Laughlin may be a great agent and a jerk at the same time.”
“It was the way he asked, the way he assessed my answers.”
“Did he have an update on Hans?”
“He’s the same. How are you holding up?”
“I’m okay. Better now, anyway. All I have to think about is Hans lying unconscious after someone hit him over the head—if these people are really my friends, they’ll understand.”
“Did you get the photo I sent?”
“The guy in the subway station? I didn’t recognize him, but it’s not a lot to go on. I don’t know if I saw him that I’d recognize him.”
“And the articles?”
“I’m reading them now.”
“I sent Noah a message about a notebook of Rosemary Weber’s that Tony took before leaving New York.”
“We went through his overnight bag—it was in his car—and the notebook wasn’t there. Are you sure he took it?”
“He could have brought it into his office. Maybe it went the same way as his file.”
“Meaning, someone stole it. What year was it?”
“The anniversary week of Rachel McMahon’s disappearance. That’s why I sent you the articles from that week. You read Tony’s file—maybe you’ll notice something.”
“I’ll try.”
“It’s all we have for now. Watch yourself, Lucy.”
“I love you, Sean.”
Sean hung up, wishing he could just pop in and see her. But he had his own tasks, and if they were going to get to the bottom of what was going on in New York and at Quantico finding Peter McMahon was one major step.
The guy might be innocent in all this and just trying to disappear from his past.
Or he could have a vendetta he was in the middle of enacting.
Sean sent Lucy an encouraging e-mail, then went back to his notes on McMahon. He itched to find the guy. Kate was good—one of the best—but Sean was better.
Especially since Stockton didn’t say anything about Sean having to find McMahon legally.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Three Years Ago
I walked out of the courthouse expecting freedom, but only fear followed me.
How long until that crazy woman found me again? Cami. I had loved her, but I’d loved a lie.
I’d always thought whoever was harassing me was a bully. Some jock who liked to pick on the little kids who couldn’t, or wouldn’t, defend themselves. But I’m six foot two now, I work out at the gym every morning, and I can defend myself.
But only if I see them coming.
I changed my name for a second time. The first had been to protect me from the media, and I’d taken Grams’s last name. But this time, I needed to do more than fill out a form. I needed to be a new person. Someone the woman who wanted me dead couldn’t find.
I was getting in my new car, the one registered under “Gray Manning,” and saw Detective Charlie Mead striding toward me. He’d made detective fast, but I wasn’t surprised. He was a smart man and the only person on earth I trusted.
No bad news. I can’t take any more bad news. “Gray Manning,” he said.
It would take a bit of getting used to, I realized.
“Charlie.”
He stopped just short of my car and scratched the back of his neck. I was going to miss him. He was like Rachel, only a big brother rather than a big sister. We’d become friends. I went to his wedding last year. I liked his wife, and she liked me. It was normal. The only normal I’d ever had.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t find her.”
“You tried.”
Trying didn’t satisfy him.
“I’ll keep on it.”
I shook my head. “No prints, no photos, no name. She found me when I transferred from SU. The sketch gave us nothing. This is the only way.”
“I’m not giving up,” he stated. “You deserve to have your life back.”
“No. I don’t want that life. I’m going to make a new one. But I’m going to miss you and Tina.”
“We’ll keep in touch—through that account I set up for you, okay?”
I nodded. “You’re the only one who knows where I’m going.”
“As far as I’m concerned, you’re in witness protection, of sorts.”
Some people might think that a twenty-one-year-old man going into hiding—legally changing his name, burying his past, teaching at a poor public elementary school in Brooklyn to avoid seeing anyone who might know him—was a weak man.
But I need peace. Anonymity that a big city can provide. I need to be someone else. I don’t need to know why someone wants to hurt me just like I don’t need to know why my parents are selfish or why my sister