*
Max was duly impressed with Sean Rogan. They’d been sitting in the lounge for the last four hours alternatively working on their respective laptops and talking. She hadn’t been able to get him to say much about Lucy personally, though he shared a few stories. Didn’t give Max much insight into what exactly made these two people tick, but she enjoyed them. Sean didn’t repeat the warning he issued on Thursday, which Max respected. He didn’t treat her like an idiot.
When he hung up with Lucy, she said, “You’re really good.”
“I know.”
She laughed. She appreciated well-placed confidence. “Do you work often with the FBI? Private consultant?”
“When they need me.”
“How close are they?”
“Close.”
“You’re worried about Lucy. She seems to be a woman who can take care of herself.”
“I am, and she is.” Sean stared at her, as if trying to read her intentions. “Lucy trusts you. Why, I have no idea, but she does.”
That only partly surprised Max. She’d thought she and Lucy had developed a good working relationship, but from the beginning she recognized that trust wasn’t something that either of these people gave freely.
Sean continued, “Danielle Sharpe is most likely in the Fieldstones’ house.”
Max almost jumped out of her seat. “What? Lucy said that?”
“I did. Lucy knows—I didn’t have to tell her. It’s obvious, and Lucy fears Sharpe is going to up her game and take out the whole family. She’s been working up to it.”
“Why isn’t Lucy in the BSU? Arthur—my friend Dr. Arthur Ullman who is retired from the BSU—said they take only the best and brightest with that certain extra that makes them good profilers. And you can’t tell me that Lucy doesn’t have that extra. She has it in spades.”
Sean didn’t say anything for a minute. He was looking at something on his phone, but Max couldn’t see what it was. Or was he thinking about what to tell her and how to say it?
He said, “There’s only so much darkness a person can take before it consumes them.” He looked up from his phone and his dark, vibrant blue eyes spoke volumes. Max had never believed in true love and soulmates and all that romantic bullshit. Until now.
There was nothing Sean Rogan wouldn’t do for his wife. And it was clear the feeling was mutual.
He turned his phone to Max and she read the text message from Lucy.
The agents aren’t responding and we can’t reach the Fieldstones. Ken and I are on our way with L.A. FBI. We don’t know yet if we’re dealing with a hostage situation or something far worse. I’m going in to talk her down. I will be okay, but … well, I love you.
“I’m going to L.A.,” Sean said. “If you can be ready to leave in five minutes, you can join me.”
Chapter Thirty-five
The two agents watching the Fieldstones’ weren’t in their vehicle. “Dammit, I told them to check on the family—how’d they get ambushed? Why didn’t they call for backup?”
“We don’t know what happened.” But Lucy knew time was not on their side. Last contact with the agents was ten minutes ago. She’d told Ken they needed to check on the family immediately; he’d acted based on her advice. Because he trusted her.
Now two agents were in danger. Or already dead.
Tim Nelson was calling in FBI SWAT. Their ETA was a minimum twenty minutes. Lucy didn’t know if the family had twenty minutes. She didn’t know if they were already dead.
“I have to go in,” Lucy said.
“Fuck no,” Ken said. “I’m not putting another FBI agent in the line of fire.”
“She’s going to kill them. She knows she’s not getting out of this and she has nothing to lose. She’s been spiraling down for twenty-three years, Ken—she’s been careful, methodical, but one thing changed: her ex-husband started talking to her. She sensed there was something wrong, and even if he didn’t say something specifically to set her off, she unconsciously knows that something is different. And this family is different. The mother was having an affair. It’s a deviation. Kevin cannot die. I can’t let him die.”
“You’re not going in there and risking your life.”
Lucy pulled out the photo of her and Justin playing at the park the afternoon before Danielle killed her nephew. “This is my card inside. She will know who I am—I can talk her down. Make sure the agents are alive. If anyone needs medical help, I will try to get them out. Ken, we can’t sit here and wait for a tactical team! There are three and potentially five hostages inside. Dead? Alive? Danielle Sharpe has drugs, a gun, and nothing to lose.”
Tim Nelson came over to them. “Glendale PD is working with us until the sheriff’s deputies arrive. They’ve blocked off the street both sides, and are notifying the neighbors to stay indoors. SWAT is nineteen minutes out—I had them on call, so they were ready to roll.”
“Nineteen minutes is too long—I’m a hostage negotiator,” Lucy said. “I’m a rookie, I’m not supposed to negotiate without a senior negotiator, but I don’t think we should quibble about the damn bureaucracy when everyone in that house will be dead in nineteen minutes if we don’t do something now.”
“Agent Kincaid, I don’t think you can make that call,” Nelson said. “Going in blind, without intelligence, is going to put another life in danger.”
“A word,” Ken said to Nelson and pulled him aside.
Lucy knew she was right—Danielle had changed her MO. She went into the house because she knew law enforcement had tracked her down. The calls to her husband coupled with the agents taking Kevin from his grandmother’s house gave it away. So she went to her Plan B—Danielle already knew about the alarm, knew how to bypass it. Nina Fieldstone probably didn’t realize that Danielle might have the alarm code. Danielle was inside the house when she called her husband the last time.
Did you betray me again?
Only this time, it was a different betrayal. Instead of another woman, it was talking to the police.
Ken and Nelson came back. “One condition,” Nelson said. “You get her on the phone. I’m not sending you anywhere near that house if I don’t know that the hostages are alive.”
Lucy nodded. How could she get Danielle to pick up?
She dialed the Fieldstones’ house phone. It went to voice mail after six rings. She tried Nina’s cell phone; it went direct to voice mail.
“Bullhorn?” she asked Nelson.
He retrieved one from his trunk. Lucy took a deep breath and spoke into the bullhorn.
“Danielle, my name is Lucy Kincaid. You know me. Justin called me Lulu. No one else has ever called me Lulu. Pick up the phone. I need to talk to you. You owe it to me to pick up the phone.”
She nodded to Ken, who called the house phone again. It rang four times. Lucy thought she was too late, that they were already dead.
On the fifth ring Danielle answered.
“Are you lying to me?”