Love me to death

THIRTY-EIGHT

When Kate parked illegally in front of Holy Trinity Church, Sean saw a lot of police activity but few police cars. Three dozen officers, some in uniform and some in street clothes, filled the vestibule. More were outside looking for signs of Lucy and what might have happened to her. They had all been in the church when Lucy went missing.

Dillon spotted them as they trudged up the stairs. A section had been cordoned off and Sean frowned. “We may have a witness,” Dillon told Sean and Kate as soon as they were within earshot.

“What happened?” Sean demanded. He hadn’t let himself think that Lucy had been abducted. But Mallory hadn’t sent Lucy the roses. He hadn’t killed Cody Lorenzo. And he hadn’t taken Lucy.

Yet she was gone.

“Cody’s partner, Officer April Dunnigan, noticed that Lucy was feeling poorly and walked her to the vestibule. Lucy said she needed some air and stepped outside. After a couple of minutes, April and another officer went to check on her but she wasn’t outside or anywhere in the church,” Dillon explained. “But a detective thinks he might have seen her getting into a car with a man.”

Dillon led them into the church where a detective was talking on the phone. When he spotted Dillon, he hung up. “I spoke to the chief of police. He’s notifying all state troopers in Maryland and Virginia. We have every cop in D.C. on alert.”

“Thank you. Detective John DeMarco, my wife, FBI Agent Kate Donovan, and Sean Rogan, with Rogan-Caruso-Kincaid.”

DeMarco said, “I saw a woman with long black hair wearing black slacks and a black and white sweater, walking as if intoxicated with a man toward a parked car right where that patrol car is now parked out front. I was coming up the stairs, and I thought if she wasn’t drunk she was extremely upset. It looked like she’d fallen-there was snow covering her clothing. And because she looked a bit Hispanic, I thought she might be one of Officer Lorenzo’s relatives. She didn’t show signs of being in distress, other than needing help to walk.”

“And the man with her?”

“Approximately five foot eight to five foot ten. Lean. He wore black as well-trench coat and hat. Caucasian. No distinguishing marks, but I only glanced at them as I was coming up the stairs.”

“And the car?”

“A late-model black sedan. He laid her down in the backseat. I didn’t register the license number, but I noted it was a current Virginia plate.”

Sean opened his laptop and showed the detective the picture from the florist’s security camera. “Is this the man you saw?”

The detective looked closely. “It could have been. I can’t say definitively, but it’s the same physical build.”

“Is that the stalker?” Dillon asked.

“Yes,” Kate said.

April came over. “Agent Donovan, I’m so sorry. If I had known Lucy was in any danger, I’d never have let her go outside alone. I thought you had Cody’s killer in custody.”

“So did we,” Kate said.

“Detective DeMarco!” An officer stepped in from outside and introduced himself as he approached the group.

Detective DeMarco said, “What did you find?”

The officer held up a string of pearls in a plastic evidence bag. “We found these in the snow at the bottom of the stairs,” he said.

Dillon’s voice was rough when he said, “Those are Lucy’s. They were our mother’s. She gave them to Lucy when she graduated from college.”

“It looks like the clasp broke,” DeMarco said on inspection. “Anything else?”

“Officers Craig Jackson and Lloyd Breck arrived in a taxi at approximately five thirty-five p.m. Both noted the black sedan out front and because it was illegally parked, considered talking to the owner, but a man exited the church and walked to the car. They let it go and came in.”

“Do they have a description?”

“White, five foot nine, wearing a black trench coat.”

“Hat?”

“No, sir. Not that they saw. Hair cut short, brown.”

Dillon said, “He was exiting the church. He would have taken it off inside, or it would have drawn attention.”

“What time did Lucy arrive?”

April said, “Just after the priest stepped behind the altar, when everyone was standing.”

“The processional?” Dillon asked.

“It was at the beginning. I’ve only been to a couple of these things.”

“The processional. So about the same time the man left,” Dillon said. “And Lucy stepped out before communion?”

