Kiss Me, Kill Me

questions, just call me.

Sean frowned, logged onto Kirsten’s Facebook profile, and noted that several friends had posted comments like:

Missed you in Drama!

Mrs. Robertson is a total bitch! You’re so lucky you missed the pop quiz.

Hey, you sick? Hope you can make my party Friday!

Only Trey Danielson seemed truly concerned. He was the best place to start.

Sean responded to the last email Trey had sent to Kirsten:

Trey, I just got home, my mom’s at work, she cut off my cell phone. Can you come over ASAP? I need to talk to you.

He hoped the kid took the bait.

Sean was scanning the computer logs when Patrick called. “I’m leaving the police station now,” he said. “Evelyn only filed a police report the first time Kirsten disappeared. That’s not unusual. Parents of habitual runaways tend to be embarrassed by their kids’ behavior, worried that people will think they can’t control their kids. However, I got the police interested in this disappearance, enough that they’ll bump her to a missing person instead of a runaway. They’ll send her photo and vitals to all hospitals and law enforcement in a hundred-mile radius.”

“Good.”

“I also contacted my friend at NCMEC and he’s going to put Kirsten in the system as soon as Woodbridge PD sends him the data, so that’s another avenue. They can spread the information far better than any local office.”

The National Center for Missing and Exploited Children worked closely with both law enforcement and private investigators in finding minors under all circumstances, runaway or criminal. Having their resources on this case was a big plus.

Sean filled Patrick in on Kirsten’s emails as well as on Trey Danielson. “I sent him an email from Kirsten; we’ll see if he bites. He’s a senior at her school, and based on the pictures of them in his profile it looks like he and Kirsten used to go out. It sounds like he’ll be easier to crack than her girlfriends-he’s sent her numerous messages.”

“Unless it’s a CYA.”

“CYA?” Sean asked.

“He’s covering his ass by sending concerned emails, even if he was the one who had something to do with her disappearance. I’ve seen it before in domestic cases.”

“We’ll find out-I asked him to come over ASAP. If he killed her, he might not, but then again if he sent all those worried emails to cover up a crime, he’d come for the same reason, right? Either way, my gut says he’ll show.”

“You’re thinking like a cop now.”

Pretending to be insulted, Sean said, “That was low.”

Patrick laughed. “Whatever reason he comes, we need to get rid of Evelyn. I think she’s too stressed to help right now. I’ll think up an errand for her by the time I get there.”

“Good idea. I sent Lucy pictures of Kirsten’s room and asked her for advice.”

Patrick didn’t say anything.

“Did I lose you?” Sean prompted.

“Why get Lucy involved?”

Patrick’s tone was odd, almost defensive. Sean said, “She’s on edge waiting to hear back about her FBI interview. She could use something to distract her. This kind of case is right up her alley, and she might see something we missed.” Sean hesitated, then asked, “You got a problem asking Lucy to consult?”

“Of course not,” Patrick said and hung up.

Right, Sean thought, no problem at all.

Ever since Patrick had found out about Sean’s relationship with his sister, he’d been acting weird. Sean understood the overprotective big-brother attitude, but Lucy was twenty-five; it wasn’t as if she were a naive teenager. And she was good at this type of work. Lucy was one of the few people Sean knew who not only understood how computer systems and the Internet operated, but understood people as well. She could read a chat transcript and deduce whether the people chatting were predators, victims, or bored kids.

Did Patrick not want Lucy involved with the case because of her relationship with Sean? Or because of her tragic past?

It didn’t matter to Sean. As far as he was concerned, Lucy was capable and willing to help, and he’d use all available resources. The added benefit was that they’d be spending more time together. A win-win, as far as Sean was concerned.

THREE

Lucy stepped out of the shower after her late morning run and wrapped her body in a fluffy white robe, a Christmas present two years ago from her sister-in-law Kate. She brushed through her thick black hair, then loosely braided it down her back to keep it out of her way until she had time to dry it. Lucy sat down at her computer and retrieved her email. Lots of birthday wishes. She responded to those from her family, hesitating when she read a message from her sister Carina, who not only wished her a happy birthday but also expressed hopes for Lucy’s speedy acceptance into the FBI.

“You and me both, Carina,” Lucy mumbled and sent off a quick thank-you.

It could take anywhere from three days to three weeks to hear back from the FBI regarding her interview with the hiring panel, but most applicants who got as far as she did made it to the final stage. Ever since Lucy’s internship with the Washington, D.C., Medical Examiner’s office ended last week, she’d felt as if she were in limbo.

She just wanted to start her training at Quantico.

Though she hadn’t confided in anyone, not her family or even Sean, she’d been nervous about the interview. She’d answered the panel’s questions calmly and honestly, even the hard ones. Like the questions about her imprisoned former boss Fran Buckley and Lucy’s ex-boyfriend Cody Lorenzo, and what happened that horrific day last month when a paroled ex-felon nearly killed her and another woman.

And the hardest question of all: What had she been thinking when she shot and killed her rapist, Adam Scott, nearly seven years ago?

She’d told them that she believed he would kill her if he had the chance. When he moved toward her, she’d shot him.

It was mostly true, but it wasn’t the entire truth.

Her stomach tightened uncomfortably. Ever since her past had come back to bite her in the ass five weeks ago, she’d been on edge. Nearly seven years … six years, eight months, and two weeks … had passed and she couldn’t escape the memories. She’d managed them just fine for years, but now they were stuck in her head like a hated song that repeatedly played in her mind, with no way to make it stop.

A new email popped into her window containing a large file from Sean. She boxed up her anxiety about her past and the FBI interview, and clicked on the message.

Lucy-

I’m sending you a video I took of Kirsten’s room. Something doesn’t look right, but I can’t figure out exactly what’s bothering me. Thoughts?

I know you miss me. Happy Birthday, don’t eat cake without me.

Yours, Sean

Lucy smiled, barely suppressing a laugh. Sean always did that for her-lightened her mood. I know you miss me. She didn’t need to inflate his ego any more by acknowledging the fact. But she was thrilled to have something to occupy her mind.

Sean was unlike most of the guys-rare though they were-she’d dated. It had been unplanned, and she had