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Lucy had heard Kate come in late, and hoped she’d get a chance to talk to her about Morton’s files first thing in the morning, but while Lucy showered, Kate left. She’d sent her a text message on her cell phone:
I’ll be at Quantico all day. We’ll talk later. Love you, sis.
—Kate.
“Kate.” Lucy shook her head, her smile more bittersweet than happy. She loved her sister-in-law so much, which made the lies that much harder. She had to find a way to forgive her, and Dillon, or she wouldn’t be able to live under the same roof. More than that, she didn’t want this distrust to become a chasm between them, but she didn’t know how to get rid of it. It was easy to say “I forgive you,” but it was much harder to feel it. She prayed time would help.
She went downstairs and heard the thump of the newspaper hitting the front door as she poured a cup of coffee. Lucy rarely read the paper, but her brother Dillon was old-fashioned, maintaining a subscription to a physical newspaper rather than reading online the way Lucy and Kate preferred. The papers had stacked up in his study, and Lucy picked the Saturday morning paper off the stoop to add to the five that were already there. She couldn’t miss the small headline in the bottom right corner.
American University Student Killed in Robbery
Possible drug deal gone bad. Story B-3.
She brought the paper to the kitchen table. Normally she didn’t care about drug-related crimes, but since a student from a nearby college was involved, it piqued her interest.
The story was shocking.
WASH DC—In a crime all too common in DC, an American University student was gunned down at approximately 9:45 p.m. Thursday night on the 900 block of T Street.
Bradley Harper Prenter, 25, had been at Club 10 prior to the murder, according to DC police. He left with a woman at approximately 9:30 p.m. According to witnesses, a man who appeared to know the woman confronted Prenter in the alley, but an eyewitness who asked to remain anonymous said that after a brief confrontation, Prenter left the alley alone. The man and woman, who authorities are looking for as possible witnesses, left in the opposite direction. Police sources would not confirm nor deny the eyewitness account.
Prenter was shot at point-blank range and was missing his wallet when a couple walking their dogs found him lying next to his vehicle, a late model Porsche.
Prenter was convicted of two sexual assaults in 2008 and was paroled three months ago from the Maryland Correctional Institution at Hagerstown. One DCPD officer who spoke on condition of anonymity said possible drugs were found on his person.
“Our lab is testing a clear liquid packaged in small, plastic vials that were found on the deceased.”
When pressed, the officer stated that the packaging was similar to how date-rape drugs such as ketamine, Liquid Ecstasy, or Rohypnol might be packaged.
Police are looking for any witnesses who may have spoken to or seen Prenter at the club, or who may know the woman who was seen leaving with Prenter. Please contact DCPD Hot Tips line.
Liquid date-rape drugs. Lucy dry heaved, waves of first fiery heat then icy cold coursing through her nerve endings. Her skin turned clammy, and she stumbled as she stood and ran to the bathroom, fearing she’d get sick.
Her stomach tightened painfully, but she put her head between her legs and breathed deeply until she felt the sensation pass. She ran cold water into the sink and washed her face, drenching a paper towel and putting it on the back of her neck.
She wanted a shower, the urge to scrub herself clean almost overpowering. But she’d showered only thirty minutes ago, and she wouldn’t give in to this unnatural obsession with cleanliness. Instead, she washed her face and hands long enough for her fingers to turn red. Her stomach ached and she leaned against the counter, willing herself to pull it together.
She needed to get a grip. How could she be an FBI agent when a news article could send her into a tailspin?
Focus.
Prenter was robbed. D.C. was a violent city. How many murders last year? Two hundred? More than one every other day. One forcible rape each day. Robbery and assault was astronomical, dozens every day.
Club 10.
Why was he at Club 10 when he was supposed to be in Fairfax meeting her fictitious cyber-ego? By 9:45 when he was killed, he should have been on his way to jail. What happened?
Cody would have told her had he known, wouldn’t he? He was a D.C. cop; how could he not know?
But he didn’t work homicides specifically. He was patrol, so even if he’d heard about the robbery he’d have no reason to ask about the victim’s identity.
She had to talk to him, but she needed more information about the murder.
Lucy dressed quickly and left. She needed answers. Though it was Saturday, the morgue was still open to employees, and often the autopsy file included a copy of the police report. Having a plan settled her stomach and gave her the determination she needed to get through the rest of the day.
And, despite her alarm, she was more than happy to have something to focus on other than Roger Morton and what Kate found—or didn’t find—on his computer.
Noah Armstrong wasn’t surprised that Kate Donovan beat him to Quantico Saturday morning. She hadn’t wanted to leave last night, but he’d convinced her that if she didn’t get a couple of hours’ sleep, she’d be no good to him. By the time they had all the material transported to Quantico, logged into evidence, and processed it had been nearly two a.m. Now was not the time to cut corners. If Morton had indeed been working with a partner and that partner was setting up an illegal porn site, if they didn’t preserve the chain of evidence, some creep might walk on a technicality. Nothing they found in these files would be admissible if they screwed up the basics.
