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She shouldn’t let O’Dare get to her. The woman had done more to rile Regan than almost anyone. It was because of that FBI theory that Grant blamed her for Chase’s murder. It washerjob that got their son killed. She should have backed off, known the threats, done more to protect them. Regan didn’t know what she was supposed to have done! But that FBI theory, and Grant’s accusation that her job had meant more to her than her son, had been the final nail in the coffin of their marriage.
On the surface all the dots connected, which was why the FBI considered the case closed. And Regan even believed it for a time, believed that Chase’s death was her fault, that sheshouldhave known,shouldhave protected him.
Once she could put aside the emotion of what happened, she realized there were too many unanswered questions. Threads the FBI never followed up on—like Adam’s nearly nonexistent relationship with his brother, Michael Hannigan. Why did Adam wait a year before coming after her? Why were there no threats, no letters, emails, phone calls,nothingthat suggested he was angry with her for his brother’s death?
Mostly, it was the fact that Peter Grey killed Adam the night before he was going to talk to her. He didn’t have to talk to her, but he’d contacted her through a guard at the jail, not through his lawyer. Why? What had he planned to tell her?
O’Dare insisted that Hannigan wasn’t going to tell her anything she didn’t know, and in fact would probably want to rub salt in the wounds, make her feel worse. But Regan didn’t see that. He’d shown remorse for killing Chase when he was caught.
It was all these unanswered questions that created holes in the FBI theory.
Maybe they were right. But the questions should still be answered.
That’s what Tommy was doing: finding answers. And now he was dead.
What did you learn, Tommy? What answer got you killed?
Regan walked out of the lobby, tossing her visitor’s pass on the guard desk without saying a word. She went through the door that led to the underground garage, and jogged down the flight of stairs. She leaned against Charlie’s SUV and kept her face as blank as possible. There were security cameras all over the place, and if O’Dare looked at them, Regan didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing she’d gotten under her skin.
Of course she knows. She did it on purpose. And you responded by walking out.
Usually, Regan was in full command of her actions and words. But now, her emotions were raw. Being back in Virginia. Listening to the clinical recount of Tommy’s murder. Not being in charge of the investigation or anything else that could help them find answers.
Maybe if she hadn’t quit her job last year, she could have found the answers Tommy had died for.
But her grief had been too dark, all-consuming, exhausting...and the only place she wanted to be was home, back in Arizona where she’d grown up. Her dad was there; she was closer to her brothers and sister. So she went and almost healed...as much as any mother could after the loss of her child.
At what cost?
Was the cost her soul? Tommy’s life? Could she have stayed, hardened her heart, done her job, found the answers?
She didn’t know.
Ten minutes later, Charlie exited the stairwell and walked over to his car. He remotely unlocked it and said, “She’s a bitch.”
Regan agreed.
She climbed into the passenger seat. Charlie used the small key to unlock his glove box. Regan retrieved her gun. The weight felt good in her hand. She holstered it. Once Charlie pulled the car out of the parking garage, he asked, “What are your plans?”
“I’m going to find out what Tommy knew. Go through everything in his house, his notes, figure out what got him killed. Because you know his investigation into Chase’s murder is the reason he’s dead. That O’Dare won’t even consider it has me seeing red.”
“For what it’s worth,” Charlie said, “I suspect if we find something connective, shewilllisten.”
Regan grunted.
“She has a narrow investigation style, but she’s also thorough. If we show her evidence that something’s there—she’ll look at it.”
“Then I’d better do a damn good job so there’s no doubt.”
“You find something solid, we’ll take it to the Marshals Special Operations Group.”
The bold move, coming from Charlie, surprised her. “Do an end run around the FBI?”
“I suspect,” Charlie said with a slight grin as he backed out of the parking space, “that was Tommy’s plan. Present the evidence to the deputy director and ask him to put SOG on it.”
They drove in silence for a moment, then Regan said, “I’m going to talk to Peter Grey, find some way to convince him to tell me what he told Tommy.” She knew Charlie wouldn’t like the idea, but he didn’t comment. “I’ll need your help to get into the prison.”
“As soon as I get back to the office, I’ll start the process. I don’t know how fast I can make it happen, but I’ll move heaven and earth to get us in there.”
