Chapter 11

The aroma of greasy food and coffee hovered over Johanna and Lucy, The Wild Stallion slammed with LA businessmen and high school students grabbing lunch in the warm first week of September. The booths were dressed in slacking green vinyl, worn with memories and good intentions against the scratched wooden floors installed 20 years prior.

Although having apologized to Johanna more than once for sleeping through breakfast hours, Lucy had effectively hidden the bags under her eyes as well as her sleep deprivation with makeup and nice clothes.

The brunette split apart her grilled cheese, looking up to her mother. “This is where I usually meet with Natasha. I’m pretty sure every novel I’ve ever published has been pitched at this table.” She waved with her fingers as she spotted a familiar waitress over Johanna’s shoulder, Shelby Cryer having worked her way through college practically off of Lucy’s tips alone.

“I remember her,” noted Johanna through sips of soda, lipstick rimming the the plastic straw as she lowered the glass from her mouth. “Fierce little thing. Makes sense your books do so well. She probably kills for the best deals.”

Lucy softly laughed, tearing off a piece of her sandwich. “She’s amazing, trust me.”

“And, she knows?”

“Hard for her not to, don’t you think?” questioned Lucy in mild response.

The two held gazes for a moment, Johanna letting it go as she cut into her hamburger. She didn’t agree with it, but there wasn’t much she could do about the situation.

She’d lost her control over her daughter the moment she turned 18.

“Has Phoenix changed much?” Lucy forced the conversation over the silence that had formed between them, using her straw to rustle the ice cubes in her glass.

Johanna shrugged softly, “Not really,” she replied. “Still dry, still one color.” She grinned at the expression her daughter had, only shaking her head. “No, it’s all the same. Everyone asks about you at the VFW.”

Lucy laughed warmly, “I’ll have to come visit soon.”

“After this whole FBI deal, right?” question Johanna. “It could change things, don’t you think?”

The brunette’s eyebrows furrowed as she chewed, setting down her lunch. “What do you mean?”

“Your penname, sweetheart. Don’t you think your involvement will blow your cover?” There was evident concern in her voice, watching Lucy. “Now that they have your computer-”

Lucy shook her head softly as she took another sip of her drink, “We don’t have to worry about that.”

“But-”

“It’s not an issue,” Lucy said, with a tone of finality.

Johanna’s eyebrows lifted slightly, “So we don’t have to worry about them taking you to court?”

“No, but they wouldn’t have a case even if they tried. It’s all circumstantial evidence. I can pass any polygraph and there’s no evidence on me at any scene because I never was. I’ve not touched foot in any of these cases they’re bringing.”

“No, you only stuck your pen in them.”

Lucy fell quiet, looking down to her plate as she thought of every time her mother voiced her disapproval on her publishing. “They got me through college,” she defended without any sense of a question.

“Lucy-”

“Mom, come on,” Lucy interrupted. “I barely see you these days, I don’t want us to argue.”

Johanna eventually nodded, checking her watch as she finished her iced tea. “Speaking of, I’ve got to get back to Phoenix. It’s the first week of school, I don’t think they would take too kindly to me not being there.” Picking up her bag from the vinyl next to her, she put it on her arm as she started to get up. “All things considered, I’m glad you’re going to be okay. Keep me updated, all right? I’m sorry I couldn’t stay longer. I just needed to see you.”

“It’s fine, Mom,” said Lucy as she stood to hug Johanna tightly. “It means a lot that you came at such short notice.”

“Of course.” Johanna held out Lucy at arms length, admiring her for a moment. “Are you sure you won’t have any more trouble?”

Lucy only smiled, “Never sure, only convinced for the mean time.” She kissed her mother on the cheek, squeezing her hand before letting her go. “I’ll call you if anything changes.”

“Love you, Lu,” Johanna said before turning over her shoulder, keys in hand for the car parked outside of the diner. She waved before going out of the glass walled building, heading out of sight as Lucy sat back down in the cushioned booth.

The author ran a hand along the back of her neck, closing her eyes for a moment as she settled back into the vinyl.

