Mortal Sin (46 page)

Now he heard the fire growing quickly above him as he concentrated on the tumbler.

Click
.

He had the second number. He was focusing on the third when he heard rapid gunfire upstairs.

“I need a gun,” Lucy said.

“My ankle,” he directed.

He felt Lucy unholster his backup gun, and she aimed it at the door.

He had to go slow because if he missed the click, he would have to start all over. But the noise overhead interfered with his hearing.

Lucy watched the door, since Sean’s back was to it. She heard shouts and voices, then the door opened, smoke billowing into the basement from the kitchen. The crackle of the growing fire terrified her. She didn’t know how they were going to get out. She aimed her gun, praying it was SWAT or Kate or someone …

It was Miller. He was bleeding, but he aimed and fired his gun at the same time Lucy did. Something stung her ankle, but she didn’t stop pressing the trigger of the
nine-millimeter until there were no more bullets. Miller stared at her as he fell back against the railing and tumbled down the staircase, landing with a dead thud she heard over the crackling of the fire.

She twisted around to check on Sean. He was sprawled on the ground.

“NO!”

The lock was open and she pulled it off the cage, pushed open the door, and crawled out.

“Sean, dammit! No!”

“I’m. Okay.” His voice was weak.

“Where are you hit?”

“Vest.” He sat up, not bleeding but obviously shaken and out of breath, then pulled Lucy into a tight hug.

Lucy stumbled over to where Miller had fallen down the stairs when she shot him. She pulled away his gun, even though it was obvious he was dead.

“We have to go,” Sean said. “Carolyn!”

The girl didn’t move, just stared, nearly catatonic.

“Is she hurt?”

Lucy crawled back into the cage.

“Carolyn, we have to go
now
.”

Carolyn shook her head.

“He’s dead! I killed him. Please, Carolyn. You don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. We have to go!”

Carolyn hesitated, and Lucy grabbed her under the arms and dragged her out. Carolyn cried out in pain, but Lucy didn’t stop. She knew the girl was injured, but getting her out of the burning house was paramount.

“Sean,” Lucy said, “can you carry her?”

“Can you walk?”

“Yes.” She didn’t know if she could. She touched her
ankle and came away with blood. It hurt, but she thought she was only grazed. “Go, she’s really weak.”

Sean was obviously torn, but picked Carolyn up and draped her over his shoulder. Lucy pulled herself to her feet. She tried to walk, but her left leg crumbled beneath her. Sean turned around, panic in his expression.

“Go!” she said. “I’m coming.”

She crawled across the floor behind Sean. He went up the stairs and through the door. She was halfway up the stairs when the ceiling sagged above her and she screamed. The fire was so loud she knew no one could have heard her. The burning wood, the creaks and crackling—she coughed and reached for the railing to pull herself up. She hopped on her good foot, using the railing for support.

Fingers of flames reached through the open door. The wood railing, weakened by Miller’s fall, quickly caught fire. The stairs themselves creaked and she feared they’d collapse from the top, dropping her to the ground below with no way out.

At the top of the stairs, Sean emerged. He stepped onto the short landing and the stairs swayed dramatically. He stepped back.

“Lucy, hurry!”

She let go of the burning rail and crawled up the stairs as they swayed. She felt everything shift downward and she reached for Sean …

He grabbed her wrist as the staircase collapsed. He was coughing, his face black with soot, but he pulled her up, every muscle straining in his neck and arms. They collapsed on the kitchen floor, coughing. The heat from the flames devouring the house was intense.

“Luce,” Sean coughed as they slithered on their bellies through the smoky kitchen.

A figure dressed all in black came in. He wore a SWAT mask. He grabbed Lucy by the underarms and pulled her through the house and out the front door.

“Sean!” she cried.

“I’ll get him.”

Her eyes stung and she couldn’t see clearly, but she recognized that voice. Noah Armstrong. He ran up the stairs and into the burning house.

She stared, terrified she’d lose Sean, that Noah would die trying to save him. Miller must have used accelerant, and coupled with the age of the house and the old, dry wood, the fire had spread in minutes.

The roof caved in and the house seemed to shift as it swayed. She coughed, and Dillon was suddenly at her side, putting a portable oxygen mask over her face.

She took a couple of breaths, then pushed it aside.

“Lucy, you’re bleeding.”

“I’m okay.”

Dillon hugged her tightly.

“Sean—”

“Noah is getting him out. Are you really okay?”

She couldn’t answer. She stared at the door.
Please, please!

The house continued to collapse in on itself.

Sean and Noah hadn’t come out.

“No,” she moaned. “No!”

Dillon hugged her, trying to shield her face, but she pushed him away. “Lucy—”

She’d been so cold in the basement; now she felt burned from the inside out.

The entire place was an inferno. Every plank of wood
glowing in the hungry flames. Then the house crumbled as the weight of the second story forced the entire structure to collapse.

Her mouth dropped and she stared. Sean.

No. Oh, God, please
.

Dillon squeezed her hand. “Lucy, you need medical attention. Please. You’re bleeding.”

She stared at the melting snow, saw drops of blood falling from her arm, her ankle, her head. Tears of blood, weeping over a loss she couldn’t comprehend. Hope for a normal future was severed by the cruelty of fate.

Kate knelt down. Lucy stared at her. “Why?” It was the timeless question she never had an answer for. And neither did Kate.

Dillon held both of them, but Lucy felt nothing. She was dying inside.

Hans ran over. “They got out the back!”

Lucy stared at him in disbelief. Was this an illusion? She’d seen the house collapse. “You’re sure?”

“I’m positive. Sean and Noah are fine. So is the girl you saved. She’s in the lifeline helicopter now.”

