Mortal Sin (13 page)

She had other things to worry about that were much more important than Prenter. She wished Kate had let her help with Morton’s computer files, because being proactive might allow her to forget, at least temporarily, that she was in limbo. That she had no real job, simply an internship with the D.C. Medical Examiner’s Office. That she was waiting for a slow-moving bureaucracy to grant her an interview, to get her to the next step in the too-long application process for the FBI. The more she sat doing nothing of substance, the more she realized how alone she was. Even with her family, her friends, her job, and her volunteer work, Lucy was very much alone.

Sean decided at the last minute to check in on Lucy and clue her in to his plans. That was a lie, he supposed,
because she’d been on his mind all afternoon and stopping by seemed to be inevitable.

She answered the door dressed in sweatpants and a faded blue Georgetown T-shirt, the bulldog mascot prominent. Her hair was wet and loosely braided down her back, the end over her shoulder. “Sean?” she said, her surprise evident in her tone.

“Can I come in for a minute?”

“Of course.” She closed the door behind him. It hadn’t snowed all day, but when the sun disappeared the temperature had dropped dramatically—and it hadn’t been warm to begin with.

“Is Kate here?” Sean asked.

“No—did you want to talk to her?”

Sean didn’t know if it was his own wishful thinking, but he thought he detected a hint of disappointment in Lucy’s voice.

“I came to talk to you.”

Lucy put up a shield, so obvious to Sean that he practically saw the veil fall over her expression. She walked down the hall to the dining room, but Sean said, “Let’s go in the family room. A little more comfortable, don’t you think?”

She shrugged but led him back. He’d been to the house a couple of times with Patrick. It was far more formal than the RCK house, though the family room was cozy and well lived in.

Lucy sat Indian style on the chair closest to the fireplace, not an open hearth like at RCK, but enclosed and functional, designed to heat the house.

“Well, I thought we should celebrate,” Sean said as he sat on the couch, “but I forgot to pick up champagne.”

“Celebrate?”

“I talked myself out of a speeding ticket.”

Sean grinned widely and Lucy smiled, just a bit. “You did?”

“Yep, the trooper was a hard sell, but that’s simply a new challenge.”

“How?”

“My charm and wit.”

She laughed, then covered her mouth as if she’d surprised herself.

“I can’t give away all my secrets,” Sean said. “But I did want to talk to you about something.”

His tone, though he tried to keep it light, gave him away, and Lucy’s good humor quickly dissipated. She was exceptionally perceptive, even to the subtlest signs. It was unnerving, and Sean almost didn’t tell her what he was up to. But her family had kept her in the dark for years; he wasn’t going to start this new friendship—this
relationship
—with deception.

“Patrick called me earlier and wanted to fly back, but I convinced him to stay in California and finish the job.”

Lucy rubbed the back of her neck. “I talked to him late last night and told him not to come, that I’m fine. Morton’s dead; he can’t hurt me.”

Physically
was the unspoken word. “That’s what I said, but Patrick’s concerned and asked if I’d kind of keep an eye out for you. I wanted to be up front about that, because I promised him I would.”

She frowned but didn’t say anything.

Sean continued. “One of the things we’re concerned about, from a security perspective, is that we don’t know why Morton came to D.C. It probably has nothing
to do with you, but because he was killed nearby, and we don’t know what he was up to, I’m going to look into Morton’s death. On the q.t.”

Lucy had to have heard Sean wrong. Her stomach churned uncomfortably, her light dinner now feeling like a lead ball. She could understand Patrick asking Sean to check up on her, that didn’t really bother her that much—in fact, it bothered her not at all—but what did that really have to do with Morton?

She said, “I don’t get it. Why?”

Sean leaned forward, his forearms on his thighs. “It’s my job, it’s what I do best, Lucy, but I don’t want to do it behind your back. I’m not going to interfere with the FBI investigation, but some of my research may cross paths with theirs, and I don’t want you to be surprised.”

She shook her head. Nothing about this would end well, she was certain of it. “I can’t have you crossing
any
paths with the FBI. It could hurt my chances getting accepted.”

“I have many contacts, and the FBI has many limitations.”

But maybe it wasn’t just that Sean might get in hot water with the Bureau. It was that he would be digging into
her
life and
her
past. It would be inevitable, even if Morton’s murder had nothing at all to do with her.

Except that wasn’t the case. Kate was at Quantico now because Morton had been starting Trask Enterprises all over again.

“Lucy?”

“The FBI found evidence in Denver that Morton was re-creating a new online sex website,” she said quietly, unable to look Sean in the eye. “Kate’s going through the files at Quantico.”

Sean didn’t say anything. Her stomach tightened even more, and she thought she might be sick. She didn’t want to talk about any of this with Sean, but she didn’t see how she could avoid it.

“Luce.” Sean took her hands into both of his. She stared at their joined hands, a warmth spreading through her, relaxing her better and faster than any of her panic-control techniques, as if he were drawing her tension into him.

“You’re not alone. Kate is good at her job, you know that. I’m good at mine. I can find answers. At the very least, we need to know if you’re in any danger.”

“The only danger I’m in is of being humiliated and exploited on the Internet,” she said bitterly.

His hands tightened around hers. “I won’t let anyone exploit you.”

She jerked her head up and stared at Sean. She had never heard him sound so venomous. Every time she’d seen him, up until last night, he’d been witty and seemingly lighthearted. Smart, but shallow.

He had far more depth than she’d thought. It made her wonder if his typical carefree attitude was his protective shell.

