Megan said, “You may have heard that Jimmy Hunt, who testified that he hired you to kill a drug dealer, escaped from custody this morning. We have evidence that Mr. Hunt lied on the witness stand and that he did not in fact hire you.”
“I can save you time and energy, Agent Elliott. I’m not going to speak about my case.”
“That is your right, but the trial is over. Closing statements are on Monday, and it’s going to the jury. But I am compelled as an officer of the court to turn over the evidence that I have that Jimmy Hunt perjured himself. The prosecution will likely reopen the case. You will have standing to appeal.”
“This is a first—an FBI agent working against her own government to help an alleged killer go free.”
It was tricky, but Lucy wasn’t scared of Thompson. She was more scared of what would happen to Sean if they couldn’t find him. And she and Megan had agreed that the only way they could get Thompson to reveal anything was if he thought he was protecting Paxton.
“I’m more interested in the man who really hired you,” Megan said. “I know you’re protecting him, and I know why you’re protecting him.”
He didn’t say a word. He didn’t blink, he didn’t look worried.
Again, Lucy thought: This man is at peace.
“Mr. Thompson,” Lucy said.
“Call me Mike, please, Agent Kincaid.”
He spoke to her kindly. He’d been professional all around, but there was a slight change in his tone when he addressed her.
“Had you heard of me before we met?” she asked.
He didn’t answer the question and didn’t lose eye contact. He knew exactly who Lucy was, and why she was important to Jonathan Paxton … but that revelation was subtle.
“I have a story to share,” she said, deviating from what she and Megan had discussed earlier.
“Before I was born, there was a young woman who looked so much like me, she could have been my sister. Her name was Monique Paxton. She was truly beautiful.”
He didn’t flinch at the name Paxton, but there was a subtle shift, from alert to hyperalert. He was waiting for something … but she didn’t think he knew what he was waiting for.
“Monique wanted to be a nurse—she volunteered at her local hospital and read to the sick children every Sunday afternoon for three years. She was in advanced math and science classes. She was smart and studious. But, like many teenagers, she wasn’t perfect. She made mistakes. But no one should pay for their mistakes with their life. Monique was murdered by her boyfriend—a boy no one knew she was dating. That boy got away with that crime and many more for twenty years.
“Even before I joined the FBI, I knew that violence hurts more people than the victim. Violence destroys families. To have a loved one stolen from you for no reason except another human being’s sick needs, it tears you up inside. Especially when it’s your child. It twists your heart. The grief. The anger. You can’t breathe … you can barely think of anything but your child … even though you don’t want to. Because when you see her smile in a photo and hear her laugh in your dreams, you can’t help but flash to her last moment, her final breath, and feel the weight of your loss. That you weren’t there. That you couldn’t save her.”
Thompson didn’t move. His eyes were glassy, his face was flushed, but no tears fell. Lucy almost felt guilty for what she was doing to him. She knew his pain. Hers was different—she’d lost her nephew, but she’d been a child and didn’t understand what happened until years later. But she’d also been a victim. She’d almost died. She’d also been a vigilante. She’d killed the man who hurt her. She understood Michael Thompson. She felt for him, and because she felt his pain as it seeped through his soul, she wanted to stop.
But she couldn’t.
“Jonathan Paxton suffered when he lost his daughter. His suffering never ended. He didn’t know what happened to her. Adam Scott made her disappear, literally vanished her with chemicals, destroyed her remains, and it wasn’t until twenty years after her death that Jonathan knew what happened to Monique. Twenty years to live with the unknown, the pain, the regret, the grief, the anger. What could he have done to save her? Every morning and every night he woke up with Monique.
“The truth didn’t set him free. Instead, the truth twisted his grief even more. Yet … he has a spine of steel, an inner strength that draws people to him. It drew me to him. I worked for him for a year, while I was getting my master’s degree in criminal psychology. I loved what he was trying to do as a senator. That he fought for crime victims. That he stood up for those who couldn’t speak for themselves. No one cared as much as Jonathan. I knew I looked like his daughter, and maybe in the back of my mind there were warning signs, but I either didn’t understand them or intentionally ignored them because I believed in Jonathan and his strong sense of justice.