However, when she looked up, her calm expression flattened into sheer annoyance.

“Oh, come on,” Lucy muttered as she found Vance Deveraux walking directly at her.

Deveraux only smiled, hands pocketed in his jeans and undeniable riffs in his biceps underneath his shirt. “Afternoon, Hamilton.”

“What do you want?” she replied in question, faking a sickly sweet voice as she folded her hands, resting her chin on her knuckles. “Just come for the burgers like you came to Sage’s for the coffee and not attempt to ruin my life?”

Vance held half a smile, giving a soft shake of his head as he took a seat across from her. “Matter of fact, I do like their burgers.”

Lucy rolled her eyes before catching Shelby’s attention, holding up two fingers briefly as she motioned to the new arrival. “So,” she posed idle chatter between sips of soda, “they don’t have a cafeteria at the FBI?”

“Oh they do,” replied Vance as he leaned back against the vinyl that was still warm. “I just didn’t feel like wasting such a wonderful day.”

“Other than not having slept in hours?”

One of Deveraux’s eyebrows lifted, “You have any evidence for that claim?”

“About as much as you do,” Lucy retorted with a smile, tearing off a piece of her sandwich. “Do the drones eat with you in the lunchroom?” she asked mockingly, amused with herself as she watched his expression shift against her comments.

“As much as I would love to give you government details on the inner workings of the FBI’s cafeteria,” said Vance, “I hate to say I’m not at liberty to release that information.”

Lucy’s nose scrunched slightly, “Does that mean you actually have drones in the lunc-”

“We both know that’s not what I’m here to talk about,” the agent interrupted with a stronger pressure in his voice.

“Ah,” Lucy expressed with a subtle smile as she set down her food, “so there is indeed a reason you’re here. Imagine that. I’m so used to you being the one stalling.”

“We’re running out of time for you to make your snarky remarks, Hamilton. There’s a crisis-”

“Crisis?” questioned Lucy as she set her forearms against the table, a sense of smugness in her voice. “Did you not like my newest manuscript or something? You know, one of the many that you took illegally from my possession with a fake warrant?”

“I-”

“What part about Stanford Law doesn’t make sense to you?” Lucy went on without letting him scrape a response out from the bottom of a barrel that had been long empty. “Not only did you steal in an attempt to get evidence, but if you were to have found anything, you made it useless because it was taken under false pretenses. Did they not train you at Quantico? Because all you’re doing is sending your career into a downwards spiral while you try to takedown mine.”

“I don’t care if I ruin my career,” Vance quickly shot as his gaze was laser pointed on her, “but I’m going to find out what the hell you’re up to.”

Lucy jaw clenched slightly, “I’m not up to anything, Agent. I just exist, all right? I haven’t hurt anyone.”

“But you’re the reason other people have gotten hurt, are you not?” Vance lowered his voice, leaning in towards the author. “Your books aren’t just books and I know it. So even if I can’t explain it, you’re attached. You know what happens, and you just sell it. What about Emily Morrison? You knew what happened to her and you knew who did it, yet Eliza paid the price for it. She was taken and kept for 5 years because you did nothing. And she’s not the only one, Lucy, no she couldn’t possibly be the only one.

“Every book you’ve ever written is a real cold case with real killers never caught. And you know what? Any person hurt by the killer that you didn’t turn in, is on your hands. You may not have physically stepped foot on any of the crime scenes, but you have red in your ledger.”

Lucy’s expression never changed, staring directly at Vance. “And you’re so perfect?”

“No, I’m not. I’m the reason the director of the FBI’s son – one of my best friends – is dead along with the rest of my black ops teams. I’ve made mistakes, but I’m trying to make up for it. I’m doing what I can, so why aren’t you? Why do you get a free pass in life? A nice house in Malibu and solace, bathing in the money of victims-”

“Free pass?” Her face had fallen into darkness, pain and anger hinting in the back of her eyes. “That’s what you think my hellstorm of a life is? Newsflash, Special Agent,” she said harshly as she grabbed her bag from the seat next to her, standing up from the slacking vinyl, “you don’t know anything about me or what I go through.”

