Love me to death

NINE

Only minutes after Lucy Kincaid left the FBI office and Noah went back to his desk, Abigail exclaimed, “Eureka!”

“Gold?” Noah asked.

“If you’re looking for a sleazy, flea-infested motel, then yeah, gold. The Triple Tree, outside Dulles. The manager said a guy matching Morton’s description paid cash for three nights on Thursday. He signed in as Cliff Skinner-Morton’s cousin-and never checked out.” Abigail grabbed her keys. “I’m going to check it out, get a confirmation on the ID, see if he left any belongings in the room, last sighting, the works.”

Noah glanced at his messages. “The SSA in Denver called while we were in with Kincaid. I’ll see what she’s found. Call when you’re done and we’ll compare notes.”

“You should have the full list-names and current contact info-on Morton’s associates before the end of the day. I dropped Rick Stockton’s name when staff balked at the amount of work needed to make the file current. Worked wonders.”

“Good-I want to clear this as soon as possible.”

Abigail leaned against the side of his cubicle. “You know, I might not be all that sad if we didn’t close it.”

Noah stared at his new partner. He didn’t like the direction of this conversation. “Morton was a scumbag, but we need to know who killed him. Punishment is up to the U.S. Attorney and the court system, not us.”

“We’ve done what Stockton wanted-cleared an active FBI agent, Kate Donovan. We know she didn’t do it, and nothing in her finances suggests she paid a hit man.”

“Not all hits are for money.”

“You’re going dark side here. Donovan doesn’t work in the field; she can’t let someone off in exchange for a hit, or screw with an undercover op.”

“All I’m saying is that there are a lot of unanswered questions. Morton was up to something-there’s no other reason he would come to D.C. in violation of his probation unless there was something big going down. We need to know what that is. There’s more here than a simple murder.”

“You got me there. Maybe he left a diabolical master plan for world domination in his motel room.” She winked.

“Let me know if you find it.”

After Abigail left, Noah picked up the phone and called SSA Monica Guardino.

Guardino answered the phone brusquely, and it was obvious by the background noise that she was in the field.

“Armstrong in D.C. returning your call.”

“Your dead guy was a prick, just want you to know.”

“I know. What did you find?”

“Morton was re-creating his old enterprise,” Guardino said. “His cousin Mr. Skinner, being cooperative after I pointed out he could be considered an accessory, said Morton maintained a studio apartment his probation officer didn’t know about. We popped the lock, found a high-end computer and dozens of boxes of pornography-DVDs and photographs mostly-including some photos that I’d wager my pension are of underage girls. But the kicker is, our e-crimes expert says Morton was downloading the DVDs and preparing them for Internet file sharing. Something about minimizing file sizes for bandwidth issues. The whole how-tos and why-fors are a bit over my head, but I trust my guy. I can hook you up with him-”

While Noah was technically competent, high-end cybercrimes were beyond his scope. “If you could box up everything and send it to me, I’ll have our cybercrimes team go through the files with a fine-toothed comb.”

“Already started boxing the files.”

“Excellent. Any chance you can get it on a military transport today?”

“Where’s the urgency? Isn’t this a low-life scumbag murder? Hardly a top priority.”

“It’s top priority for Assistant Director Rick Stockton,” Noah said.

“Well, shit, Armstrong, you didn’t say the director’s office was involved.”

“I appreciate your help,” he said. “I owe you.”

“I may take you up on that. But I have more,” Guardino continued. “Morton was broke. We went through his finances-he had less than three hundred dollars in his bank account. His cousin paid him for working in his autobody shop, but not much more than minimum wage, and all his money is accounted for. Nothing in or out that is suspicious.”

“Any sign he had money stashed elsewhere?” Noah asked. “He’s well-versed in money laundering.”

“No luxury items, no trips, no cars. The only thing he spent money on was this computer system, and it’s in line with what he earned. He even had the receipts in his file cabinet.”

“So was he going to run his operation from there?” Noah wondered out loud.

“Can’t say, but he definitely had something going on. You want us to boot up the computer? See what we can find?”

Noah considered letting Denver work that end, then decided against it. He didn’t know what was on the computer, and while he trusted the field offices completely, after talking to Lucy Kincaid this morning he wanted to keep any files that may have her information as private as possible. The fewer people who saw them, the better, if Morton had anything on her he’d planned to exploit.

“No, but thanks.”