Two SWAT team members flanked Noah, who had his mask off, his face black with soot, and Sean, who now wore Noah’s mask, as they trudged through the melting snow toward the triage area in the driveway near the SWAT van. Dillon helped Lucy stand and she hobbled over to Sean.

He came right to her and held her tight.

Lucy hobbled down the stairs, her left foot in a thick bandage, her right arm bandaged as well. The stitches underneath itched, but she couldn’t do anything about it.

Sean was at the bottom of the stairs waiting for her. He looked tired, but other than a few bruises, he was as good as new.

She kissed him and smiled. He ran a hand through her hair and kissed her again, long and soft, holding her close.

“Is everyone here?”

He nodded.

She tilted her head. “Are you okay?”

He pushed back the collar of her shirt and frowned at the cut from Miller’s whip. She reached up to hide the bright red welt, but Sean took her hand into his and kissed it. “I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “No. Don’t—”

“I should have gone to the church with you. I should never have left you alone.”

Lucy touched his face. “We didn’t know. You couldn’t
have known. We all thought Mick Mallory killed Cody.”

Her words didn’t ease his guilt, though she didn’t blame him, or anyone, except Peter Miller.

“I spoke with Carolyn this morning,” she said.

“She’s talking now?”

“Not a lot. I talked more with her mother, who flew in from Pennsylvania to be with her. They’re releasing her from the hospital tomorrow. She has a lot of things to work through, but Dillon’s helping to find her the right counselor, and as I told her, she survived. She won because she lived, and Peter Miller died. I don’t know if it helped, but it gets me through the day.”

Sean kissed her again.

Kate cleared her throat from the hall. “Can I get you both in here? Noah has to head back to headquarters to brief the Assistant U.S. Attorney, and we’re all hungry.”

Lucy and Sean followed Kate to the kitchen, where everyone involved in the case was serving up a buffet that Dillon had brought in from Lucy’s favorite restaurant. Abigail, Noah, Hans—they were all there. Noah’s right hand had been burned and was wrapped in bandages.

Once everyone was seated, Dillon prayed a simple grace. They ate in silence, then Lucy asked Noah, “I need to know what happened out there at the farm. How many?”

She didn’t need to elaborate.

“They found the remains of twelve women,” Noah said. “Seven from just the last six months. The others were from before his incarceration.” He sipped water.

They ate in silence awhile longer, then Noah said,
“The U.S. Attorney is going to negotiate a plea agreement with Mallory and Buckley.”

Lucy closed her eyes. Sean sought her hand under the table. “I expected that.”

“That’s what my meeting is about this afternoon. We’re keeping this all under wraps. I don’t have to tell you what would happen if the public got wind that two former FBI agents were vigilante killers.”

“Half the people would support them, the other half would vilify the Bureau,” Lucy said. “I understand.”

Kate said, “But Mallory won’t be getting out of prison, ever.”

Noah said, “They’re still working through the details, but they’re talking about giving Buckley fifteen-to-life and Mallory life without parole. Mallory has been forthcoming, but it took what happened with Miller to get Buckley to tell her lawyer she wanted to cut a deal.”

“What about why those parolees were targeted?” Kate asked.

Noah and Hans exchanged a glance. Hans said carefully, “Some questions are better left unanswered.”

They suspected, Lucy realized, but maybe couldn’t prove it. Or didn’t want to.

“Don’t over-think it,” Noah said. “There is no definitive proof, and neither Buckley or Mallory have added anything to their statements.”

“What happens to WCF?” Lucy asked. “We did good work—”

“They’re shutting it down. They have to,” Noah added. “But Hans is going to make sure the work you were doing—minus the parolee project—will continue.”

She turned to Hans. “You are?”

“I have friends at a similar organization based in Texas. Our field office down there has worked extensively with them, and they’re under the radar. As soon as we get the okay from the Justice Department, all WCF files will be sent to them.”

“Thank you,” Lucy said, though the information was bittersweet.

“There’s one more thing,” Noah said. “I asked Mallory where the box of Adam Scott’s souvenirs was. He wasn’t very forthcoming, but he gave us the key to the safe deposit box. There was one request he had, and I agreed to it, provided you agree.”

Dillon said, “He has no right to ask Lucy for anything.”

“He doesn’t, but—well, essentially, he asked if you would retrieve it and decide whether the families should have the items back.”

Her fork slipped from her fingers. “Why?”

Hans said, “He said he never wanted to hurt anyone, and if seeing the items would hurt the families, you would know.”

Lucy didn’t know how the survivors would react. Some would want the items returned, others wouldn’t.

Noah said, “The jewelry was recovered in the course of a federal investigation, and the rule of the Bureau is to return all personal items not necessary for trial to the victims’ families. But identifying which item belongs to which family could prove difficult.”

Lucy knew that wasn’t completely true. Most families would know what personal effects were missing when the body was found. But Noah was giving her an out.

Everyone was looking at her.

“Lucy, you don’t have to do anything, even make a decision, right now,” Sean said quietly.

“I’d like to see the box before I decide.”

Noah drove Lucy to the bank right after lunch. “I hope I’m not making you late,” she said.

He shook his head. “I won’t be too late.”

They were parked behind the bank. The sky was still gray, the day still cold. Some days, Lucy thought that winter would never end. She longed for San Diego and the beaches and warm Januarys.

“Thank you,” she said.

He looked surprised. “For what? It’s only a slight detour.”

“For last week. Saving my life, Sean’s life—”

He held up his hand. “Don’t. I know what you did. You put that woman, Carolyn, ahead of yourself. I wanted to talk to you about that.” He pulled an envelope from his pocket and handed it to her.

She frowned and took it. The return address was FBI national headquarters, but there was no stamp. “Do you want me to open this?”

“Yes.”

Suddenly nervous, she unsealed the envelope and pulled out a single piece of paper.