But she wanted to talk to Sean about Rosemary Weber; unfortunately, he was on a commercial flight from Sacramento and wouldn’t be landing until late tonight. Lucy considered calling Hans Vigo but immediately dismissed that idea. Now that Assistant Director Vigo was liaison between Quantico and headquarters, she didn’t want to use her connections for information.
She tried Suzanne, wanting to talk to her without the ear of Kean, but she didn’t answer her phone. Running out of options of who she could talk to, Lucy wondered if Kate was still on campus. Her sister-in-law was the cybercrimes instructor at Quantico and one of the few people Lucy trusted.
Lucy called Margo and told her she’d meet up with her and the others at the cafeteria, then went to find Kate. She crossed the campus to the Classroom Building, where Kate’s long, narrow office had more computer equipment than airspace. Lucy knocked but didn’t wait for an answer before opening the door.
Lucy came face-to-face with the back of a broad-shouldered man, standing right in front of Kate’s desk. Kate was facing him, the backs of her thighs against the edge. She was saying through clenched teeth, “I’m not going to forget.” Kate’s eyes widened when she saw Lucy, and she sidestepped the man in front of her. Her mouth was a tight, thin line. “Lucy.”
Lucy processed what she’d walked into. While she hadn’t seen them in a compromising position, it was obvious that Kate knew the man standing much too close to her-and knew him well.
“Excuse me.” Lucy’s voice was quiet; she was surprised she could say anything at all.
The man turned. Reva had called Special Agent Rich Laughlin “Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome,” but Lucy didn’t see it. Right now all she saw in his pale eyes was hatred.
“Kincaid.” Irritation laced his voice.
Her skin crawled, and she considered that Kate’s meeting might not have been friendly. She was actually relieved, because for a brief moment she’d thought the worst-that Kate was cheating on Dillon. Of course that wasn’t the case, and that Lucy had even thought it for a second made her feel guilty.
She straightened. “Sorry, sir.”
“You should wait for a response before entering a room,” Kate snapped. “What is it?”
“It’s not important. I’ll talk to you later.”
She left Kate’s office, heart racing, wondering what had just happened. She’d known Kate for seven years, had lived with her and Dillon for most of that time, and was closer to her than she was to her own two sisters. Kate could be sharp and abrasive, but Lucy had never heard that tone directed at her.
Lucy needed to talk to Kate, but not while Agent Laughlin was anywhere around. She was too upset to meet her friends for dinner, so made a detour to Supervisory Special Agent Tony Presidio’s office.
The basement was a fully self-contained two-story bomb shelter designed and built in the Hoover years so the FBI could continue operating in the event of a major national disaster. Though the Behavioral Science Unit and most other divisions had moved to off-site facilities or elsewhere on campus, there were still people, including Tony, who worked in the windowless offices and would until renovations and additions were complete.
Tony taught criminal psychology and Lucy had liked him from day one. He hadn’t been teaching at Quantico long-Class 12–14 was his third. He’d come from the Hostage Rescue Team and was unusually calm and even tempered. While many of her classmates found Tony intimidating and unapproachable, Lucy had developed a kinship with him over the three weeks she’d been here. Lucy enjoyed listening to his stories and asking questions, and she suspected he appreciated the genuine interest she showed in his experience.
Lucy was about to knock on Tony’s partly opened door but noticed him hunched over his desk, head in one hand, reading a thick file. He was one of the older agents, in his early fifties and nearing mandatory retirement, but he was physically fit and Lucy ran with him several days a week.
She turned to leave, not wanting to disturb him with something trivial. In fact, she’d almost forgotten why she’d sought him out in the first place.
He glanced up as she turned away. “Kincaid?”
“Sorry to bother you. I was on my way to the cafeteria-”
His eyebrows arched up and amusement lit his face. “By way of the basement?”
“It’s nothing.”
He waved her in. “I was going to call you anyway. Sit down.”
“What about?” She took the chair across from him.
He closed the file he was reading and put it aside.
“Special Agent Madeaux called me. Told me she’d spoken to you about Rosemary Weber’s murder.”
“Yes.” All thoughts of Laughlin and Kate vanished. “She’d called me about the book she was writing.”
“Suzanne said you didn’t share anything with the reporter.”
“I told her to leave me out of it. My involvement was never supposed to be public.”
“Suzanne is tracking down how Weber got your name, but the case wasn’t classified. She could have learned of your involvement fairly easily.”
Lucy bit her lip. She didn’t want anything she did to be in the public eye. She needed her anonymity.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“About what?”
“What’s bothering you.”
“I don’t know.” She did, but how did she tell Tony that she was worried her past would haunt her for the rest of her life? She’d believed time would erase her history, but it only made it permanent. “Did you know Weber?”
He nodded. “She wrote her first book while she was a crime reporter in Newark. It was one of my cases. A screwed-up case from the beginning, a true tragedy. Eleven-year-old girl kidnapped from her bedroom, raped and murdered. The parents lied about nearly everything, until we had enough evidence to catch them in their lies.”
As he spoke, his voice deepened and he held the edge of his desk, knuckles white, anger about the old case still evident.
Kidnapped from her bedroom.
In a low, emotion-filled voice, Tony said, “It was one of those cases that stay with you because it was senseless and so many lives were ruined.”
“Did you catch the killer?”
“Benjamin John Kreig. He’s serving life without parole.” Tony rolled his shoulders and leaned back in his chair, purposefully relaxing. Lucy had often done the same thing. If she could relax her body, she could relax her mind.
But Lucy was focused on what Tony had said.
Kidnapped from her bedroom and murdered.
“Lucy?” Tony prodded.
“You know my nephew was killed when I was seven.”
By Tony’s expression, he had known. Lucy didn’t expect that her life was private, however much she tried to keep her past to herself. Just one more reminder that she’d never escape.
Lucy continued, “Justin was a few days younger than me, and sometimes I made him call me Aunt Lucy just to tease him. I was closer to him than my brothers and sisters, who were all older than me. My sister, Justin’s mom, grieved so long, she couldn’t stay in San Diego. She moved to Idaho and became a hermit for more than a decade. She called our mom once a week, but Mom was always so sad afterwards, because Nelia wasn’t really living. Justin’s murder changed all of us. Dillon, for example, changed his focus from sports medicine to forensic psychiatry. When I asked him why, he said he wanted to understand what happened to Justin.”
“Is that what drives you? Answers?”
“Maybe.” No.
“Justice?”
Maybe. “I can’t sit by and let bad things happen.”