Mortal Sin (26 page)

Dillon stared at Sean for a beat too long, and Lucy turned away, a bit sheepish, realizing that Kate probably already told him everything. Not only about Morton and the stalker, but also her involvement with Sean. A lot had happened in the time he’d been gone.

“I think I’ll make some coffee,” she said as Sean followed her into the kitchen.

Sean kissed her on the cheek. “Don’t worry. Your brother will soon love me,” he whispered in her ear.

She suppressed a laugh. “You think Jack will, too?”

Sean feigned fear. Maybe he wasn’t pretending. “He liked me before you fell for me; maybe that’ll mean something.” He winked at her.

Dillon walked in and said, “Kate told me about Cody. I’m so sorry, Lucy.”

Dillon didn’t mean to quash her good mood, but reality dampened her spirits.

“Yeah,” she said. “Me, too.” What else could she say? She was so drained right now that sleep was the only
thing on her mind. But she suspected that the minute she lay down, she’d be running over every conversation she could remember between her and Cody, trying to identify signs she’d missed.

She rinsed out the coffee carafe and went about the business of making coffee, needing something to do with her hands.

Sean asked, “Where’s Kate?”

“On a call in her office.”

“I’m going to grab my laptop out of the car,” Sean said. He caught Lucy’s eye. He was thinking about the listening devices at WCF. She’d almost forgotten that she’d let him plant bugs earlier that evening.

After Sean left, Lucy thought Dillon was going to discuss having boys in her room—even though she was hardly a teenager anymore—but instead he said, “I’m really sorry we kept the plea information from you, Lucy.”

She scooped coffee into the filter. “I know. I’m not angry about it anymore, Dillon—you were gone for that part.” She glanced at him. “I just wished you had trusted me to be a grownup.”

“I do—”

“But back then I wasn’t?”

“Back then I wanted to protect you.”

She took a deep breath. “You can’t protect me. No one can. Life is like that. We just do the best we can. And I refuse to live in the past. I’m not the girl I was six years ago.”

“I know that.”

“There’s only so much we can do to protect ourselves and our loved ones. Unless we live in a panic room twenty-four/seven, we’ll never be one hundred percent
safe one hundred percent of the time. But you know what puts us all in danger?”

“What?”

“Lies. Lack of information. Good intentions. I should have known that Morton was free, because then I would have had the
information
I needed to protect myself. If I had run into him without that knowledge, I would have been stunned. That hesitation could have been my undoing.”

Dillon’s blue-green eyes looked at her with the unconditional love of family. “Don’t underestimate yourself, Lucy.”

“I don’t.”

She poured water into the reservoir, closed the lid, and turned the coffeepot on.

“But—” he prompted.

“I’m human. I can be shocked.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“I know, and I forgive you. I know that everything you did, you did because you love me.” She walked over and kissed his cheek. “That doesn’t make it right, but it makes it understandable. And I do love you, too, Dillon.”

She leaned against the counter and watched the coffee slowly drip into the carafe.

Dillon said, “You went ice-skating yesterday?”

“Surprised me, too.”

“And you like Sean Rogan?”

She rolled her eyes. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re answering my questions with questions because you don’t know.” Dillon leaned against the counter next to her.

“Damn. Serves me right; I have a shrink for a brother.”

“You could be a shrink, too. Just a few more years of school.”

“I’m done with school.”

“And?”

“And I really like Sean,” she said quietly.

“Why does that scare you?”

“I can’t talk about this with you.”

“Because I’m your brother?”

Right
. That sounded so stupid. “Do you believe that you can really like someone, deep down know that someone is different and special in a way you don’t think of everyone else, after just a few days?”

Dillon smiled. “I knew I would spend the rest of my life with Kate after two days. And I had it worse than you.”

“Worse? How so?”

“I had Jack as competition.”

“
Jack?
” Lucy laughed. “I don’t see Jack and Kate together
at all
.”

“They have a lot in common,” Dillon said, not finding the same humor that Lucy did. “The way they think, they way they distrust, the way they process information. There was a point where I believed if I had to make a stand for Kate, I didn’t know if she would choose me. But I would have done it. Even though I was scared stiff she’d pick Jack.”