“Good-it looks like it’ll take a shitload of time.”

Time. How was Noah going to convince the cybercrime squad that this case was a priority?

“Thanks, Monica, I appreciate the help. Let me know when the transport is scheduled so I can send an agent to collect the evidence.”

“Bring a truck,” she said with a half-laugh. “We’ll dig around a little more, but I think this is the bulk of what he was up to. If you need me, call.”

After Noah hung up on Denver, he called Rick Stockton. He was surprised when the assistant director himself answered.

“This is Special Agent Armstrong,” Noah said. “Do you have time for an update?”

“A few minutes,” Stockton said.

“The Denver regional office found a computer and files of pornography; much of it they suspect is illegal or child porn. On the surface it looks like Morton was trying to re-create the enterprise he ran with Adam Scott six years ago. I asked Denver to box everything up and send it to me on a military shuttle.”

“Good. We need to confirm exactly what he was up to and who he was working with. The last thing I want is another Trask Enterprises. We’re overloaded as it is.”

“I’m concerned that this case is going to take a lot of manpower, and my cybercrimes unit is swamped right now.” During the last staff meeting, Noah had listened to the SSA of cybercrimes relate their multitude of cases, many of them involving children in jeopardy. Unless there was something similar in Morton’s data, Noah couldn’t in good conscience pull them, even if he had the clout. “I don’t feel comfortable pulling weight when they’re dealing with extremely time-sensitive crimes.”

“Agreed,” Stockton said. “What about Kate Donovan? Is she in the clear?”

“She was out of town, and no way she or her husband could have killed Morton. Her alibi checks out and there are no signs suggesting she or any of the Kincaid family took out a hit on Morton. Lucy Kincaid claimed she didn’t even know he was out of prison, and I believe her.”

“How would you feel turning the computer evidence over to Kate?”

Noah leaned back in his chair and frowned.

“Kate Donovan?” he asked unnecessarily. “While so far everything checks out, I can think of ways she could have had a hand in it-”

“What do your instincts tell you?”

“I prefer to deal in facts, sir.”

“So do I, but sometimes absolute definitive proof is unattainable. Her alibi checks, her financials check, and she knows more about Trask Enterprises and Roger Morton than anyone in the Bureau. She can assess the data and route it to the appropriate field agents. She’s not working in the field while teaching at Quantico; she can devote her time to this. I can flex my muscles with the cybercrimes squad, but they won’t be able to devote the same time to it.”

“Understood.” Noah didn’t know how he felt about bringing a former suspect into the investigation.

“I’m not suggesting you let her into every facet of your investigation,” Stockton continued. “That’s your call. But as far as the computer data and tracking goes, she’s the best we’ve got, and she’ll work it till it’s done. Better yet, she’s part of the Quantico cybercrimes unit and has access to the fastest computers we have.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good work. Shoot me and Hans a brief summary via email, and call me if you need anything.”

“Yes, sir.” Noah hung up. He wasn’t wholly comfortable with Rick Stockton’s suggestion-which sounded more like an order-but he didn’t see any other option.

Reluctantly, he called Kate Donovan. When she answered, he said, “It’s Noah Armstrong.”

“Is Lucy okay? When did she leave?”

“Yes, and nearly an hour ago.”

“Are you sure she was okay?”

“I didn’t turn the screws on her; it was a straightforward and civil interview.” Noah had been impressed with the lady. She’d held up well on the surface, even when the questions touched on sensitive areas. But she’d been tightly wound, and he wondered just how well she’d really held up. She was a private, controlled person, and in Noah’s experience, they were the type who exploded big when it was least expected.

“When I said I wanted her to have an attorney, I didn’t mean that she had anything to hide,” Kate explained.

“I know that, Kate. I’m calling about a different matter. The Denver office found a computer and extensive collection of pornographic files, including child porn, in Morton’s apartment. It’ll be here tonight, but my cybercrimes team can’t get to it immediately, and there may be data on his computer that will give us an idea of why he was here and who might have killed him.”

“You’re going to have to push cybercrime. That’s Robeaux, right? I know him well. I’ll call him-he’ll do it for me.”

She spoke with complete confidence in her ability to have her will be done, and Noah smiled in spite of the feeling Kate acted as if this was her case. “He’s good, I agree, but his unit is overwhelmed right now. Rick Stockton authorized you to be the point person on this. I’d like to bring the evidence to Quantico tonight.”