“The FBI isn’t going to let this case go. Kate won’t let them.”

“I agree. But it won’t hurt if I sniff around. Quietly.”

“Just don’t get in trouble.”
And don’t get me in trouble
.

“I’ll do my best,” he said, trying to sound casual but failing. “Patrick said there’s something you need to do tomorrow. Said if you won’t cancel, I should go with you.”

“It’s a fund-raiser for WCF, the victims’ rights group I volunteer for. You’d be bored.”

“But you’re going?”

“I have to. And honestly, whatever Morton was here for, if it was to hurt me—he’s dead. I don’t know any of his other cronies, so I highly doubt anyone is after me. There’s no reason.”

“I agree, but humor us, okay?”

She nodded. She hadn’t wanted to go alone, anyway.

“Good. Now, how formal?”

“Business attire.”

“And here I thought I could wear my tux. I bought it for my brother’s wedding and haven’t worn it in two years.”

Suddenly, there was nothing Lucy wanted more than to see Sean in a tuxedo. He would look good in anything, but a tux would be … incredible. “That might be a tad too formal,” Lucy said.

“Another time.” He smiled at her and Lucy knew he was talking about them, a date—her and Sean. Just the way he smiled, the way his blue eyes brightened mischievously, the way his fingers began to tap on the palm of her hand, she realized he was flirting. Subtle, but she couldn’t miss it. She was speechless.

She couldn’t just stare at him. “You want to drive tomorrow or shall I?” Lucy asked Sean.

He looked at her with mocked indignation. “I always drive.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You do?”

“I’m a guy. You have brothers, you must understand that it’s our right. Isn’t it in the male code book? Men always drive?”

He said it with such a straight face she couldn’t help but smile. “What if I drive your car?” she asked.

Now he really did look pained. “My car?”

“What, you don’t let anyone take it out?”

“No.” He was serious about that one. “I might let you drive it someday,” he said cautiously. “But not tomorrow.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

“Yeah, I thought so,” he grumbled.

Lucy had heard Kate come in late, and hoped she’d get a chance to talk to her about Morton’s files first thing in the morning, but while Lucy showered, Kate left. She’d sent her a text message on her cell phone:

“Kate.” Lucy shook her head, her smile more bittersweet than happy. She loved her sister-in-law so much, which made the lies that much harder. She had to find a way to forgive her, and Dillon, or she wouldn’t be able to live under the same roof. More than that, she didn’t want this distrust to become a chasm between them, but she didn’t know how to get rid of it. It was easy to
say
“I forgive you,” but it was much harder to feel it. She prayed time would help.

She went downstairs and heard the thump of the newspaper hitting the front door as she poured a cup of coffee. Lucy rarely read the paper, but her brother Dillon was old-fashioned, maintaining a subscription to a physical newspaper rather than reading online the way Lucy and Kate preferred. The papers had stacked up in his study, and Lucy picked the Saturday morning paper
off the stoop to add to the five that were already there. She couldn’t miss the small headline in the bottom right corner.

She brought the paper to the kitchen table. Normally she didn’t care about drug-related crimes, but since a student from a nearby college was involved, it piqued her interest.

The story was shocking.

Liquid date-rape drugs. Lucy dry heaved, waves of first fiery heat then icy cold coursing through her nerve endings. Her skin turned clammy, and she stumbled as she stood and ran to the bathroom, fearing she’d get sick.

Her stomach tightened painfully, but she put her head between her legs and breathed deeply until she felt the sensation pass. She ran cold water into the sink and washed her face, drenching a paper towel and putting it on the back of her neck.

She wanted a shower, the urge to scrub herself clean almost overpowering. But she’d showered only thirty minutes ago, and she wouldn’t give in to this unnatural obsession with cleanliness. Instead, she washed her face and hands long enough for her fingers to turn red. Her stomach ached and she leaned against the counter, willing herself to pull it together.

She needed to get a grip. How could she be an FBI agent when a news article could send her into a tailspin?

Focus
.

Prenter was robbed. D.C. was a violent city. How
many murders last year? Two hundred? More than one every other day. One forcible rape
each
day. Robbery and assault was astronomical, dozens every day.

Club 10
.

Why was he at Club 10 when he was supposed to be in Fairfax meeting her fictitious cyber-ego? By 9:45 when he was killed, he should have been on his way to jail. What happened?

Cody would have told her had he known, wouldn’t he? He was a D.C. cop; how could he not know?

But he didn’t work homicides specifically. He was patrol, so even if he’d heard about the robbery he’d have no reason to ask about the victim’s identity.

She had to talk to him, but she needed more information about the murder.

Lucy dressed quickly and left. She needed answers. Though it was Saturday, the morgue was still open to employees, and often the autopsy file included a copy of the police report. Having a plan settled her stomach and gave her the determination she needed to get through the rest of the day.

And, despite her alarm, she was more than happy to have something to focus on other than Roger Morton and what Kate found—or didn’t find—on his computer.

Noah Armstrong wasn’t surprised that Kate Donovan beat him to Quantico Saturday morning. She hadn’t wanted to leave last night, but he’d convinced her that if she didn’t get a couple of hours’ sleep, she’d be no good to him. By the time they had all the material transported to Quantico, logged into evidence, and processed it had been nearly two a.m. Now was not the time to cut corners. If Morton had indeed been working with a partner
and that partner was setting up an illegal porn site, if they didn’t preserve the chain of evidence, some creep might walk on a technicality. Nothing they found in these files would be admissible if they screwed up the basics.