The only thing that put a damper on this week was that Sean was still out of sorts after his ordeal, which had ended only four weeks ago. She’d offered to skip the conference—she thought maybe they could spend a long weekend at their house in Vail where they’d have the privacy to talk, just them, but Sean said no, he didn’t want her to cancel. If he’d insisted on staying home, however, she would have, because she could tell there was something up with him.
Nate, her partner and their closest friend, had moved into the apartment above the garage at Sean’s suggestion. Lucy liked having Nate close by, but it meant they didn’t have as much privacy. It was almost as if Sean had Nate eat dinner with them every night . . . play video games . . . go out with Jesse . . . to avoid being alone with her. Yet . . . he was so quiet. Very unlike him. Dillon thought he should talk to someone—a professional—but Lucy knew Sean wouldn’t. Right now all she could do was be there when he was ready to talk.
He’d told her a lot about what happened after his arrest last month. The interrogation by the police for a murder he didn’t commit had been emotionally exhausting and humiliating, as well as infuriating. She’d seen the interrogation tapes—thanks to a friend of Nate’s in the Houston FBI—and they had been difficult just to watch, so she could only imagine how Sean felt living through it. Then being in jail overnight. He talked about it—his feeling of being trapped, helpless, unable to convince the police that he was innocent of the charges. In fact, he was very open about the first twenty-four hours of his ordeal, the anger and the fear and the frustration.
But he wouldn’t talk about what happened to him at the hands of former senator Jonathan Paxton, who had orchestrated the whole thing. He wouldn’t talk about how he felt when he learned that one of his oldest friends, Colton Thayer, had helped Paxton set him up. He only vaguely mentioned what happened between him and Paxton. Instead he gave details about the prison break to the authorities, about how they traveled, about Paxton killing Jimmy Hunt. A lot of detail—almost as if to downplay what actually happened to Sean.
The only thing he’d said was, “I escaped at one point—late Saturday night. Early Sunday morning, maybe. That’s when they locked me in the cage. Colton wanted to kill me, I know that, but he didn’t.” He claimed he didn’t know why or what they’d had planned for him. Colton Thayer wasn’t talking or even trying to negotiate a plea deal.
Sean also claimed he didn’t know Paxton’s motive, or why he hadn’t killed Sean, though he’d had ample opportunity. He vaguely mentioned revenge, since Sean had been largely responsible for Paxton losing his US Senate seat after Sean helped uncover Paxton’s devious plan to poison prisoners. But he’d never sounded convincing, at least to Lucy.
Lucy hated that she thought Sean was lying. Maybe to spare her . . . she had an idea of why Paxton had gone after Sean. She’d even told Sean what Paxton shared with her, some foolish nonsense about Sean putting her in danger, which was asinine. But there had to have been something else that had deeply affected Sean, and she couldn’t figure it out. The senator loved to talk, especially when he felt he was morally justified. She of all people knew that. He would enjoy explaining his motives to Sean. Why wouldn’t Sean tell her?
She tried to dismiss her anxiety and enjoy the meet and greet, but her mood must have been off-putting because she’d been standing in the corner nursing a glass of wine for the last thirty minutes and no one had approached her. She recognized a few people in the ballroom—mostly from the Sacramento field office, where her sister-in-law Megan served as a supervisory special agent.
Over four hundred were registered for the conference in total, and half that number were socializing here tonight. Lucy would have preferred a much smaller group. Sean was the social butterfly, but he wanted to catch up with his brother, which she thought was a great idea. But she realized she missed Sean’s natural gregariousness, his way of making everything fun.
Megan was halfway across the ballroom talking to her boss Dean Hooper, one of the three ASACs of the Sacramento office. Lucy knew Dean well—they’d even recently worked on a case together—but she didn’t want to intrude. As if Megan could tell, she waved at Lucy and motioned for her to approach.
Reluctantly Lucy put a smile on her face and walked over. “Great news,” Megan said, “Dean and Sonia are coming to the barbecue on Saturday.”
Megan and Jack were having a party of close friends and family the day before Sean and Lucy left.
“I haven’t seen Sonia since Sean and I got married,” Lucy said.
“She’s looking forward to it,” Dean said. “We both are. Is Sean here?”
“He’s visiting Duke and Molly tonight,” Lucy said, referring to Duke’s two-year-old daughter.
“Probably didn’t want to be around all these cops,” Dean said. “I wanted to run something by him, cybersecurity-related. Might have a great consulting assignment for him if he’s game. I’ll catch up with him on Saturday at the party.”
Lucy didn’t know what to say. Dean had hit the nail on the head, and she felt so stupid that she hadn’t realized why Sean hadn’t wanted to come to the conference in the first place. It was a law enforcement conference. He’d been arrested for a murder he didn’t commit, broken out of prison by a criminal gang, considered an escaped convict, chased by the police, his name and image spread across the news. It didn’t matter that he was completely cleared of all charges; Sean had always had a simmering distrust of authority, and the events last month didn’t help.
She needed to talk to him, tell him she understood. Why hadn’t she thought of it before? Was she so blind to her husband’s fears?
Fortunately, her sudden silence wasn’t noticed, because several people from the Sacramento FBI office had come up to talk to Megan and Dean. Lucy politely excused herself and found the appetizers, two large tables in the center of the ballroom. She put together a plate and was nibbling when she saw her brother approaching, beer in hand.
“Showing my face and getting out of here as fast as I can,” Jack said.
“You must really love Megan.”
“She definitely owes me one.” Jack looked around the room with eagle eyes. Then he did a double take. “I have to introduce you to someone.”
Lucy followed Jack to the edge of the room where a woman dressed in black, her long blond hair braided down her back, was wearing a name badge that read ELLEN.
“Ellen Dupre.”
She grinned widely. “Jack! You’re the last person I expected to see at a law enforcement conference.”
“My wife.” He jerked his finger over to the opposite corner, where Megan and Dean were still talking in a group.
“Right, she’s the SSA of violent crime. Damn, I totally forgot, we met last year during a tactical training drill. Um . . . Megan, right?”
“That’s it. And this is my sister, Special Agent Lucy Kincaid, out of the San Antonio office.”
Ellen shook Lucy’s hand. “Sean’s wife! I’m so happy to meet you.”
Jack explained, “Ellen and I did basic training together.”
“Shush, she’ll know how old I am.”