Love me to death

her hands.

Sean asked, “Where’s Kate?”

“On a call in her office.”

“I’m going to grab my laptop out of the car,” Sean said. He caught Lucy’s eye. He was thinking about the listening devices at WCF. She’d almost forgotten that she’d let him plant bugs earlier that evening.

After Sean left, Lucy thought Dillon was going to discuss having boys in her room-even though she was hardly a teenager anymore-but instead he said, “I’m really sorry we kept the plea information from you, Lucy.”

She scooped coffee into the filter. “I know. I’m not angry about it anymore, Dillon-you were gone for that part.” She glanced at him. “I just wished you had trusted me to be a grownup.”

“I do-”

“But back then I wasn’t?”

“Back then I wanted to protect you.”

She took a deep breath. “You can’t protect me. No one can. Life is like that. We just do the best we can. And I refuse to live in the past. I’m not the girl I was six years ago.”

“I know that.”

“There’s only so much we can do to protect ourselves and our loved ones. Unless we live in a panic room twenty-four/seven, we’ll never be one hundred percent safe one hundred percent of the time. But you know what puts us all in danger?”

“What?”

“Lies. Lack of information. Good intentions. I should have known that Morton was free, because then I would have had the information I needed to protect myself. If I had run into him without that knowledge, I would have been stunned. That hesitation could have been my undoing.”

Dillon’s blue-green eyes looked at her with the unconditional love of family. “Don’t underestimate yourself, Lucy.”

“I don’t.”

She poured water into the reservoir, closed the lid, and turned the coffeepot on.

“But-” he prompted.

“I’m human. I can be shocked.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“I know, and I forgive you. I know that everything you did, you did because you love me.” She walked over and kissed his cheek. “That doesn’t make it right, but it makes it understandable. And I do love you, too, Dillon.”

She leaned against the counter and watched the coffee slowly drip into the carafe.

Dillon said, “You went ice-skating yesterday?”

“Surprised me, too.”

“And you like Sean Rogan?”

She rolled her eyes. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re answering my questions with questions because you don’t know.” Dillon leaned against the counter next to her.

“Damn. Serves me right; I have a shrink for a brother.”

“You could be a shrink, too. Just a few more years of school.”

“I’m done with school.”

“And?”

“And I really like Sean,” she said quietly.

“Why does that scare you?”

“I can’t talk about this with you.”

“Because I’m your brother?”

Right. That sounded so stupid. “Do you believe that you can really like someone, deep down know that someone is different and special in a way you don’t think of everyone else, after just a few days?”

Dillon smiled. “I knew I would spend the rest of my life with Kate after two days. And I had it worse than you.”

“Worse? How so?”

“I had Jack as competition.”

“Jack?” Lucy laughed. “I don’t see Jack and Kate together at all.”

“They have a lot in common,” Dillon said, not finding the same humor that Lucy did. “The way they think, they way they distrust, the way they process information. There was a point where I believed if I had to make a stand for Kate, I didn’t know if she would choose me. But I would have done it. Even though I was scared stiff she’d pick Jack.”

Lucy thought a moment. “I didn’t know Jack was ever in the running,” she said. “Jack and Kate are alike in some ways, but Kate has always wanted-needed-stability. Trust. Honesty. She plays the tough, no-nonsense FBI agent, but at her core she’s a quiet homebody. She’s happiest when she’s here, at home with you. It gives her peace.”

Dillon looked straight ahead with a half-smile on his face. “I really love her.”

“I know. That’s why you made her marry you, even though she gave you every excuse why that was a bad idea.”

“She’s stubborn.” Dillon glanced at Lucy. “Why don’t you trust your own feelings?”

“I don’t know.” She glanced down the hall to where Sean was working in the dining room. She remembered what he’d said, the promises he gave. How she was different, but not in the way she’d thought. “I think I realized that falling for someone who is almost part of the family-Patrick’s partner-creates a lot of problems, especially if things don’t work out.”

“Or it creates a lot of benefits if it does work out. You and Patrick have a terrific relationship. Sean is his closest friend since the accident. And Sean is smitten.”

“Oh, God, you sound like Dad.”

Dillon laughed and hugged her. “Don’t over-think everything, Lucy. I have that problem, too. Maybe it’s the curse of having a degree in psychology.”

Sean brought his laptop into the dining room and set it up so he could see anyone who approached the entrance. He glanced at the papers Kate had been reading when he’d first walked in with Lucy over an hour ago- they appeared to be emails from Morton’s computer. He didn’t have time to read them now; he had to ensure his bugs were operable and recording.

They’d have to tell Dillon and Kate about Prenter’s murder and the possible connection to Lucy’s work at WCF, but first Sean needed more information. Lucy had uncovered little of value while she went through the WCF files. She verified that no one person had been assigned to all eight parolees who had been killed, which made sense considering that the murders were all over the country. The one apparent connection was that each assigned cop reported that the felon didn’t show-and the parolee was killed miles from the original stakeout.

Sean put in his earbuds and logged into his server where the recordings were archived. He focused on the recordings from Fran’s office. After Lucy explained the operation, he knew nothing happened in WCF without Fran Buckley’s knowledge and consent. It would hurt Lucy, but Sean read people well-and his gut told him Fran was somehow involved.

The first sounds recorded were of Fran working at her desk-typing, on the phone in a boring conversation-but he didn’t want to fast-forward for fear he’d miss something. Talking, typing; then he heard Cody’s voice.

“Fran, we need to talk.”

“Come in,” Fran said.

A door closed. Shuffling of a chair.

“Brad Prenter is dead.”

“Cody-”

Sean sat upright and replayed the last minute of the recording to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. He