Kiss Me, Kill Me (27 page)

“Well, congrats on finding your missing girl. You going home now?”

“Tomorrow morning. Unless you need Lucy.”

She shook her head. “Unless she can look into her crystal ball and tell me where Whitney Morrissey is right this minute, she’s gone above and beyond. And didn’t even get paid for it.”

“Is that why you do this? For the money?”

Suzanne snorted. “Yeah. For the money.”

They were several feet away from the entrance to Whitney’s building. Lucy was helping Andie load boxes into the van, checking the logs, making sure they had sealed everything to preserve the chain of evidence. This was going to be a complex legal case, but as soon as they found Whitney, Suzanne’s role would be over until trial.

“How does she do it?” Suzanne asked Sean.

“She has me.” Sean extended his hand and Suzanne shook it. He pulled her into a hug. “Take care of yourself, Mad Dog.”

He stepped back, grinning.

“Who told you? Hicks!”

Sean winked and walked over to Lucy. He put his arm around her shoulder and kissed her forehead. Suzanne felt a rush of jealousy. Not because Lucy had Sean, but because Suzanne had no one.

She turned, blinking back tears, and called her cop friend Mac.

“Hey, you want to get a bite to eat?”

“It’s midnight. I’m on duty at eight.”

“Sorry, I just got off.”

“Tomorrow, okay?”

“Sure.”

She hung up and looked back at Sean and Lucy. He walked her across the street to his car and opened the passenger door for her. Then he got into the driver’s side and drove away.

She was going to miss them both.

THIRTY-ONE

Wade Barnett’s arraignment Monday morning lasted ten minutes. He was released on his own recognizance. His attorney agreed to all terms: If Barnett cooperated with federal and local authorities in the capture and prosecution of Whitney Morrissey, all charges would be dropped.

Suzanne drove Wade to his apartment. After the arraignment, she had told him what they’d discovered in Whitney’s apartment, but she wasn’t surprised that he had more questions.

“How long has she been stalking me?” he asked.

“We’re still processing evidence. Over two years.”

“
Years?
” He frowned. “I started dating Whitney a little over a year ago, around Thanksgiving. I’d known her casually before that. Was she stalking me
before
then?”

“It appears so.”

He sat in the passenger seat of the sedan and stared straight ahead. “It’s my fault,” he said quietly.

“No, it’s not. Give yourself a break.”

Actually, Suzanne blamed herself. She hadn’t slept all night, thinking about what she could have done differently. She had been so focused on looking for a male killer, she hadn’t even considered the alternative.

She’d have to live with it.

Wade said, “I knew Whitney was a wacko, but I didn’t think she was dangerous. I ignored her behavior, excused it; I just didn’t think she’d hurt anyone. I’m such an asshole.”

Suzanne didn’t argue. “Maybe you are, but you also have a brother who looks up to you and thinks you’re special.”

Tears welled in Wade’s eyes. “I can’t believe he had to go through this.”

“If I were you, I’d fire that attorney of yours. He wasn’t a good advocate for your brother.”

“My mother hired him.”

“Well, I’m just saying, he gave Dennis bad advice, and while it all worked out, I wouldn’t want that prick involved in my affairs.” She paused. “No pun intended.”

“How’s Ashleigh—I mean, Kirsten?” Wade asked.

“She’s going to be okay. She’s alive.” Suzanne glanced at Wade as they stopped at a light. “You told me you didn’t have sex with her. Was that a lie because she’s underage?”

“I wasn’t lying, we never did it. But—we had this thing going online. You know.”

He didn’t have to spell it out. It seemed that Whitney Morrissey considered any woman a threat to her fantasy world with Wade Barnett—women he physically had sex with and women he had cybersex with. The depth of her obsession was bordering on insane—but Suzanne wouldn’t call her crazy, no matter what she thought of the killer’s behavior. Whitney knew exactly what she was doing when she killed those five young women, and she would have to answer for those crimes.

She turned onto Central Park West toward Wade’s apartment. “Off the record, Wade, what possessed you to start up the
Party Girl
website?”

“I was just out of college, went to England for the summer and hung out with a friend of mine who’d graduated the year before. Charlie has control over the Barnett Family Trust. I’ve always resented that I’m on an allowance, and Charlie is a tightwad. It seemed like a legitimate opportunity to make money—sort of Facebook for horny college guys. We sold ads, made a small bundle.” He shook his head. “I didn’t think there was anything really wrong with it.”

“I’m the last person to cast judgment on anyone, but let me suggest that you steer clear of the online sex trade. You can lose control real quick.”

“I just didn’t think about it.”

“Most people don’t. Just—think twice next time, okay? You’re not the same man you were two years ago.”

“I’m not even the same man I was last week.”