Vance grabbed Lucy’s wrist before she could leave, looking up to her as he stayed seated in the booth. “Are you killing people?’

“No,” Lucy replied as she slowly pulled her hand from his, “no I’m not.”

Then why did she feel so guilty?

Chapter 12

“Thanks so much for tuning in you wonderful people, so happy to be spending my time with you all. This is your fave radio DJ Master Risk with all the news you need in your life. We’ll jump right back into the music after my recap of the craziness that sunny LA has been under.”

The hum of the Wrangler’s stereo was the only thing overpowering the thudding sounds of suburban roads that needed more work than the city could afford, Lucy attempting her best to navigate over potholes and broken speed bumps, all while not knowing where she was.

She was on her third try of finding the correct house in the unfamiliar part of the city, turned around with a dead cell phone laying on its side in the cup holders. Lucy knew she was out of her league, but her heart was in the right place.

The writer swore as she drove, taking the same turn she had a plethora of times. “I can’t believe I didn’t charge my phone,” she grumbled irritatedly, skimming the wheel around and she violently stopped her car on the side of the street she’d attempted to go down more than four times in the last fifteen minutes.

“Have we got a new Lonnie Franklin Jr. on our hands? Alleged killer and for sure kidnapper Neil Hunter still resides in LA County Jail as he awaits…well, who the hell knows what he’s await. The FBI have been seemingly having an interesting time with the case so far as they investigate deeper into Hunter-”

Lucy reached out with a snap of her wrist, turning off the radio as fast as she possibly could. No matter how many times she thought she could manage to listen to the station, their godforsaken host would be on his allotted ten minute tangent of disgusting gossip and chatter that didn’t matter in the slightest to the world.

Beyond annoyed and frustrated with the simple fact she’d not thought of charging her lifeline, Lucy ran a heavy hand through her hair. “I could’ve sworn it was around here.” Blood rushed in her ears, pounding away years of her life as she fell into a panic, forcing her eyes shut.

She was trying to make things right, and she couldn’t even do that.

A crumpled fist hit the steering wheel with mock force, the ability to be angry fleeting from Lucy. Her entire body jolted as a knock sounded on the passenger’s window, wide eyes soon finding a confused figure leaning in. “Oh, God,” she muttered, rolling the window down. “Hi-”

A woman in a slimming wrap dress stood at the curb, neat eyebrows slightly furrowing. Dark hair fell down over her shoulders, green eyes evaluating Lucy in an instant. “Are you the journalist?”

Lucy’s eyes flickered up to the two story colonial behind the brunette, Soo in large letters across the top of the front door. “Yes, yeah I’m the journalist.”

“You’re earlier than I expected but you’re welcome to come in.”

“Thank you very much,” Lucy hastily replied, unintentionally taking on the cover of a journalist she’d never planned on being.

She was a writer, so how much of a stretch could a journalist be?

“Renee,” Eliza’s mother said as she held out her hand to Lucy, the author meeting her around the front of the Jeep. “My husband Ryung is at work so he unfortunately won’t be able to join us, but Eliza and myself are available to answer anything you need.”

Lucy was well in over her head, the information swirling as she attempted to remember how to speak. “Of course, thank you. I’m Stella, Deveraux,” she said in hidden panic. “I do apologize, the original journalist wasn’t able to make it, but I assure I’m caught up enough to write this piece effectively.”

Renee softly nodded, it not a bother to her. “Most people seem to be caught up. Not necessarily with the right information, but they like to think they know what happened to Eliza.”

“And that’s what I’m here for, to make sure people have the right information.” Lucy gripping her shoulder bag fiercely out of sheer nerves, barely having the mindset to grab it from her passenger’s seat before joining Renee on the walk up to the Soo home. “How is she?”

Renee, finely aged and a prominent Los Angeles attorney, made an internal noise as she stopped short of the front door, a hand lingering on the handle. “She’s adjusting. It’s hard, but she’s trying.”

