Shattered

by Allison Brennan

  KATELLA: Let’s go over it again. Last night, you went to your sister’s house to babysit Justin. You told me you hadn’t wanted to go because you cancelled a date.

  CK: No I didn’t, I mean—

  KATELLA: I can read you back what you said yesterday.

  CK: I said I had a study date. I have finals.

  KATELLA: Still, a date.

  CK: What? I don’t understand.

  KATELLA: Your study date was with Ben Jordan, right? He’s your boyfriend.

  CK: Yeah, so?

  KATELLA: But you had to babysit last minute. Justin was going to be at your mother’s house, but your little sister was sick and so you were stuck babysitting.

  CK: I wasn’t stuck. I always babysit.

  KATELLA: Not something most nineteen-year-old college students want to be doing on a Friday night.

  CK: It’s not like that.

  KATELLA: And your sister said you couldn’t have Ben over to study because she didn’t feel comfortable with someone she didn’t know in the house with Justin.

  CK: You make it sound bad. It’s not bad. Nelia has always been overprotective. She loves Justin, I get it. He’s a little kid.

  KATELLA: You resented her.

  CK: No—I don’t understand—why are you doing this?

  KATELLA: I just want the truth.

  CK: I told you the truth!

  KATELLA: Tell me again. What time did you arrive at the Stanton residence?

  CK: Five or so—Lucy got sick, and Nelia was panicked, asked me to take him home.

  KATELLA: But she was supposed to be home by seven, right?

  CK: I thought—I didn’t know that she was preparing for a big presentation. I called her at eight, she told me.

  KATELLA: You must have been angry.

  CK: No. Irritated, not angry. I wasn’t mad—I wish she’d told me earlier, but really, it … what happened to Justin? What happened to him? Are you sure he’s dead? He can’t be. He just …

  KATELLA: And what did you and Justin do?

  CK: I ordered pizza and we ate and he watched a movie while I studied. Why won’t you tell me what happened to Justin?

  KATELLA: What movie?

  CK: I, uh—I don’t remember. I wasn’t paying attention.

  KATELLA: Justin watched a movie for two hours and you don’t remember what it was?

  CK: I-I was studying at the dining-room table. I wasn’t paying attention. It wasn’t a cartoon. It was one of his tapes, he can watch anything on the bottom two shelves. I didn’t care what he watched—I needed to study.

  KATELLA: And after the movie?

  CK: He went to bed.

  KATELLA: Just like that.

  CK: Justin’s a good kid. It was ten, past his bedtime … he’s a good kid. A good …

  KATELLA: Here.

  CK: I-I—

  It was clear to Lucy that Carina had broken down. She was so tense, the pages in front of her were wrinkled. Katella was only doing his job, trying to find the truth, but this was Lucy’s sister. To learn about Justin’s death from a cop, during an interview, at the police station. Without family to support her … without a lawyer.

  Why didn’t she have a lawyer? Andrew was an ADA at the time, their dad was still in the military, why didn’t anyone protect Carina’s rights?

  Because innocent people never thought they needed representation. Innocent people thought the truth would set them free. And usually, it did. But legal representation wasn’t just to find the truth. It was to make sure that all the rules were followed, that everyone had a fair and just system at their disposal. A lawyer wouldn’t have let Carina answer questions she’d already answered. It was clear that Katella was first trying to find any inconsistencies with Carina’s statement from the night before when Justin first went missing, and second trying to fluster Carina to see if guilt would prompt her to confess.

  KATELLA: Can you continue?

  CK: I want to go home.

  KATELLA: I have just a few more questions.

  CK: What?

  KATELLA: What did you do after Justin went to bed?

  CK: I studied. Then I fell to sleep.

  KATELLA: What time did you fall asleep?

  CK: I don’t know.

  KATELLA: Can you give me an approximate time?

  CK: Around eleven. Maybe earlier. Maybe later. I don’t remember. I had a headache and went to sit down on the couch and watch television until Nelia or Andrew came home. I fell asleep.

