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“That he didn’t show?”
“I don’t know what happened, but I had Angel with me. She was inside, I was out. We stayed two hours. Not even a sighting.”
“Did he see you?”
“No, he didn’t show. Sorry, Lucy.”
“I didn’t get a message from his chat profile yesterday canceling. I just checked tonight and no contact. I was thinking he might have had a family emergency, or maybe a better offer,” she added jokingly.
“I think he made Tanya out as a cop. Sexual predators can smell cop, especially those as savvy as Prenter.”
Lucy didn’t believe it, but she wasn’t surprised Cody sounded like Fran. “He didn’t think I was a cop.”
Cody sighed audibly. “He didn’t show and he didn’t contact you. It’s happened before. You’re not the first. Considering the success you’ve had over the last few years, I’m surprised. But it’s not unusual.”
She supposed Cody was right—there had been several parolees who had never shown, and Prenter wasn’t even the first of hers—but she hadn’t had the same feeling about the others as she did about Prenter. She’d thought for certain that she had him.
Prenter bothered her more than most of the parolees. There were some who had more victims, some who were more violent, but Prenter was a handsome college student who had used his looks and money to his advantage. He didn’t look like a predator. He looked like an all-around nice guy. But even more than his deceptive appearance, he had a callous disregard for the welfare of the women he drugged. That went part and parcel with rapists in general, but he’d shown no remorse, no sympathy for the girl he left in a coma because he’d overdosed her. He’d denied it, had never been convicted, but the evidence was there—it was simply inadmissible. He didn’t even pretend to care about her fate. It was all about him all the time. He thought his money could get him out of every jam. And until Sara Tyson testified, it had.
Lucy wanted him back in prison in the worst way. To give justice to the girl who could no longer speak for herself.
“Lucy?” Cody said. “You still there?”
“I didn’t tip him off.”
“It’s not an accusation. We’ll get him back in prison. I’ll find another way.”
“Before or after he rapes another woman?” she snapped. She instantly realized that was unfair. Cody had volunteered countless hours with WCF, often after a long shift. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound like a bitch. I’m frustrated, but it’s not your fault.”
“You are never bitchy, Lucy. I understand how you’re feeling. Prenter will see justice again. I’m not going to let this go. But you have to stand down. If he doesn’t contact you soon, we’ll know he thought he was being set up. But he doesn’t know it was you. I’d never let you do this if your real identity could be uncovered.”
“I’m not worried about that.” And she wasn’t—she had enough safety protocols on her personal computer to rival the FBI, thanks to Kate. Nothing was foolproof, but even if Prenter had the extraordinary skills to track her communications as “Tanya,” he would get only as far as WCF—not Lucy, personally.
“I think you should let it go, let me take care of it.”
Lucy didn’t know if she could let Prenter go, so she didn’t say anything.
Cody said, “You’ll be at the fund-raiser tomorrow, right?”
“Fran would have my head if I weren’t. See you there.” She hung up before Cody asked to take her. She had been planning on going with Patrick, but since he was out of town she was simply going to take a taxi because she didn’t like driving in snow or ice.
She finished her banana and poured a glass of milk. Hardly a meal, but she couldn’t eat more. She itched to send Prenter a message, but maybe Cody was right. She’d give him the rest of the weekend to contact her. If he did, she could play the offended date—why should she talk to a guy who’d stood her up?
She had other things to worry about that were much more important than Prenter. She wished Kate had let her help with Morton’s computer files, because being proactive might allow her to forget, at least temporarily, that she was in limbo. That she had no real job, simply an internship with the D.C. Medical Examiner’s Office. That she was waiting for a slow-moving bureaucracy to grant her an interview, to get her to the next step in the too-long application process for the FBI. The more she sat doing nothing of substance, the more she realized how alone she was. Even with her family, her friends, her job, and her volunteer work, Lucy was very much alone.
Sean decided at the last minute to check in on Lucy and clue her in to his plans. That was a lie, he supposed, because she’d been on his mind all afternoon and stopping by seemed to be inevitable.
She answered the door dressed in sweatpants and a faded blue Georgetown T-shirt, the bulldog mascot prominent. Her hair was wet and loosely braided down her back, the end over her shoulder. “Sean?” she said, her surprise evident in her tone.
“Can I come in for a minute?”
“Of course.” She closed the door behind him. It hadn’t snowed all day, but when the sun disappeared the temperature had dropped dramatically—and it hadn’t been warm to begin with.
“Is Kate here?” Sean asked.
“No—did you want to talk to her?”
Sean didn’t know if it was his own wishful thinking, but he thought he detected a hint of disappointment in Lucy’s voice.
