“I can’t promise to let your family jump all over you.”
“They’re not going to jump all over me.” Lucy had thought about this all night. She understood why her family would put up a brick wall with Andrew, but not with her—they would understand, she was certain of it.
“What if it doesn’t work out the way you think?”
“I know them. Carina is a cop. Connor used to be a cop. They want the truth just as much as I do. As Andrew does. They had a hard time forgiving Andrew for having an affair, I get that. Family is everything and he blew it. So I see why they won’t listen to him, but this is different.”
She could see that Sean didn’t believe her, but he didn’t have the same family growing up as she did. And lately, he’d had to reconcile that his family had dark secrets that nearly got them both killed. He was still having a difficult time working through the aftermath.
“I don’t have to be in Sacramento until tomorrow morning, and I’m not going to leave you alone tonight. Well shit, not again.” Sean pulled out his phone. “My phone has been buzzing my butt for the last five minutes.” He frowned.
“Who is it?”
“Suzanne.”
Suzanne Madeaux was one of Lucy’s closest friends, an FBI agent in New York City. She’d been in their wedding and indirectly helped with one of Lucy’s recent cases.
Sean answered the phone. “Suz, what’s up?” He listened, his expression turning to stone. He said after a moment, “What else?” A minute later he said, “Keep me in the loop—and thanks, Suz.” He hung up.
“Bad news?” Lucy said.
“That fucking bitch,” Sean mumbled.
“Suzanne?” Lucy had seen Sean angry before, but she couldn’t imagine what Suzanne could have said to set him off.
He spat out the name. “Maxine Revere.”
“I don’t understand.” But maybe she did. Maybe her worst fears were coming true.
“Her staff has requested all the files on the Cinderella Strangler case and the Rosemary Weber homicide—both from the FBI and NYPD. Her staff also wants to talk to Suzanne about the use of ‘civilian consultants.’ That means you, Lucy—you were involved with both cases.”
Lucy didn’t know what to say. “Maybe it’s just background—”
“Maybe she’s a chameleon, maybe she found out something about you and is now going to try and write some big story. It will not happen. I will shut her down so fast—”
“Don’t jump to conclusions, Sean.”
“Would Andrew set you up?”
“No.”
“You sound so confident. He’s a damn politician, Lucy.”
“He wouldn’t,” she said firmly. “Andrew isn’t a bad guy.”
“Good people do shitty things. Give me a minute.”
He took out his phone again. A moment later he said, “JT, it’s Sean. Has RCK received any press inquiries in the last twenty-four hours?… Who?… Shit. What’d you say?… Okay. Hold off on any follow-ups, I’ll explain later.” He hung up. “Maxine Revere has been a busy little bitch. All press inquiries regarding RCK go through JT, and he had a call two hours ago from NET—that’s the network that hosts Revere’s television show. The inquiries were general, JT sent the standard press packet, but I’ll bet they’ll follow up wanting more information about me, Jack, and Patrick.”
“Why?”
“Because the media sucks.”
She almost laughed, but her stomach felt sick.
Sean took her hand, squeezed it. “I won’t let her dig around into your past, Lucy. I won’t.”
“I’m not going to let her scare me off,” Lucy said.
“She already has two strikes against her, Lucy. One more, and I will skewer her.”
“Promise me you’ll listen to what she has to say.”
“That’s about all I can promise.”
Chapter Ten
Max recognized Sean Rogan and Lucy Kincaid as soon as they entered the lounge. Not only because she was expecting them, nor because the lounge was quiet before happy hour, but because they looked exactly as she expected.
Rogan reminded her not a little of David—the way he stood protectively next to his wife, scanning the room and immediately assessing the people, the layout, identifying the exits. Had he been in the military? Perhaps, that hadn’t been in Ben’s notes. All she knew was that he was thirty-two—same age as her—and was a principal of RCK who had graduated from MIT and specialized in cybersecurity. When Rogan caught her eye, she had the strong sense he disliked her. She was used to that—reporters often brought out the worst in people—but this was different. It felt more … personal, and she wondered what his story was.
She would find out.
Max had wrongfully assumed that since Rogan was a computer security expert, he would appear a bit more … nerdy, for lack of a better word. He obviously had brains—evident from his educational background and his position in his company—but he was definitely built more like a personal bodyguard. Interesting. She had Rogan pegged pretty quick—he was protective of his wife, he was smart, shrewd, even, and self-confident. It oozed from his every pore to the point that it might become a problem. Perhaps it wasn’t a fair assessment because he hadn’t even spoken a word, but physical presence plus what she learned about RCK? Rogan wasn’t a man to lie to or manipulate.
Which was good for her, because she didn’t lie.
Lucy Kincaid Rogan—Max didn’t know what name she went by—looked exactly like a federal agent. She, too, scanned the room, but she focused more on the people than the environment. She dressed the part as well—functional clothes, a bit drab Max thought, with the dark slacks and thin off-white sweater. A little color would do wonders for her, a blue scarf, or red—yes, definitely red or a vibrant purple. Lucy was classically attractive, just needed a little brightness. Her half-Cuban ancestry showed in her complexion and thick dark hair. The two made a good-looking couple—in business, they would certainly be known as a power couple, like the owners of NET.
What stuck out the most to Max was the icy exterior—Lucy radiated stay away as if she wore a blinking neon sign. Max was a good judge of people, but she made snap judgments—often on first impressions. She’d been trying to break herself from the habit, and Lucy Kincaid was a classic reason why. Lucy’s coolness didn’t seem to be introversion or arrogance, but something else … something so deep-seated that Max would have a hard time figuring it out.
But she would. She always did.
Lucy caught her eye. She didn’t change her expression, but there was a subtle shift in her posture, as if she knew Max had been watching her.
Andrew rose from his seat and greeted Lucy with a hug when she approached, then shook Sean’s hand. “Thank you, Lucy. Sean. I appreciate you coming out with such short notice.” He turned to Max. “Maxine Revere, this is my sister-in-law, Lucy Kincaid Rogan, and her husband Sean. Maxine Revere is an investigative reporter with Maximum Exposure, a cold case crime show on NET.”