  KATELLA: What were you watching when you fell asleep?

  CK: Sports. Baseball highlights or something. There was nothing on and I hate the news. It’s so depressing. And Patrick plays baseball in college, so I like to keep up with baseball. He might be drafted, he’s that good.

  KATELLA: When did you wake up?

  CK: What? Um … when Nelia came in. She shook me awake. Said, “Sorry I’m so late.” I sat up and started gathering my books. Nelia ran back screaming. “Where’s Justin? Carina, where is Justin?”

  KATELLA: And then?

  CK: We searched the house. Then I called 911 and Nelia called Andrew and … and now you tell me Justin is dead. And it’s my fault. I can’t believe I fell asleep. I am so sorry. God, I am so, so sorry.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Max was famished and Lucy was late.

  Max weighed the etiquette instilled in her by her grandmother versus her need for food. Was this an actual planned dinner? Or was it a suggestion? Was it more, “I’m eating at 8:00 P.M., join me if you can” or “We’ll meet at eight to dine together?”

  No matter how she sliced it, they’d planned on eating together. Damn, she was going to implode from lack of food. What was the etiquette for waiting? Twenty minutes? Thirty? She was pretty certain there was a rule about it somewhere … but she certainly wouldn’t be calling her grandmother to ask.

  Max was on the verge of summoning the waiter when Lucy walked into the dining room. The fed stopped briefly, assessed the venue and everyone in it. She scanned the room as if she had a photographic memory, pausing over every table—not looking for Max, but knowing where everyone was. Was she doing a threat assessment? She was an odd duck and Max didn’t know exactly what to make of her.

  Max always understood people. She was beginning to grow frustrated with the fact that she hadn’t been able to pin Lucy Kincaid Rogan into a corner. The not knowing was going to drive her up a wall. She knew why. So much about her childhood was still a mystery to her that she sought answers where she could find them.

  Lucy sat down next to Max instead of across from her where the place setting was laid out. Lucy moved it over herself. Typical law enforcement—Max’s ex-boyfriend Marco and current boyfriend Nick—was he still her boyfriend, she wondered … she didn’t know and that saddened her—would have done the same thing.

  “I’m sorry I’m late—I ended up reading the rest of Justin’s file.”

  “And what did your brother say?”

  “He’ll talk to Nelia.”

  “Very well.”

  “I didn’t expect you to be so reasonable about it.”

  “I am always reasonable.”

  Lucy smiled and almost laughed. When had Max given her the impression that she wasn’t reasonable? Maybe almost walking out yesterday to interview Detective Katella alone … but that was one time.

  “All I care about is the truth,” Max said. “I don’t much care how I get it, either, as long as I trust the information. Your brother has a long and distinguished career and I have a sense that he’s extremely honest. I think he’s the best person to find the answers we need.” She paused, just a beat. When Lucy didn’t say anything, Max added, “He holds back. During the call, I could see that he wanted to say things, but refrained. He’d be easy to beat in poker.”

  “And why is this bad? If people took a minute to think before speaking, most conflicts would be avoided.”

  “I suppose I could learn that lesson, but in my business when I make people angry, I tend
to get the truth.”

  The waiter came over and Max ordered two appetizers and a second glass of wine. “I’m famished,” she told Lucy, “but I’ll share and give you time to look at the menu.”

  “I know what I want,” Lucy said. She ordered and Max was surprised that Lucy added a glass of wine. When she said, “Any red wine is fine,” Max interrupted.

  “Bring her a glass of the Trefethen cab.”

  “Ordering for me?”

  “The house wine is fine here, but trust me.”

  “I don’t drink very much.”

  “All the more reason to enjoy good wine when you do.”

  Max waved off the waiter and finished her own glass of chardonnay. She generally preferred a lighter white, but they offered one of her favorite chardonnays by the glass.

  “So, is everything okay with you and your brother?” Max asked.

  “Yes.”

  Again Lucy offered nothing else. Answer the question and get out. She would be a lousy interview.

