was murdered or why I’m here.
These things just are.
I said, “Thank you.”
“Peter,” Charlie said softly. “If anything feels strange to you, if you think she’s found you, call me, okay? Anytime, day or night.”
“I will.”
But I knew I wouldn’t. If she found me again, she’d kill me.
Because even now, after everything she’d done to me, I don’t think I could kill her.
How can I kill someone I don’t even know?
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
FBI Academy
Sean had e-mailed Lucy nine articles that Rosemary Weber had written during the month that Tony seemed to have been interested in when he returned to the Weber house. Lucy read them multiple times, made a list of names, places, and facts, and nothing jumped out at her as being important. She put them aside in the wee hours of the morning to sleep for a couple hours, and she woke up tired.
“Great,” she muttered. It was defensive driving time, and Lucy was exhausted.
“Up late?” Reva asked as they walked the half mile to the car track.
“Catching up.”
“I’ll bet. I wouldn’t want to study if I had a boyfriend as hot as yours.”
Lucy shook her head but smiled. Reva was predictable, which made her comfortable.
Carter caught up with them. “How you doing?” he asked Lucy.
“Fine.” She eyed him suspiciously. “Shouldn’t I be?”
“You’ve often said how much you were dreading the driving test.”
“This isn’t a test,” Reva said.
“I don’t like driving, but I got a pep talk from Sean.” Lucy didn’t feel apprehensive like she thought she would. In the whole scheme of things, driving didn’t feel as weighty as it had in the past. Though her rape and near death seven years ago had been traumatic and terrifying, the thought of losing her family was in many ways worse. Talking to Sean about the car accident when she was five had helped her come to terms with her fears.
“He’s a good guy,” Carter said.
“Yes, he is,” Lucy agreed.
Her fellow new agents gathered around the driving instructor, Agent Chris Robinson, and listened to his instructions. The course seemed easy enough. They’d be practicing defensive driving, driving through obstacles, and accident avoidance. No high-speed chases or high-end tactical.
Driving would take all morning, but Robinson had it down to a well-oiled system. Two separate tracks were set up to expedite the lesson.
She looked at the others waiting for their turns behind the wheel. Could one of them have killed Tony? Attempted to kill Hans? Lucy had already ruled out a small group of agents who’d been in the lounge watching a movie until 1:30. Gordon, the gun expert, had been there as well, and she’d learned through him that the group of five had walked back to the dorm together. It would have been extremely unlikely for any of them to have rushed off to the construction site and attacked Hans. Oz was part of the group, and Lucy was relieved. One more of her inner circle cleared.
A van drove up to the edge of the driving track and two people got out. One of them was Rich Laughlin. He looked right at Lucy. She didn’t turn away. She’d been upset Saturday after he told her about the hiring panel; now she was simply angry.
He may have planned to try to upset her, but she wouldn’t allow herself to be intimidated.
When it was Lucy’s turn behind the wheel, she felt Laughlin’s eyes on her. She had a hard time controlling her physical tension—her hands clenched the wheel and her jaw tightened.
Robinson said, “Relax, Kincaid.”
“You should know that I was in a serious accident as a young child. I’ve been a nervous driver most of my life.”
He smiled. “No pressure. All I want you to do right now is get to know your vehicle. Drive around the track twice, keeping your speed at a steady thirty miles an hour. Then we’ll run through the drill. The obstacle course is simple; it’s all about control.”
“Okay.”
“You keep looking at your classmates.”
She hadn’t been; she’d been glancing over to find out where Laughlin was. She didn’t say anything.
“Don’t worry about them—it’s just you, me, and the vehicle. Good. Keep going, one more lap.”
By the time she was done with the second lap she wasn’t focused on Laughlin. She listened to everything Robinson told her to do—speed up, stop, avoid, do a one-eighty—and by the time her session was done she felt good about it.
“Not bad for a nervous driver,” he told her. “You did very well on the obstacle course; you have a good eye. You’re