Shattered

by Allison Brennan

“Lucy, it’s Don Katella.”

  “Hello, Don. I was going to touch base later today. Did you get the files from Andrew?” She knew he did, but they hadn’t spoken since Thursday.

  “Yes, and I read everything twice. I don’t know that I have what you want, but I made a list of every female who was interviewed. Nothing struck me as off when I was reviewing my notes.”

  “I’d like to see that list. Can Ms. Revere and I come to your house this afternoon?”

  “I have to run an errand for my wife, I can swing by your hotel when I’m done. Around three?”

  “That would be great. If you could bring your notes as well, I might have some questions once we look through the names.”

  “I have everything in order. What hotel?”

  “US Grant. Room Fourteen-oh-one.” She gave him Max’s room because of the timeline Max had on her wall—having a seasoned detective review their theories would be an added benefit.

  “Snazzy place. I’ll be there by three.” He hung up.

  “Katella?” Andrew asked.

  “Yes, he didn’t see anything, but he has a list of names, and that’s going to help.”

  Andrew printed the information he’d put into the spreadsheet. It pained Lucy to watch him type so slow, but she couldn’t very well offer to do it for him. “If a name pops up on Katella’s list, let me know and I’ll work on obtaining a warrant to use all the information in that specific personnel file.”

  Max grabbed the papers off the printer. “Eighteen names. Do you really think one of these women is who we’re looking for?”

  “Yes,” Lucy said without hesitation. She looked at Andrew. “She knew you were having an affair and she stalked you and Nelia for months, if not longer. How long were you having the affair? I never asked.”

  “Eight months. Sheila wasn’t married, we were both busy—we got together once or twice a month. It didn’t even feel like that long … it had become routine. When Justin died, it was over.”

  “Did you love her?” Lucy didn’t know why she asked—it wasn’t her business.

  He shook his head. “I liked her. A lot. Maybe I could have fallen in love, but I never planned on my marriage ending in divorce.”

  “I don’t think love is planned. Either you do or you don’t.”

  “Then I didn’t. Because it was too easy to walk away after Justin. Maybe Justin was the only person I truly ever unconditionally loved,” Andrew said quietly. “And he’s gone. If you’re right, Lucy, and this woman killed Justin to punish my infidelity, it worked. There hasn’t been a day in the last nineteen and a half years that I haven’t missed my son.”

  * * *

  Lucy was surprised that Max was so quiet on the drive back to the hotel. No questions, no prying into her personal life, no discussion of the case. While Lucy was relieved on the one hand, she grew suspicious. One thing she’d learned quickly about Maxine Revere was that she was a sharp observer of human nature and intensely curious about everything. She didn’t stop. She didn’t slow down. She didn’t let up ever. The dinner conversation the night before had drained Lucy, and in the back of her mind she couldn’t help but think that Max wasn’t going to stop prying into her life. Asking her questions didn’t bother her—it was what Max might start doing without Lucy’s knowledge that had her worried.

  They walked through the lobby and Max made an immediate detour toward a group of chairs near the window. Lucy followed.

  “You said you weren’t coming down,” she said to a man seated facing the lobby.

  “I was done,” he said and stood. “The drive wasn’t bad, and I can be of more use to you here than in Santa Barbara.”

  “David, this is Agent Lucy Kincaid. Lucy, David Kane, my right hand.”

  Lucy took his hand. He was neither short or tall—just topped six feet—but with the posture of a soldier and the eyes of a cop. He had a scar down half of his right cheek and close-cropped hair. He looked like half the mercenaries her brother Jack worked with.

  “Pleasure, Agent Kincaid.”

  “Lucy.”

  He nodded. “David.”

  “We’re meeting with the lead detective from the Stanton murder,” Max said, “I’ll get you a room, then we’ll head up to my suite.”

  “Ben got me a room.”

  “I might have something else for you to do.”

  “Today?”

  “We’ll talk about it. Let’s debrief before the detective arrives.”

  Lucy wondered if Max was planning on going behind her back again. The reporter had been quiet ever since Lucy got back from talking to Carina. She hardly said more than two sentences in Andrew’s office while they ate lunch. Something was up and Lucy didn’t know what it was.

  That made her very nervous.

  Lucy got off on the floor before Max. “I’m going to call Sean, then I’ll be up.”

  “You don’t mind if I fill David in on the plan?”

  “Go ahead.”

  Lucy let herself into her room and called Sean. He answered almost immediately.

  “I miss you,” he said.

  “It’s only been two days.”

  “Feels like two weeks.”

  “I talked to Carina this morning. It went well.”

  “I’m still mad about Thursday night.”

  “I had a long conversation with Dillon. I understand so much better now.”

  “Because you look at everyone’s point of view. That still doesn’t excuse the way your family treated you.”

  “I forgive them.”

  “You’re a better person than me.”

  Sean was protective of her, and she loved him for it, but she didn’t want this situation to permanently damage his relationship with half her family. Especially since he was so close to Patrick and Jack.

  “Sean, I’m okay.” She’d been hurt, especially the conversation with her father, but she would be okay.