“Everyone was saying the Lord’s Prayer and she looked sick. I walked her to the bathroom, but she wanted to go outside for fresh air. She seemed better when she opened the door, though she was a little green.”

Sean’s phone vibrated. It was Jayne. He stepped away from the group. “What’s his name?” Sean asked.

“I don’t know,” Jayne said. “I wanted to make sure you know I’m working on it. It would help if I could narrow it down to a state.”

“Start with D.C., then Virginia and Maryland, and work out from there.”

“Okay, give me some time and I’ll-”

“The guy has Lucy. We don’t have time.”

“I’m doing the best I can, Sean, I’m sorry.”

“I’m just worried. Keep me informed.” He dropped the call. “Kate-get Noah on the phone.

“Why? Do you have an ID?”

“No-but I have an idea. Mallory.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s too coincidental that Lucy is kidnapped at the same time the vigilante group is shut down. Cody’s murder, the stalking, Mallory-it has to be connected, and I think he has the answers.”

“Show him the picture,” Dillon interjected.

“Exactly. This guy has to be involved, otherwise why Lucy? Why now?”

Kate nodded and dialed Noah’s number.

Noah wasn’t sitting down when the guard brought Mick Mallory into the interrogation room at the D.C. jail. He slapped the photograph down on the table.

“This man kidnapped Lucy. Who is he?”

Mallory stared at the picture for a long minute. When he realized who it was, his face turned ashen.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yes, dammit! We have a witness. Who is it? One of your vigilante friends?”

“No. This is Peter Thomas Miller. He was a high school teacher arrested for statutory rape in 2002. He had sex with six of his female students, at least the ones we know about who came forward, but was only convicted for two of them because after making a statement, the other four recanted. He did a number on the girls-psychologically abusing them as well as seducing them. He only raped virgins, but it was never violent-only mentally sadistic.”

“Mentally sadistic?”

“He convinced them they were inferior, but he did it in such a way they didn’t feel threatened-he never yelled and initially didn’t hit, but instead reasoned out why they were weak and useless and how they should live their lives to serve their husband. He was training them for their future husbands, he’d told one of them. He was sentenced ten-to-twenty, and paroled last summer in Delaware. He registered as a sex offender, then disappeared.”

Mallory paused, then stared at Noah. “Lucy found him online. He was trolling for virgins. But he never showed.”

“Never showed? Explain.”

“Two months ago. Lucy set the meeting, and we switched the location because I knew in my gut that this guy was dangerous-that he would escalate. He deserved my brand of justice. He never showed up, and when I went to his house I knew he’d gone to ground. He might have smelled a cop, but there are safeties in place-he couldn’t have known it was Lucy!”

“There’s always a way.” Noah paused. “What kind of teacher was Miller?”

“Computer science.”

Sean drove as fast as he could on the icy roads to RCK East. Noah Armstrong had called Kate and told her about Peter Miller.

Sean would find him. He had to.

Jayne was already working on it, and Noah was pulling all Miller’s criminal records in the effort to find out where he might have taken Lucy. The Delaware FBI was checking his last known residence and Abigail went to comb the WCF files in evidence.

Sean prayed Lucy was alive and unharmed. His gut burned, thinking about Lucy held captive. Miller looked normal, almost pleasant, but he was a sick bastard who had vengeance on his mind. He hated women, and a woman-Lucy-had tried to send him back to prison.

His phone rang as soon as he stepped inside his house. He ran up the stairs to his office as he answered.

“Hello.”

“Sean, it’s Duke. Jayne filled me in. Have you learned anything else?”

“No.”

“I retrieved his employment history. He lists University of Virginia at Richmond as his alma mater.”

“How does that help?”

“He’s not a native of Delaware. His parents were Paul and Christina Miller. They lived in Virginia until 1984, when the father moved to Wilmington after they divorced. Miller was born in 1971, in Charlottesville, Virginia. Jayne is searching property records under the father’s name and the mother’s maiden name-Christina Lyons.”

“Where are they now?”

“The father died twelve years ago, and I have no record of the mother after the divorce in Virginia or Delaware, so I’m broadening the search under both her married and maiden names.”

