“Hardly.” Where had that come from? “Talk to the cops. They know me, I ran the circuit when I got there last week. I want insight. Personal stories. You know what I need.”
“I’m not the best person.”
“Cops like you.”
“They don’t dislike me. Big difference.”
“You can fly out on Monday. Take tomorrow off.”
David grunted. “What would I do?”
“Relax.”
David smiled. “I relax about as well as you do.”
Max turned on the Keurig in the kitchenette and waited for the water to heat.
“You okay?” David asked.
“About what?”
“You’re off today.”
Was she? Maybe. She wanted Blair to be innocent. Not because she liked the woman, but because of John.
“How can a woman kill her child?” Max stared at the counter. “Blair has money. They’re comfortable. She didn’t even snap. At least how I think of someone snapping. She planned it all—researched the murders of other children, planned when and where and how, then executed it. Then, when it was all done, she went back to a fucking party and put on a happy face so no one knew any different. No one knew she’d killed a child. Her son. Went back for another martini and made small talk then came home and pretended she was stunned to find Peter missing. Why, David? How could she do that? And keep up the farce?”
David didn’t say anything. What could anyone say? How could anyone make sense of this crime? Max couldn’t even make sense of the profile Lucy Kincaid had created on the woman who killed Justin and two other little boys. But at least there was a reason. The woman was crazy—maybe not legally, but certainly she was twisted—but she at least had a reason for killing. Some perverse sense of punishment for the men who cheated on their wives … cheated on their families. While Max didn’t understand it, at least the bitch had a reason.
Blair had no reason. She killed her son and pretended she didn’t. She pretended she was a victim as much as Peter and John. She was cold. Calculating. She expected to get away with it, to be found not guilty, to continue to live her life of privilege married to a man she had emotionally gutted. And there was nothing that Max wanted more than to watch the justice system destroy her with the rope she handed them. Blair Caldwell would not get away with murder. If the justice system didn’t take care of it, Max would destroy her life, piece by piece.
Max prepared coffee black for David, then put another pod in for herself.
“I take it things are working out with Agent Kincaid,” David said.
“I made lemonade,” Max said.
“You copied me into your memo to Ben. I know about the meeting with the shrinks last night.”
“She’s smart. She doesn’t act like a rookie.”
“So what’s her story? I was surprised you didn’t give Ben something more about her. She seems … interesting.”
“To say the least.” Max took her coffee and added cream and sweetener, then sat on one of the stools. “The woman shares nothing about herself. She’ll talk about the case until the cows come home, but the only personal thing I could get out of her is that she loves chocolate.”
“I’m sure you observed more.”
“No. That’s it—she’s closed off. Like a veil is hanging around her. I can put some things together, like she was more upset about her failed meeting with her family than she wanted me to know. She and her husband have what seems like a too-perfect relationship that makes me want to gag—it’s straight out of a fairy tale. Except then she shares one little tidbit about how they don’t keep secrets. I pushed—I had to—and she was deliberate in how she answered. She doesn’t drink too much alcohol, she loves coffee almost as much as I do, and she seems to know me better than I know her.”
“I can see why that would bother you.”
“I just want to know what makes her tick. She’s said a few things that stuck with me—particularly related to the case. Like, when we were talking about Blair possibly being guilty, she said we won’t let her get away with it. Maybe it was the way she said it—the intensity. I don’t know exactly what, but she’s like me in some ways—a dog with a bone, as you once said—and in other ways she is my polar opposite. I pushed Andrew this morning—we had a good conversation while sorting through files—and he wouldn’t tell me squat. He let slip that it wasn’t Justin’s murder that pushed Lucy into the FBI. So what was it? He told me he wouldn’t tell me and not to ask about it.”
“Is it relevant to this case?”
“No, but—”
“Then leave it alone. Some things are better left buried.”
David might be right, and there was nothing about Lucy’s past that impacted this particular investigation. Well, Max didn’t know that, did she? She didn’t know anything about Lucy’s past.
“I think you’re ticked off because her husband pushed your buttons, made you promise something you didn’t want to promise.”
“You mean I can’t say word one about either of them.”
David was right. That had rubbed her the wrong way.
There was a knock at the door, and David answered. Lucy walked in. “Don Katella’s not here?”
Max shook her head. “Coffee?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Max made the coffee, then said, “I should have just ordered up a pot from room service.”
Lucy sat across from David. He said, “Max said your brother was in the army.”
“Yes, my oldest brother, Jack.”
“Where?”
“I was practically a baby when he enlisted—I know he went to boot camp at Fort Bragg, then did a tour in Central America. Became Delta a couple years later.”
“I was army. Rangers.”
Lucy smiled. “I thought so. There’s something familiar about you.”
“We haven’t met.”
“No, but there’s a familiarity in those who served, especially career. My brother-in-law Duke was in the army for three years, he doesn’t have the same edge that Jack does.”
“But they both work for RCK.”
Lucy glanced at Max. Max ignored the question in her eyes—was David actually getting more information out of Lucy than she could?
“Yes.”
“Max has their press kit. Made me read it.”
Lucy laughed. “RCK does a lot more than hostage rescue and personal security.”
“But that’s what they’re known for.”
“True, it’s how they started the business. They employ many former servicemen and women. The transition years, especially if you were deployed overseas, are difficult. Being able to use those skills can help bridge the gap between service and civilian life. Some can never fully leave.”
“It’s a way of life.”
“But you left.”
“I hadn’t planned to, but it was the right time.”
There was another knock on the door and Max inwardly groaned. David was expertly working Lucy, and she wanted more … but she didn’t dare interject because Lucy was sharp enough to figure it out. Max didn’t even think that David was knowingly pumping Lucy for information about herself and her family.
Max let Katella in. “We’re glad you could make it,” she said. “We have some names and want to compare them to your list.”
“I’ll do whatever I can to help,” he said, but it was clear to Max that he was skeptical.
“Coffee?”