“Me?” She paused. “So you cleared me.”

“Your alibi checks; so does your husband’s.”

“And Lucy?”

“I believe her.” Her alibi-that she was home alone-would be virtually impossible to prove.

“When will the material be here?”

“I’m not sure-late. They’re still boxing it.”

“Let me know when, and I’ll send a team from Quantico to the airfield to retrieve the evidence, log it in, and secure it in our lab. We’ll start first thing in the morning.”

“Thank you.”

“No thanks needed. I want to know exactly what Morton was up to, and I swear if he has a partner I’ll find out who he is and lock him up for the rest of his life.”

The last thing Lucy wanted to do was go to WCF Friday afternoon, but neither did she want to go back home and feel sorry for herself. She made herself stop at a nearby deli and eat. She hadn’t been able to eat anything that morning before going to FBI headquarters. She hoped she’d done the right thing because truly, she had nothing to hide. She hadn’t killed Roger Morton, though she couldn’t have honestly said she wouldn’t have if he’d confronted her.

Her stomach was still in knots from her hour-long interview with Agent Armstrong. Both he and Abigail Resnick had been professional and they didn’t seem as though they thought she had anything to do with the murder, or that she knew anything about Morton’s activities even six years ago. She just wanted to keep the past buried, but it came back and slapped her in the face once again.

She couldn’t finish her sandwich, her stomach still uneasy, so she walked the short block to WCF. Though the sun was peeking out between clouds, it was still cold, and she pulled her coat tight around her.

When she stepped into the WCF building, she was surprised that the place wasn’t packed. Fran was in the conference room by herself, checking the fund-raiser name tags against her master list.

“Where is everyone?” Lucy asked.

“I had lunch brought in and we finished everything we needed to, and since they’re all working on Saturday, I gave them the afternoon off.”

“You’re really done?”

“Just last minute details left. I’m triple-checking the guest list. The last thing I need is a major donor with a misspelling.”

Lucy tried not to show her relief.

Fran looked up from the list and frowned. “You look tired.”

“I didn’t sleep well last night.” Lucy considered telling Fran about Roger Morton. Fran knew about her past, and was one of only a few who Lucy could talk to about what happened. Fran was one of the most steadfast, loyal people Lucy knew-and she didn’t treat Lucy like a victim. If anything, she pushed her harder, knowing that hard work gave Lucy intense pride.

But with the fund-raiser on Fran’s mind, Lucy decided to wait until next week. Morton would still be dead, and maybe a few days was what Lucy needed to redistance herself from her past. Right now, it felt too raw, too real-and she didn’t want to talk about it anymore.

She was already embarrassed about crying all over Sean Rogan last night. Except … she wasn’t. He hadn’t talked much, but what he did say had calmed her. Then, he’d stood up to Kate when she tried to bully him into letting her take Lucy home. He’d agreed that Lucy needed an attorney before talking to the FBI, but he’d also said he trusted her to make the right choice for herself. That kind of support-that deep faith in her decisions-was surprising, especially from someone she hadn’t known for long. In the month she’d known Sean, he’d been more fun than serious, but last night she’d seen another side of him.

“I didn’t hear from Cody,” Lucy said instead, taking the name tags that Fran had verified and sorting them into alphabetical order. “Did Prenter go up in front of a judge this morning? Did they send him back to Hagerstown?”

Fran stopped her chore and frowned at Lucy. “I thought Cody would have told you-Prenter didn’t show.”

“He didn’t?”

“He could have suspected a setup. Sex predators have a sixth sense about cops. It wouldn’t be the first time, and it won’t be the last. But we have far more successes than most organizations doing what we do.”

“But Prenter believed me.”

“Maybe he pegged Cody. Lorenzo looks like a cop.”

“But Cody’s done this dozens of times! He knows the drill. And if Prenter had pegged either me or Cody, he would have contacted ‘Tanya’ to gloat or taunt or threaten. He wouldn’t just be quiet about it. It’s not in his personality-his mouth got him in big trouble at the trial.”

