she sat up. She touched his damp shoulder. “Sorry,” she mumbled.
“Better?”
She nodded.
Sean kissed her lightly. “I was spoiled seeing you every day. I miss you. Talking on the phone just doesn’t cut it.”
“I know.”
“Are you all right?”
“I will be. I’ve known Tony for less than a month, but I’m still stunned.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t get to meet him.”
“I think I’m going to miss his stories more than anything,” Lucy said. “Tony put a personal twist on all the cases he worked. Listening to him recount his process and the different paths he explored was interesting and insightful. He was dedicated. He cared.”
“So do you. That’s why he brought you into his world.” Sean kissed her forehead. “You should have asked for today off.”
She shook her head.
“I didn’t think you would have, just that you should have.”
“We should head to the cafeteria. I have class at eight.”
“We have a few minutes.”
Sean was the type of guy who liked to fix problems, and death wasn’t something he could fix. But having him here, at her side, gave her peace and comfort she didn’t realize she needed.
“I spoke to Suzanne Madeaux.” Sean put his fingers under her chin and looked at her. “I don’t want you hurt.”
“Suzanne assured me that there was nothing personal about me in her files. Just my name in connection with the Cinderella Strangler investigation.” Lucy took his hands. “You can’t always protect me.”
“When I can, I will.”
“Tony knew Weber as far back as the Rachel McMahon kidnapping. He went to New York to help Suzanne with the profile. He thinks Weber’s murder has to do with the McMahon case. Her manuscript notes and interviews are missing.”
“I skimmed the book she wrote after you asked me to find Peter McMahon.”
“I read it as well. Tony wanted me to make a list of everyone she mentioned and rank them in the order of most likely to hold a grudge. But it’s been ten years since the book came out. Why wait so long?”
Lucy’s stomach flipped. Crime scenes, autopsies, police reports she could handle. They were matter-of-fact and to the point. Books sensationalizing the pain and suffering of others disturbed her. She supposed that was good for a writer, that Weber had a way of getting so deep into the investigation that she could make the reader think she was right there, but Lucy had enough tragedy and pain in her real life; she didn’t need to share in the pain of others.
But wasn’t that what she did now? Wasn’t that why she wanted to be a cop? To give peace to the survivors and obtain justice for the dead?
“Luce?” Sean pushed her hair back and held her cheek.
“I’m okay.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I will be. I was just thinking about Weber and how she approached her stories. I can handle it but the way she wrote—”
“She sensationalized tragedy. Seemed to relish it.”
“It was full of melodrama. Tony said it was accurate, but it’s how she told the story that made it dramatic. I should turn over the file to Suzanne.”
“What file?”
“Tony’s personal notes. Did you learn anything more about Peter McMahon?”
“I haven’t found him yet, which is unusual.”
“Because you’re so good?”
“Exactly.” He kissed her. “Since I last talked to you, I learned that after his grandmother died he registered for school in Newark and lived with his mother for a year, then ran away. There’s a sealed juvenile record on him. I found him again in Seattle, where his father lives, and a record that he received a GED under the name Peter McMahon Gray.”
“Social Services sent him back to his mother?” Lucy frowned.
“What don’t I know?”
“I read Tony’s case notes. His parents were swingers. That means—”
“I know what a swinger is. And I read the book. Peter filed for emancipation when he was sixteen and got it. Moved back to Jersey, where he went to a community college and got his GED. He was accepted into Syracuse for the second semester, right before he turned seventeen.”
“Driven. Determined to do something with his life.” Lucy took a deep breath. “His childhood ended when he was nine. Did he graduate college?”
“No. Disappeared two years later. I might be able to find out more, but not quickly—unless I hack into the Syracuse files. I promised I wouldn’t.”
“Did you check obituaries?”
“In New York and New Jersey. No Peter McMahon, no Peter Gray, and no John Doe of his description reported deceased the year he went off the grid.”
“Maybe he just wanted to start over,” she