“Do you think she’s guilty of murder?”
“If she knew her husband was investigating her—forget the FBI—then yes, I think she could have done it. She has a spine of steel, and it’s much easier to hire someone than to do it yourself. But the method? It’s … bizarre. Poison him and have the room set up like he’d been with a prostitute? Why would she do it that way?”
“Because the spouse is always suspected. Such an embarrassing situation would immediately put her lower on the list.”
“Maybe. I don’t like her.”
“I can tell.”
“If I were planning a murder, especially if I would be a suspect, I wouldn’t create something so elaborate. I would find a way to make it look like an accident.”
“And I’m sure you would get away with it.”
She glanced at him and almost laughed. “Hardly. I don’t lie very well.”
“Maybe.”
She ignored Sean’s comment because it bugged her. She didn’t want to become a good liar. The few lies she’d told weighed heavily on her.
“We found the prostitute,” she said. “Whoever hired her shot her last night.”
“Is she okay?”
“She will be. She’s in the hospital, but Tia sent me a message earlier that the doctor is releasing her at noon tomorrow, provided there are no complications. We’re going to arrest her.”
“For murder?”
Lucy nodded and sipped her beer. “She’s scared and defiant. She’s been on her own for a long time, and she doesn’t trust anyone. But when we pushed her on the murder, she swore up and down that she thought she was giving him a knockout drug. She said a ‘happy’ drug—maybe XTC or ketamine or a combo drug. She claims that she was hired to take dirty pictures of him, not to kill him, that she didn’t even know him. She was sent to the room and told to wait for Harper to arrive, then drug him and take sex pictures.”
“And did she?”
“She said she turned over the photos. She met her contact to get the rest of her payment, and he shot her, twice. She ran into a busy street at midnight and the shooter disappeared.”
“Poor kid.”
“I hate playing the bad cop.”
Sean leaned back and frowned. “Where’d that come from?”
“Tia. She’s the one who knows the programs, how to help Elise, halfway houses, school, whatever. I was forced to be the hard-nosed cop who is pushing for a murder charge. I really felt uncomfortable doing that.”
He rubbed her arm. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. But you got the information, right?”
“Some, not everything. We don’t know who hired her, and she’s scared of him.”
“He shot her—I’d be scared, too, if I were in her shoes.”
“She wants to run, doesn’t trust us to protect her. We have a cop sitting on her door—to keep her in as well as the shooter out. But tomorrow—I don’t know what we’re going to do. Juvie, I suppose, if she doesn’t give us his name.”
“If anyone can convince her to do the right thing, it’s you and Tia.”
“Aw, thanks.”
“I’m serious.” Sean kissed her. “Are you done for tonight?”
“Yes. I’ll clean up.”
“Later. Now, I want to take you to bed. I’ve missed you, Lucy. It’s been a long day without you.” He kissed her again.
She raised her eyebrow. “So can I see what else you have in your pants?”
He grinned. “Be my guest.”
*
Brad didn’t get home until late Tuesday night, but he had nothing to complain about. His doctor had officially cleared him for duty.
He’d grabbed takeout and for a split second considered calling Sam and seeing if he could come over. He missed her. Seeing Sean and Lucy last night reminded him how alone he was. Nicole was wrong; he wasn’t attracted to Lucy. She was pretty and smart, but it was clear that she had something special going with Sean. He liked her, though. Not only because she’d saved his life, but because she was a good cop who bent the rules when necessary.
Instead of calling Sam, he went home alone. Trying to rekindle anything with his ex-girlfriend would be a mistake. She was his boss now. When they were equals it was frowned on but not forbidden, and they had been discreet. Now as his supervisor, she’d get in serious trouble. One of them would be transferred. Sam was dedicated to her job. Brad liked San Antonio and had built a network here stronger than the networks in the two other offices he’d worked in.
Some people were born to lead, like Sam. Others, like him, were born to act.
He grabbed a beer and sat down in front of the television with his food. He flipped through until he found a baseball game, but didn’t pay much attention to it. He had the forensics report from the shooting, and a follow-up report from Jerry Fielding. He’d read through it earlier, but wanted to give it more attention.
His cell phone rang. The number was unlisted. “Donnelly.”
“It’s Kane. Do you have time?”
“Sure.”