“What is it? I’ll get the FBI on it.”

“The FBI? You think they can find it faster than I can?”

“No, but at this point we need to try everything. I have a bad feeling. From the witness ID, it appeared that Lucy was drunk. I think he drugged her. She wouldn’t have gone willingly. She would have fought back.”

“We’ll find her,” Duke emphasized.

Sean didn’t doubt that. But in what condition? Injured? Dead?

“Call me as soon as you know anything.”

Sean dialed Kate. “I’m sending you information that Duke just found out.”

“I’ll get on it. Noah is on his way to your place, I’m meeting him there.”

“If I find a lead, I’m jumping on it.”

“You’d better. Just keep me in the loop. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

Sean dropped his phone on his desk, his hands fisting in his hair as an agonized groan escaped from deep in his chest. The anger-at Mallory, at the FBI, but mostly at himself for not protecting Lucy-battled with his deep fear for her life.

He took several deep breaths to swallow the rising panic. His brothers had told him over and over that there was no room for personal emotion when faced with a threat. But Sean had never been in the military. He’d never been trained to kill or to fight or to treat an assignment as a tactical situation with targets and civilians. And while he had the skills, he hadn’t developed the mental discipline that his older brothers shared.

And he couldn’t think of Lucy as a victim. He couldn’t think of her as anyone but who she was-the woman who had taken his heart. He just wanted her back, safe, with him.

“Okay,” he said out loud. “Think, Sean. You’re not helpless. If Miller wanted to kill Lucy, he would have done it at the church, right?”

This was where having the profiler around would be helpful.

Was Cody Lorenzo killed for revenge, or because he’d found out something about Miller? Or, was his murder Miller’s sadistic way of tormenting Lucy? How long had Miller been watching her? Did he know about her past relationship with Lorenzo? He knew about Sean-the guy had watched them at the ice rink. Miller had been circling around Lucy, making her nervous. All the times she felt as if someone was watching her, she had blamed her past. Sean had told her to trust her instincts, and when they thought Lorenzo was stalking her, he’d accepted that Lucy’s feelings were because of him.

They’d made a logical and reasoned conclusion based on the evidence, but it had been wrong. And now Lucy’s life was at risk.

The doorbell rang, followed by knocking. Sean glanced at his security screen and saw Kate and Dillon at the door. He rushed downstairs and by the time he let them in, Noah and Hans were walking up the front walkway.

“Any news?” Sean asked.

“No,” Kate said at the same time Noah said, “Yes.”

Sean closed the door. “What?”

“The Delaware Field Office said the Wilmington house is vacant, but Miller has been paying the mortgage on it. We’re getting a search warrant-he may have records in the basement or attic. According to the neighbors, he’s been by the house a few times since his release from prison. But the place had been vandalized, and he’d become persona non grata after his trial.”

“If he’s been paying the mortgage, that means he has a bank account somewhere.”

“Bingo. We’ll have all his banking records first thing in the morning.”

“Morning? That may be too late!” Sean couldn’t wait until the banks opened to trace Miller. But to hack into a major financial institution couldn’t be done quickly, and it definitely wouldn’t be legal. He had no doubt he could get in, but without actual routing numbers and account numbers tied to Miller, he wouldn’t know where to go in the system.

Noah said, “I got the information about his parents and we’re tracking down the mother now. She took her maiden name after the divorce, according to the University of Richmond office.”

“You talked to his college?”

“We have emergency contacts with all the major institutions, and as soon as you forwarded the data, we called. Records are all computerized, and the dean was able to pull up Miller’s file. His father was living in Wilmington, his mother was listed as Christina Lyons. No address, no contact.”

Dillon spoke up. “Were there any disciplinary records on Miller?”

“No. He was a top student. He was married his senior year. He changed his emergency forms to next-of-kin contact Rosemarie Miller. Her maiden name is Nylander. Abigail is trying to find her now.”

“Are they still married?” Kate asked.

“Rosemarie filed for divorce in 1998. They’d been married for six years. Miller refused to sign the papers, and the court intervened and severed the marriage.”

