Love me to death

hidden somewhere-in a driveway, perhaps.

Then he saw the car turn and head toward him, slowing as soon as Mallory saw him. Was he surprised?

“You’d better be right about Mallory,” Sean said to Dillon.

“What do you mean?”

“Get out when I tell you.”

Sean turned the wheel hard to the right, using the ice in a controlled slide, relying on his intuitive knowledge and impeccable maintenance of his car to ensure he wasn’t going to hit a pole or jump the curb. He controlled his spin by keeping the tires in it, while his momentum kept the vehicle moving toward Mallory’s car. Because this was the main road into the neighborhood, it was wider than the side streets, giving Sean the room he needed to play chicken with Mallory.

Mallory had to slam on his brakes to avoid hitting them, and he skidded, going into his own short spin before heading back the way he’d come.

In one seamless move, Sean stopped the car, put it in park, pressed the seat-belt release, and opened the door. He had his gun out, using his door as a barrier. He fired two shots into each of Mallory’s rear tires. The car fish-tailed, turned, and stopped.

“Out!” he commanded Dillon. Mallory might shoot him, but according to Dillon, Mallory wouldn’t shoot at Kincaid. Sean was counting on that.

Mallory was out of his car, his gun drawn, and then glanced over as Dillon opened the passenger door. “Mick,” Dillon called out, “it’s over. We know about the parolee project. We know about your connection to Frances Buckley. The FBI is getting a search warrant for WCF and Buckley’s house right now.” Dillon crossed in front of the car, putting himself in the line of fire.

“Dillon!” Sean called out. What was he thinking? Sean wanted Mallory distracted. He didn’t want to give the guy an easy target.

Mallory shook his head. “You understand what we face, Kincaid.”

“I do understand. But this is not the way.”

“You have no proof.”

“We have more than you know. There’s only one thing I don’t understand. Why the elaborate game of luring Morton here? It would have been so much easier for you to kill him in Denver. Does it have something to do with Ralston going to Seattle? Morton had something you wanted, didn’t he? What was it?”

Mallory was thinking. Sean couldn’t give him time to think. He stood up, gun aimed at Mallory’s head, and approached the car.

“Don’t,” Mallory said, turning his gun toward Sean.

“You going to kill me in cold blood? Dillon, too? You fucking prick. You have a picture of Lucy in your house. How dare you!”

Mallory tossed his gun out and put his hands up. Sean hadn’t known what to expect, other than Dillon’s psych-out, but he hadn’t expected it to be this easy.

“I want to talk to Lucy.”

“Fuck no,” Sean said. “Assume the position. Dillon, search him and cuff him.” Sean tossed Dillon a set of handcuffs.

“You’re not a cop,” Mallory said.

“I think you know exactly who I am,” Sean said. “You did a background check on me. Someone tried to pull my data, now I know who.”

Mallory slowly turned around and put his hands on the car hood.

Sean said, “I’m still alive. Does that mean I passed your test?”

“The jury’s still out on you, Rogan,” Mallory said quietly.

Dillon searched Mallory, found another gun, and handed it to Sean. He then cuffed Mallory and had him sit on the curb. Sirens were in the distance-the gunfire had most certainly alerted authorities.

“Dillon, I have to get to Lucy, in case there are others involved who aren’t as friendly with the Kincaids as Mallory.”

“No one will hurt Lucy,” Mallory said.

“Excuse me for not believing you,” Sean said, then turned back to Dillon. “You okay here?”

Dillon nodded. “Mick and I have some things to talk about.”

Mallory stared at them. “Dillon, I have tremendous respect for you, which is why I didn’t shoot. But we’re not talking.”

“I can help you.”

“Maybe I don’t want help.” He added softly, “Maybe I’m relieved it’s over.”

THIRTY

It was a quarter to three when Lucy received a text message from Sean.

Your chariot is running late. I have good news. Don’t leave without me, princess.

She smiled. Sean was a romantic at heart. And after the last few days, she really appreciated his attention.

The intake clerk entered the file room where Lucy was working. “Two police officers are here to see you.”

She hesitated. Was it Cody? Had he brought a friend? He hadn’t called her back; was this unannounced visit his idea of getting back to her?

“Did they say why?”

“No.”

“Can you get their names for me?”

The clerk looked at her oddly, then shrugged and left.

Lucy took her time restacking the papers she’d been sorting and filing and carefully placed them back in the in-box. Her hands were steady, but her heart thudded so loud her ears were ringing. What did they want? Were they good guys or bad guys?

And were the bad guys really bad?

When she thought about it, was she more upset that Prenter was dead or that she’d been used to kill him? What about the other parolees? Too many states no longer had an extensive parole system. They didn’t track parolees, and they rarely detained anyone for parole violations anymore because the prisons were so overcrowded. Unless the parolee had committed a new crime, he rarely went back inside.

Correction. Unless he was caught committing a new crime. Another person had to be raped or robbed or killed before the parolee went back in.

The phone beeped and startled her. She picked up the receiver and the clerk said, “Detective Light and Officer Raleigh.”

“Thanks, tell them two minutes. I have to log these files.”

She hung up and bit her lip, relieved that she didn’t have to confront Cody right now but curious about why a detective wanted to talk to her. Could Cody have told his boss about his suspicions? Whether or not he’d implicated Lucy, they could be following up on the Prenter murder.

Lucy had no feelings for the criminals who’d been killed, and that unnerved her. Was she that heartless? Sean had said she was the most compassionate person he knew, but she didn’t see that in herself. Not when she didn’t have even a sliver of grief for the dead felons.

The criminal justice system was far from perfect. Victims were often revictimized in the legal process. Parents of dead children were dragged through the mud during the investigation, their lives dissected by a judgmental society who cast blame on the families for the fate of their children. The media sat in wait outside their homes, outside the schools their kids attended, talking to friends and family, wanting to know how they felt, what they were doing the minute their child disappeared, why they weren’t with them twenty-four/seven.

Lucy wanted to scream at the stone-throwing media who created fear on which criminals fed. Predators