Best Laid Plans(24)

“I knew that when she was assigned to San Antonio,” Juan said.

“Are you having me assess her because of what happened in Hidalgo?” Barry knew Juan hadn’t told the staff the entire story, and Ryan wasn’t talking about it, either. Lucy had rescued a group of kidnapped boys being used as drug couriers, but she’d been put on unpaid administrative leave for two weeks for disobeying a direct order. Yet no one seemed to know what that order was, and the punishment seemed extreme considering what she’d accomplished. There were a few rumors going around about whether she’d violated federal law by crossing the border into Mexico while running an op, but there was nothing in the official record and Barry wasn’t going to ask. It wasn’t his place.

Juan didn’t answer his question, which made Barry think the rumors were accurate. Instead, Juan said, “How is she in the field?”

“Like I said, sharp. She was too confrontational with Congresswoman Reyes-Worthington, but I smoothed it over.”

“Why confrontational?”

“She didn’t think the congresswoman was surprised that her husband was with a prostitute. She thought the woman seemed calculating.”

“Maybe she wasn’t surprised. And politicians can be very calculating, always looking at poll numbers and how something will appear on the news.”

“It just seemed—I don’t know, Kincaid focuses on different things than other rookies I’ve worked with. I’m afraid she projects too much, and sees things that are simply not there.”

“She has a master’s in criminal psychology.”

Barry hadn’t known. “That explains a lot.” Like how she assessed the situation at the hotel, and how she worked through the possible scenarios from a personal point of view rather than simply making a factual summary. But had he known earlier would he have changed the way he investigated this case? Probably not.

“I need to make sure she’s not a danger to herself or others in the field,” Juan said. “I want to know if she has tunnel vision, if she takes unnecessary risks. You’re the most even-tempered agent on this squad, and you understand the regulations better than anyone. You’re also unbiased and the only one I trust with this particular assessment.”

“Thank you, sir. I’ll do my best.”

*



It was after seven Saturday evening when Lucy walked into her house. She was looking forward to brainstorming with Sean—she enjoyed discussing her cases with him. His insight was always sharp, and he seemed to enjoy walking through the facts with her.

She thought about what Barry Crawford had said, that she needed to learn to turn off the job. Easier said than done.

She stepped into the kitchen and was greeted by a mouth-watering, spicy aroma. “Sean?” she called. He didn’t answer.

The kitchen was a mess, with pots and pans in the sink, a couple empty beer bottles on the counter, and remains of chopped veggies on the cutting board.

Her phone vibrated. It was a message from Sean.



Welcome home. Go upstairs and change.



She laughed and responded.



Bossy, aren’t you?



He texted back:



Pretty please.



She went upstairs, dumped her briefcase and gun on the dresser, and then noticed that a dress was laid out on the bed. She picked it up. Next to it was a note in Sean’s writing.



Remember when you bought this?



They’d been in San Diego, right after Christmas, and drove up to La Jolla where there were lots of boutiques. Sean had admired the dress in the window and she’d teased him that he should buy it for himself. He’d asked her to try it on and she did. It was perfect—casual and comfortable and classy all at once, a free-flowing blue silky thing that hung shorter in the front than the back. She’d bought it but had never worn it.

She changed into the dress, touched up her makeup, and brushed out her long wavy hair, then went back downstairs expecting to see Sean. He wasn’t there.

I’m dressed. Where are you? she texted him.



Pool house.



Odd. She went outside. A warm breeze whipped around her, soothing and cooling after the blistering hot day. The pool looked inviting, and Sean had turned on all the outdoor lights—both the pool lights and the tiny white lights weaving throughout the trees that surrounded their property.

The pool house doubled as a guesthouse. It was L shaped with a small kitchenette, bathroom, eating area, and a living area that doubled as a bedroom when they had company.

Sean had set the table with heavy blue dishes she didn’t know they had, an assortment of candles, and a bottle of her favorite red wine. Faint music played in the background. But she barely noticed any of that. She stared at Sean in disbelief.

“You’re wearing a tux?”

He grinned, revealing his dimples, and bowed. His hair flopped over his eyes and he pushed it back.

She laughed when he took her hand and kissed it. Then he led her to a chair and sat her down. “Thank you,” she said.

He poured her some wine, picked up his glass, and toasted her. “To the woman I love.”

She held up her glass. “To the man I love.”

He took two plates out of the mini refrigerator—salads he’d already prepared. “You spoil me,” she said.