  “This is me, Luce,” Sean said quietly. “How is the investigation going? Is Revere minding her manners?”

  Lucy almost laughed. “We had a nice dinner last night. She was fishing for information—out of curiosity. She doesn’t like that she hasn’t figured me out.”

  “Let’s keep it that way.”

  “We have a list of suspects. A few stand out to me. Detective Katella is coming over with his notes and then … I’m hoping one of the names matches.” She wasn’t hoping. She was almost 100 percent sure that one of the names would match. “I talked to the assistant chief in Santa Barbara—he wants to help, but he also wants a formal FBI request.”

  “There are a half dozen people you can have request the information.”

  “I’m not going to risk anyone else.”

  “Risk?”

  “Reprimand. Suspension. I know the career risk, I’m willing to take it.”

  “Lucy—”

  “Please, Sean.” He had to understand her predicament.

  “Okay. I’ll drop it, for now.”

  “I might have a back door to get the information. If I have a name or two, the assistant chief may give me a yay or nay, and at this point, that’s all I need to push forward. I can turn everything over to the local FBI office with an actual suspect, and they can get the information through the proper channels.”

  “That sounds like a good plan.”

  “It was Max’s.”

  “You told her about your leave? Or, rather, lack of time?”

  “Not in so many words, but the woman is astute.”

  “She raises the hackles on the back of my neck, Lucy.”

  “On this, I trust her.”

  Lucy deliberately changed the subject.

  “How was the RCK meeting?”

  “It’s not over.”

  “I thought JT locked you all up until the meeting was over.”

  “Patrick and I led a mutiny at two. That’s two in the morning. We bought a twelve-hour reprieve. Today should go faster. We still have a few security issues to work through, and then replaci
ng Jayne.”

  Jayne had been the computer guru and primary researcher for RCK until she’d leaked information. Though she hadn’t been malicious in her actions, it had created a huge problem for the group. She’d been with them for ten years and knew a lot about the organization and the people. There had even been talk about letting her stay in a different capacity, but no one was comfortable with her in the office. JT had found her a job as the IT manager for a software company. Perhaps she didn’t deserve the recommendation, but Lucy understood how the situation had spiraled out of control. Jayne hadn’t intended for anyone to get hurt, she didn’t even know that the information she shared would put Sean and his brothers in danger—and Lucy.

  “She’s going to be hard to replace,” Lucy concurred.

  “I have someone in mind, but you’ll be upset.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I want to take him from the FBI.”

  She knew immediately who he was referring to. “Zach.”

  “He’s perfect. Smart, young, loyal, and I’ve already run a deep background on him.”

  “Honestly, Sean, I wouldn’t be upset except that I would miss him. He is good. And I don’t want any more changes in my squad. But it’s his decision. Maybe he doesn’t want to leave.”

  “He has no family in Texas. His parents are semiretired in Florida. His sister is in college in Oregon. He’s in San Antonio because that’s where the FBI assigned him when he graduated. He’s squeaky clean and has a genius level IQ. The problem is that JT has an agreement with Rick Stockton that he won’t poach anyone from the FBI. He’s only allowed to bring in agents who have retired, or who seek out a position on their own—like when Mitch Bianchi came over from Sac FBI a few years ago. He wanted to leave, JT and Rick hashed out the details, and it worked out. But we can’t go to Zach and offer him a position.”

  “You’re going to do it anyway, aren’t you.”

  “I have to be sneaky about it. I probably shouldn’t have even mentioned it to you.”

  “I won’t say anything.

  “Hold on.”

  Lucy glanced at her watch. Nearly three—she needed to meet Katella. She didn’t want him talking to Max alone. She was still a little worried about what the reporter had planned because she was far too quiet.

  “Luce?”

  “I’m here.”

  “I need to go. I’ll call you when we’re done tonight or if it takes longer than I think, I’ll call in the morning and let you know when I’ll be in San Diego.”

  “I don’t know that I’m going to leave tomorrow.”

  Sean didn’t say anything. He knew as well as she did that her new boss wasn’t going to be pleased with her.

  “I can always use your brains.”

  “You have them. Be careful. I love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  She hung up. Sean hadn’t said it, but she could sense his reservations. He didn’t like her new boss either, but he also knew how much she loved her job.

  You’ll find a way to make it work. You have to.

  * * *

  “What’s going on?” David asked Max after they entered her suite.

  Max shot him a narrow-eyed glance. “I’m in the middle of an investigation.”

  “You’re quiet.”

  “You can tell after five minutes?”

  “I can see you thinking.”

  “Psychic, too.”

  “What job do you have for me? You seemed unhappy that I came down today. Should I head back up to Santa Barbara?”

  “No, I was going to get you a plane ticket direct to Scottsdale.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Blair killed her son.”

  “You’re certain?”

  “We know Justin’s killer is not Peter’s killer. And Lucy—she has a profile on Blair, though she didn’t share.”

  “Profile? You didn’t tell me she was a profiler.”

  “She’s not, at least not officially. She started talking about Blair, but then clammed up, as if I was going to broadcast every word.”

  “Don’t hold that against her.”

  “I’m not.”