“I understand, absolutely. I’m very happy she’s willing to speak with me. On top of the horrors she must’ve been subjected to, the publicity can’t be much easier to handle.” Lucy could still hear her own pulse in her ears, surprised she could even manage a human response, much less keep a cover that had been thrust upon her.

“You seem much different than the others that have asked, I truly appreciate that.” Renee opened to door, motioning for Lucy to go inside. “Make yourself at home. I’ll go get Eliza.”

Lucy only nodded as she looked around the foyer, still clutching her bag like her life depended on it.

The warmth of the home was touched with Korean artifacts, every room with a piece of culture waiting to tell its story. Family pictures lined from the foyer all the way to the stairs and up to the second floor beyond Lucy’s view, all of the images lacking at least five years in time.

For Eliza to go from a life so calm and safe to the confines of Hunter’s basement subjected to God knows what, was horrifying.

And it was Lucy’s fault.

“Miss Deveraux?”

Lucy’s eye twitched, turning her head towards the new voice as she covered her folly. Her greeting caught in her throat, eyes falling across a face only seen in blurred pictures on the news.

A willowy figure emerged from the depths of the first level, nervous hands fiddling in front of her as she walked forward. Dark hair that had not once been cut while in Hunter’s hands now resided at her shoulders, hesitant brown eyes attempting to convey a happiness she was struggling to find. She wore a neatly fitted blouse and slim jeans, years of bruises whispering at her forearms, a dent visible at her ankle where the denim stopped.

And with her past life still lingering, Eliza Soo still managed to smile.

Lucy’s voice was lost within her thoughts and self hatred, watching Eliza like she was the most beautiful thing on the planet. If she could survive all she had been through, then she truly was. “Hi,” she said tightly, giving as much as smile as she could.

Renee surfaced from behind Eliza before Lucy could get out anything else, unaware of the shift in the air. “Could I get you anything to drink, Miss Deveraux? I just freshly brewed some iced tea if you’re interested.”

“That would be fantastic, thank you,” Lucy replied almost immediately, relieved. “And please, call me Stella.”

Eliza’s eyes seemed to twinkle as her mother left once again, “Like Stella Saint Laurens, the author?”

Lucy’s eyebrows raised softly in reaction, “Who?”

“You’ve never heard of her?” questioned Eliza with mild surprise. “She’s a crime thriller writer. She’s amazing.”

Tell her. Tell her. Tell her.

“I’ll have to look her up,” Lucy said in reply, forcing away the pinpricks threatening at the back of her eyes, mocking her inability to open up. “Eliza, you’re seventeen, aren’t you?”

Eliza nodded lightly, despite a look in her eyes revealing a girl who had been through so much more than seventeen years of life.

It seemed more like a hundred, torturous lives rolled into one, thrown at Eliza without her wanting.

The teen motioned towards the sun room as she heard the shuffling of ice in filled glasses, “How about we sit?”

With a heart still banging on the ribs encasing it, Lucy followed willingly and took an armchair across from the suede sofa Eliza had reserved for Renee and herself. In a soft moment of panic, she remembered the fact that she wasn’t supposed to be there to just talk.

Renee joined the two in the sunroom with a tray of teas in hand, ice rattling softly as she carefully set it on the coffee table situated between the mock journalist and the mother daughter duo. She sighed softly as she sat down next to Eliza, crossing her legs neatly.

“So,” she rambled as she dug through her bag for her leather bound journal, it a graduation gift from Stanford from close family friends, “where would you like to start? I want to make sure you’re as comfortable as possible.”

“As long as I’m not there,” said Eliza, “then it’s okay. Wherever you want is fine.”

However, Lucy realized she had no clue what her “article” was supposed to be about, or what the hell she was supposed to ask.

“Where, uh,” Lucy swallowed a little harshly, “where were you when Neil Hunter took you?”

“I was walking home from my dance class,” Eliza began, comforted by Renee’s hand on her thigh. “It was our last rehearsal before the spring recital. The studio is only a few of blocks away, so the walk was never an issue. I’d done it for three years and nothing was ever out of the ordinary.”

