Silenced (23 page)

He kissed her again. “So you put these murders together?”

Again, Lucy made sure no one could overhear, and she kept her voice low. “Some of this is just theory—”

“Lucy, no qualifications, okay?”

“I told you about the crime scene this morning?”

“Briefly. A triple murder at the Hotel Potomac?”

“Yes. The woman was a social worker for a nonprofit. She specialized in working with teenage prostitutes. The other woman was a girl named Maddie, a known prostitute and drug addict who was on and off the wagon. And the third victim, the husband, a congressional staffer.”

“Congress? Don’t tell me he worked for Crowley.”

“Dale Hartline.”

“I know next to nothing about who’s who in the Capitol.” That wasn’t completely true. He knew enough. RCK was often hired to provide personal security for high-ranking officials when they traveled overseas, but Sean rarely, if ever, took those assignments. He did, on occasion, run background checks for campaigns or high-security checks that weren’t covered by the FBI or another agency.

And it was clear that Lucy didn’t buy his disclaimer. She said, “And he used to work for Senator Paxton. In fact, the last call Chris Taylor made before he was killed was to Senator Paxton.”

“Paxton,” Sean said flatly. He had mixed feelings about the senator, from the time he’d first met him in January, but he didn’t share this with Lucy. Paxton had been her mentor for years, though after Women and Children First was shut down six months ago, they had a strained relationship. Lucy didn’t talk about it, and Sean suspected she had grown tired of trying to fill the shoes of Paxton’s dead daughter. Sean had seen pictures of Monique Paxton. The resemblance to Lucy was uncanny.

“He said Chris called to meet with him for advice, then admitted that Chris likely wanted money to help Jocelyn and the girls, but he was vague on details, claimed Chris didn’t give him any. I think he was more or less telling the truth about the call. What tipped me off that he knows something more was that he recognized the prostitutes we showed him.”

“He said that?”

“No. He kept his face completely blank, showed no recognition whatsoever.”

“Does he have a tell? Did his eye twitch or something?”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “
No.
It was his total lack of empathy. You know him—he’s hired you and RCK, right?”

“Yes, but—”

“He has this way of being quietly enraged when women are in danger. It’s subtle, but it’s always there. And he buried it. I think because he didn’t want to show that he recognized the girls.”

“You’re not stretching on this? Reading something into it?”

“No! Dammit, Noah said the same thing. But I swear, Ivy Harris is the type of girl he feels compelled to save. Same basic physical features as his daughter.”

“And you.”

She closed her eyes.

“Luce, talk to me.”

“Today was the first time I saw Jonathon in nearly six months.”

“Why is that strange? WCF was disbanded. Would you have a reason to see him?”

“Maybe not.”

But something was on her mind, and he pushed. “Did something happen when you last talked to him?”

“I haven’t talked to him since the last WCF fundraiser, the week I learned my boss was a killer.”

“But I took you to the Capitol to see him. Remember? A few weeks after that fiasco.”

Lucy didn’t say anything, and Sean had the uneasy sensation that she was trying to come up with a lie. Lucy was one of those rare people who couldn’t lie convincingly.

“Lucy?”

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. Something is bothering you, what is it?”

“I didn’t actually talk to him.”

“What do you mean, you didn’t talk to him?”

She looked at him, her eyes uncertain. “Did you ever know in your heart that something was true, but couldn’t prove it?”

“Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I think Jonathon was an active participant in the vigilante group that destroyed WCF.”

Sean absorbed that stunning accusation.

“How active?”

“I suspect that he knew about it.”

“Do you think he’s a killer?”

“Maybe.” She glanced away. She was hedging.

“Who do you think he killed?”

“Shh,” Lucy admonished, glancing around the semiprivate room. She whispered, “Roger Morton.”

Sean looked at her for a long minute. “Why?”

“Something Mick Mallory said.”

“Mallory confessed to killing dozens of sexual predators.”

“Yes, but when I spoke to him,
before
his formal confession, he said something that had me thinking the senator actually pulled the trigger.”

