Stolen Page 10

  Lucy immediately thought the worst. Sean often broke rules, but he’d always had the protection of RCK. Without them, had he grown more reckless? He wouldn’t—he wouldn’t do it because of her. She hoped.

  She followed Paula not to her office but to the administrative wing of the building. Paula said, “Sit here; you’ll be called in.” She gave Lucy an odd look—it might have been sympathy—then left the building.

  Lucy remained standing and consciously forced herself to be still—to not pace or bite her thumbnail or her lip. She didn’t have her phone—it was in her dorm room—so she couldn’t text Sean and ask what was going on. She was worried. She’d spoken to Sean on Saturday night, but he’d been distracted. Why hadn’t she pushed him? Why hadn’t she trusted her instincts and taken the train to New York and surprised him?

  It was several minutes before the assistant chief of the FBI Academy, Lynda O’Neal, opened her office door and said, “Agent Kincaid, we’re ready for you.”

  Under most circumstances, Lynda O’Neal was a hard woman to read—next to the definition of “calm, cool, and collected” was a picture of the assistant chief. But right now, her composure was ruffled. She looked angry. Lucy bit back the urge to apologize, even though this wasn’t about her. She’d kept her head down and her class ranking in the top five, in spite of a few distractions. What could Sean have done that two FBI agents would need to talk to her?

  She walked into Lynda’s office and the first thing she noticed was her file open on the desk. She’d seen it before; with the colored labels on the side she didn’t need to see her name on the front to know it was her personnel file.

  Lucy didn’t recognize the two seated federal agents: a dark-haired man in his early thirties and a blond woman of about forty.

  Lynda closed the door and took her seat behind her desk. “Agent Kincaid, please meet Special Agents Steve Gannon and Deanna Brighton from the New York field office. They have a few questions for you.” Her voice was tight and clipped.

  “Questions? About what?” Lucy asked.

  Deanna Brighton took the lead. “When was the last time you spoke to your boyfriend?” She stared at Lucy. “Sean Rogan.” As if she needed to make clear who they were talking about.

  Lucy didn’t say anything. She looked at Lynda, but the assistant chief was looking down at the files and didn’t make eye contact.

  Why had these agents come all the way to Quantico rather than sending a local agent? Something felt very wrong to Lucy.

  “Sit down,” Brighton commanded.

  Lucy purposefully took the chair immediately across from Lynda. With the agents on the couch, the position gave Lucy a psychological advantage in that they would be looking at Lynda—her supervisor—sitting behind her.

  “Answer my question.”

  “Why do you need to know?”

  “Because I’m a federal agent and you’re a rookie agent and you’re required to answer any questions I have.”

  Lynda said, “Agent Brighton, I’ve allowed this meeting even though it’s highly irregular. I expect you to talk to my agents with respect.”

  “I’ll get to the point,” Brighton said. “We’re looking for Mr. Rogan, simply to question him, but he’s eluded us. We know he’s in New York City. We need his address.”

  The FBI was looking for Sean. That had to be a mistake. Or a misunderstanding. Or something other than an investigation. How did the FBI know he was in New York? Why would they know? Why would they need to talk to him?

  “Why are you looking for Sean?”

  “Do I need to remind you again that you’re a federal employee and you’re required to answer all questions truthfully?”

  “I asked—”

  “We need his current address. His brother claimed not to know where he was living.”

  “Claimed?” Did this agent think that Duke was lying? The accusation shifted Lucy from confused to the offensive.

  Sean is in trouble.

  Lucy said, “I don’t know Sean’s address, either.”

  Agent Gannon said, “You’re still involved with Mr. Rogan, correct?” His voice was softer than his appearance.

  “Yes.” Lucy tried to figure out what they wanted. They probably wouldn’t tell her, not if this was an active investigation, yet they were coming to her for information and would assume she’d talk to Sean about this conversation. Was that their purpose? For Lucy to call Sean and warn him? “What do you think Sean has done?”

