Allison Brennan: Love me to death

“Broken nose, bruising on his right wrist. The medical examiner believes his nose was broken when the killer pushed his head into the ground. However, someone kicked him repeatedly in the groin area while he was prone. So violently that had he not been killed, he would have lost at least one of his testicles.”

Noah shifted in his seat and said, “Morton was a rapist; that sounds like revenge.”

“On the surface.”

More than on the surface, Noah thought, but he continued reading the file. “His last known address is in Denver. Do you know when he moved to D.C.?”

“We just got the case this morning,” Hans said. “We don’t know anything more than you do at this point, and what’s in Morton’s records. Rick Stockton wanted to speak with you directly, to explain the extreme sensitivity. He expects discreet due diligence. You will report directly to me, and I’ll keep Rick informed. Any clearances, anything you need from the U.S. Attorney-warrants, interviews, access-it’s yours. If you need to go to Denver to follow up, it’s approved. Anything you need, consider it approved. Just shoot me an email to CYA.”

“I understand what you need.” They had to believe someone in the Bureau was involved to go to such extreme lengths to avoid traditional channels. “Anything else?”

“You should know that one of Morton’s victims was Kate Donovan’s sister-in-law, Lucy Kincaid. She lives with Donovan and Donovan’s husband, Dr. Dillon Kincaid. Lucy wasn’t told of the plea agreement and as far as I know, she didn’t know Morton was out of prison.”

“Kincaid?” Noah stared pointedly at the assistant director. “The same Kincaid with the private security company Rogan-Caruso-Kincaid?”

“That would be Jack and Patrick, brothers of the victim. Kate is married to Dillon, a forensic psychiatrist and civilian consultant for the FBI.”

Hans leaned forward and eyed Noah. “You have a relationship with the Kincaids?”

Not the Kincaids . Face impassive, he said, “No, but I’ve followed the interesting career of the firm.” RCK was known to skirt the law and had access to information Noah suspected was in the darker gray shades of what a private security company should be able to access, which made him wonder just how many people inside federal law enforcement fed them intelligence.

While his initial assignment of the Morton investigation was sticky, RCK’s potential involvement made this muck as thick and foul-smelling as molasses. Specifically the Rogan part of RCK.

“Do you have any questions?” Hans asked.

“I need the investigator’s files, forensics, everything you have on Morton. Where he served his sentence, terms of his plea agreement and probation.” Noah paused. “And Kate Donovan’s personal contact information. I think it would be better if I went to her house. For the sake of discretion.” He glanced at Hans. “And it would be best if you avoid speaking with anyone involved until I have a chance to interview them.”

Hans agreed. “But don’t delay. While we took over the case, the Kincaids and RCK have a lot of friends in a lot of places. I’m sure no one knows yet-I would have gotten a call-but I’m waiting for the phone to ring.”

Lucy sat on the Metro train pretending to read a book. It wasn’t the writer’s fault that she wasn’t engaged in the story. Any other ride and Lucy would have been absolutely riveted by the action-packed plot, but tonight all she could think about was a rapist going back to prison. When the subway train slowed as it approached her stop at Foggy Bottom, she shoved her unread paperback in her satchel and snapped the buckle without thought-a habit from self-defense training.

Muggers go for the easy mark. Don’t be an easy mark .

She stood and maneuvered toward the doors, eager to meet her brother. Patrick was leaving tomorrow morning for two weeks at Stanford University, where he was working on a security system for their new laboratory. He’d been living in D.C. only a month, she was just getting used to his comforting presence in her life, and already he was going away again.

As soon as the doors slid open, Lucy exited amid the throng of commuters. Starting up the stairs, the back of her neck crawled with the all-too-familiar sensation of being watched. She unconsciously stiffened and stumbled, bumping into the businesswoman in front of her. “Excuse me,” she said automatically, but the woman never looked back. Painful tension started at the base of her skull, spreading rapidly, her heart racing as if she were running a marathon. By the time she reached the top of the stairs, she was fighting a full-fledged panic attack.

You’re in the damn Metro station! Of course people will see you .

But it was more than a casual perusal of her looks; someone’s eyes were focused on her. Dammit, hadn’t she just gone through this thirty minutes ago? When was it going to stop?

Hand shaking, she reached for her pepper spray while simultaneously thinking she was being ridiculous. Her vision was fading and she willed herself to breathe deeply. In and out. Keep moving forward, no one’s watching, you’re fine, just fine . She focused on the exit and calmly strode toward the stairs. Away from the eyes she couldn’t see.

“Lucy-”

She spun to face the voice and backed up at the same time, stumbling over a briefcase resting next to a businessman talking on his cell phone.

Cody Lorenzo reached out and grabbed her before she fell on her ass. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his face all cop, his eyes glancing left and right.

She pushed him back. “Were you following me?”

“I saw you get off the train. I was waiting for you because-”

“It was you.” She breathed deeply and closed her eyes, rubbing her temples until the tension retreated into a tight ball in the back of her head. At least now she could think. “Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Watch me!”

“I didn’t mean to.”

She shook her head. It wasn’t fair to Cody, but she couldn’t shake the fear. She’d never be normal!

“I thought someone was following me. My fault,” she muttered.

He rubbed her arm. “I should have called. I just got off duty and saw your message, thought I’d take you to dinner to celebrate.”

She discreetly moved out of his reach and said, “I’m sorry, I’m meeting Patrick for dinner. Rain check?”

“Of course. Can I walk with you?”

“Isn’t it out of your way?”

“Not far.”

She relented, though didn’t feel wholly comfortable. She’d met Cody through WCF and they dated for nearly two years before she broke it off. Working with her ex-boyfriend on WCF projects was one thing; socializing with him was completely different.

He took her elbow to steer her through the Metro station and into the chill January mist. She pulled her raincoat tighter around her and tilted the collar up to shield her ears, shivering. Born and raised in San Diego, Lucy still wasn’t used to East Coast winters.

“It’ll snow tonight,” Cody said.

“And you know this because the weatherman is always right?”

“Because I was born and raised in Maryland. The first snowflake will fall before midnight.”

“You sound happy about this.”

He grinned as they crossed the street and turned left on Pennsylvania Avenue toward Georgetown. Cody looked and acted like a cop: broad-shouldered and physically fit, he moved with a swagger and arrogance that came as much from fear as from confidence. He had the Cuban good looks and manners that had Lucy’s mother singing his praises, with just enough wildness on the side that had Lucy enjoying his company. She had thought she’d loved him at one time, but she hadn’t known what love was. She only knew what love wasn’t.