“That could have set him off,” Hans said. “Model student, no criminal record, his mother leaves, his wife leaves. He targets high school girls who are easy to control. He’s in a position of authority over them.”

“Did you read his file?” Noah asked Hans.

“I’m in the dark here,” Sean said. “He was in prison for statutory rape, that’s all I know.”

“He was convicted of statutory rape of two students,” Noah explained. “But there were others who recanted their statements.”

Hans said, “He convinced the girls that they were worthless, that the only value they had was what he gave them. They didn’t want to turn on him, a version of the Stockholm syndrome. Unfortunately, all the names of his victims are redacted. Without an extremely compelling argument and court order, we can’t talk to them.”

“Would talking to them help?” Sean asked. “All this was a decade ago, right?”

“It might help,” Hans said. “But no guarantees, and the privacy of rape victims-especially minors-will win out ninety-nine percent of the time.”

“So what now?” Sean said, exasperated. “We sit around and wait? I need to do something.”

“Good.” Noah shoved a disk at him. “You’re supposed to be a computer genius. That’s all the property records in the tri-state area. Let’s see what you can find. I’m going to track down the mother. She might know where he is.”

Sean took the disk to his office. Dillon followed him upstairs, his face pale but his expression determined. “I’m sorry, Dillon,” Sean said, shoving the disk into his computer. “I should never have left her at the church.”

“We all thought Mallory was behind the roses and Cody’s murder,” Dillon said. “We’re going to find her. Kate and I found her once; we’ll find her again.”

Sean held onto that hope as he wrote a program to parse the data Noah had given him.

The female sleeps.

I injected her with an antidote to counteract the more serious effects of the sedative. The female had experienced shortness of breath during the final minutes of the drive, and that worried me. Now she seems to be resting normally, perhaps sleeping deeper than she should because of the sedative.

The broken one watches from her corner with wide eyes as I cut the duct tape from the female’s ankles and wrists. I handcuff one wrist to a bar of the cage. It is best, I have learned over the years, to restrain them at the beginning. It contributes to the system of rewards and punishment.

Females are weak and malleable. It doesn’t take long for them to break and become compliant. Keeping their food to a minimum and restricting movement helps. But sometimes, on the first night, the combination of drugs and injuries results in death. I wonder if this female will survive until morning?

I hope so. I will not be pleased if she dies before I have a chance to teach her. And everything I’ve done up until this moment will have been a waste of time.

She sleeps. The broken one still watches. I say to her, “Do not speak to her.”

I leave them, confident that my orders will be obeyed, and walk upstairs to prepare a late meal.

I frown and consider the time. It is well past my dinner hour, another example of how Lucy Kincaid interfered in my life. My schedule, crucial to keeping focus and executing my plans, is once again destroyed because of that woman. I will eat ninety minutes after I prefer, which means I will go to bed later than I like.

That female does not care that my time is valuable! From the beginning, when I realized she was not who she said she was, when I learned that she planned to put me back in prison, I committed untold hours to learning who she was, where she lived, and planning the best way to take her.

I watched her for weeks. Followed her. She did not recognize me. I sat across from her on the Metro train only two days ago, and she did not recognize me. I watched her argue with the cop I killed, and she did not know me. I changed my appearance enough to blend into my surroundings, like a chameleon, but still I thought she might have recognized me.

I will miss our games: following her, and she looking around, worried, looking right at me but not knowing me. The times I came close enough to stab her in the back, but resisted. The time I almost pushed her in front of the Metro train.

But instant death would not have been gratifying. I now have the time to teach her properly, to break her completely. I have looked forward to these days.

Though Hell on earth, prison had its silver lining: I learned patience.

I am still looking for the wench who spoke against me, lied against me-her teacher! — in court. I should have killed more than her dog. I wish I had killed her.

And I will kill her. I have a plan to find and kill everyone who spoke against me, starting with Lucy Kincaid.

The first step was finding the perfect woman to break. My newly broken female is the one. I will rebuild her, and she will kill the woman who set me up.

Then, I will be ready to discipline the others who betrayed me. One by one.