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“This is a tough road you’ve chosen.”

  “Do you really think I chose this road?”

  He sighed. “I wouldn’t expect anything else from you. I love you, Luce. Be careful.”

  She hung up, feeling much more confident about her position. Dillon didn’t tell her she was wrong or that she should reconsider. She didn’t know how she would feel if everyone in her family opposed her. She didn’t want to lose her family. She loved them, but she wasn’t backing down.

  Sean came out with a towel wrapped around his waist. He had scars he hadn’t had when they first met. Some more recent than others. She had led a sheltered existence until she was eighteen … and then her life had spiraled out of control.

  She had rebuilt her life, slowly and methodically, with no small effort by Sean to help her. In doing so, a path had been forged for her. Maybe she had chosen a violent, destructive road. But after she had faced evil and survived against all odds, how could she forget that evil existed? How could she allow innocent people to suffer? Once you knew the truth about human nature—the good and the bad—you couldn’t forget, ignore the bad and only see the good.

  “Come here,” Lucy said and met Sean halfway with a kiss. “When do you have to go?”

  “It’s my plane, I can leave when I want.”

  She took him back to bed. She had to remember the good, remember the light, to sustain her in the dark times.

  Sean was the brightest light in her life.

  Chapter Fifteen

  When Carina Kincaid called Max from the lobby and asked to meet with her, Max didn’t hesitate to agree. Lucy had thought her family wouldn’t cooperate; maybe they had a change of heart or Lucy wasn’t as perceptive as she appeared.

  But when Carina knocked on the door and walked in with her brother, Connor Kincaid, Max suspected an ambush.

  They didn’t disappoint her.

  Max took them to the balcony to talk—she didn’t want to show them her evidence. If they wanted to cooperate, that was a different story, but she couldn’t give them any information by which they might be able to sabotage her investigation.

  She’d learned the hard way that even innocent people sometimes didn’t want the truth to come out.

  “Why do I think you’re not here to offer your assistance?” Max said, offering them both seats.

  Neither Carina nor Connor sat down. They looked like brother and sister. Dark hair, slightly dark complexion. They both looked like cops. United.

  “We want to know why you’re really here,” Connor said.

  “I’m an investigative reporter. I specialize in cold cases.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “I like the US Grant. It’s one of the finest hotels in the country.”

  “You know what I mean!”

  Less than a minute and Max was fully irritated. Was that a record?

  She said, “Justin Stanton was murdered. His case is unsolved. I’m going to solve it.”

  “Bullshit. There’s another reason.”

  “I don’t have a hidden agenda. You’re welcome to talk to my producer.”

  “You want to exploit our family.”

  Max really hated that word. She’d been accused of exploiting people when all she did was find the truth. “I’m happy to talk about my investigation with you if you would be willing to listen. But you don’t seem to have an open mind.”

  Carina spoke for the first time. She looked tired, as if she hadn’t slept the night before. Max wondered why—what in the past gave her sleepless nights? What about Justin’s murder made her fear the truth?

  “Nothing good can come from this,” she said. “Justin has been dead for nearly twenty years. I’ve looked into this case. There were no viable suspects. No evidence. Nothing that even points to a suspect. You can’t find anything because there is nothing to find.”

  “Tommy Porter has been dead for fifteen years. Chris Donovan for six years. Peter Caldwell for nine months.”

  “This is where you’ve gone off the deep end,” Connor said. “Donovan’s father was found guilty of murder. Caldwell’s mother is on trial for his murder. Only the Porter case is unsolved, and it’s nearly as old as Justin’s murder. Is that why you’re here? Did Donovan get you to find some thread of nothing to get him out of prison? Or maybe because you’re friends with Caldwell’s mother—you want to give the jury doubt that she did it.”

  Max didn’t even respond to that ridiculous accusation.

  “If you’re not here to help, I need you to leave.”

  “You won’t get anything. This is our town, our people. San Diego isn’t as big as you think. You step out of line, we’ll take you down.”

  She laughed. Because if she didn’t laugh, she’d lose her temper, and that wouldn’t end well for her—or for the Kincaids. She needed Lucy Kincaid’s help, at least until Andrew Stanton turned over all the documentation he promised. But once she had what she needed, she’d ice Lucy out of the investigation, because it was clear that the Kincaids were trouble.

  “Good-bye, Mr. Kincaid,” she said.

  “Please,” Carina said quietly. “This will destroy our family. My dad had a heart attack last year. My mom is very sensitive. She cried last night. My sister Nelia—losing Justin gutted her. It took her more than a decade to start living again. If you dredge up the past, the violence and death, you’re going to hurt everyone I love. Do you think it’s easy for me to come here and talk about this? I was there—I fell asleep on the couch and my nephew, who I loved with my whole heart, was taken out of his bed and killed. It took me years before I could forgive myself.”

  It didn’t sound like she really had. Max’s lost a bit of her temper. She understood guilt; she understood grief.

  What she didn’t understand was willful ignorance.

  “I would tell you to please trust me, but neither of you seem very trusting. So trust your sister. Lucy seems to have a good head on her shoulders.”