Lucy thought a moment. “I didn’t know Jack was ever in the running,” she said. “Jack and Kate
are
alike in some ways, but Kate has always wanted—needed—stability. Trust. Honesty. She plays the tough, no-nonsense FBI agent, but at her core she’s a quiet
homebody. She’s happiest when she’s here, at home with you. It gives her peace.”

Dillon looked straight ahead with a half-smile on his face. “I really love her.”

“I know. That’s why you made her marry you, even though she gave you every excuse why that was a bad idea.”

“She’s stubborn.” Dillon glanced at Lucy. “Why don’t you trust your own feelings?”

“I don’t know.” She glanced down the hall to where Sean was working in the dining room. She remembered what he’d said, the promises he gave. How she was different, but not in the way she’d thought. “I think I realized that falling for someone who is almost part of the family—Patrick’s partner—creates a lot of problems, especially if things don’t work out.”

“Or it creates a lot of benefits if it does work out. You and Patrick have a terrific relationship. Sean is his closest friend since the accident. And Sean is smitten.”

“Oh, God, you sound like Dad.”

Dillon laughed and hugged her. “Don’t over-think everything, Lucy. I have that problem, too. Maybe it’s the curse of having a degree in psychology.”

Sean brought his laptop into the dining room and set it up so he could see anyone who approached the entrance. He glanced at the papers Kate had been reading when he’d first walked in with Lucy over an hour ago—they appeared to be emails from Morton’s computer. He didn’t have time to read them now; he had to ensure his bugs were operable and recording.

They’d have to tell Dillon and Kate about Prenter’s murder and the possible connection to Lucy’s work at
WCF, but first Sean needed more information. Lucy had uncovered little of value while she went through the WCF files. She verified that no one person had been assigned to all eight parolees who had been killed, which made sense considering that the murders were all over the country. The one apparent connection was that each assigned cop reported that the felon didn’t show—and the parolee was killed miles from the original stakeout.

Sean put in his earbuds and logged into his server where the recordings were archived. He focused on the recordings from Fran’s office. After Lucy explained the operation, he knew nothing happened in WCF without Fran Buckley’s knowledge and consent. It would hurt Lucy, but Sean read people well—and his gut told him Fran was somehow involved.

The first sounds recorded were of Fran working at her desk—typing, on the phone in a boring conversation—but he didn’t want to fast-forward for fear he’d miss something. Talking, typing; then he heard Cody’s voice.

“Fran, we need to talk.”

“Come in,” Fran said.

A door closed. Shuffling of a chair.

“Brad Prenter is dead.”

“Cody—”

Sean sat upright and replayed the last minute of the recording to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. He glanced at the time stamp. Five-fifteen. Right after he picked up Lucy.

Lucy walked into the dining room with a tray of coffee, cream, and sugar. “You like yours cream only, right?” She narrowed her gaze. “What’s wrong?”

He paused the recording and glanced at Dillon standing
behind Lucy. “Lucy—I’m listening to the bugs we planted.”

“What?” She put the tray down, the dishes rattling.

“You planted
bugs
? You mean listening devices?” Dillon asked, too surprised to sound irritated.

Lucy bit her lip. “I was going to tell you and Kate, but then this all happened tonight with Cody … remember the parolee project I told you about at WCF? One of the guys we were tracking was murdered. Someone used my account to set him up.”

Kate stood in the doorway next to Dillon. “What the hell are you talking about?” she exclaimed.

“Sit down,” Lucy said. “I have a lot to tell you.”

When Lucy was done telling Dillon and Kate everything she knew about the parolee project, Kate swore and Dillon stared at his sister with his deep-thinking gaze. But Lucy didn’t know exactly
what
he was thinking, and she felt so tiny she wished she could go to bed and hide under the covers. She hated that she’d been caught in the middle of something like this—that it might have been Fran using her, she didn’t even want to think about it.

“Say something!” she finally said.

“This is fucked,” Kate snapped.

Lucy had to agree with Kate, but right now Dillon’s opinion meant more to her. It always had.