  “Why do you assume he’s done something illegal?” Brighton snapped.

  “I don’t,” Lucy said calmly, recognizing the tactic to twist her words to make her flustered. Last year, it might have worked. But Lucy no longer spooked easily. She was no longer always on the defensive. She owed her confidence in part to her FBI training and her experience but mostly to Sean.

  Agent Gannon, obviously the good cop in this scenario, said, “The way you can help your boyfriend is to tell us where he is so we can ask him some questions. It’s all pretty standard.”

  “This isn’t standard,” Lucy said. “Two New York agents coming to Quantico to question a rookie about her boyfriend? Is there an active investigation?”

  “We can’t discuss any pending investigation with you considering you are sleeping with Mr. Rogan,” Deanna said. “We need his address. He’s gone off the grid, and people don’t just go off the grid when they’re law-abiding citizens.”

  Lucy ground her teeth together, biting back a retort that would have gotten her in trouble. “I told you,” she said clearly, “I don’t know where he’s staying.”

  “You two must not be that close,” Brighton said.

  “That’s none of your business.” Lucy realized she sounded defensive, and by the gleam in Deanna’s eyes she’d deliberately baited her. Damn, Lucy had walked right into it.

  Brighton said, “If a federal agent is involved with a known criminal, it’s damn well my business.”

  Lynda intervened. “Agent Brighton, Lucy said she doesn’t know where Mr. Rogan is staying in New York, and I’m not going to allow you to badger her unless you have proof that she’s lying.”

  “I’m sorry, Chief O’Neal. I didn’t mean to badger anyone.”

  Her tone said anything but.

  “I suggest you call your boyfriend and have him turn himself in for questioning,” Brighton said. She gave Lucy her business card. “He can reach me at either of those numbers.”

  Lucy took the card, barely resisting the urge to tear it in half.

  “We just need to ask him questions,” Gannon said, shooting a veiled glance at Brighton. “He’s simply a person of interest. If he cooperates, he won’t be in any trouble.”

  Something didn’t add up. Lucy said, “You have his phone number. Call him.”

  Brighton snapped, “Don’t you think we’ve tried? I know how he operates. He thinks he’s above the law. No one is above the law.”

  “I think you’re making vague accusations but have nothing substantive, and many law-abiding citizens get nervous when the FBI wants to talk to them about nothing specific,” Lucy said. “What specifically is going on?”

  “And that is none of your business, New Agent Kincaid.”

  Lynda stood. “We’re done.”

  Brighton didn’t budge. “When you talk to him, tell him to call me.”

  Warning bells rang. It was clear to Lucy that there was history between Brighton and Sean. She should have seen it from the beginning, but initially she’d been thrown off balance.

  Lucy trusted Sean explicitly, but she knew his past wasn’t squeaky clean. Was that what this split with RCK was all about? Did this visit by the FBI relate to Sean quitting RCK and moving to New York? Or about the job he couldn’t talk about?

  Lynda escorted the two agents from her office, then returned. She closed the door. “Lucy, I don’t want to see you in any trouble, but you know that lying to a federal agent is a crime.”

  “I didn’t lie. I don’t have his address.”
>
  Lynda raised her eyebrows in surprise, but that Sean had kept Lucy in the dark didn’t surprise her. If Sean was doing something illegal, he would do everything to protect her—including not giving her his address. She hadn’t asked for it—there was no need to have it; she knew the move was temporary. But he hadn’t volunteered it, either.

  “Do you know what that was about?” Lucy asked.

  Lynda shook her head. “I tried to get information. I think Gannon would have told me, but Brighton is the lead. She has a bee in her bonnet, as you saw.”

  “What division?”

  “White-collar. I’m not going to ask what you know about it.” Lynda was trying to protect Lucy as well, but she didn’t want anyone going out on a limb for her. Lucy told Lynda the truth.