  So Max got down to business. “I spoke to Andrew. My producer put in the FOIA request and Andrew will expedite it. Probably cutting a few corners, but he’ll have the files ready for us tomorrow.”

  “You,” Lucy said. “I can’t—I mean, what you choose to share with me after you review the files is fine, but for now I think it would be safer for you and Andrew to go through the employee records. If we end up with a viable suspect, I don’t want to jeopardize a conviction because of a warrant issue.”

  “What do you plan to do?”

  “I’m going to talk to my sister. Carina.”

  “About?”

  “It’s personal.”

  The waiter came back with the two wines, and Lucy sipped the cabernet that Max had ordered. She took a second sip. “Okay, this is delicious.”

  Max smiled. “I know wine.”

  “After you and Andrew go through the files, I want to touch base with Katella—see how far he’s gotten. And if you have names—we should run the names by him as well. Then I’ll contact Santa Barbara and see if I can get information without making a formal request.”

  “Does your boss know what you’re doing?”

  “No,” Lucy said. Again, nothing more.

  “On ‘vacation’?”

  “I called in sick. I don’t have any more vacation time—I used it all for my honeymoon.”

  “Where did you go?” Max asked.

  “Vail, Colorado.”

  “I love skiing.”

  “No snow in October and I’m not very good on the slopes.”

  “So you’re really a newlywed.”

  “I suppose we are.” Lucy averted her eyes and smiled at something only she knew about. How could Max get her to open up? Even about something as little as this? Usually women loved to talk about themselves, their boyfriends or husbands. Why couldn’t Lucy just bite at Max’s hook?

  “Your husband is very … intense.”

  Lucy laughed. It sounded genuine. Max wondered if she got Lucy drunk—or at least tipsy, since she admitted to not being much of a drinker, if she could get Lucy to talk. At this point, any information would be a win. “You had two strikes against you when we walked in. Sean isn’t always so intense.”

  “I was doing my job.”

  “We’re private people.”

  “I respect that.”

  “Do you?”

  “I’m not going to apologize for wanting to know who I deal with.” Max waited until the waiter brought out the appetizers. “Help yourself,” she told Lucy.

  They both dished up the small appetizer plates. Max immediately took a bite of the crab specialty, then asked, “Where did you stay in Vail?”

  “Sean bought a cabin outside Vail.”

  “For the trip?”

  “It was my wedding present, he said.” Lucy smiled. It was clear to Max that she and Sean were close—not only based on seeing them together on Thursday, but how she talked about him. Yes they were married, they were newlyweds, but Max had been around enough married people to know that true love was rare.

  Or maybe that was Max’s own life clouding her judgment.

  She said, “Private security must pay well.”

  “It can,” Lucy said. And again, nothing more.

  “How did you meet?”

  “Why do I sound like I’m being interviewed?”

  “I’m curious. Just in general, a curious person. I already promised your husband I wouldn’t write anything about either of you without your express permission.”

  Lucy sipped her wine. “And you know that information is power.”

  “Why so evasive?”

  “Just making an observation.” She took another bite of the crab cakes. “You already know that two of my brothers work with Sean at RCK. Jack works out of Sacramento; Patrick and Sean opened the East Coast office a couple of years ago in Georgetown.”

  “But you don’t still live there.”

  “When I graduated from the FBI Academy, I was assigned to San Antonio. Sean came with me. He can work from anywhere.”

  “And Patrick? He runs the office now?”

  “They have a team out there now.”

  “So, it took more than one person to replace Sean? He must be good at what he does.”

  “He is.”

  Their dinner was served, and Max assessed Lucy as they ate. She was comfortable with not talking and she didn’t ask any of her own questions.

  “Is there anything you want to know about me?” Max asked.

  “Is this a game of you share then expect me to share?”

  “No. I’m an open book.”

  “That’s true. It was clear after I read your book about Karen Richardson’s disappearance.”

  “How so?”

  Lucy ate for a moment and Max wondered if she was framing her response in such a way that would give Max less insight into her. Damn, Max was giving herself a headache trying to figure out this woman.