“Dammit, Dillon, tell me I was a stupid idiot, say
something!
”

Dillon’s expression softened. “You’re not stupid, Lucy.”

“Naïve, then.”

He shook his head. “I’ve interviewed hundreds of convicted criminals. And there were some I knew, if they ever got out on the streets again, they’d rape or kill. I knew it
here
.” He punched his stomach. “But there was nothing I could do except testify to make sure they
stayed in prison for their maximum sentence, and hope—pray—that they’d die before they were released.”

“I didn’t kill anyone. I didn’t know,” Lucy said, her chest tightening. “You can’t believe I did!”

“Of course I believe you, Lucy.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I can easily understand how someone could plan such an elaborate project. It would be someone with a strong moral center, and because of circumstances—probably a traumatic event—they’ve twisted that morality to justify murder.”

“The vigilante syndrome.”

Dillon nodded. “When the system fails, someone has to uphold justice.”

“So someone is killing for what they consider noble reasons,” Sean said.

“And they’re smart—they’re not targeting all parolees, but they’ve selected a choice few. That takes restraint, intelligence, premeditation … but
who
they’re picking is important.”

Sean asked, “What about opportunity?”

Dillon shook his head. “I don’t think so. It’s premeditated. Vigilantes have a strong sense of right and wrong, but what they think is
right
and
wrong
is viewed through distorted lenses.”

Lucy added, “They think the world is in anarchy, law enforcement and the criminal justice system ineffective. They justify their actions—they are simply doing what the government can’t or won’t do.”

“They justify murder,” Kate said. She rubbed her eyes. “Damn, I can almost understand that. I would have killed Trask to stop him.”

“That’s not the same thing,” Dillon said, “and you know it. Trask was a killer evading authorities.”

Lucy said, “There are many law-abiding citizens who aren’t violent, though they have some traits in common with vigilantes. They fight nonstop for tougher laws, swift penalties, strengthening of the death penalty, more resources for law enforcement.”

Dillon concurred. “They strongly support restrictions on freedom in the name of public safety, and often report friends and neighbors who they think are breaking the law. They don’t have the psyche to kill.”

“But,” Lucy said, “those with a strong sense of vigilante justice coupled with the ability or psyche to take a human life, usually because of violence in their past, can cross the line.”

Did that make Lucy more likely to kill in cold blood? She’d killed Adam Scott because he’d hurt her, he would have killed her, and he would not have stopped with her. She tracked parolees because they should stay in prison for their crimes. Was she on the path of developing such a twisted sense of justice that she could justify cold-blooded murder?

A chill ran through her body, cold goose-bumps rose on her flesh. Sean looked at her, but didn’t say anything.

Dillon leaned forward, his expression intense, so wrapped up in his own analysis he didn’t notice Lucy’s discomfort and self-appraisal.

“They have taken their crusade beyond the law, and almost to the people themselves. Because really, would most people shed a tear for a child molester who’s killed in a hit-and-run? Or a rapist who’s shot to death in an alley?”

Sean said, “Then why not just declare war on the worst of the lot and kill them all?”

Dillon said, “Public relations. Motive. Opportunity. Vigilantes don’t want to be stopped. Also, the targets have some meaning for them personally. They may be targeting an area—for example, criminals who get off on a technicality in one jurisdiction—or they may be targeting individuals who committed a specific crime, like child molesters.”

Lucy cleared her throat. “I ran all eight victims, and I can’t see a commonality.”

“Do you mind if I look?”

Lucy handed over her files. “I used my program; maybe there’s a flaw in extrapolating the data. I thought—”

Dillon glanced at the files. “Your program is brilliant, Lucy. It’s the best thing I’ve seen that melds science with psychology.” He tapped the first page. “I already see the problem.”

“What?”

“Take out Prenter.” He handed her back the files.

She stared. At first she didn’t see anything because the report had been run with Prenter’s data and stats. She’d need to rerun everything without Prenter, and then …

“Oh!”

“You see it, too.”

“Yes. All seven were convicted of molesting a minor female they knew.”