  “Leave Lucy out of this,” Carina said. “She was a little girl when Justin was killed.”

  “She’s not a little girl now. She’s a rather exemplary FBI agent, according to my sources.” She had read all the articles Ben had sent her, and she really wanted to know more about Agent Kincaid. Ben promised to get her more information, but if he couldn’t, Max had her own sources.

  Connor clenched his fists. “Leave Lucy alone. I swear if you do or say anything to hurt her—”

  “Enough,” Max said. “You obviously have no intention of listening to anything I might say, and I’ve already had it up to here with threats from Lucy’s husband. I will solve Justin Stanton’s murder and the murder of three other little boys. Help or hinder, frankly, I don’t give a damn. I will get the answers. I always do.”

  Most of the time.

  You know who killed Karen, you just can’t prove it.

  You have no idea who your father is.

  You don’t know what happened to your mother.

  Shit, why was her mother on her mind now? Of all times? Her mother had walked out on her twenty-two years ago, she wasn’t coming back now.

  But you think if you can solve a nearly twenty-year-old murder you can find out what happened to your mother. Time will no longer be an obstacle.

  She stared from Connor to Carina. “Good-bye.”

  Connor wanted to argue and Max wasn’t above calling hotel security, but Carina put her hand on her brother’s arm and they looked at each other, exchanged that unspoken conversation that infused Max with a jealousy she didn’t understand. Sean and Lucy, Connor and Carina, others in her life who had a deep, intimate understanding of another person.

  Max wanted that. She was an only child raised by older grandparents, she had been in and out of many relationships. She didn’t have that unspoken connection with anyone—someone who knew what she was thinking and how she felt. Where she didn’t have to explain herself. Where she had the same connection with them, not a friend, family member, or lover.

  You thought Nick
was the one.

  No, that’s ridiculous. Nick was a cop on a case and Max was attracted to him. Sexual tension and all that.

  You hoped. Because you’re tired of playing the game.

  Maybe it was just better to be alone. Being alone didn’t scare her.

  It just made her very, very sad.

  Connor finally turned and walked out, Carina behind him. Carina stopped for a moment, looked at Max. “I hope you realize you’re doing more harm than good.”

  Max didn’t comment. Nothing she said was going to convince Carina. Max could hope that finding the truth would make all the difference … but sometimes, people really didn’t want the truth. They would rather live in their own fantasy than confront what could be dark answers to difficult questions.

  For Max, the truth was always better than the unknown.

  She closed the doors behind the Kincaids.

  Max was tired of this family. Having Lucy forced on her. What had she been thinking yesterday when she agreed to work with her? Though the rookie fed had been helpful, Max would talk to her own FBI expert before she concurred that the killer was a woman, or that there were more victims than those she’d already identified. Last night she’d put in a call to Dr. Arthur Ullman—he was a retired FBI profiler who taught a seminar at NYU. His last case had been Karen’s disappearance ten years ago. He and Max had become friends, and he often consulted with her when she needed a psychological profile or perspective. A different way of seeing the evidence.

  Max finished getting ready. She didn’t need Lucy to talk to Detective Katella, and she honestly didn’t need her for the investigation. She couldn’t convince her family to help and instead seemed to have created even more of a problem for Max. What had Lucy said last night when she came by the suite? Something about how she’d approached her family wrong. Then she read over Max’s evidence in silence, barely uttering two words before she left just before midnight. Well, that misstep had been major, and now Max walked a tougher road.

  She called the detective at the number Stanton gave her. “Detective, it’s Maxine Revere. We’re meeting at ten this morning—I was wondering if I could push it up to nine?”

  “I’ll be here. I still don’t see what I can tell you that the police reports can’t, but anything I can do to find out who killed that little boy, I’ll do.”

  “Thank you.” Max hung up and called the valet to bring her car around. She put together her briefcase and made sure her timeline was in order. She hoped to have more information to plug in, and she hoped David was making some headway with the Porters. She knew he didn’t want to talk to them, but he’d find a way.

  He was dependable that way. Unlike most of the people in her life.

  But even David couldn’t read her mind.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Lucy sat in the lobby of the US Grant with two cups of coffee, her eyes on the elevator bank. It was an hour earlier than she and Max had planned on meeting.

  But her gut told her Max was going to attempt to meet with Don Katella solo.

  Max used valet parking, which meant she would need to come through the lobby to retrieve her car out front.

  Sean would be gone before Lucy returned, but that was okay—he needed to be part of the reorganization at RCK. They had several things to address, and since Sean had started working for them again full-time after the honeymoon, he needed to be an integral player. Lucy had suggested that next year she apply to transfer to Sacramento—she had one more rookie year to complete in San Antonio before she could request a transfer. She might not get it and she might not get Sacramento even if they moved her.

  Sean didn’t want to move back to his hometown, and Lucy respected that. Besides, she would end up working for her sister-in-law. She liked Jack’s wife, but what happened when they inevitably butted heads? She didn’t want to put Jack in that position, and from what Lucy had heard, Megan intentionally didn’t want to know details about Jack’s work at RCK. Lucy couldn’t live like that, she and Sean had been through hell and back, and honesty—in all things—was the only way their relationship would survive.

