One tragedy had a profound impact on every Kincaid. It was no surprise that it affected Lucy as well.
No one was out in the yard. For years, the house bustled, people going in and out. Friends came to the Kincaids, and not just because Rosa always had enough food to feed an army. Rosa insisted. She wanted to know everyone’s friends, she wanted the sound of children and laughter and fun. Lucy grew up knowing every one of Patrick’s girlfriends and Carina’s boyfriends; she eavesdropped on adult conversations because most everyone was an adult around her. She understood the world long before most kids her age.
And then one by one, they all moved out. Justin’s death extinguished the joy for a long time, and while it gradually returned, nothing was ever the same.
How could it be?
Lucy put the car back into drive and headed for Carina’s house. Lucy hadn’t slept well last night. The motive of this particular killer was difficult to process. Lucy knew that she was right, and Arthur Ullman had provided another insight Lucy hadn’t considered. But knowing in her heart and mind that she was right about this killer and why she was killing children did nothing to help her understand how anyone could commit such a horrific crime for the sole purpose of creating suffering among the survivors. Because it wasn’t only the mothers and fathers who were shattered by the pain. It was grandparents and aunts and uncles and friends.
The killer didn’t think about that. She couldn’t think past her own need to inflict as much emotional pain on others as she could. Did it alleviate her own suffering? Did it give her any peace?
Lucy thought not. If murder had given her peace, she would have stopped. Instead, she continued the cycle of pain.
Lucy stopped the car in front of Carina’s house. She’d bought it a few years before she met her husband, Nick. Before that, she’d lived with a boyfriend in a beachfront condo, and before that she’d lived at home. Carina had perhaps been the most affected by being raised an army brat. Lucy wasn’t, she was a toddler when her family settled in San Diego. She didn’t remember anything about that time in her life, only what she heard from her siblings. Part of the reason her father asked for the post in San Diego was because Nelia had married and had the first grandchild, and part of it was because Pat Kincaid had grown up in San Diego. It had always been his home base.
Carina loved having a permanent home. Her husband Nick had a career in Montana, but when they met and fell in love, he gave it up to be with Carina. Lucy’s parents loved Nick like their own son. Connor and Julia had settled nearby as well.
But everyone else had left. Jack in the military, with his home base in Texas; Nelia leaving because of Justin’s murder. Then Dillon moved to D.C. in part because he married Kate and in part to give Lucy a home while she was at Georgetown. She’d tried and failed to live successfully in the dorms. At the time, the trauma of her kidnapping and rape was just too much to cope with, along with having a roommate and dealing with parties and classes and gossip. If she hadn’t been able to move in with Dillon and Kate, she didn’t know if she’d have been able to finish school.
Then Patrick left a few years later, to work with Jack at Rogan Caruso Kincaid. First in Sacramento, then starting up the East Coast office of RCK with Sean Rogan. That’s how Lucy and Sean met, and it had changed her life for the better.
Lucy hadn’t realized, not until her father’s heart attack when she came home and had a heart-to-heart with Carina, that Carina had been heartbroken at Patrick’s move to the East Coast. She was also a little jealous of Patrick’s relationship with Lucy. For their entire lives, Carina, Patrick, and Connor had been as thick as thieves, three kids born four years apart, going to school together, having friends, sticking together like glue. They’d been best friends, and then everything changed.
Lucy didn’t know how much of the changes were because of her, how much because of the family, or Patrick himself. She didn’t think that her relationship with Patrick should impact Carina’s relationship with him, but apparently, it had, and no matter how many psych classes she took, she didn’t completely understand.
Carina stepped out onto the front porch, cup of coffee in hand, and stared at Lucy sitting in the car. Busted, Lucy thought. She’d been not only thinking about the past, but working up the courage to talk to her sister.
Lucy got out of the car and walked up the short stone path. “Hi,” she said.
Nick stepped out of the house behind Carina, put his hand on her shoulder. A unified front. Lucy couldn’t blame him; if Sean were here, he would have done the same thing for her.
“Hi, Nick.”
“You need to leave, Lucy,” Nick said.
“I’d like to talk to my sister alone.”
“No.”
Carina turned to Nick, whispered something. He didn’t look happy. But he kissed her and went back inside.
Carina came down the stairs. “Let’s walk.”
They walked in silence. The neighborhood was older and established. It had been an old neighborhood when the Kincaids moved in twenty-five years ago. Now it was quaint, and many of the homeowners had updated and expanded the small, post-WWII homes. American flags were displayed on more than half the homes, showing that San Diego was still a military town. Especially this neighborhood, which was so close to the naval base.
They walked in silence for a short while and then Lucy realized that Carina had steered them two blocks away, to where Dillon had once lived. His house had been destroyed by a psychopath—one who had fixated on Lucy. Dillon had nearly died because of it, and Lucy still had a hard time forgiving herself for what happened. It wasn’t her fault—she almost believed that—but it haunted her because she’d lost nearly everything.
The house had been rebuilt by the new owners, and as Lucy watched a young mother came out with a jogging stroller built for two. A toddler and infant were strapped in, and the mother took off in the opposite direction, pushing the stroller as she ran while listening to music.
Life and love had replaced death and hate.
“I read the transcripts from your interview with Don Katella.”
Carina didn’t say anything, but continued walking past Dillon’s former house. Lucy didn’t comment on the direction—they were heading toward Nelia and Andrew’s old house. They would pass the park where Justin’s body had been found. Everything good and bad in Lucy’s childhood had happened within walking distance from her home.
“I should have come to you first. Alone. I didn’t fully understand, and that’s on me.”
Carina still didn’t speak.
“I projected my own feelings and personality on you. I thought because you were a cop, you would see things the way I see them. But you were also a victim, and every survivor processes trauma differently.”
“Don’t try to psychoanalyze me,” Carina said.
“I understand better now.”