  “You’re very matter-of-fact,” Lucy said after a moment.

  “I’m a reporter.”

  “But you weren’t then, were you? You were a college student taking leave because your best friend disappeared. You were straightforward in your writing, but you were also jaded—you have a slanted way of looking at everything.”

  “Everyone does,” Max said. “If someone tells you they’re not biased or unfair, they’re not being completely honest with you or themselves. Everyone slants their perception based on their background, their experiences.”

  “In some ways. Experience is a benefit, though. I liked the book—even though the subject matter was tragic—because you had a raw honesty in how you wrote. You simply wanted answers.”

  “I still do.”

  Lucy nodded. “We’re not all that different then. I just chose law enforcement.”

  “Why?”

  “A lot of reasons.”

  Vague. Too vague. Lucy knew exactly why she wanted to be a cop, she just didn’t want to share with Max. Max didn’t like that, so she pushed. “Because of Justin’s murder?”

  “Partly.”

  That was the truth. And Lucy knew why she was a cop, she just didn’t want to tell Max and she didn’t want to lie, either. Interesting.

  “You graduated from Georgetown.”

  “I did.”

  “I went to Columbia. Two West Coast girls moving east. How’d you like it?”

  “It was … fine.”

  “You were on the swim team in college.”

  Lucy frowned and looked at her nearly empty plate.

  “You knew I looked you up. When I found out you graduated from Georgetown, I googled your name and Georgetown. Came up with a long list of medals you won. Why does that bother you? I’d think you’d be proud of your accomplishments.”

  “I am,” Lucy said but she wasn’t looking at Max. She finished her wine. “I don’t suppose you like dessert?”

  This was an impossible conversation. Max was never going to learn anything
about Lucy if the girl didn’t talk. Even if Lucy asked questions of Max, it would give her insight. “I love dessert,” Max said.

  “Great. You want to know something about me? I love chocolate. Madly in love with chocolate. Sean makes the most amazing hot chocolate. Probably why I fell in love with him. That and he always makes sure my favorite double chocolate ice cream is in the freezer.”

  The waiter cleared the plates and they ordered dessert and coffee.

  Max was resigned to the fact that Lucy was never going to reveal anything more about herself than she wanted.

  Her cell phone vibrated. She glanced at the number and frowned, sent it to voice mail.

  Nick. She rubbed her eyes. She needed to figure this out, because never in her life had she been so torn about breaking up with someone.

  “Is everything okay?” Lucy asked.

  She probably meant was everything okay with the case, but Max decided to just spill it. If she was blunt, maybe Lucy would share something—anything. Max felt like she was going through information withdrawal.

  “Boyfriend. We have a fundamental disagreement about something and I don’t know that I can live with it.”

  “He’s in New York?”

  “No, northern California. He’s a detective, I met him last year when I was working a cold case in my hometown. He’s everything I love in a man—good-looking, smart, amazing in bed.”

  Lucy averted her eyes, just a bit. Was she blushing? At the mention of sex? Really, that was odd. But interesting.

  “But he has an ex-wife and a son. The ex uses her son as a pawn and has Nick twisted into knots. Nick won’t talk to me about it.”

  “He could want to spare you the details. Relationships are complicated.”

  “It’s not that—trust me. He wants to keep that part of his life separate. I thought I could live with it … but I can’t. Like you said, I’m blunt. I say what I think. I can’t bite my tongue when a manipulative ex-wife uses a child to get her way. And Nick is letting her get away with it. They have joint custody and she’d been fighting in court to gain full custody so she can leave the state with her boyfriend. So far, Nick has a continuance—only because she and her boyfriend aren’t married. But now apparently they’re getting married. And then Nick will be screwed. And my gut is telling me this marriage is a farce—that she’s doing it solely to gain full custody. And the only reason for that would be to screw Nick. I mean if she doesn’t care about this guy, that means she wants to move to force Nick to leave his job and move again. She did it before—her excuse being to be closer to her family. Nick left his job and followed.”