Kiss Me, Kill Me

TEN

Sean sat at his desk in his second-floor office. Lucy was sitting across from him, typing away on her laptop. The rain that had started when they left Woodbridge was a deluge by the time they’d pulled into his driveway. The steady downpour continued to drum against the windows.

The narrow, three-story, hundred-year-old house was both Sean’s business and residence. He and Patrick had done most of the renovation work themselves in December when they established RCK East. The living room downstairs had been converted into the main office, the library into Patrick’s office, and the formal parlor would someday be their assistant’s workspace—that is, when they had enough business to justify hiring an administrator. In the back, cut off from their work area by double doors, was the kitchen and living area. An enclosed sunporch led to a postage-stamp backyard dominated by two towering old trees.

Sean hoped the trees survived the storm. The winds were fierce.

Originally, combining their business and residences had seemed a smart move to save money while they built the business. Sean and Patrick had no problems living together because each had his own space. However, that was before Sean started sleeping with Patrick’s sister. Now, Sean wished he had his own apartment. Lucy had been uncomfortable sleeping with Sean under her older brother’s roof, and Sean certainly wasn’t going to ask her to stay with him now that Patrick was back in town. At least not until Patrick got over his problems with their relationship. Sean didn’t want to do anything to put his new relationship with Lucy in jeopardy.

He wanted to spend his time with her lying around in bed, talking, making love, watching her sleep. He missed the wonderful week they’d had before Patrick returned from his last job, when Lucy had spent every night in his bed.

“Do I have a zit on my nose or something?” Lucy asked.

He shook his head. “Sorry, I was thinking.”

“You were staring at me.”

“I was staring into space and you’re in the way.” He grinned and leaned forward. “You’re much prettier than empty space.”

“I think there’s a compliment in there somewhere,” Lucy said.

His computer beeped. He pulled up a message from Jayne Morgan, the computer magician at RCK. She could pull information out of thin air, or so it seemed.

He read the note and smiled. “Jayne came through. We got the name on that 917 number Kirsten has been calling. Jessica Bell.”

“Any idea who she is?”

“No, just the name and her address.”

“That’s a plus. New York City?”

“Yes.” He typed it into his computer. Up popped a map. “Three blocks from Columbia University.”

“Is she a student?” Lucy asked. “Maybe Kirsten was talking to her about going to school there.”

“She was only applying to California colleges,” Sean said.

“How do you know?”

“Her mother had a copy of all her applications. And I saw the brochures in her room.”

“Have you been able to retrieve her deleted emails?”

“Not yet. The program is still running, but the older they are the less likely I’ll be able to get them. I’m going to run a search on Jessica Bell at this address and see if I can learn anything more. Maybe Kirsten went to New York to visit this Jessica Bell, and got sick.”

“And didn’t have Jessica call her mother?” Lucy shook her head.

“Their relationship was rocky. Kirsten emailed Trey, not her mother, to let them know she was okay.”

“She was anything but okay.”

Sean caught Lucy’s eye. “She could have been high when she wrote that.”

“At eight in the morning?”

“Maybe left over from the night before.”

“I’ve been analyzing the message she sent,” Lucy said. “Sick can mean any number of things—being hungover, food poisoning, the flu—but she also says that she can’t walk.”

“You think she broke her leg?”

“If that’s the case, wouldn’t your search of the hospitals have come up with something?”

“Not if she refused to give her name, or used a false identity.”

“If she didn’t give her name, wouldn’t they have recognized her from the photo on the missing persons flyer?”

“I got this case yesterday morning. Less than forty-eight hours ago. I don’t think the hospitals have someone sitting on the emails and fax machines twenty-four/seven getting ready to distribute photos to all staff. Besides, we only sent out beyond a hundred miles when I found out about New York.”

Lucy glanced down.

“I didn’t mean to sound like that,” Sean said. “It’s just that in my experience missing teenagers are a lower priority. They probably posted her photo on a board and if someone recognizes her, they’ll contact the Woodbridge Police Department, or RCK. But she’s been missing since Friday, and the last time she used her phone was late Saturday night. Let’s assume she got hurt, broke her leg or something. Went to the hospital. If she tried to use her insurance, her name would be in the system, and as a minor they would have contacted her mother, or protective services.”

“You’re right.”

Lucy didn’t say anything more, and Sean mentally hit himself. She had been so defeated this morning, thinking she wasn’t good enough for the FBI, and here he’d shot down one of her theories.

