. She didn’t want to be fired. She would fight it.
Yet.
It all began with Justin.
Her dad thought that she’d given up on her dream of majoring in linguistics and international relations because she’d been kidnapped. But she’d begun to wonder if maybe, just maybe, that had been a false dream. One she told her parents to protect them over the years, because after Justin was killed, everything changed.
Her dad thought she joined the FBI as some sort of … what? Justice after what happened to her? Penance because she’d killed the man who destroyed her life? Yet she had known for a long time that righting wrongs was the only way she could find peace. Even before her rape. Because Justin’s murder had never been solved.
Patrick had an opportunity to be drafted into major league baseball, yet he’d pursued a career in law enforcement. Carina had dropped out of college to join the police academy. Dillon had given up his plan to specialize in sports medicine and turned instead to criminal psychiatry. And Lucy … maybe she knew, back when she was seven and her best friend was suddenly not there, that she had to do something to stop the pain.
She couldn’t prevent her own. But she could prevent other people from suffering as she and her family had.
Lucy sat on the balcony of her hotel room, even though it was getting chilly. The light was good and she enjoyed the fresh sea air. She couldn’t see the ocean, but she could feel it around her, and there was a sense of peace at being home … even if San Diego was no longer her home.
She had the copies that Andrew had given her of the investigation into Justin’s murder. She’d already read all the forensic, autopsy, and police reports. Notes weren’t in the file, which was another reason Katella reviewing the files again was so important. He might remember things they couldn’t know based on what wasn’t written down.
But she hadn’t read the transcript of Carina’s interview with police. Partly because she had so much information to digest and partly because she was a little nervous about it.
But Dillon was right: she needed to know what Carina had gone through. She’d been a nineteen-year-old college student. Not much older than a kid. She’d only lived in San Diego for a few years because she, like every Kincaid except Lucy, had been raised an army brat.
Her nephew had been kidnapped from his bedroom while she was babysitting. The guilt would have eaten her up—a lesser person may never have recovered. Nelia had treated Carina poorly after that, but Nelia had treated everyone t
hat way, including herself. She’d lost her son, her marriage was over, and she felt like she’d lost everything. There were likely many psychological issues with guilt, grief, regret—things Lucy understood on one level, but she’d never lost a child. She’d lost people she cared about, people she loved, but a child was a deep part of a parent, part of the soul of the people who created it. And to be the mother—nine months of sharing space, of feeling a new life grow and move, of holding the infant you had helped create, and nurturing and protecting the young life.
Until violence walked in and everything was destroyed.
Lucy understood violence. She dreaded getting into the mind of Justin’s murderer. It would hurt, it would tear her up inside, but it wasn’t her son who’d been killed. Didn’t she owe it to Nelia—to her family—but most of all to Justin and the other boys this woman killed? Lucy could withstand the emotional pain because if she didn’t, who else would?
It was a cause that drove her, one she barely understood and tried not to think about too much. But in the end, she did what she felt she had to do.
Carina would feel the same. As Dillon said, she was a cop at heart. But what she’d endured those days after Justin’s disappearance had affected her, not only at the time, not only in who she had become, but had instilled a deep-seated angst and unresolved grief.
It became all too clear as Lucy read the transcript.
DET. KATELLA: We found Justin.
CARINA KINCAID: Thank God, thank God, is he okay? I need to see my sister.
KATELLA: Justin’s dead.
CK: No, you said you found him. He’s not dead. He’s not.
KATELLA: He was found in a shallow grave in the park on East Street. Less than a mile from his house.
CK: How? No … please, I need to see my sister. My mom … oh, God, no.
KATELLA: I have a few more questions, Carina.
CK: I just want to go home.
KATELLA: If you tell me the truth, you can go home.
CK: I told you everything I know. Everything.
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