Allison Brennan - Silenced

“No archive?” Sean said. “Where are the tapes stored? Digital or analog? Wireless or hardwired? Stored on-site or off-site? Virtual or physical? Even if they only officially keep thirty days, they may have months of data that hasn’t been overwritten. And, depending on the system, even overwritten data might be recoverable.”

Noah stared at Sean. “I’m sure Cyber Crimes is covering all avenues, but I’ll pass on your questions.”

Sean shook his head. “This is my job . It’s what I do. I can consult for you, help out-”

“No,” Noah said. Then, grudgingly, “Thanks for the offer, but we’re keeping the case in-house. It’s one of the reasons Lucy was pulled. Media is an issue, we can’t give the killer anything to use to get the case thrown out of court when and if we find him.”

“I have clearance,” Sean said.

Lucy took Sean’s hand under the table. She really didn’t want him to push this. He was good, but so was the FBI Cyber Crimes unit.

“On the Nicole Bellows murder,” Lucy said, changing the subject, “Genie sent me a message that they got the warrant for the virtual phone company. It might take a couple of days, but we should have the registered owner, a record of numbers, and where they are forwarded.”

“Virtual numbers? There are a half dozen ways to get around that,” Sean said. “Buy a prepaid credit card with cash, use that credit card to get the number.”

“Why am I not surprised you know this?” Noah said.

“It’s a no-brainer,” Sean said. “But not everyone uses virtual numbers for illegal activity. There are legitimate and important business uses.”

“It’ll definitely take a few days,” Noah said. “I’ve dealt with these companies before, and the warrant has to be airtight. Privacy laws and all that.”

“And you’re against privacy laws?” Sean snapped.

“When they protect criminals.”

Lucy intervened. “It’s a lead, and the system works in this case. Protecting privacy and getting us the information we need to find Nicole’s killer. We don’t know that the number will lead to her killer, but it may give us another piece of the puzzle.”

Noah put his fork down; he’d cleaned his plate. “More?” she offered.

“No, thanks. I have an early morning tomorrow. Keep me in the loop on your case.”

Lucy walked him to the door. “Of course.”

Noah hesitated in the doorway. He said, “Hans Vigo came to our briefing tonight. I talked to him about the Bellows homicide. He agrees that the killer is going to strike again. He also said the killer isn’t a psychopath. Honestly, I don’t know how he can tell.”

“I know what he means.”

“You do?”

“Because he’s violent and shows no remorse, some may categorize him as a psychopath, but a true psychopath has a mental disorder that compels him to commit his crimes. Violent psychopaths may show remorse for their crimes, they may have human empathy but their need to kill or hurt others overshadows that empathy. A sociopath may not be violent, but they have complete lack of remorse. Take a con artist who steals the life savings of an eighty-year-old woman. No guilt at destroying that life, even if that woman dies destitute on the streets. But that same con artist wouldn’t, for example, shoot the woman in cold blood. Sociopaths aren’t always violent.

“But when you have a violent sociopath, he’s more unpredictable than a psychopath whose disorder makes him easier to identify once the MO is established. I think Hans realizes that the killer wanted Nicole Bellows dead, so he killed her. The reason wasn’t because killing her was satisfying to him in any deep or meaningful way. A psychopath would likely wait a few days, possibly weeks or months before killing again. This killer doesn’t need a cooling-off period. He’s going to complete whatever plan he has, then he may never kill again.”

Noah said, “If there’s another homicide, call me immediately.”

“Of course.” Lucy wanted to ask Noah what he’d said to Hans, if anything, about their conversation this morning. She wanted to know if Noah had put anything in her record. But he didn’t say anything, and she didn’t ask.

“Night.”

He left without resolving this odd tension between them. But he did come by and he didn’t have to-maybe that was his way of letting her know everything was okay.

She turned around and walked back to the family room. Sean was standing there, the vein in his jaw throbbing.

“What was with him tonight?”

“You always ask that.”

“But there was something else.”

“I told you what I said to him this morning. I was out of line.”

“Hardly. He’s not perfect.”

“Sean-” She hesitated.

“What?”

“Matt Slater, the SSA, talked to me earlier. What I did yesterday really made waves, and Noah took the heat for me. Any mistakes I make are his responsibility. I don’t want to sit around the house for the next three weeks, but I don’t want Noah to get into trouble if I screw something up. Slater said I have special privileges, and people know it.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Sean said. “You’ve earned your spot.”

“Maybe,” Lucy said.

“No maybe. The FBI isn’t a charity; they wouldn’t have put you in as an analyst unless you were qualified and they knew you’d be an asset.”

Lucy sat down on the couch. “I don’t want special privileges, Sean.”

He sat next to her and pulled her head to his chest. “You can’t stop people thinking what they want, right or wrong. But you earned everything you have.”

She hoped Sean was right. The last seven years of her life had been such a roller coaster sometimes she didn’t know what to think about her dreams and goals. Were they really hers? Who might she have been had she not been raped, live on the Internet, seven years ago?

“Luce?” Sean turned her head so he could look her in the eyes. She squeezed back tears. She wanted no pity from Sean. From anyone. Especially herself. “Talk to me.”

She shook her head.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you last night,” he said.

“I’m okay.” Saying it almost made it true.

“If you ever need to talk, about anything, you know you can talk to me. Right?”

“Yes.” Her voice cracked. “Most of the time, my mind convinces me that it all happened to someone else. That I was an observer, like the camera that recorded those god-awful days. And then I see something and I’m right back there again. My head knows I’m not, but my body reacts and I can’t stop the panic.”

Sean’s grip tightened around her, and she leaned her head back on his shoulder. “Having you here makes all the difference,” she whispered.

“I’m not going anywhere, you know that.”

“When Matt Slater said I had special privileges, I think I knew it had to be true. What if I shouldn’t be in the FBI? What if I lose control over these panic attacks? I was turned down from the Academy once, what if I should have just let that dream die? There are other dreams out there.” As she said it, she believed it-except she didn’t want any other career. Seven years, obsessed with joining the FBI and fighting crime, had changed her. Irrevocably.

“You listen to me.”

She tilted her head to look at Sean. His blue eyes were so intense she couldn’t turn away.

“The FBI is damn lucky to have you, Lucy Kincaid. This Matt Slater is an ass to think that anyone is just handing you the career you want. You earned it. You are a damn good cop now, even without a badge. You’re going to be a great agent. I know it, you know it. No more doubts, Princess. Okay?”