“You thought she was reckless-”
“Don’t talk about her. Grace is nothing like you. Of course I read your file. You killed a man in cold blood.”
“I did.”
“You’ll do it again.” Laughlin stared at her, hatred in his eyes. At first Lucy was intimidated, but then she saw beyond the hate, and the pain deep inside.
Laughlin continued, “You’re on a vendetta. If you continue down this path, you’ll get yourself or your partner or innocent civilians killed. Can’t you see it?”
“A vendetta against who?”
He was surprised by the question.
“You said I killed a man in cold blood. You read my file; you know the man I killed raped me, put one of my brothers in a coma, and detonated a bomb in my other brother’s house. Maybe I did have a vendetta against him. But he’s dead. Whom do I have a vendetta against?”
“What would you do to people like Adam Scott? What would you do to stop them?”
“What would you do?”
“I’m asking the questions!” Laughlin was on edge. It was clear he hadn’t expected her to confront him, and the more angry and upset Laughlin became, the calmer Lucy was.
She said, “You think I want to be an FBI agent so I have some sort of authority to take down bad guys any way I can.”
“Exactly.”
She smiled sadly. “You don’t know me, Rich.” She leaned forward. “I want to be an FBI agent so I don’t take out bad guys any way I can.”
He stared at her, confused.
“To me,” she said quietly, “the badge, the gun, the responsibility that goes with being a federal agent, is my deterrent to taking the law into my own hands.
“Eight months ago I worked for Women and Children First! which was run by a former FBI agent, Fran Buckley. I loved Fran. She was my mentor. Then I learned she was using me to set up paroled sex offenders to be murdered.
“These men didn’t deserve freedom. They should have remained in prison, because they were going to reoffend. It was in their psychology, their actions, their thoughts. I knew it; Fran knew it. I wanted them back in prison. Fran wanted them dead.
“It would have been easy for me to join that cause. To be a vigilante for justice. Because sometimes, justice isn’t served. Sometimes, innocent people feel they have no choice but to fight back any way they can.”
“I think you were involved. I think you knew exactly what Buckley was doing.”
“Hmm.” Lucy wondered if he really believed what he said. “If you have any proof, you should turn it over.”
“How can anyone trust you?” he asked.
“All trust has to be earned. And that’s the crux of your problem.”
“My problem?”
“You trusted Grace. She betrayed the trust. Then she died. She died saving the lives of three other undercover agents, which should count for something. But you can’t yell at her; you can’t tell her she screwed up; you can’t ask why she didn’t trust you to back her up, why she changed the meeting place at the last minute. Maybe she had a damn good reason for doing so. Maybe if she hadn’t changed the meeting place, more people would have died. But you don’t know-the investigation into her death was inconclusive, but because you learned she had a history with the people she was trying to take down, you assumed the worst-that she screwed up because she was reckless, on a jihad against the gang who destroyed her family.”
He glared at her, his face red. “How do you know any of this?”
“I know people like Grace Johnson.” Lucy knew he wasn’t referring to her psychology, that he wanted to know how she knew about the case, but she wasn’t going to tell him. “I think Grace died to save many people who will never know of her sacrifice. I can’t tell you if she was needlessly reckless. I don’t know if she could have contacted you. You’ve never given her the benefit of the doubt, and now everyone who you think might have a vendetta is somehow unfit to carry a badge.”
“I don’t trust you,” Laughlin said.
“I hope someday I earn your trust.” Lucy was going to walk out then, but she remembered something else. “You knew Evan Standler.”
He glared at her.
“And that’s why you have been pressuring Kate. You used her guilt over the ambush where he was killed to try and get her to convince me to quit.” That was a guess, but Lucy suspected she was right. And by Laughlin’s expression, she was close.
“You think Kate screwed up and got your friend killed. Remember, Standler was her fiance. The ambush was just that-an unpredictable tragedy.”
“And then Kate goes rogue and disappears for five years in Mexico? You think that isn’t a problem?”
“Kate saved my life,” Lucy said simply. “I trust her as much as I trust anyone. And what really hurts is that you intentionally tried to sabotage our relationship. You played mind games with Kate, trying to get her to doubt me. Then when that wasn’t working fast enough for you, you pulled out the Hans Vigo card and effectively used it. If I were a lesser person, I would have quit. I was very close. But if I had quit, I might become the person you fear I could be.”
She leaned forward and said softly, “There are many organizations who would hire me because of my skill set. That I’ve chosen to work within a fairly rigid structure and within the law should tell you more about my character and trustworthiness than what you think I’ve done in the past.”
“How do any of us know what you’re going to do in the future?”
“How do you know what you’re going to do?” She tilted her head. “If you had the opportunity to kill the man responsible for pulling the trigger that ended the life of Grace Johnson, would you?”
He didn’t answer the question but instead said, “I’m testifying against the cartel.”
“At great personal risk. I respect that, Rich.” She stood. “Neither you nor I know what we would do in every future scenario. It comes down to character.”
Lucy left the office. Chief O’Neal and Paula Kean were standing in the outer room. Kean didn’t look happy with the situation, but O’Neal said directly to Lucy, “SSA Kean has been briefed on the situation. Agent Armstrong said he’d be waiting for you in the lobby. You will be back in the morning?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Twenty minutes later, Noah and Lucy walked into Prince William Hospital. Noah showed his ID and was directed to ICU, where Hans was recuperating after his surgery. “Go ahead,” Noah told Lucy. “I’m going to track down his doctor.”
Kate sat slumped outside the room, her eyes closed. Lucy thought she was sleeping until she opened one eye. “Hello,” she said.
Lucy sat next to her. “How is he?”
“They said the surgery was a success. But he hasn’t regained consciousness.”
“I talked to Rich Laughlin.”
Kate didn’t say anything.
“You should have told me.”
“He was right.”
“No, he wasn’t.” Lucy looked into Hans’s room. All the pain and guilt and vengeance that had brought that scaffolding down on him. The hatred that had ended with four people dead and a man stalked for half his life.
“Kate, you’re my sister in every way except blood. What hurts is that you believed him when he told you I was volatile. That you didn’t trust me.”
Kate leaned forward and stared at Lucy. “Is that what you think?”
“Yes. You didn’t talk to me; you treated me like I really was here on some kind of vendetta. You of all people should know my heart.”
Kate shook her head. “I never thought that. I meant, I thought he was right about me.” She closed her eyes. “I’m teaching at Quantico because I’m too scared to go back in the field. Scared of what I might do. Scared that I’ll make the wrong decisions. Quantico is safe.”