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Senator Paxton’s daughter Monique was Adam Scott’s first victim. It was no coincidence that Mallory wanted this box that happened to contain Monique’s locket, the locket that her father had given her on her sixteenth birthday. Mallory had known it was in Adam Scott’s box.
But it was circumstantial evidence, and Buckley and Mallory hadn’t said a word about Paxton. Unless one of them turned—and Lucy didn’t think either of them would—Paxton’s involvement would simply be an unsubstantiated rumor.
One thing Mallory had said when she spoke with him earlier in the week had been bothering Lucy.
I don’t regret the killing of Morton.
An odd way of speaking. Her subconscious had picked up on it, but she hadn’t realized the importance of the phrasing until now. Mallory had said “I killed” in relation to the other victims, but not Morton. There was no doubt Mallory had been there—the evidence proved it, as well as his own statement—and Noah said he’d signed a statement identifying each man he killed. It included Morton.
But he’d been speaking deliberately. For her benefit.
I don’t regret the killing of Morton.
Mallory hadn’t pulled the trigger. The reason Morton had been lured to D.C. was so the senator could kill him.
Lucy realized suddenly that she didn’t want to see Senator Paxton. What he’d done was wrong, but she couldn’t confront him, nor could she tell anyone what she believed in her heart. That he was guilty of murder.
She couldn’t even hate him for it.
She scribbled a note and put the box on his chair, then left out the escape door, the exit that led directly to the hall from the senator’s office. She didn’t look back.
Senator Paxton stepped into his office.
“Lucy, it’s—”
He heard the click of his side door and frowned. He almost went after her, but saw something on his chair.
Heart racing, he picked up the small white box. It couldn’t be…He removed the lid and stared at the gold locket, tears rolling down his cheeks. Monique.
Monique’s mother had died of cancer when she was still young, and Paxton had raised Monique on his own. Not very well, however. He loved her more than anything, but he’d been so wrapped up in his career that he hadn’t paid enough attention to her. He hadn’t been involved in her day-to-day life. He’d been a distant father, so distant he hadn’t known that she was traveling a hundred miles nearly every weekend to visit her boyfriend—Adam Scott.
He’d loved her, but didn’t realize how important she was to him until she disappeared.
For years he’d believed she ran away, and he blamed her, then himself. He wanted her back so he could beg her forgiveness for his substantial failings as a dad. Until six years ago when he learned what really happened to her. Roger Morton had leveraged that information, as well as the financial information, in exchange for leniency. Senator Paxton had supported the plea agreement because he had to know the truth.
All that time he searched for her, she’d been dead.
He opened the locket. Inside on the right was Monique on her sixteenth birthday, her smile bright and beautiful. On the left was a picture of him holding her the day she was born.
There was a piece of paper on his chair. He picked it up, then sat down heavily, still holding Monique’s locket, a groan of agony and grief coming deep from his lungs.
Several minutes later, he unfolded the note.
This belongs to you.
FORTY-SIX
Lucy relaxed for the first time in…forever. She curled up in front of Sean’s fireplace Thursday morning. He’d asked if she wanted a fire, considering what happened on the farm only one week ago, but that hadn’t made her scared of fire any more than what happened six years ago made her scared of men.
Sean slid next to her and handed her a cup of hot coffee. He wore sweatpants and no shirt. She was bundled in her warmest pajamas and had a blanket.
She tilted her head back to kiss him. “I could get used to this pampering.”
“Go right ahead.” Sean returned her kiss.
She sighed. “Patrick is coming back tomorrow.”
“So?”