  “You can ask, but I really don’t know anything.” She added, “Sean took a temporary job in New York. He said he signed a confidentiality agreement and couldn’t discuss anything he was working on. He’s been there for nearly a month. I don’t have any other details.”

  “I can make some calls.”

  “I appreciate the offer, but I know who to call. I should get back to the gym—”

  Lynda shook her head. “Make the calls. You won’t be able to focus anyway. Paula told you this would take a while?”

  It was lunchtime. “Yes, but—”

  “Take whatever time you need. Find out what’s going on. But remember, Lucy—you are a federal agent. If you find out that a crime has been committed, you have an obligation to report it.”

  In other words, be careful what questions you ask because you might not want the answers.

  Lucy nodded and walked out. Her stomach was in knots. Because now everything made sense—Sean hadn’t told her anything about what he was doing in New York in order to protect her. He knew she’d be torn between her duty as a new agent and her love for him. But he wasn’t a criminal, and the way Agent Brighton spoke made it sound as if he was wanted for more than questioning.

  Lucy’s love for Sean would always win out, even if he’d gotten into something illegal. She had several calls to make. Starting with Sean.

  She walked across campus toward her dorm and was surprised to find Agent Brighton, without Gannon, standing at the edge of the path. Lucy couldn’t avoid her.

  “You’re going to lose everything if you try to protect him,” Brighton said.

  “If you want to continue this conversation, we should go back to Chief O’Neal’s office.”

  “I’m trying to help you.”

  “I don’t need your help.”

  “You don’t know Sean Rogan like I do.”

  Lucy resisted the urge to argue or question, but it was hard. Very hard. “I’m not going to talk to you without Chief O’Neal present,” she said.

  “Then listen to me.”

  Brighton stepped forward and stood only inches from Lucy’s face. “I know everything about you,” Brighton said in a low voice. “I’ve read files you think are buried. And it would benefit you greatly if you help rather than hinder my investigation.”

  Lucy drew in a sharp breath, her heart racing, her skin heating. “Are you threatening me?” Her voice cracked, but she didn’t break eye contact.

  “Maybe you don’t know your boyfriend as well as you thought.” Brighton shoved a large manila envelope into Lucy’s hands, turned, and walked away.

  Lucy was shaking as she strode to her dorm room, the thin envelope clutched in her grasp.

  She wasn’t shaking with fear but an anger she hadn’t felt for a long, long time. Deanna Brighton was a bully with a badge. Whether Sean had done anything specifically to get under her skin was one thing, but Lucy didn’t care what it was. Not anymore. Brighton had taken a big, fat overstep and was definitely screwing with the wrong rookie.

  Lucy sat at her desk and stared at the envelope.

  Don’t open it.

  She trusted Sean. More than anyone, more than even her family. Sean had loved and supported her like her family always had, but he’d also been honest and given her back laughter, when she thought it was gone from her life forever.

  She’d never thought she’d truly recover from the brutal rape seven years ago. But she did. She survived and regained her will to live; she created new dreams, including to become an FBI agent and fight people like the man who’d hurt her so deeply. She had a focus, but on her steadfast path she never thought she’d learn to relax, or have fun, or have any semblance of a normal life. As long as she had purpose, she would be okay.

  But until Sean, she had never been okay. Sean gave her normal. As normal as people like her could be. He made her smile. He gave her back the peace in her heart she’d thought had been destroyed forever. She’d survived on her own but built a hard shell around her. She’d never realized, until Sean, that she despised herself, as if all that mattered was what she did, not who she was. With Sean, she had begun to like herself again. To be proud of her accomplishments. He gave her hope. He gave her back her soul.

  And Deanna Brighton wanted to take it away.

  If Sean was in trouble, Lucy would help him. If Sean had overstepped a legal line after his fight with Duke, Lucy would make it right. She wasn’t going to lose Sean. She was going to fix whatever had gone wrong. Sean never asked for help, but he was going to get it this time.

  And ignorance wasn’t going to help him.

  She opened the envelope. Inside was a solitary photograph.