   While Sean went to check out Monday morning, Lucy sat at the small hotel room desk and called Hans Vigo to fill him in on the details of the Whitney Morrissey investigation. She told him what they’d discovered in her apartment, and concluded with, “She takes obsession to a whole new level. Maybe you’ve seen such pathology, but this was a first for me.”

“It’s quite extreme. The path she’s on—she’s going to go for Wade Barnett, you know that.”

“Yes. Agent Madeaux put a guard on his apartment.”

“Good. Keep him under close watch. You might want to suggest to Agent Madeaux that she hide her agents, so Whitney doesn’t think anyone is sitting on him.”

“Bait?”

“I didn’t say leave him unprotected, but if Whitney fails to see the agents, she’ll get reckless and it may be easier to catch her.”

“Or it could put innocent people in danger,” Lucy said.

“There’s always that risk, but with Wade out of prison her priority will be to make contact with him. She was careless with Sierra Hinkle, and she’s going to get more careless—and more dangerous—until she’s stopped.”

“How was she careless with the last victim? Same M.O., no witnesses.”

“From what you told me earlier, the victim was found shortly after the murder, while the previous victims were discovered hours to days later. In addition, there was physical evidence left at the scene that the crime scene investigators didn’t have before—a button and fabric from a trench coat, correct?”

“That’s what it looked like,” Lucy said. “We found a matching coat at Whitney’s apartment.”

“Whitney’s going to be extremely frustrated that her plans have been stymied,” Hans said.

“Suzanne also had someone check on Dennis Barnett, the younger brother.”

“Smart. I don’t know that she’d go after Wade’s younger brother, but if she thinks she can get to Wade through him, she might try.”

“How could we have prevented this?” she asked Hans.

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

“In the beginning, what could have been done differently after the first murder so the other four women wouldn’t have had to die?”

“That’s a destructive game to play, Lucy,” Hans said. “I think the primary problem was the crime scene itself. Drugs, alcohol, unlawful trespassing, hidden areas. Easy for someone to slip in and out unnoticed. And because of the setting—outdoors for most of the victims—there is contamination of evidence. Difficult scenes to process. To be honest, I think the first murder was handled poorly from the beginning. I’m not casting blame on the local police, but it should have come out earlier that Barnett had dated the victim.”

“Then the police would have looked at him earlier. He would have been a suspect.” Then Lucy realized what Hans meant. “And he would have been aware, so he might have taken Whitney more seriously.”

“But again, neither of us were there, and if we were, we would only have had the witness statements to go on. If no one mentioned Alanna’s ex-boyfriend, then there was nothing for the police to follow up on.”

“Secrets are truly dangerous,” Hans continued. “Are you on your way home?”

“We’re leaving at ten. Miss the traffic both leaving New York and getting back to Washington.” She looked out her window from which, if she stood just right, she could see Central Park. The traffic sounds were soothing, far better than the total silence. She was going to miss New York.

“I made a few calls, Lucy.”

She didn’t have to ask what for.

“And?” Did she really want to know?

“One person on the panel was emphatic that you not be hired. The other two voted to approve the application. But it has to be unanimous.”

“Do you know the person?”

“Yes. You won’t change her mind. She should have recused herself from the panel.”

There had been only one female agent on the panel. “I didn’t know any of the agents.”

“No, but one of them had worked with Fran Buckley and is still friendly with her. There are some people in the Bureau who don’t like the fact that you helped put a former FBI agent in prison. One of them was on the hiring panel.”

Lucy was stunned. She’d expected to be rejected because of what happened with Adam Scott, the fact that she’d killed him while he was unarmed. But it was the role—a minor role—she’d had in putting Fran Buckley in prison that had sabotaged her chances?

“Lucy, I hope you’ll appeal the decision. If you do, you’ll have a new panel. I promise, it will be fair.”

Did she want to? Was this still what she wanted?

“Hans, I didn’t trust my instincts on the Cinderella Strangler case. My gut told me the killer was a woman, but when I gave my analysis, Dennis Barnett fit the profile as well. He was dragged in for questioning and had a tough time. If I had only stood my ground—”

“Nothing would have changed. Dennis Barnett fit the profile. Until you sit down with a suspect, until you dig deep and understand their psyche, you never know who is capable of murder and under what circumstances.” Hans paused, then added, “I read your report. You said everything you needed to, except a conclusion. Your profile was there, but you didn’t delineate it. Why?”

“I’m not a profiler. I’m not even an FBI agent.”

“But you can be. Both. It’s your decision, Lucy. Do you want it enough to fight for it?”