  They both talked about going back to D.C. There were pros and cons. The pros? Being close to her brothers Patrick and Dillon, as well as Dillon’s wife, Kate, who was Lucy’s close friend and confidante. They liked D.C., and Patrick and Sean worked well together. The cons? Both Sean and Lucy loved San Antonio, they loved their house, and while they missed their family in D.C., they also enjoyed being on their own. For both of them, it was the first time they weren’t under their respective family thumbs.

  They agreed to shelve the discussion until next year. And ultimately, if Lucy requested a transfer, she may not have any say in where she went. She’d rather stay in San Antonio than move to an unknown location.

  Except for the fact that she was working for a new boss who was prickly and difficult. Maybe it would get better. She didn’t want to leave just because her working environment was uncomfortable.

  The elevator opened and Max Revere walked out, her long dark red hair pulled up in a twist. She wore heeled black boots and a calf-length royal blue cashmere dress. A black jacket was slung over her arm. She was a stunning woman with an air of confidence that Lucy both admired and envied.

  Max saw Lucy three strides into the lobby. Her lips curved, just a bit. “Better than most feds I’ve known.”

  “Nonfat latte,” Lucy said and handed her the drink.

  “Who ratted me out?”

  “You had a to-go cup in your room last night and I saw what the barista had written.”

  “I meant who did you bribe to find out when I summoned my car.”

  “No one.”

  “Hmm.”

  Max walked past her to the door.

  “Max,” Lucy said without moving.

  Max turned around. “Aren’t you coming?”

  “Don’t attempt to ditch me again.”

  “I don’t like this arrangement.”

  “Neither do I. But if you go this alone, I guarantee, I won’t be waiting for you with coffee. I’ll cut you out. No one in San Diego will talk to you. Andrew will not cooperate.”

  “Going to sic your husband on me as well?” she said dryly. “Or maybe your brother and sister?”

  Something flashed in Max’s eyes and Lucy feared the worst. “Did Carina or Connor come by?”

  “Both. Lucky me.”

  “And?”

  “They made it clear they don’t want me digging around. So I ask myself, why?”

  “I don’t think they know why.”

  “Because they fear the truth will hurt more than not knowing.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “A few months ago, I worked a cold case where a mother concealed evidence about her son’s whereabouts the night his stepsister was killed. While she professed that he couldn’t have killed her, she thought it looked bad that he wasn’t at home. That no one would believe her son about where he was or what he was doing. She may have been right, but had the police known the truth, they could have pursued other lines of inquiry. Another person lied in the same investigation and ended up dead because of what he knew about the killer. He was protecting his reputation, but he didn’t realize that he was also protecting a killer. So trust me—I know exactly what they’re thinking. They’ll never admit it, but deep down they think they know who might have killed Justin and they can’t accept it.”

  “No one in my family could have killed him. No one.”

  “I believe you. Except … why don’t they want to know the truth?”

  “The pain of the investigation,” Lucy offered. “The memories of the past.”

  “And you’re immune?”

  “Not immune. I have a higher pain threshold than most.”

  Max turned and walked out to the car that had pulled up. She tipped the valet and slid into the driver’s seat. Lucy sat in the passenger’s seat.

  “It took Marco months before he ever caught me
going off without him,” Max said as she pulled away from the hotel, too fast for Lucy’s comfort. Max typed into the GPS while she drove, further stressing Lucy.

  “Marco Lopez?”

  “You know him?”

  “Like I said yesterday, I read your book.”

  Max didn’t say anything.

  “I looked up the status of the investigation last night. It’s still unsolved.”

  “It’s solved—I know who killed her.” Max’s hands tightened around the steering wheel. “But he fled the country, there’s no body, no evidence.”

  “How are you so certain?”

  “Circumstantial evidence. And I met him. I had a bad feeling about him from the beginning, but Karen didn’t listen to me. I was more worried about him drugging and raping her. I didn’t think he’d kill her.”

  “The same type of evidence against your friend Blair Caldwell. Circumstantial.”

  “Blair is not my friend. I dated John, her husband, in college.”

  “You don’t like her.”

  “No, I don’t, but I didn’t say that.”

  “You’re an open book.”

  Max laughed. “Most people don’t think so.”

  “I’m not most people.”

  “I’m beginning to realize that.”

  * * *

  Don Katella had retired to an active, over fifty-five community on the beach not far from downtown. He introduced his wife, who was walking out of the house with a briefcase. “Natalie still works, though I’m trying to get her to quit.”

  Natalie laughed. “Work? Hardly. I teach one graduate class at USD. That’s part-time, teaching something I love.”

  “History,” Don said, beaming. He kissed her. “Don’t forget we have dinner with the kids tonight.”

  “Here or there?”

  “Here. I’m cooking.”

  “Thank God.” She smiled. “Don couldn’t cook for the first thirty years of our marriage. He retires and wham, he’s surpassed me.”

  “I have to do something so I’m not bored witless.”

  Natalie said her good-byes, and Don offered Lucy and Max coffee. Max declined, but Lucy nodded. “Thank you. Cream and sugar.”