that he hired you to kill a drug dealer, escaped from custody this morning. We have evidence that Mr. Hunt lied on the witness stand and that he did not in fact hire you.”
“I can save you time and energy, Agent Elliott. I’m not going to speak about my case.”
“That is your right, but the trial is over. Closing statements are on Monday, and it’s going to the jury. But I am compelled as an officer of the court to turn over the evidence that I have that Jimmy Hunt perjured himself. The prosecution will likely reopen the case. You will have standing to appeal.”
“This is a first—an FBI agent working against her own government to help an alleged killer go free.”
It was tricky, but Lucy wasn’t scared of Thompson. She was more scared of what would happen to Sean if they couldn’t find him. And she and Megan had agreed that the only way they could get Thompson to reveal anything was if he thought he was protecting Paxton.
“I’m more interested in the man who really hired you,” Megan said. “I know you’re protecting him, and I know why you’re protecting him.”
He didn’t say a word. He didn’t blink, he didn’t look worried.
Again, Lucy thought: This man is at peace.
“Mr. Thompson,” Lucy said.
“Call me Mike, please, Agent Kincaid.”
He spoke to her kindly. He’d been professional all around, but there was a slight change in his tone when he addressed her.
“Had you heard of me before we met?” she asked.
He didn’t answer the question and didn’t lose eye contact. He knew exactly who Lucy was, and why she was important to Jonathan Paxton … but that revelation was subtle.
“I have a story to share,” she said, deviating from what she and Megan had discussed earlier.
“Before I was born, there was a young woman who looked so much like me, she could have been my sister. Her name was Monique Paxton. She was truly beautiful.”
He didn’t flinch at the name Paxton, but there was a subtle shift, from alert to hyperalert. He was waiting for something … but she didn’t think he knew what he was waiting for.
“Monique wanted to be a nurse—she volunteered at her local hospital and read to the sick children every Sunday afternoon for three years. She was in advanced math and science classes. She was smart and studious. But, like many teenagers, she wasn’t perfect. She made mistakes. But no one should pay for their mistakes with their life. Monique was murdered by her boyfriend—a boy no one knew she was dating. That boy got away with that crime and many more for twenty years.
“Even before I joined the FBI, I knew that violence hurts more people than the victim. Violence destroys families. To have a loved one stolen from you for no reason except another human being’s sick needs, it tears you up inside. Especially when it’s your child. It twists your heart. The grief. The anger. You can’t breathe … you can barely think of anything but your child … even though you don’t want to. Because when you see her smile in a photo and hear her laugh in your dreams, you can’t help but flash to her last moment, her final breath, and feel the weight of your loss. That you weren’t there. That you couldn’t save her.”
Thompson didn’t move. His eyes were glassy, his face was flushed, but no tears fell. Lucy almost felt guilty for what she was doing to him. She knew his pain. Hers was different—she’d lost her nephew, but she’d been a child and didn’t understand what happened until years later. But she’d also been a victim. She’d almost died. She’d also been a vigilante. She’d killed the man who hurt her. She understood Michael Thompson. She felt for him, and because she felt his pain as it seeped through his soul, she wanted to stop.
But she couldn’t.
“Jonathan Paxton suffered when he lost his daughter. His suffering never ended. He didn’t know what happened to her. Adam Scott made her disappear, literally vanished her with chemicals, destroyed her remains, and it wasn’t until twenty years after her death that Jonathan knew what happened to Monique. Twenty years to live with the unknown, the pain, the regret, the grief, the anger. What could he have done to save her? Every morning and every night he woke up with Monique.
“The truth didn’t set him free. Instead, the truth twisted his grief even more. Yet … he has a spine