Stalked

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Georgetown, Washington, D.C.

Patrick walked into Sean’s office Friday morning. “Where’s Lucy?”

Sean glanced at him oddly. “Quantico. Is she supposed to be someplace else?”

“I thought you’d convince her to come back with you.”

“I didn’t ask, and she wouldn’t have taken the day off, anyway. I’m picking her up tomorrow at noon and teaching her how to drive.”

“She knows how to drive.”

Sean laughed and put his e-reader down. He was nearly done with Weber’s books-he’d been reading half the night and since he’d gotten back home this morning, highlighting important information to discuss with Lucy or verify. The writer certainly hadn’t made any friends with the way she portrayed cops, victims, and predators. Essentially, everyone was guilty of something.

“Lucy has a license, but when was the last time you drove with her?”

Patrick hesitated. “Point taken. You know why she doesn’t like to drive, right?”

“There’s a specific reason?”

“She’s never talked about it, but when she was five we were in a serious car accident.”

“You were driving?”

Patrick sat down and sipped his coffee. “Dad was. I was fifteen, Carina sixteen. It was a severe storm one Sunday-clear when we left for church, total downpour within the hour. The car in front of us slammed on its brakes. Dad’s a good driver. He maneuvered out of the way, but the car on the right slammed on their brakes and hydroplaned right into us and we rolled. We were all knocked out, a couple of broken bones, but we were okay. Three people died in the collision-a twelve-car pileup. Anyway, that’s my guess why Lucy hates to drive.”

Sean hadn’t known, and he realized that even though he knew all the important things about his girlfriend, he didn’t know everything. He wanted her to tell him about the accident, because even though Patrick’s explanation made sense, it didn’t sound like Lucy. She’d always faced her fears head-on-why not this one?

“Working on anything interesting?” Patrick asked. “It’s already blistering hot out there.”

“Reading Rosemary Weber’s books. The woman was a bitch. She pulled no punches. I have a list of three dozen people who might want her dead, just because of what she wrote. Lucy put it together last night, before Tony’s heart attack.”

Patrick said with fake shock, “I didn’t know you were working for the FBI.”

Sean gave him a dead-pan expression. “Ha, ha.”

“Then why are you doing this?”

“Because Tony Presidio asked Lucy to make this list and she’s grieving right now. I’m just doing what she would have done.”

Sean went back to the book. He highlighted a name he’d seen multiple times.

Detective Bob Stokes.

Patrick said, “Aren’t you supposed to be preparing for an assignment?”

“I have a week before Duke sends me to God knows where.”

“Madison.”

“Right. Wisconsin.” Sean smiled. “At least the weather will be tolerable.”

“Believe me, I’d take it if I could.”

“You could.”

Patrick snorted. “As much as I hate stroking your inflated ego, no way could I crack their on-site security.”

“The goal is for me not to crack it. Then Duke did his job right. Did I tell you Duke’s working on getting us a Homeland Security contract? Last time I flew commercial I sent him a memo-as a joke-about a half-dozen ways I could waltz into secured areas.”

“You don’t sound interested.”

“I’m not. I avoid government contracts.” Sean left those to Duke and his other partners. Unfortunately, if they had an airport security contract, it would be up to Sean and Lucy’s brother Jack, since they were both pilots and had in-depth knowledge of both private and commercial facilities. He regretted sending the memo to Duke and hoped Homeland Security ignored it.

Sean glanced at his watch. “Want to do me a favor?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“You must want it bad.”

“It’s either take notes on Weber’s books or find out about this cop she acknowledged in her first book. He’s the only cop she didn’t slam.”

“He must have talked to her.”

“That’s what I thought. He might know a lot more.”

Patrick didn’t move. Sean looked up. “What?”

“The FBI is investigating her murder.”

“So?”

“Turn it over to them.”

“I will.”

“When?”

“When I have something.”

Patrick still didn’t move.

Sean sighed. “What now?”

“Why are you doing this?”

“I’m bored.”

Patrick glanced at his watch and leaned back in the chair.

“You learned that trick from me.”

“Is it working?”

Sean put the e-reader down again. “Lucy’s name was in Weber’s files. I want to know what she has on Lucy and my cousin Kirsten. The only way I’m going to legally see those files is if Suzanne shows them to me. The only way she’ll show them is if I give her something useful. She and NYPD are running down leads as to who killed Weber, and there’s no doubt she’ll find the guy, but I don’t want all her files being part of the evidence.”

“It already is.”

“For now.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Rogan.”

“I always do.”

“What’s the cop’s name?”

“Bob Stokes, Newark. He was the responding officer, and according to Weber, he’d pegged the parents as liars from the beginning, but his superiors didn’t believe him, until the FBI came in and cracked open the case.”

“And what do you think he’s going to do for you?”

“He talked to her. He probably knows what was taken from the files at the library archives. If I can deliver him to Suzanne, I’m one step closer to answers.”

“Maybe you should just ask her.”

“I will. When I get this.”