wouldn’t have been at their home to babysit Megan. It was only sheer luck that Megan hadn’t gone home right away after her karate class that had saved her from being there when the killer struck. Every time Lucy looked at Megan, it wasn’t just her mother’s loss she felt, it was the enormity of how easily Megan could also have been killed.
“Nick.” She swiveled her chair so her back was to the glass windows of her office, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what to do. Was I wrong to come back to work?” It certainly felt so, the way the administrative Fates had conspired against her. “But quitting, what would that teach Megan? That her mom is scared? Too weak to keep fighting the bad guys? Wouldn’t she feel even less safe?”
They’d had this conversation dozens of times over the past few weeks as Lucy pushed through her rehab in order to return to duty. Being an FBI agent, doing what she did—it truly was who she was, but Lucy was prepared to sacrifice it if it meant helping her daughter to heal.
But of course nothing was ever that easy. Even Nick, with his years of experience working with PTSD patients, didn’t have the answer.
“I wish I knew,” he said. “All we can do is take it one day at a time.”
She was glad he couldn’t see her eyes roll. One day at a time was the mantra the trauma counselor used at every visit. Lucy wanted to do something, anything, fix things. How long could she face yet another “one day” waiting for time to work some miracle of healing?
“I told Megan we’d go out to your mom’s house,” Nick continued. “Collect the recipes and pans and stuff. Maybe this afternoon? Might be a good time for you two to forge some kind of detente.”
Lucy swallowed her sigh before the phone could send it to Nick. “I’m not sure. Work.”
There was a long pause. Too long.
“Sounds like you already decided to stay with the Bureau. Even if it means accepting a position you’d despise.” His Virginia accent sharpened. Megan wasn’t the only one dealing with the trauma of what had happened two months ago.
“It’s not like that. Walden asked me to look into a new case.” They both knew Walden never asked anything for himself. She gave Nick a brief overview. “And we only have three days to find this guy before the Bureau shuts us down for good.”
“Anything I can help with?” Nick’s expertise was in trauma, which made him particularly astute when teasing through victims’ profiles.
Lucy filled him in on her thoughts about June’s threats and the man or men behind them.
“You know this isn’t new behavior, right?” he asked when she finished.
“What isn’t?”
“There’s no way a man with that level of obsession didn’t keep track of June after he left her at the mall. What happened to the Green Elephant Man?”
“ID’d as a guy living in,” she glanced at her notes, “Pine Grove Mills. About forty miles away from where June was left. But by the time they got to him, he was gone.”
“So they never found him to question him?”
“Oh they found him. Three months later his decomposed body was discovered at Black Moshanon State Park. He’d been shot.”
“See. Your guy, this Daddy character, was tying up loose ends. Compulsive and obsessive—on an emotional level. Control, that’s what he wants. Absolute control.”
“Maybe why his tastes skew so young. But then why let June out of his control at all? Why not kill her outright? Solves all his problems.”
“I’ll bet she was his first. But not his last. And he’s been tracking her all this time.”
“But now she finally poses a threat to him, so he’s going on the offensive?” That didn’t feel quite right.
“No. I think now she finally has something he wants. Her child.”
Lucy leaned back in her chair, the mid-day sun warming her face. “Sometimes I worry about how easy it is for us to think like these sick, twisted creeps.”
Nick’s sigh resonated
“Nick.” She swiveled her chair so her back was to the glass windows of her office, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what to do. Was I wrong to come back to work?” It certainly felt so, the way the administrative Fates had conspired against her. “But quitting, what would that teach Megan? That her mom is scared? Too weak to keep fighting the bad guys? Wouldn’t she feel even less safe?”
They’d had this conversation dozens of times over the past few weeks as Lucy pushed through her rehab in order to return to duty. Being an FBI agent, doing what she did—it truly was who she was, but Lucy was prepared to sacrifice it if it meant helping her daughter to heal.
But of course nothing was ever that easy. Even Nick, with his years of experience working with PTSD patients, didn’t have the answer.
“I wish I knew,” he said. “All we can do is take it one day at a time.”
She was glad he couldn’t see her eyes roll. One day at a time was the mantra the trauma counselor used at every visit. Lucy wanted to do something, anything, fix things. How long could she face yet another “one day” waiting for time to work some miracle of healing?
“I told Megan we’d go out to your mom’s house,” Nick continued. “Collect the recipes and pans and stuff. Maybe this afternoon? Might be a good time for you two to forge some kind of detente.”
Lucy swallowed her sigh before the phone could send it to Nick. “I’m not sure. Work.”
There was a long pause. Too long.
“Sounds like you already decided to stay with the Bureau. Even if it means accepting a position you’d despise.” His Virginia accent sharpened. Megan wasn’t the only one dealing with the trauma of what had happened two months ago.
“It’s not like that. Walden asked me to look into a new case.” They both knew Walden never asked anything for himself. She gave Nick a brief overview. “And we only have three days to find this guy before the Bureau shuts us down for good.”
“Anything I can help with?” Nick’s expertise was in trauma, which made him particularly astute when teasing through victims’ profiles.
Lucy filled him in on her thoughts about June’s threats and the man or men behind them.
“You know this isn’t new behavior, right?” he asked when she finished.
“What isn’t?”
“There’s no way a man with that level of obsession didn’t keep track of June after he left her at the mall. What happened to the Green Elephant Man?”
“ID’d as a guy living in,” she glanced at her notes, “Pine Grove Mills. About forty miles away from where June was left. But by the time they got to him, he was gone.”
“So they never found him to question him?”
“Oh they found him. Three months later his decomposed body was discovered at Black Moshanon State Park. He’d been shot.”
“See. Your guy, this Daddy character, was tying up loose ends. Compulsive and obsessive—on an emotional level. Control, that’s what he wants. Absolute control.”
“Maybe why his tastes skew so young. But then why let June out of his control at all? Why not kill her outright? Solves all his problems.”
“I’ll bet she was his first. But not his last. And he’s been tracking her all this time.”
“But now she finally poses a threat to him, so he’s going on the offensive?” That didn’t feel quite right.
“No. I think now she finally has something he wants. Her child.”
Lucy leaned back in her chair, the mid-day sun warming her face. “Sometimes I worry about how easy it is for us to think like these sick, twisted creeps.”
Nick’s sigh resonated
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