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“I told Jayne the next time you called, I wanted to talk to you. You don’t have any active cases. What’s going on?”
Even three thousand miles away, his brother was second-guessing him. They’d had this conversation a hundred times—and Sean had thought that after he’d worked several complex cases both on his own and with Patrick, Duke had finally accepted that he was a grownup capable of running an investigation without his big brother’s guidance and micromanagement. But it wasn’t until Duke—reluctantly—agreed that Sean and Patrick could open RCK East that Sean thought he had truly changed.
“Do I need permission to use Jayne?” Sean asked.
“No, of course not, but—”
“Then why are you doing this?”
“Patrick told me about Roger Morton’s murder. The FBI is investigating, and we have a delicate relationship with federal law enforcement and need to finesse any parallel investigations.”
“And you think I don’t know that?” Sean didn’t particularly care about finessing any relationship with the FBI, but he wasn’t burning bridges, either.
“I just want to be kept in the loop.”
Sean decided to save this battle with Duke for another day. He didn’t have the time or inclination to fight now. “This is unrelated to Morton. There’s a vigilante group targeting sex offenders, and Lucy Kincaid is unwittingly in the middle of it. They used her to set up their victims, and I need some deep background checks.”
“Who knows about this?”
“No one except you, me, and Lucy. And possibly a local cop. He’s the first I want to check out. I don’t think he’s involved, but he has access.”
“Give me the names. I’ll take care of it personally.”
“For now, two—Cody Lorenzo, a D.C. cop, and Frances Buckley, the director of WCF. She’s former FBI.” Because he’d assured Lucy he’d be discreet with Prenter’s victims, he’d take care of those himself.
“Got it. I’ll run these and call you later.”
“Duke—”
“What?”
“If you want to talk to me about how I’m running RCK East, call me. Don’t put Jayne in the middle of it.”
Duke didn’t say anything for a moment. “Fair enough. But you have to understand—”
“No, I don’t have to understand anything about your lack of faith in me. I’m twenty-nine. You were running Rogan-Caruso when you were twenty-nine. I thought this move was a positive step, that it proved you trusted me—”
“I do, Sean.”
“Not when it matters.” He hung up.
Lucy came back into the dining room with her laptop packed into its case and a thick file folder. “I’m ready.” She tilted her head. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Just a disagreement with my brother.”
“Business or personal?”
“Both.”
She nodded in understanding. Sean leaned over and kissed her lightly. “We’re going to find out exactly what’s going on. Trust me.”
“I do.”
Duke had known him his entire life and didn’t completely trust him. Lucy had known him for a few weeks and was putting her future in his hands. In their hands, because she was just as involved in this as he was. Sean wasn’t about to let her down.
They walked down the hall and she gestured toward a vase of red roses. “Thank you,” she said as she opened the alarm panel.
“For what?”