He let it sit for a minute, then said, “What if she didn’t go to the hospital?”

Lucy either didn’t hear him or was ignoring him.

“Lucy, what is it?”

“It’s not important. You’re right, she was probably high.”

“Stop.”

She glared at him. “What?”

“You’re doing it again. I want to know what you’re thinking.”

“Why? It’s really just a way-out-there idea. You should probably talk to Kate. I bet she’ll have a reasonable theory.”

“If I wanted to bring Kate into the investigation, I would have done it already, but right now this isn’t a federal case, and she can’t help me.”

Lucy was torn, he could see it. He’d jabbed her where it hurt, because she didn’t want to feel like a failure. He needed her on her game, focused on finding Kirsten, and the only way to get there was to push her hard enough for her to realize that without her, they’d be two steps behind.

“I think she’s in hiding,” Lucy finally said. “I think she’s sick—either from drugs or the flu—but she’s hiding from someone. See?” She slid over a handwritten sheet where she’d copied down phrases from Kirsten’s email, rewording a couple but keeping them in context, removing all the extra words and unintelligible thoughts, and reorganizing the main ideas into groups under two headings. Personal Facts I’ve been sick I can’t walk right now No way of getting home Lost my phone Plenty of money In New York (view of bridge?) Want to play softball, now can’t Friend Her message was wrong Who would hurt her? They might know me Scared (to stay or go) I already miss her The paper doesn’t explain

Sean read the list twice, and saw exactly what Lucy did. “Her friend is dead.”

She nodded. “Could it be Jessica Bell?”

Sean narrowed his search to media sites. “If it was her, her death hasn’t been reported, at least not with her name.”

“Or maybe her body hasn’t been found. What if Kirsten saw something? Or she went to meet her friend and she was already dead? We don’t even know why she was going to New York. Unless—”

Lucy turned to her laptop and started typing rapidly.

“What are you looking for?”

“Just checking something.”

Sean resisted the urge to get up and look over her shoulder. He continued to narrow his search parameters on Jessica Bell by including Columbia University in the mix. He quickly confirmed that she was a student.

“That’s it,” Lucy said. “Look.” She turned her laptop to face him.

Lucy had brought up Kirsten’s page on Facebook, and showed all her “friends.”

Jessica Bell was among them.

“See her?” Lucy said.

Sean nodded and reached over to click on Jessica’s profile, to get a clearer image of the blonde, but Lucy slapped his hand. “Wait a minute, there’s more.” She switched tabs, and there was Kirsten’s Party Girl page. “Do you see her network of friends at the bottom?”

“Yes.”

“Now click on the girl named ‘Jenna.’ ”

Sean did as Lucy said, and a larger picture came up. “It’s Jessica.”

“Exactly. That’s why Kirsten went to New York—to visit Jessica—and I suspect it had something to do with activities related to the Party Girl site. It’s no coincidence.”

Sean looked at Lucy’s list of Kirsten’s key phrases. “She’s scared because something happened to Jessica, and she’s hiding. Or maybe she’s hiding out with Jessica. If the two of them are in trouble, they might think it’s better to lay low for a while.”

“Especially if they were injured or attacked. But, from the message, it seems that Jessica is the one who’s missing. And if that’s the case, who’s Kirsten staying with?”

“Maybe at Jessica’s apartment.”

“Could be. She’s scared, but sounds like she doesn’t want to leave. She says it’s pretty and there’s a view of a bridge. Is there a bridge near Jessica’s apartment?”

“There are lots of bridges in New York,” he said. “That’s what Google Earth is for.” He zeroed in on Jessica’s address. “She wouldn’t be able to see any bridge from that location. So if Kirsten’s not at Jessica’s, who’s helping her?”

“Maybe someone else on her friend list.” Lucy pulled out a sheet where she’d noted all the friends on Kirsten’s Facebook and Party Girl profiles.

“That’s a lot of people to go through, but we can get started tonight. Before we go to New York.”

“You’re going to New York?”

“We are going to New York,” Sean said. “You and me. That’s where Kirsten is, and Trey is likely there by now if he didn’t drown in this storm.”

“You really want me to go?”

“I won’t go without you,” he said.

“Let’s get back to work.” Lucy stretched her back, then turned the laptop back to face herself. Sean rose and walked behind her chair. He put his hands on her shoulders and used his thumbs on her muscles. “You’re really tense. You’ve been working too long without a break.” He switched to his palms and wondered how much of her tightness was from the FBI letter and how much was from their work today.