“I can’t hate him for that,” he said simply. He brought her hand to his lips. Lucy was aching about this, and he wanted to remove her conflict. Roger Morton didn’t deserve to live, but saying that out loud wasn’t going to help Lucy. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know! What was I supposed to say? A powerful U.S. Senator killed a scumbag rapist and I’m actually kind of happy about it?” She shook her head. “I don’t have any proof. It’s just a bunch of little intangible things that have been bothering me. You kill once, it makes it easier to do it again.”

“Don’t go there, Lucy.” She’d killed two men. They were evil bastards who’d hurt and murdered numerous innocent people. Why did she keep torturing herself over it?

“I don’t know how deep he was involved,” she said. “I don’t want to know. Like I said, I have no evidence—and I want to keep it that way.”

That, Sean understood. “Don’t let it hurt you like this.”

“I’ve made peace with it.” Again, her eyes darted away. She was so easy to read.

“Have you?”

“Yes—”

“I think you’re torn. He
may
have killed a rapist. A killer who was let out of prison far too early. Someone who hurt you—and who hurt his daughter. Deep down, you can’t condone it. But I’m not going to lose sleep over this, and neither should you.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes you are. It’s all clear to me now. If the senator is guilty, you think not saying something is wrong. But the truth is you have no proof, and saying anything about it would be the mistake. But I can find out.”

“How?”

“Talk to Mallory.”

“No!”

“You deserve the truth, and I know you don’t want to face that bastard.”

“I don’t
want
to know the truth. If I know for a
fact
that Jonathon killed Roger Morton, I’d have to tell Noah and the FBI. I don’t want to.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” She was obviously surprised he’d given up so easily.

Sean kissed her forehead. “You think the senator is capable of not quite legal activities,” he began.

Lucy raised an eyebrow. “Murder is illegal.”

“Not justifiable homicide.”

“Sean.” She shook her head at him.

“Okay, sorry. I’m proud of you.” He kissed her again. He’d crawl into the hospital bed with her if he thought he could get away with it.

“What is really bothering me was talking to Jonathon today, what he said and what he
didn’t
say, I think Chris called him to help Ivy specifically. I can’t figure out
why
or
how.
But Jonathon is involved with MARC, maybe not to the extent he was with WCF, but it’s a pattern with him. Getting involved with victims’ rights groups and taking it too far.”

“This makes a lot of sense,” Sean said. “Except the why.”

“Because Jonathon is like you. He cannot stand bullies. He has always stood up for victims of violent crime. And teenage prostitutes—many of them were victims before they turned to selling sex. According to Jocelyn’s boss, Ivy was involved in this business for a long time, but helped other girls get out. She helped Jocelyn get girls off the streets.

“And somehow, Ivy is connected to Wendy James. I mentioned her name and it was written all over Ivy’s face. Three crime scenes, three messages, all a variation of a children’s rhyme.”

Lucy frowned, lost in thought, her lips moving, but he only heard an unintelligible murmur.

Sean didn’t like the expression on her face. She was internalizing the crime. He hadn’t seen her this intense in a long time, not since they had tracked an obsessive psychopathic killer in New York City five months ago.

“Luce—”

Ivy Harris.

Sean remembered why he knew the name. Talking about Senator Paxton was the connection.

Paxton had hired him to do a background check on Ivy Harris. Said she’d applied for a job on his campaign.

Sean had learned that Ivy Harris didn’t exist, but her Social Security number belonged to a dead girl, Hannah Edmonds. He offered to dig deeper, but Paxton said it wasn’t necessary. That was right before Sean and Lucy went to the Adirondacks, and Sean had put it out of his mind.

Lucy suddenly sat up. “I got it!” She winced at the sudden movement. “I needed to say it out loud, and then I heard the rhythm. Listen:

“
And this guilty whore don’t cry no more; And this little pig goes wee, wee, wee.
”

Sean heard it, but didn’t know how Lucy extrapolated it.

She said, “It’s the exact same rhythm, the exact same beats. He was having fun; it means absolutely nothing. Remember, he didn’t intend to rape her. He only wanted to make it look like a failed rape. He strangled her from behind—there was no sexual component. He wanted the police to think she was killed by a random stranger. But it
wasn’t
random. And in his effort to make it
appear
random he pulled ideas from thin air. Maybe he wanted to embarrass her, something he couldn’t do except in death.