“Lucy, just because you have a psychology degree doesn’t make you a criminal psychiatrist,” Fran said. Lucy blinked, surprised by Fran’s comment. Fran immediately backtracked. “I didn’t mean that to sound so harsh. You know I think your predator tracking program is the best I’ve seen-it’s going to give law enforcement amazing tools to find these guys when they go to ground. It’s just-I don’t have to explain to you the difference between online communication, where comments can be considered before typed, and face-to-face conversation. These guys are good at hiding their true identity. So maybe you’re right and Prenter would have taunted you if he ID’d Cody as a cop. Or maybe you’re wrong and Prenter wants to disappear and not do anything to get himself tossed back into prison. Maybe his car got a flat tire. For one reason or another, he didn’t show.”

“You’re right. Maybe I should reach out.”

“I don’t think that’s a wise idea. If he does suspect you’re a cop or working with the cops, he could get violent.”

“He doesn’t know who I really am.”

“True, but if he sets up another meet, he may ambush our volunteer cops. If he contacts you, go ahead, keep it going. But don’t initiate contact, okay?”

Lucy reluctantly agreed. She didn’t like being so passive and reactionary.

“I have good news-you remember that case you worked a few months ago? The seven-year-old girl who was exploited by her father on the Internet?”

“In Atlanta? I’ll never forget.”

“He pled out yesterday when confronted with additional evidence the FBI found on his computer and the medical evidence of abuse. Eighteen years.”

“That’s terrific. Did they find her mother?”

“Sadly, no. She’d been a drug addict for years-she could be dead, or she could be so strung out she doesn’t know her name. But they did find her maternal grandmother, who’s overjoyed to take custody of the girl.”

The child would need counseling and love, but Lucy was confident that with enough of both, and a strong will, she would survive and lead a normal, happy life.

Normal. Was anyone who’d been abused considered normal? Victims never truly forgot their abuse. But they could develop strategies to live with it, to tolerate the pain and the memories-never easy, but essential if any of them were to find even a modicum of peace in the future.

Fran gave Lucy a spontaneous hug. “We need to celebrate our victories. If Prenter contacts you, let me know. Otherwise, I’ll see you tomorrow night, okay? Go home and rest.”

“I will. Thanks.” Lucy gathered her bag. She glanced out the window and noticed the sun was gone and a chill wind tore down the street. She was so tired and drained from her near-sleepless night, she decided to grab a taxi.

The fucking bitch hails a taxi.

I watch Lucy open the rear door. She pauses and looks across the street, right at me. She doesn’t see me; I am in the deli-the same deli she ate at earlier this afternoon.

That ignorance angers me, yet somehow I am thrilled. I cannot explain the exhilaration rising in my chest. I despise being ignored, yet she doesn’t truly ignore me, does she?

I know Lucy Kincaid. I know where she lives. I know where she works, where she gets her coffee, where her brother lives, where she runs in the park.

She gets into the taxi and it drives off. Taking her home? Taking her to dinner? I do not know, but I am patient.

Her family makes me nervous. A brother who is a private investigator. A sister-in-law who is an FBI agent. This is why I am cautious-I cannot afford to make a mistake.

Should I walk away and wash my hands of Lucy Kincaid? I could easily kill her and run, but would they hunt me down? Her family? The organization she works for? Can I defeat them? I want to believe I can, but I’m not an idiot.

I am patient, but my time is valuable. I keep a log of the time she has cost me. That time will be repaid.

No one understands the concept of time as I do. I sleep exactly six hours every night. No more, no less. I exercise for twenty-two minutes each morning, followed by four minutes in the shower. And while I understand the need for flexibility, if I am not disciplined, how can I expect my females to be disciplined?

I am the keeper of truth, and I will not forget her betrayal. I will forget no betrayals. They will all be disciplined in turn. They will all be nothing, not even a speck of DNA. Which seems appropriate since they are merely females; worse, females who do not obey.

But Lucy Kincaid is by far the most disobedient woman I have come across. I need to act wisely or else I should disappear.

But walking away from her is not an option. What kind of man would I be if a female scared me off?

I consider my options. I can take her almost anytime I want. I let two good opportunities pass me by because I do not want to be hasty. Rash action leads to mistakes, and because of her family, I cannot afford to err. I need a plan.

No woman will defeat me. She started this game. She is the mightier-than-thou female who does not know her proper place.

I do not fear Lucy Kincaid. She is no threat. The men in her life are potential threats, but by the time they figure it out, if they can, I will be gone.

This situation presents a certain challenge.

I exit the deli and walk to my car. Ideas flood my brain: how and when to take her. I must have as much time with her as possible to teach her. All the time she has cost me will be repaid with her obedience, or it will be repaid with blood.