She didn’t like this. At all. She didn’t want to work with anyone, but she especially didn’t want to work with a federal agent. It never ended well. They had rules they had to follow, rules she didn’t have to.
“I have one other thing over you that isn’t time,” Max said, grasping at her last straw. “I don’t have to follow the same rules you do. And sometimes, the only way to get answers is to break the law.”
“I’m not hearing this,” Andrew said under his breath.
Max continued. “You break the law and you can lose a conviction. A killer can walk.”
“I don’t plan on breaking the law,” Lucy said. “I’ll leave that up to you.”
That was the last answer Max expected.
“Take it or leave it,” Lucy said.
Max hated this. But what choice did she have? She could push and get what she needed, but it would take much longer … and she hadn’t lied about Blair’s trial. John needed to know, in his heart and head, that Blair was innocent. But more than that, if Blair was guilty, Max wanted her to fry.
“Fine.” She already regretted her decision.
Lucy smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’d like to see your visual timeline. I … I have a theory.”
“About what? I already laid out the theory.”
“Theory is the wrong word. I should say profile. Tentative profile. I want to look at the autopsy reports before I say anything. You have the two, Porter and Donovan, correct?”
“Yes.”
“And the transcript from Donovan’s trial?”
“Yes.”
“Great—Andrew, when can you get Justin’s autopsy?”
“Tonight or first thing in the morning.”
“Good. And you know how to contact the lead detective on Justin’s case?”
“Yes, he’ll talk to you if I ask him to. We’ve kept in touch, though he’s been retired for seven years.”
Max had completely lost control of the investigation. She needed to regroup and figure out how to take charge again. “I’m in room one-four-oh-oh if you’d like to see the timeline.”
“I have to get back to my office, but I need a minute with Lucy.”
“I’ll meet you up there, Agent Kincaid,” Max said and walked away.
This was not supposed to happen. How in the world was she going to work with a federal agent? Every time she and Marco crossed paths, it had been a disaster … this was going to be worse. She’d been sleeping with Marco, she knew exactly how to push his buttons or calm him down. She could usually get him to do exactly what she wanted … and even then, they ended up with an intense on-again, off-again love affair that had been firmly off for nearly a year.
She had no idea what Lucy Kincaid’s story was.
She called Ben from the elevator. “I need information. Now.”
*
“I don’t like her,” Sean said. He drained his beer. “Arrogant. Privileged. Know-it-all.”
Lucy almost laughed. “Some have called you similar names.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Touché.”
“You’re perfect.”
“I know.” He took her hand and kissed it.
Lucy ran her fingers over Sean’s palm. He was still tense, but he was trying to keep his calm. She appreciated it. “I don’t know quite what to make of Max Revere. Her book was emotional on one level—raw and honest, I’d say—and also straightforward, like a good police procedural. Personally, she’s more brusque and—” She searched for the word.
“Bitchy?” Sean suggested.
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“Because you’re too nice.”
“I have to get to my office, and I want to pull the reports now, not tomorrow,” Andrew said.
“It’s already after four—tomorrow is fine. They’re not going anywhere.”
“Don’t be so sure of that,” Andrew said.
“What do you mean?”
“I think you should hold off talking to your family.”
“I know you mean well,” Lucy said, “but they’ll understand. Once they see the pattern, they’ll want to help. We’re not just talking about Justin. If an innocent man is in prison—unlikely as that may be—we need to help him. I’ll be delicate. But Carina is a detective, Connor used to be a cop, they’re going to understand and see the same things I do.”
“It was a difficult time for your family. You were young, Lucy.”
“They tried to shelter me. Do you think I didn’t know what had happened? Sometimes, not knowing is worse because I thought some pretty awful things before I learned the truth. Andrew, I know my family. They’ll want to protect Nelia, I get that, we don’t have to involve her.” She didn’t completely believe that, but she would cross that bridge later. “Isn’t it better if I’m here with some control over what the reporter does and says without her stirring the pot?”
“She’s not going to be easy to control,” Sean said.
“We got what we wanted,” Lucy said. “Equal involvement.”
“She won’t stick to it.”
“Maybe not,” Lucy concurred. “I’ll keep close tabs on her.”
“Tell me the truth,” Andrew said, “do you think that Justin’s killer is still out there? That he has killed more than one child?”
“If the evidence she claims to have holds up? Yes, I do. And I think the killer—” she stopped herself. “Give me tonight. I’m going to write up an informal profile. I might want to talk to Dillon. Be prepared to answer the hard questions, Andrew.”
“I always have been, Lucy.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “I’ve never felt this was over. Justin’s murder has been an open wound for nineteen and a half years. It sits there, festering. I wanted so desperately to believe Max, but I knew I wasn’t objective, not when it comes to Justin. That’s why I called you, Lucy. Truth be told—I called you to make sure I wasn’t grasping at a fantasy, or a reporter bent on digging up dirt on me because of the rumors.”
“What rumors?”
“I may be up for a bench—California Supreme Court. It’s a long shot, but the vultures are circling. I’m too conservative on these issues, too liberal on those issues.” He shook his head. “All I can say with complete honesty is that I have always upheld the law.”
“You’d make a good judge, Andrew,” she said.
“Thank you, but I would give up the opportunity if I can put Justin to rest. If I can just know why someone took him from us. It’s senseless. Completely senseless.”
“Senseless to us,” Lucy said, “but not to the killer.”
“I know this is hard on you, too. I sincerely appreciate your help.”
“I want to do this,” Lucy said. “Believe that. Honestly, I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this for Justin.”
He nodded, his eyes damp with emotion. But he gathered himself together quickly. “Tread carefully with your family, Lucy. I wish you luck.”
“I don’t need luck. This is my family, Andrew. They want closure as much as you and I do.”
Chapter Eleven
Lucy stepped into Max’s suite—an amazing and elegant space with high ceilings and a wall of windows in the main room. Stairs led to the bedroom. Sean had said Max Revere was independently wealthy, but this was beyond Lucy’s idea of how even a wealthy reporter would travel.
Sean was right behind her. Sean was still angry and had made it clear he didn’t like or trust Max, but Lucy had calmed him down in the elevator.
“So I get both of you to help me,” Max said with a fake smile. “Terrific.”