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“There’s another difference in these targets,” Dillon said, looking at Lucy’s spreadsheet.
“Right—they’re spread out. No two in the same city.”
“Or, if you look at it another way, Prenter is the only local parolee who was killed. That’s one more reason Prenter doesn’t fit with the others.”
“You mean different killer?” Sean asked.
“No, same killer. Or same group—I’m certain there are at the minimum two killers, but most likely three or more people involved, for a conspiracy this large. They targeted Prenter for a different reason, otherwise they wouldn’t have risked hitting so close to home—not just D.C., but a personal hit. We need to look at all his victims. I think one of the people involved is related to one of his victims. When he got out, that individual used their position in the group to put Prenter on the list, even though he didn’t fit their profile.”
“I’ve looked at the victims,” Lucy said. “Nothing jumps out. I asked Sean to look deeper.”
“Good,” Dillon said.
“We need to talk to Cody,” she said. “He’ll help, tell us everyone he spoke with. Maybe something will ring a bell.”
“Lucy,” Sean said sharply. “Cody has other problems. He’s stalking you.”
“Maybe he didn’t mean to make the message sound so disturbing.”
“And what about all those times you thought someone was watching you? That didn’t freak you out?”
“Yes, but—”
“Do not make excuses for that man!”
“Ease up, Rogan,” Dillon said.
Lucy shook her head. “Sean’s right.” She had to accept the fact that Cody had tried to scare her. “Cody followed us from church to brunch to the ice-skating rink—I didn’t tell him where we were going because I didn’t know. It’s just so hard to put him in the role of a bad guy.”
“Did he call you back?”
She shook her head. “I’ll track him down tomorrow morning.”
“Not alone,” Sean said.
She glanced at Sean. She understood that he was worried and being protective, but the tension coming off him was palpable. He’d been so understanding earlier, but now he was acting just like her brothers.
She raised an eyebrow at him and, keeping her voice cool, said, “I don’t have a death wish, Sean, and I already have four overprotective brothers—I don’t need another one.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry.”
“I appreciate your concern, though, and I promise I won’t cut him any slack, okay? But I think Dillon should come with me when I talk to him. Less testosterone.”
“Gee, thanks,” Dillon said, lightening the conversation.
She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”
TWENTY-SIX
Abigail hailed Noah as soon as he turned down the aisle of their squad’s cubicles early Tuesday morning. “I got the GPS data.”
“We were supposed to have it yesterday.”
“Yeah, and I harassed the poor CEO mercilessly all day even though there is no immediate risk to life or limb for this data.”
“Sorry.” Noah rubbed his eyes. “Kate and I split Morton’s emails. I still have a headache.”
“Learn anything?”
