’Course Bobby had to cut me and I didn’t like that too much, but it worked and I came here and he walked outta the hospital. It was damn perfect.”
“What about your fingerprints?” Warden Cullen asked.
“Before Bobby left Louisiana, he hacked into the computer system and swapped our IDs. You know, fingerprints and whatnot. It’s all there, in the computer. And Bobby is really smart. He played the inside good. Got access to the library and offices. He had some guy in the pen for computer fraud help him.”
“Who?” the warden asked.
Lloyd shrugged. “Didn’t ask.”
Rowan couldn’t believe what Lloyd was telling them. Bobby had been walking free for fourteen months. He’d probably kept a low profile for a while to make sure the prison system hadn’t caught on, and when he didn’t see anything in the news, he started following her. Read her books. Planned how to torment her. How to kill her characters and make her suffer.
“You bastard.” She spread her hands on the table in front of her, her knuckles white.
“Hey! I didn’t kill anybody. I don’t kill people. I’m a thief.” He said it with pride, and Rowan just shook her head and pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose. Bobby was alive. He was walking the streets and killing people.
“Do you know where MacIntosh is now?” Roger asked, his voice low.
Lloyd shrugged. “He didn’t keep in touch, if you know what I mean. Why would he? He had what he wanted, I had what I wanted.”
“Take him back to his cell,” Warden Cullen said with obvious disgust.
The guards hoisted Lloyd up and walked him out. Over his shoulder, he glanced at Rowan. “Bobby told me you were a weak bitch. I dunno. I think he underestimated you.” He paused. “But I know you shouldn’t underestimate Bobby.”
Warden Cullen allowed them to use his office while he went to another room to talk to his people about the situation.
Roger reinforced the APB Quinn Peterson had put out earlier, sent a team over to watch his house and protect Gracie, and when he didn’t have any more calls to make, sat down and finally looked at Rowan.
“I’m sorry, Rowan.”
“You bastard. I trusted you.”
He closed his eyes. When he opened them, Rowan was surprised to see tears. He swallowed. “I only wanted to protect you. Rowan, you’re the daughter I never had. But damn, I was an awful father. I was never there for you. I pushed you to go into the FBI, pushed you into the business, and tried to push you into staying. I thought- hell, I don’t know what I thought. Retribution, justice, what did I know?”
Rowan was surprised when the hot sting of tears crept into the back of her eyes. She wanted to hate Roger for keeping something so important from her, for lying to her, but she couldn’t hate him.
She was sorely, irrevocably disappointed in him. The system had known Bobby was alive, and Roger should have come clean when this entire charade started to unfold.
They might have learned the truth sooner. And saved someone’s life. Like Michael’s.
“Roger, you were the father I needed. I never believed you’d lie to me. That you’d keep something so important a secret. And what about the people who died because you remained silent? What about Michael?”
“Believe me when I tell you I checked and double-checked Bobby’s status. I had no reason to believe he wasn’t in prison.”
“But when all the leads dried up? When the tiny hope that someone related to the Franklin murders was involved didn’t pan out? What about then?”
She swiped at her face, impatiently slapping the tears aside. A quick glance at Quinn and John standing to the side reminded her she wasn’t alone with Roger. They’d been so quiet, she’d forgotten they were in the room.
“I don’t know,” Roger said quietly. “I don’t know that we could have stopped what happened.”
“You’re right. We don’t know. We don’t know because we never had the chance to try.” She stared at him and saw a man she no longer recognized. He looked like Roger Collins-dark, graying hair, clear blue eyes, hint of wrinkles edging his eyes and mouth. But he wasn’t the Roger she spent half her childhood with. The man who taught her truth and justice were worth fighting for. The man who stood before her was a liar, and his betrayal stung.
“Peter.” Her eyes widened as she realized that if Bobby knew about her, he had to know about Peter. “Peter- he’s going after him!”
Roger shook his head. “No. He thinks Peter is dead.”
She looked at him quizzically. “Why?”
“He believes Peter was killed that night, that you were the only survivor. He alluded to that when I interrogated him, and I never corrected his assumption.”
“Certainly he went through the newspaper archives and found out it wasn’t true!”
“Peter was listed in critical condition, and there was never any press account of his death or survival.”
“Critical?” Rowan remembered that Peter had been so emotionally distraught he’d been sedated after the murders, but he hadn’t been physically injured.
She took a deep breath. “We need to check on this jerk’s story, try to retrace Bobby’s steps for the past fourteen months.” She slammed her fist on the desk as she sunk into a chair. “Bobby has been free for fourteen months and no one fucking knew!”
John put his hand on her shoulder as her breath came in rasps. Amazingly, she felt better. His calm presence throughout the plane ride, the interrogation, and now-it was just what she needed. She glanced up at him and he gave her a nod.
“There’s something else I need to tell you,” Roger said as he sat in the warden’s chair.
She turned to him, bracing herself for the worst, but was surprised when Roger said, “I think Bobby visited your father twice last year.”
Her eyes widened. “And no one noticed?”
“He used a false name and identification. Bob Smith. I tried to get the tapes, but protocol is that they overwrite them every three months. They are digitally preserved in an out-of-state archive and are being sent to me. I should have something tonight or tomorrow.”
“We don’t need the tapes. It was Bobby.”
“I agree, but we may get a recent photograph.”
Rowan took a deep breath. “I want to go to Boston.”
John spoke for the first time. “That’s not a good idea.”
She turned to look at him. His jaw was set, his mouth a thin, angry line. Angry? Maybe worried. It didn’t matter. She had to do it. “I need to see my father. Maybe he has an idea what Bobby’s plans are. That sounds like something Bobby would do. Brag.” She paused. “He thought our father was weak. Bobby’d want to rub his nose in the fact that he’s stronger. That he killed without breaking and enjoyed it. That he planned on killing the rest of us.”
“I want you in a safe house tomorrow,” Roger said. “We’ll have dozens of agents all over the country hunting for MacIntosh. But he’s coming for you. I need you out of harm’s way.”
“No,” Rowan said. “I’m going to Boston. I’m going to see my father, then I’m going to call Peter and tell him the truth. I have to. I can’t let him believe the lie anymore. And even though Bobby doesn’t know about him, he knows enough about me that he might be able to track him down. Peter needs to be on alert.”
“I can’t change your mind,” said Roger. It was a statement.
She shook her head. “Tomorrow morning I’m flying to Boston. With or without you.”
John leaned over and whispered in her ear. “You’re not going anyplace without me, Rowan. You still need a bodyguard.”
She turned and searched his eyes. He’d been quiet all day. He blamed her for Michael’s death, and he blamed himself. She’d seen that for herself yesterday. But now? He grieved; he wanted revenge. But he’d also sent out this invisible protective shell to surround her. She felt stronger in his presence, like she could get through this. Alive and well.
“Thank you,” she mouthed, then turned back to Roger. “Six A.M. Lobby. And don’t let Dr. Christopher tell him