  David arched his eyebrow. He was actually smiling at her frustration. She ignored his unspoken commentary and said, “I’m going to take the trial. Ace will be angry with me, but that’s hardly news.”

  “You need me to lay the ground work.”

  “Ben will send someone later in the week. The trial starts a week from Monday. I need you to do what you do best.”

  “Making sure no one takes a shot at you?”

  “Hardly.” Where had that come from? “Talk to the cops. They know me, I ran the circuit when I got there last week. I want insight. Personal stories. You know what I need.”

  “I’m not the best person.”

  “Cops like you.”

  “They don’t dislike me. Big difference.”

  “You can fly out on Monday. Take tomorrow off.”

  David grunted. “What would I do?”

  “Relax.”

  David smiled. “I relax about as well as you do.”

  Max turned on the Keurig in the kitchenette and waited for the water to heat.

  “You okay?” David asked.

  “About what?”

  “You’re off today.”

  Was she? Maybe. She wanted Blair to be innocent. Not because she liked the woman, but because of John.

  “How can a woman kill her child?” Max stared at the counter. “Blair has money. They’re comfortable. She didn’t even snap. At least how I think of someone snapping. She planned it all—researched the murders of other children, planned when and where and how, then executed it. Then, when it was all done, she went back to a fucking party and put on a happy face so no one knew any different. No one knew she’d killed a child. Her son. Went back for another martini and made small talk then came home and pretended she was stunned to find Peter missing. Why, David? How could she do that? And keep up the farce?”

  David didn’t say anything. What could anyone say? How could anyone make sense of this crime? Max couldn’t even make sense of the profile Lucy Kincaid had created on the woman who killed Justin and two other little boys. But at least there was a reason. The woman was crazy—maybe not legally, but certainly she was twisted—but she at least had a reason for killing. Some perverse sense of punishment for the men who cheated on their wives … cheated on their families. While Max didn’t understand it, at least the bitch had a reason.

  Blair had no reason. She killed her son and pretended she didn’t. She pretended she was a victim as much as Peter and John. She was cold. Calculating. She expected to get away with it, to be found not guilty, to continue to live her life of privilege married to a man she had emotionally gutted. And there was nothing that Max wanted more than to watch the justice system destroy her with the rope she handed them. Blair Caldwell would not get away with murder. If the justice system didn’t take care of it, Max would destroy her life, piece by piece.

  Max prepared coffee black for David, then put another pod in for herself.

  “I take it things are working out with Agent Kincaid,” David said.

  “I made lemonade,” Max said.

  “You copied me into your memo to Ben. I know about the meeting with the shrinks last night.”

  “She’s smart. She doesn’t act like a rookie.”

  “So what’s her story? I was surprised you didn’t give Ben something more about her. She seems … interesting.”

  “To say the least.” Max took her coffee and added cream and sweetener, then sat on one of the stools. “The woman shares nothing about herself. She’ll talk about the case until the cows come home, but the only personal thing I could get out of her is that she loves chocolate.”

  “I’m sure you observed more.”

  “No. That’s it—she’s closed off. Like a veil is hanging around her. I can put some things together, like she was more upset about her failed meeting with her fa
mily than she wanted me to know. She and her husband have what seems like a too-perfect relationship that makes me want to gag—it’s straight out of a fairy tale. Except then she shares one little tidbit about how they don’t keep secrets. I pushed—I had to—and she was deliberate in how she answered. She doesn’t drink too much alcohol, she loves coffee almost as much as I do, and she seems to know me better than I know her.”

  “I can see why that would bother you.”

  “I just want to know what makes her tick. She’s said a few things that stuck with me—particularly related to the case. Like, when we were talking about Blair possibly being guilty, she said we won’t let her get away with it. Maybe it was the way she said it—the intensity. I don’t know exactly what, but she’s like me in some ways—a dog with a bone, as you once said—and in other ways she is my polar opposite. I pushed Andrew this morning—we had a good conversation while sorting through files—and he wouldn’t tell me squat. He let slip that it wasn’t Justin’s murder that pushed Lucy into the FBI. So what was it? He told me he wouldn’t tell me and not to ask about it.”

  “Is it relevant to this case?”

  “No, but—”

  “Then leave it alone. Some things are better left buried.”

  David might be right, and there was nothing about Lucy’s past that impacted this particular investigation. Well, Max didn’t know that, did she? She didn’t know anything about Lucy’s past.

  “I think you’re ticked off because her husband pushed your buttons, made you promise something you didn’t want to promise.”

  “You mean I can’t say word one about either of them.”

  David was right. That had rubbed her the wrong way.

  There was a knock at the door, and David answered. Lucy walked in. “Don Katella’s not here?”

  Max shook her head. “Coffee?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  Max made the coffee, then said, “I should have just ordered up a pot from room service.”

  Lucy sat across from David. He said, “Max said your brother was in the army.”

  “Yes, my oldest brother, Jack.”

  “Where?”

  “I was practically a baby when he enlisted—I know he went to boot camp at Fort Bragg, then did a tour in Central America. Became Delta a couple years later.”

  “I was army. Rangers.”