office next to Duke’s. He stood in his doorway and said, “Thanks for the plane.”
J.T. waved off his appreciation. “Sean knows what he’s doing. He’s a quick study. Someday he’ll be better than me.”
It wasn’t an arrogant comment. J.T. had been a Navy SEAL and had flown fighter jets, landing on moving aircraft carriers at sea.
“Any luck?”
“Some,” he said. “Jayne has sorted the property records and extracted those in the area Megan felt were most likely to be Maggie’s home base. If anyone knows psychos, it’s Megan.”
They were using Rogan-Caruso equipment because it was better and faster than what the FBI had locally. The Menlo Park cybercrimes unit could match them, but they had other cases and priorities and couldn’t drop everything to devote the majority of their server time to find one missing adult. Rogan-Caruso could.
“We have the best people mapping the area,” J.T said. “Then we’ll pull down satellite photos and overlay in the high-target areas.”
This was where it would get dicey. J.T. had high security clearance and worked extensively on top-secret projects, but he was using his clearance for nonsanctioned activities. When Duke had first asked him for help after Quin was kidnapped, J.T. said he wouldn’t ask permission, because he already knew the answer. “And,” he’d added, “I know you’ll be able to clean up any trail we leave.”
“I can’t tell you how much-”
J.T. put up his hand. “Don’t. You’d do the same.”
“I’ll see how I can help. Are they in Jayne’s office?”
J.T. shook his head. “Megan wanted to see the maps printed, so they took over Mitch’s office. Megan’s on the phone with Hans Vigo at Quantico as they narrow down the range. Since you know a lot more about the case, you’d be invaluable. I thought you were going to Victorville with Nora.”
“I need to be here to act on any information she gets from her mother. I feel like we don’t have a lot of time. When Maggie O’Dell decides to kill, she does it fast. I keep thinking about the three college students-her friends. Did she plan to kill them then, or was it a reaction to the investigation? Did one of them say something and that was it? Quin Teagan is spirited; she’s not going to sit meekly by and wait.”
“Psychopaths aren’t my area of expertise,” J.T. said. “The killers I deal with are completely sane with motivations that are never personal.”
“I think Quin’s still alive,” Duke said. “She’s bait. And Nora will walk right into it. The million-dollar question is whether Lorraine Wright is part of setting the trap, or the key to springing it.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Nora watched as the lights of Victorville Federal Penitentiary brightened upon the plane’s descent. They’d just seen the thin line of dawn on the eastern horizon before their approach; by the time they landed it had disappeared again. But Nora knew that morning would come, just as surely as she knew that Lorraine Wright would lie to her.
But Nora didn’t have any other option.
Warden Greene himself met the small plane. “I have Ms. Wright waiting in a private room,” he said. “I hope you’re not wasting your time.”
“Unless you need me.”
It was a kind thing to say. Duke had done a terrific job raising his younger brother. Sean was ready for the world, whatever it held. Nora hadn’t done the same for Quin. But she’d tried, damn, she tried.
“I’m okay.” She walked with the warden to his open-air Jeep. They’d landed a thousand feet from the outer walls of the prison on a little-used road. The warden had a guard block it off at both ends so they’d had a safe place to land.
It was cool this morning up here in the high desert, but Nora liked the dry air and vast starry sky. The stars began to wink out as she watched, as dawn caught up with them. She’d slept under the stars many times, and that was the only thing she’d appreciated about her mother’s gypsylike lifestyle.
The closer Nora got to her mother, the tighter her chest felt. She hadn’t seen Lorraine since she’d been sentenced, nearly a year to the day from when she’d been arrested at Diablo Canyon. She’d sat in the courtroom and watched as her mother impassively accepted her sentence of life without the possibility of parole. She could have gotten the death penalty, but the federal prosecutor told Nora the jury wouldn’t give a pregnant woman the death penalty.
And Nora had been relieved. She hadn’t wanted Lorraine’s death on her conscience, too. She already had too much pressure. For Quin, for herself. From Cameron Lovitz nearly killing her. From Lorraine killing Andy Keene. It was all coming down on her, and sparing her mother’s life at the time had been the only thing to do. But for years she didn’t know if opposing the death penalty for her mother was as much her mother’s indoctrination of her, or her own beliefs. Because to this day, Nora didn’t like the death penalty. It made her uncomfortable knowing someone she arrested might die at the hands of the justice system. But she still did her job. When Maggie O’Dell was apprehended, she would be eligible for the death penalty. And Nora would testify. Not just because it was her job, but because she believed in the system. The system her mother had made Nora fight against for seventeen years.
“I need you to check your weapon,” Warden Greene said when they walked through the main entrance.
Nora nodded, showed her credentials and gave the correctional officer her Glock. She was cleared to go through, and the Warden escorted her through a maze of hallways, to a row of doors and windows. Every room was dark except one.
“I’ll be right outside, watching, and there’s video surveillance, but you have audio privacy. No one can listen in. When you want to leave, ring the bell next to the door.”
“Thank you.”
Nora looked through the window to the woman in orange sitting at the metal table, hands clasped in front of her. A plastic cup half full of water was next to her.
Lorraine’s light brown hair had turned nearly white. Her skin, which had always been tan from living outdoors, was thin and leathery. Her hands were covered with age spots, her nails short and unpainted. Lorraine had once been a beautiful woman, and had taken quiet pride in her appearance. She’d taught Nora to give her manicures, and often shoplifted the latest fashion color for Nora to use. To see her hands so worn and unkempt seemed so very strange. Nora stared at her own hands. Her own nails short, clean, unpainted. She’d never had manicures, as they reminded her of Lorraine.
She had never wanted to see her mother again.
But she had to do this for Quin. She looked through the window, and focused on Lorraine’s eyes. Her large, round brown eyes were the one feature she’d passed to all three of her daughters; otherwise, Nora, Quin, and Maggie looked nothing alike. Lorraine couldn’t see her, but she sensed someone was outside the window. She straightened her back almost imperceptibly and loosened her hands.
“Okay. I’m ready.” Nora wasn’t, but she’d never be ready. She didn’t want to talk to Lorraine. Lorraine was going to lie to her, Nora knew that. But pathological liars often told the truth. The hard part was knowing what was true, and what was not. But Nora had thirty-seven years’ experience watching liars. First Lorraine, then raising a teenager, then going through Quantico, then interviewing suspects. If she didn’t let her emotions interfere, her experience and instincts were going to be her advantage.
She removed her badge, which was clipped to her blazer, and pocketed it. No sense antagonizing Lorraine from the start. But still Nora stood tall and confident, knowing that you never show criminals weakness.
The guard at the end of the hall buzzed her in. She stepped over the threshold and the door closed behind