“Umm,” she moaned and closed her eyes, her head tilting back as she relaxed, revealing her long, elegant, smooth neck. “Don’t stop.”

Lucy had no idea how sexy she looked in this position. Her lips parted a fraction, and he swallowed. He wanted to make love to her right here, right now, on his desk. Or the floor. Or he’d carry her to his bed—he didn’t really care where they were.

He leaned over and kissed her, upside down. Then he continued rubbing her upper back and arms.

“What was that for?”

“I was compelled to kiss you. You must have cast a spell over me. I’m completely enchanted, Princess.”

“That’s right,” she teased with a sly smile, “so keep working on those muscles, Prince Charming, and I might share another kiss.”

“All right, if you insist.” Her hair hung down the back of the chair in black waves. Her cheeks were high and well formed, her nose long and narrow, her skin with just a hint of brown, a light blend of her Irish-Cuban heritage. He stared at the daisy that rested in the dip of her neck and was taken aback at the powerful emotions hitting him. He’d known Lucy was special from the beginning, but at this moment, he felt something else: a complex need to love and protect her, to support her now and later, to give her everything he could—not material objects, but his real self.

He was far from perfect. Smart? Oh, yeah, he was a damn genius, if anyone looked at his IQ. Sometimes too smart, and he had a past that someone who liked him might charitably call “colorful.” But Sean was still the same person he’d always been, the one with the overwhelming need to right wrongs, even if that meant breaking the law. He was no vigilante, not by a long shot, but he could not tolerate bullies. They made him see red, and that had gotten him into hot water many times.

Lucy needed to know everything about him, but it wasn’t as if he could just sit her down and give her a chronological history of his life, the good, the bad, and the illegal. His big brother Duke had gotten him out of trouble more times than he could count, but Duke didn’t know everything. And even now, Sean didn’t regret his past. If he hadn’t turned the tables on that pedophile professor at Stanford, how many other little girls would the man have molested before he was caught?

Sometimes, you had to do the right thing even when it got you in trouble.

Lucy looked peaceful, an expression he hadn’t seen on her much lately. He loved that he was able to give her that momentary peace, that she could relax with him, that he made her laugh and smile.

He kissed her again; he couldn’t resist.

“Your hands are amazing,” she said, obviously enjoying the shoulder massage.

“I know.”

“The Rogan ego speaks.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He turned her chair to face him.

She opened her eyes and raised an eyebrow. “Done so soon?”

“I haven’t gotten started yet.” Putting his hands on the armrests on either side of her, he leaned over and kissed her, drawing her bottom lip into his mouth. Her hands went up to the back of his neck, her long fingers in his hair.

I’ve missed you.

“What?” she murmured faintly.

Had he spoken out loud? Maybe he had. He pulled his lips reluctantly from hers. “I’ve missed being with you. I was spoiled when you stayed here. Ten days. I liked sliding between the sheets and smelling you even after you went back home, but even Rogans have to wash their sheets.”

It was a joke, at least the last part, but she didn’t smile.

“What?” He kissed her. “Did I say something?”

She shook her head and pulled his lips back to hers. He couldn’t read Lucy the way he read other people, yet her depth and complexity had drawn him in from the beginning.

“Excuse me,” a voice came from the doorway.

Lucy jumped, her body instantly tense, and Sean stood, taking one of Lucy’s hands into his.

Patrick stood in the doorway, a dark cloud over his face. Lucy saw it, and she looked embarrassed.

That angered Sean. He wasn’t angry at Lucy, but he was furious with Patrick for sounding so self-righteous in his tone, for making Lucy uncomfortable. What he and Lucy shared should make her happy, but Patrick was doing everything he could to put a wedge between them, however subtle. Their conversation yesterday had revealed the ugly truth, and if Patrick thought Sean was backing down he was an idiot.

“I have the preliminary background checks done on Trey Danielson and his family, and the server host information from the Party Girl website.”

“Anything interesting?” Sean asked. Lucy tried to extract her hand, but he wouldn’t let her go.

“Danielson is an only child. His father is a high-ranking consultant for the Congressional House Committee on Appropriations. His mother works for the Library of Congress. They’ve been married for twenty-six years. Danielson has an older brother, career Army, deployed in Afghanistan, rank first lieutenant. Twenty-four years, went through the ROTC program at University of Virginia. Nothing pops on any of them, but with the dad’s position I need to be cautious so I don’t trip any invisible wires the FBI might have on him. So far I haven’t found anything on the kids, either, at least in official records. Trey has a 2005 Ford Ranger registered in his name. I sent you the license, make, and model.”