  Sean stood with a beautiful blond woman Lucy had never seen before. They stood in a park, the woman touching his face as if she was going to kiss him.

  Lucy’s heart sank even as she told herself there was a logical explanation.

  There had to be.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Lucy let herself into Sean’s house, which doubled as RCK East headquarters. She couldn’t shake the uncomfortable feeling that she was being sneaky. Sean was larger-than-life in so many ways, filling the room with his charm and ego. But even though he had an ego, it was tempered with compassion and a hidden desire to be needed.

  Lucy had already talked to Patrick and knew he was out of town. That made her feel doubly guilty for what she was doing, because she hadn’t said anything to her brother. Until she had more information, she couldn’t confide in anyone.

  She walked upstairs to Sean’s office and booted up his computer. Her heart pounded even though Sean had told her over and over that his house was her house, and he’d given her his security codes. But she still felt like she was doing something behind his back.

  The door, which she’d thought she closed, opened. She jumped, but no one was there. She leaned forward and saw Chip, the cat she’d adopted but Sean had been taking care of while she was at Quantico. Chip jumped on Sean’s desk and meowed. Lucy petted the cat and squeezed back tears. Why was she about to cry? She didn’t know what was going on; why assume the worst?

  Before she left Quantico, she’d tried calling Sean, but he hadn’t returned her call. She didn’t want to talk to anyone else before speaking with him, but the waiting was making her crazy. She needed to find out what the FBI was investigating related to Sean, but she didn’t want to send up any red flags. That wasn’t going to be easy.

  Sean kept his office tidy. His desk was bare, save for things he obviously valued. A glass apple paperweight that Lucy didn’t know the significance of and wished she’d asked him. A photo of him and his parents when he was twelve, two years before they were killed in a plane crash. A small stuffed teddy bear Lucy had given him when they flew commercial back from Albany in May, after his plane had been shot down. He’d been whining about not having his Cessna, and she gave him the bear wearing a New York T-shirt. It had had a lollipop in its hands, but he’d eaten that.

  And there was a picture of him and Lucy.

  She picked it up, remembering when it had been taken. They’d been on one of their ill-fated vacations, this one to Massachusetts Bay. But this was before all hell broke loose, when they’d first arrived and wer
e eating lunch overlooking the water. He’d said, “Smile, princess,” and held up his phone to take their picture. She’d laughed, thinking they looked silly, and he took several more. But this was the first.

  She loved him. It was as simple as that.

  She scanned the photo of the blonde into Sean’s computer and ran facial recognition software. It was something Duke had developed for RCK and licensed to private companies that needed tight security. She didn’t know how long the program would take.

  She checked her phone for messages and found one from Duke. He’d called earlier, but she hadn’t wanted to talk to him before talking to Sean. Now she realized Duke might have information about Sean that would help her figure out what was going on.

  Duke immediately took her call. “Lucy, thank you for returning my call.”

  “An agent from the New York FBI office just came by to ask me about Sean,” Lucy said.

  “Agent Brighton. She called me this morning,” Duke said.

  “Do you know what’s going on? I couldn’t get any information from her, except that she wanted to question Sean about a pending investigation.”

  “I don’t know, but I will find out.”

  Duke sounded angry.

  “She’s a piece of work,” Lucy said.

  “Sean had better watch himself. You need to tell him to get his act together and stop whatever he’s doing before I can’t help him.”

  “Why do you assume this is his fault?”

  “You’re an FBI agent. You know how they operate. And Sean has always skirted the law. I told him I couldn’t bail him out anymore, that he has to live with the consequences of his actions. The stunt he pulled last month was the final straw for everyone here. I don’t know what mess he’s gotten himself into—”

  “I don’t think either of us knows the entire story.” Lucy was stunned at Duke’s reaction. Though why should she be? She’d heard the fight between Sean and Duke. They’d both said things that were cutting, and there was also a long family history that she didn’t completely understand. She tried to change the subject. “I don’t like Agent Brighton.”