“He is a master of charm and manipulation. He uses people—instead of helping them find real peace and forgiveness, he stokes their anger, milks their grief, and turns good people into killers. Good people like Sergio Russo.”
He flinched. It was his only movement since she started talking.
“Good people like you.
“I know exactly what you’re thinking, Mike. The people you kill escaped justice. They hurt others and saw no punishment for their crimes. The allure to end them is strong. They do not deserve to live. And you have convinced yourself of the righteousness of your cause. Because if not you, who will stop them before they hurt another child?”
Lucy took out her phone and opened her photos. She’d spent two hours compiling the photos and memorizing the facts while waiting for Stockton to arrange this interview.
“You were on trial for two murders, ostensibly you were hired to kill the men. But we both know that you weren’t hired. At least not in the traditional sense. You are, essentially, on staff for Jonathan Paxton. But this wasn’t about money. It’s never been about money. It’s about vengeance. It’s about righting wrongs—a noble cause. Jonathan fueled your anger. You live with your dead daughter every day. You can never truly find peace, because Jonathan uses that pain to wind you up to kill for him.”
She flipped to the first picture. “The teacher you killed in San Antonio. But Jimmy Hunt didn’t hire you, and he wasn’t killed because he was a drug dealer. You knew that he had facilitated rape through selling date rape drugs. And if I dig down? I’ll find his victims. I’ll know how he ended up on Jonathan’s radar.”
She showed the next photo. “Randy Corbin. He was killed in a hit-and-run in Michigan. A quiet little suburb … where he was a youth pastor for a church. Four parents went to authorities and filed reports that their teenage daughters had been raped by Corbin. Four victims. And one by one, they all recanted. The church did nothing. And one of those girls ended up committing suicide. What you didn’t know was that there was an active FBI investigation into not only Corbin but other members of that church for sexual assault and the creation of child pornography. He would have been arrested. He would have been held accountable for his crimes.”
Lucy flipped to the next photo. One by one she showed Thompson the photos of his victims. He had no reaction, at least on the surface. She recounted their suspected crimes—things she and Megan had dug up over the last few hours. Some unprovable, some rumors, but Lucy was certain if the FBI opened an investigation, they would find the victims of these people.
One by one until she’d finished. Then she waited until Thompson looked her in the eye. He didn’t waver. She had rocked him—she could tell in his posture, by the tension in the room, the tightness in his jaw. But he didn’t look away.
“Your victims weren’t good people. But you created other victims. Among your known kills, they had thirteen minor children. Nine adult children. Twenty-six siblings. Three were married. Six had at least one living parent. Corbin, for example, had fathered two children out of wedlock, but the mothers were either too ashamed or too scared to name him as the father. He had a net worth of three million dollars,
but they can’t claim it now. They could have, had he been arrested and they came forward. You took that option away from them.
“I understand why you did what you did. It does not make it right or just. You think because Jonathan Paxton lost his daughter that he understands your grief? He doesn’t. He used you. And your silence is going to allow him to use others.
“Honestly, I probably wouldn’t care. I’m not going to lose any sleep because a pedophile and a rapist are dead. But Jonathan is a narcissist who believes that he is always right. That anything he does is justified. There are good men and women sitting in prison today because they refuse to speak against him. Loyalty is noble, to a point. But their loyalty is misguided. They suffer so he can be free.”
She realized that wasn’t a selling point as soon as she said it. Because Michael Thompson was suffering every day of his life. The pain from the murder of his daughter had never found a healthy outlet. You never got over loss, but you could find ways to survive it. You had to, or become a hollow shell.