Patrick continued. “As far as the server that hosts the Party Girl site, it’s routed through several different servers, but I traced it to New York City. There’s a duplicate site in Europe.”

“New York?” Yet another connection. “Do you have an address?”

“Just the provider, but that means nothing. It’s just an office. I don’t know where the servers are, and the site itself has full privacy protections, using the provider as the contact and address.”

“That’s all I need,” Sean said. “Once I know the host I can track down who pays the bills.”

“Don’t you dare hack into the database,” Patrick said.

Sean didn’t like Patrick’s tone. “I have no intention of hacking into any place. I have plenty of legal ways to get the information we need, especially since Lucy and I are going to New York in the morning.”

Patrick looked at Lucy, then said to Sean, “You’re bringing my sister? I’m your partner.”

Sean realized he’d handled this poorly, but Patrick had overstepped with the hacking comment.

“Kirsten is a teenager who may need help when we find her. We don’t know what’s been going on with her, but she’s more apt to trust Lucy than a strange man.”

“Sounds good,” Patrick said sarcastically.

“What’s your problem?”

“I thought we were equal partners. But if you’re calling the shots, fine. I’ll hold down the fort here.”

Lucy stood. “It’s not like that, Patrick.”

“It’s not like what?”

“Hold it,” Sean said. He needed to defuse the situation. “You want to go to New York, go right ahead, but Lucy is the one who figured out that Kirsten and Jessica Bell—the 917 number she had been calling for several months and the last call she made—are both on the Party Girl site. She understands how these things work better than either of us. And Kirsten is in serious trouble.”

“Then you should bring in the police.”

“I will, when we have more than a cryptic message to go on. What can the police do?”

“Put out a BOLO? Talk to their informants? Work the case?”

“For a teenager who has been branded a habitual runaway?” Sean shook his head. “When I have something to turn over, I will. I’m not a maverick.”

“Really?”

Lucy said, “Patrick, I think that Kirsten got into something she can’t get out of, and she’s confused and scared and doesn’t have anyone to turn to. When we find her, we’ll have the answers. And get her the necessary help. She’s only seventeen. I doubt she considered the repercussions of what she was doing on the Party Girl site.”

“It was pretty clear from the photographs,” he snapped.

“You think that because she made a bad decision she deserves what she gets?” Sean asked.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

Patrick didn’t answer, but he looked torn. Sean wasn’t about to cut him any slack, however.

“What time are we leaving tomorrow?” Lucy asked Sean.

“Early. I’d fly, but in this weather it’s probably best we drive.” He looked at Patrick. “Unless you want to go.”

Patrick shook his head.

“I’ll pick you up at seven,” Sean told Lucy. “I should take you home now; it’s getting late.”

Lucy nodded. “Thanks, but I’d like Patrick to drive me.” She gave Sean a look that he thought held something secret, but he couldn’t figure it out. “Okay, Patrick?”

Her big brother shrugged. “I’ll get my keys.” He left.

“Luce, what’s wrong? Did I do or say something—”

She cut Sean off. “No, of course not.” She kissed him. It was a peck, nothing more, as if she were afraid Patrick would walk in again. “I want to talk to my brother, and it’s better if it’s just him and me.”

Sean frowned and grabbed her hands. “Why are you so tense when Patrick is around?”

“I’m not.”

“You act like he caught us doing something wrong.”

“No, I just feel funny—he hasn’t really come around to us seeing each other.”

“And what if he doesn’t?”

“He will.”

She kissed him again, and this time Sean didn’t let her back off. He held the back of her head, and kissed her long enough for her to feel it all the way home. “We’re going on vacation,” he said. “You, me, no one else.” They’d been planning to go after she’d recuperated from the attack five weeks ago, but then she’d needed to prepare for her FBI interview, and he knew she’d be too preoccupied waiting for the results to enjoy a long weekend away. Now? As soon as they found Kirsten, he was taking her away.

She smiled. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Three or four days, time to be together without any work, without stress, and without her overprotective brother.

Patrick pulled into the narrow driveway behind Dillon’s Lexus but kept the engine running. The heat had just started to warm the car when they reached the Kincaid house.

“You wanted to talk?” he asked.