“And,” she continued quickly, “when he killed the others he realized he’d had fun with the message. He saw the rat at the Red Light, spontaneously came up with the poem. Six targets. Witnesses say that at least six girls lived in the house on Hawthorne. Except—”

“Slow down,” Sean said, helping Lucy lean back onto the pillows. “Really, slow down.” His heart was racing, needing to keep her from overworking herself. What was he thinking? If the roles were reversed, he wouldn’t want to lie down in bed while a major investigation was happening. He could, however, keep her calm.

“I need to explain this all to Noah,” Lucy said, excited about her theory. “It wasn’t clear earlier but now I see it.”

Monica the nurse came in with an orderly pushing a wheelchair. “You can talk to whomever you want after your X-rays.”

Sean kissed Lucy on the forehead, then helped her sit up. “Listen to the nice nurse and do as you’re told and you can have ice cream in bed when you get home.”

Lucy gave him a reprimanding look, but she couldn’t hold it and started laughing. “No, no, don’t make me laugh, it hurts.”

Her laugh was the best thing for Sean’s nerves.

Sean watched Lucy being wheeled away and heard her ask the nurse, “Did you find out anything about Genie Reid?”

“She’s in surgery, but the doctor said she’s healthy and he expects her to fully recover.”

When everyone was gone, Sean sat heavily on the bed and rested his head in his hands.

Lucy is fine.

He’d find a way to keep her from working too hard tonight, but tomorrow morning she’d be back on this case.

By then, he’d have the answers from Paxton. Why the senator hadn’t gone to the FBI already, Sean didn’t know, but he’d damn well find out.

Sean sat up and called Lucy’s brother Dillon.

“Is Lucy all right?” Dillon asked.

“She’s fine. She’s in X-ray.” Sean smiled, remembering how irritated Lucy had been, repeating herself.

“I’ll let Kate know, she’s on her way to the hospital.”

“I have an errand, and I’m afraid I won’t be back before she’s done. I wouldn’t go if it wasn’t urgent.”

“No explanations necessary. Kate will bring her home.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Noah walked into FBI headquarters and was instantly bombarded with questions from his boss.

“What the hell happened?” Slater demanded. “Where’s Kincaid? I have the DC Metro police chief yelling at me, and it was his damn detective driving the car!”

Noah said with forced calm, “Genie Reid was shot in the arm. She’s in surgery. She was unconscious for twenty minutes and has a serious concussion, but is expected to recover. I made Lucy go to the hospital for X-rays, she insists she’s fine. She probably is, except for bruises, but she needs a full checkup.”

“This is why I didn’t want that girl in the field!”

Noah raised his eyebrow, biting back a more volatile retort. “‘That girl’? That girl just cracked our case wide open.”

“My office, Armstrong.”

Noah followed Slater and shut the door behind them. He stood at attention. He’d been a soldier for too long to blatantly disobey orders, but right now he wanted to be either working the case or checking on Lucy. He took responsibility for what happened. Lucy should never have been injured on the job. Not like this.

“Do you think she’s right?”

“About what?”

“That Wendy James was a prostitute.”

“There’s no hard evidence, but it fits with the information we have. The multiple affairs. The video recording room—”

Slater interrupted. “Which we have no confirmation was ever used by Wendy James or anyone else—it’s clean.”

“Which is another reason we need to find Ivy Harris and talk to her.”

Slater flipped through his e-mail, then opened Noah’s report. “You said Kincaid and Reid picked Harris up near Hawthorne Street and they were pursued by an unknown male in an unmarked dark blue van, wearing a Yankees cap.”

“Correct.”

“And how did Harris get out of the car?”

“She climbed out the shattered rear window and fled on foot. Lucy didn’t see an accomplice.”

“Doesn’t mean there wasn’t one.”

“Lucy thinks she was scared, that she didn’t know who was chasing her, and she was only concerned about her sister.”

“Sister?”

“Lucy said her name was ‘Mina.’ That’s from a neighbor on Hawthorne Street.”

“Stockton’s coming in any minute, you and Josh need to brief him on every detail. Curb your animosity toward Josh—”