“He’s obsessed with me,” she continued. Keep it personal. “He’s called me Monique more than once. And not just because I look like his dead daughter, but because he wants me to love him as a father. He orchestrated the escape of Jimmy Hunt—a cruel and violent drug runner, the man who testified that he hired you. But he only did it because the Hunt family framed my husband for murder. If I know Jonathan Paxton—and I do—Jimmy Hunt is as good as dead. He used him to get to my husband, but he won’t let him live. Hunt facilitated the rape and murder of a dozen or more women, all for his sick son. Jonathan would want that crime punished. So, why this elaborate plan, I don’t know. That’s the only thing I can’t figure out—why frame Sean? Why kidnap a federal agent? My husband is not a predator. He’s saved the lives of countless women and children through his selflessness and bravery. Yet Jonathan wants to punish him … or me. The only thing I’ve done to Jonathan Paxton is walk away from him.
“Mike,” Lucy said, fighting to keep the emotion out of her voice, “you loved your daughter Sarah with all your heart and soul. I know you did. Would she want you to kill in her name? Would she want you to tarnish her short, beautiful life with these acts of violence? Is this how you want your daughter Whitney to remember you?”
A single tear slipped from the corner of Thompson’s eye. It slowly dribbled down his narrow face. He made no move to wipe it off, showed no reaction to it whatsoever.
“I don’t know what grievance Jonathan has with my husband.” Sean had certainly been party to Paxton’s downfall, but so had she and several other FBI agents. Why single out Sean? “But I know that Jonathan is behind this entire thing. Working with Hunt and his daughter to frame Sean for murder. Getting into the prison system database to put Sean on the transport with Hunt. Orchestrating the escape. Sean will die if I don’t find him. I love my husband more than anything in the world. So I am asking you, as one survivor to another, where is Jonathan Paxton?”
Chapter Forty-five
MONTGOMERY, TEXAS
Jonathan Paxton ended the call from his house manager in New York.
This was certainly unfortunate.
Though the FBI agent who spoke with Margery said they wanted to talk to him about a current investigation in which he might be of help, that was a lie. For two and a half years, he’d spoken directly to no one in the FBI. When they wanted to communicate, they did so through his lawyer.
Visiting his house on a Saturday evening was certainly out of the ordinary.
It wasn’t Hunt—he had no reason to blab, and he’d only known of Paxton’s involvement recently. Jonathan trusted Colton more than anyone on his staff outside of Sergio Russo. Neither would make a tactical error. Thompson … he wouldn’t betray him. He had wanted to kill himself when he was caught; Jonathan was the one who convinced him not to.
There is much good you can do in prison, he’d told him.
Thompson was eager to get started.
Then who?
Jonathan closed his eyes and replayed the last three years.
He’d kept tabs on Lucy. He had to; he loved her. He had grown increasingly worried about the danger she was in because of the man she’d mistakenly fallen in love with.
But he didn’t interfere.
A good father never interfered unless their daughter was in immediate danger.
But he should have.
He should have found a way to stop Monique from dating Adam Scott.
He should have found a way to stop Lucy from moving in with Sean Rogan.
But he waited. Watched. Grew angry. Didn’t act. He focused on his primary mission: to make sure no father, no mother, no family suffered as he had suffered. And if they did? They would find peace when the man (or woman) who caused the suffering was wiped from the face of the earth.
Thompson had been arrested. It was a fluke, a witness plus a good cop plus a small mistake. Who could have predicted it? Michael would have killed himself … Jonathan couldn’t live with that. Not a good man, never a good man.
Then Colton analyzed the situation and came up with the idea to find someone to testify that he’d hired Thompson.
Because there were some money issues that might be traceable to Jonathan.
But who …
That’s when Jonathan took the information he knew about Sean and was able to track down Jimmy Hunt. It was a bit of a tightrope exercise, but it worked.
And he’d kept his fingers mostly out of it.
So how did they know? And so fast?
How, dammit?
Then Jonathan realized he’d made one tactical error. His blind spot, his one weakness.