“What’s wrong?” Lucy asked from the passenger seat.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

She shook her head. “Right. Nothing. You obviously don’t like me being involved with Sean. But he’s your friend and partner. You trust him. You like him.”

“In business, yes.” Patrick glared at her. “Not sleeping with my sister.”

“Okay, just get over it; you’re acting silly.” Lucy was trying to make the conversation light because she couldn’t bear for Patrick not to approve. That sounded silly, too—she’d never sought his approval for any previous boyfriend, but with Sean it was different because of the complexity of their personal and business lives. “You should be happy that I’m involved with someone you like and respect.”

“And you should respect my feelings and trust me.”

Lucy really didn’t understand why Patrick was being so negative about Sean. She pushed. “Patrick, you need to trust me. I’m twenty-five, I can pick my own boyfriends. Sean has been wonderful for me. He’s teaching me how to have fun, something I’ve missed for a long time. He makes me laugh. If you’re worried that if things fall apart it’ll impact you and your business, don’t. I’m mature enough to know that relationships don’t always succeed.”

“Why do you care what I think anyway?”

“Because you’re my brother and I love you.”

Patrick rubbed his eyes. “Luce, I’m sorry I’ve been a wet blanket. I don’t want to be.” He looked at her with the love and kindness she’d always associated with him. “Your happiness means more to me than anything. But I know Sean. Business? He’s honestly the smartest person I know. He’s a lot smarter than he acts sometimes, truly brilliant, and not just with computers. Also, he really cares about people, and he never gives up. He has a lot going for him.

“But with women,” Patrick continued, his tone going from admiring to disdainful, “time and again, he’s been shallow and self-indulgent. He has a past I’m sure he hasn’t shared with you, and I don’t think you’re going to like it very much. He doesn’t stick, not in relationships. He doesn’t even see it in himself. In the short time I’ve known him, he’s had dozens of girlfriends. Models and actresses and trust-fund bimbos. Most of them as self-indulgent as he is. He grew tired of them, because that’s the way he is. You deserve someone who will love you, who will stick by you, forever. In good times and bad, that kind of commitment. You need to come first.”

Lucy didn’t like this conversation, and almost regretted having started it, but at least she knew exactly where Patrick stood. “I understand what you’re saying, but I don’t think you know Sean as well as you think.”

“Maybe you don’t.”

“Just let me work my way through this. Sean isn’t perfect, and neither am I. But you need to have faith in me, even if I make a mistake. No matter what happens, I’ll be okay.”

He shrugged. “I can’t change the way I feel. I’m sure you’ll be fine—you always seem to bounce back. I’ve always supported your decisions because I understood them, but you need to be honest with yourself. Your decisions about men have never been good, and I don’t see them changing now.”

Nothing Patrick could have said would have stunned Lucy more. She got out of the car, stepping into the rain, and walked to the front door without looking back.

Maybe she had it wrong. Maybe he was talking about her ex-boyfriend Cody, or the one disaster of a relationship in college. Not what happened nearly seven years ago when she was eighteen.

She pushed it aside and walked through the door. Patrick couldn’t have been thinking about what had happened with Adam Scott, or how she’d been foolish and stupid.

Dillon and Kate were in the family room watching a movie. She called out to them that she was setting the alarm, then went straight upstairs, not wanting to talk to anyone.

Patrick wasn’t thinking about her ill-fated online chats with the man she thought was college student Trevor Conrad. She’d never rid herself of the guilt she still harbored over her stupidity back then. She’d thought she was so smart, so safe. She had been anything but. Maybe it was that lack of common sense that had kept her out of the FBI.

“No, he didn’t mean that.” Lucy pushed it from her mind.

But Patrick’s other words came back.

He grew tired of them, because that’s the way he is.

She’d believed Sean when he’d told her that he liked her because she wasn’t like his other girlfriends, but maybe it was just a novelty. Maybe he’d grow tired of her—she was certainly not the fun and exciting, drop-everything-let’s-go-to-Hawaii type. He’d been talking about going away with her for the weekend practically since they met—and he was getting irritated that they hadn’t yet done it, she could tell.

She didn’t know why it bothered her so much. She’d told him she wanted to go slow, take things one day at a time. Could she really blame him if he decided she was too boring and serious for him?

Tears stung her eyes as if he’d already dumped her.

She cared about Sean so much … she couldn’t change that even if she wanted to. She was surprised at how close they’d gotten so quickly. Maybe Patrick had a point that she needed to take a step back emotionally.

If she could.