“When I was in Whitney’s room,” Lucy said, “I mentally stepped back. I can’t explain it any other way. It’s like my personality wasn’t in the room, only Whitney’s. I looked at the world through her eyes. In her drawings, everything was perfect—in fact, too perfect. So when she distorted the faces, it was both beautiful and hideous,” Lucy said quietly, “Suzanne and the others didn’t have the same reaction that I did. There aren’t many of us, are there?”

“No, Lucy, there aren’t. I’m happy to hear that you can separate yourself from the scene. That’s not easy to do.”

“I didn’t even try. It just—happened. I’ll appeal the FBI panel’s decision. And if I don’t get in, I’ll be okay. I’ve put it in perspective.”

“I’m pleased. And good work on the case. I’ll see you when you get back to Washington.”

Lucy hung up and walked to the window. The sky had lightened, some blue showing. She felt relieved with her decision.

Lucy’s cell phone rang. “I don’t have a lot of time,” Suzanne said without introduction, “but I wanted you to know I had NYPD check on Dennis and all is well on Staten Island. They’re driving by every hour. We have Wade secure. We’ll find the bitch.”

“Good,” Lucy said.

“Come back and visit sometime. I’ll show you the city.”

“I’d like that. Let me know when you arrest Whitney.”

“Absolutely.” Suzanne hung up.

Sean returned to the room with coffee for Lucy. She smiled. “You didn’t have to get me coffee.”

He kissed her. “Yes I did. Who was that?” He sipped his own drink.

“Suzanne. What’s that?” She gestured to his cup. Sean didn’t like coffee.

“Hot chocolate. Are you ready?”

“Yes. I spoke to Hans. I’m going to appeal.”

“I knew you would.”

“You did?”

He nodded. “Lucy—”

“We’d better go now or we’ll be stuck in traffic when we hit the Beltway.”

“I know, but I need five minutes.”

His serious tone made her anxious. “What’s wrong?”

“Saturday night.”

She sat down heavily on the sofa. What had she done wrong? Or maybe his
I love you
had just slipped out and he regretted it. She should feel relieved, but instead she felt cold. “It’s okay,” she said. “I understand.”

He sat down next to her. “What do you think you understand?”

“We all sometimes say things we don’t mean, especially in the heat of the moment, and it’s not going to change anything.” But it would. It would change everything. Because she could no longer trust him.

“Stop it,” Sean said. He put his chocolate down, took her coffee from her grip, and placed it on the glass table. He squeezed her hands and said, “I love you. We’re not in the throes of passionate sex and I can still state emphatically that I love you.”

Butterflies flitted in her stomach. She opened her mouth to tell him she loved him, too, but nothing came out.

He kissed her. “Shh.” He rested his forehead on hers. “This is about the condom. Or that I didn’t have it on. And I have no excuse. I’ve never forgotten, not with you or anyone. And I’m not ready to be a dad. I don’t know if I’ll make a good dad, but if you’re pregnant, don’t expect me to walk away. Understand? Because I love you, and I’ll take the challenge, and—”

Lucy squeezed back tears and turned her head.

“What? Did I say something wrong? Luce—”

“I can’t get pregnant. I can’t have a baby.”

Sean wasn’t expecting that answer. He didn’t know what to say.

“After the attack seven years ago, there was some internal damage. I had surgery. The doctor couldn’t save my uterus.”

She’d lived with this truth for years, but hadn’t thought about it. When she was eighteen, having children had seemed so far away and unreal that it hadn’t affected her, not with everything else she’d had to deal with at the time. And then, she’d been so angry and hurt that she couldn’t even comprehend raising a family in such a violent and brutal world.

But now, for the first time, she felt a wave of loss. She wasn’t ready for a family now—but even so, she’d never have the chance to have one in the future.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

Sean turned her face to his. “Don’t tell me you’re sorry.” He kissed her hard, holding her chin, his hand shaking. “Just, don’t.” His voice cracked. “I love you. That will never change.” He kissed her again.

Lucy held on to Sean. With him, she felt not only strong enough to handle anything, she knew she’d be okay in the end. He was a rock, he didn’t budge, he gave her exactly what she needed even before she knew that she needed anything. In Whitney’s apartment, he had been an unmoving tower of strength, but didn’t coddle her or try to protect her from the cruel truths in Whitney’s drawings or writings. He understood without her telling him that any personal emotions would have undone her, so he let her do what had to be done. And afterward, he was still there, ready to listen or just hold her hand.

“You’re pretty amazing, Sean Rogan,” she said.

“So I’ve been told many times.” He kissed her again, then pulled her to her feet and gave her a tight hug. “You’re pretty incredible yourself, Lucy Kincaid.”

“So I’ve been told,” she said with a smile.

They stood there in the middle of the hotel room holding each other, neither wanting to let go. Lucy felt a peace she couldn’t voice, but didn’t have to.