Lucy.
She wouldn’t take the accusations against Sean at face value; she’d investigate herself. And he expected that, had planned for it—that’s why the gun had been planted, why other information had found itself to the investigative team so they would believe that Sean was having an affair with Mona. Information that would eventually get to Lucy, so she would doubt.
Lucy was smart—smarter than most people Jonathan dealt with on a day-to-day basis.
If she was so smart, why hadn’t she fallen in love with a man like Colton Thayer? A noble man, a man dedicated to doing the right thing always.
Instead Lucy had fallen for Sean, a womanizer and criminal who claimed to have turned over a new leaf, but had he? Lucy had been in danger because of him not once or twice, but at least five times. More, most likely … there were five that Jonathan knew about. What kind of man stayed with a woman when he put her life in perpetual danger?
It was unconscionable!
He had thought about killing Sean. Michael Thompson was more than willing to do it. Yet … Lucy might fall apart and grieve, and Jonathan didn’t want to hurt her.
He wanted her love to turn to hate. He wanted her to grow a backbone and never settle for a man unworthy of her. He had to destroy Sean Rogan—so Lucy would see that he was rotten, deep down bad news.
The plan had somewhat gotten away from him. Simpler was always better, but he’d been convinced that killing Sean in prison—his second idea, after planting treasonous evidence on his computer failed—would make him a martyr to Lucy.
Jonathan had long had the idea that he and Lucy would make amends. She had told him she never wanted to see him again, but he’d hoped that when she realized that he had always looked out for her, had always had her best interests at heart, that they could do so much good together … yet she wouldn’t speak to him. Without Sean in the picture, a few months from now, he would find a way to run into her. By accident. And she’d remember that they had once been friends, that he’d looked out for her, that he loved her as if she were his daughter.
She’d return to the fold.
It was a dream that kept him going, even though he knew the odds were slim. All the things he loved and admired about Lucy—her perseverance, her wisdom, her strength—told him she wouldn’t easily forgive.
But couldn’t she see that h
is way was the best way? Without Sean Rogan in the picture clouding her judgment, she would see the truth.
Yet … he knew that if she never came back to him, he would still protect her, as he was doing now. Protect her from her one flaw: the inability to see through men who were no good for her.
That might have to appease him.
Once Sean Rogan was gone.
Chapter Forty-six
HOUSTON, TEXAS
“I thought he would talk,” Megan said when they left the jail. “He was so close.”
“I knew he wouldn’t, but I’d hoped by appealing to his loss that he might give me something.”
“Well, his reaction was confirmation, at least for me, that your theory is right. And we can convince Rick. But beyond that … I don’t know.”
They were heading back to the hotel. It was late; Lucy was exhausted. Talking to Thompson had been emotionally stressful; her head pounded. She didn’t know how she would sleep. Not only was she worried about Sean, she hadn’t heard from Patrick in hours. She’d told him about Paxton and he said he had an idea and would call later.
“Lucy?”
Lucy glanced at Megan. “Sorry. I hope he’ll reach out after he thinks about what I said.” She had given him her direct cell phone number, and Megan instructed the guards that if he wanted to make a call to let him—and to record it. He might not call Lucy, but he could call Paxton.
“You had me feeling sorry for him—you really understood him, showed him that.”
“I feel for him. He lost his daughter and went through a deep depression and paranoia. He didn’t get any help, or if he did, he didn’t stick with it. And sometimes, the guilt keeps eating at you. Paxton used that, turned him into a weapon. Thompson is a true believer in his mission and so I didn’t get through to him. For a minute I thought…” She shrugged. She couldn’t save Thompson. Maybe he was beyond saving.
Lucy continued. “We have to find Paxton. He could be anywhere by now—we don’t know what his plans are. Why does he want Sean? What did Sean do to him? I mean, more than what anyone else did who took him down. I know he always disliked Sean, and the feeling was mutual, but to frame him for murder?”
Cold as Ice Page 33