“You may have passed the studio on your way in,” explained Renee. “She was one of the best dancers there.”

Eliza only rolled her eyes lightly, “I was terrible. I hadn’t started early enough for it to be natural, but I loved it anyway. Mom told me at the start of the year that she and Dad wouldn’t be able to drive me because of work, but I told her I could walk. It was worth it.”

“Did you feel as if you were being followed in the days before he took you?” Lucy’s eyes flickered between the two, aware of how blunt she seemed to be. “I’m sorry, I don’t-”

“No,” Eliza shook her head, “you’re okay. It’s all right. But I didn’t notice until my walk to the studio. I would get off the bus at my house, change and then walk over. It was an off wind, y’know? It was like my body knew something was wrong, but I just wasn’t listening.”

Lucy’s mind whirred at an unlawful speed, dissecting how soon after Emily’s death Hunter went searching for another girl to take. She wanted to know if it was impulsive; if he had truly tried not to take another but collapsed under the weight of his dark desires.

“Mrs. Soo, if I may ask, how soon after she was taken did you know she was gone?” questioned Lucy, head tilted toward Renee as she scribbled notes without looking.

“Well,” thought Renee, “Liza’s dance class ended at about 4, but I didn’t get off of work until 5. Ryung was in San Francisco on a business trip, so I had asked our neighbor to check on her after the class. Denine, who lives just to the right of us, didn’t see her at the normal time so she walked toward the studio. Her instructor told Denine that Eliza had already left, which is where her panic started. She went back to the house and used our spare key to get in. When she couldn’t find her, she called me, but,” she hesitated in buried guilt, “I was with a client at my firm and I didn’t answer. When she couldn’t reach me or Ryung, she called the police. It was about 5:00 pm when they got to the house, and a little after that when a deputy came to the firm to get me.”

Lucy nodded as she noted the time, already having remembered the date of the report.

March 8th, 2013

Two weeks after Emily Morrison was murdered.

Two.

“And Eliza, what was the first night like?”

Eliza watched Lucy carefully, able to sense that there was something off about the woman questioning her. However, she still trusted her. “It was…calm.”

And with that, even Renee seemed surprised.

“He told me that Mom wanted me to stay with him, that she decided to go spend the night with my father in San Francisco. He said he worked with her at the office, that I’d met him before.”

Lucy hid the sense of sickness that crossed her for Hunter’s tactics, forcing on the conversation. “And had you?”

Eliza shook her head, “I’d been to multiple office parties at the firm, I just, he looked like he could be a lawyer. He was even wearing a tie.” She tucked a short wave of mousy brown hair behind her ear, it lacking any piercings. “That first night, he let me stay upstairs. He even made dinner for me and set up the couch for me to sleep on. He told me my mom would come pick me up in the morning.”

“So you felt comfortable around him, that first night,” reiterated Lucy, mildly questioning in attempt to get a recourse.

“Comfortable enough to not think,” Eliza quietly replied. “When I woke up, I was in the basement, a chain on my leg and no way to get out.”

Renee silently squeezed Eliza’s knee, her own eyes brimming with tears as she herself relived the terror those first 24 hours had brought her.

“How did you react?” Lucy asked, her voice cracking halfway through.

“I, I think I screamed until I nearly passed out,” she said, the moment visible in her eyes. “Even when he came downstairs, I kept yelling.”

But the walls are soundproof, Lucy thought as she kept her mouth closed, eyes on the seventeen year old.

“I found out that it was useless. The walls were soundproof.” Eliza took a deep breath, pushing herself to keep going. “Neil didn’t talk until the second day, even when I was yelling.” She scoffed lightly, “His first words that day were asking me how I slept.”

“Did he ever tell you why?”

Eliza didn’t have a straight response, lifting her shoulders in a shrug. “A lot of things he would do didn’t make sense. Neither did a lot of the things he said.”

Lucy’s brows softly furrowed, “Can you think of an example?”

“He said ‘she’ll have to do’ at least twice a day,” said Eliza, the echo of his voice still in the back of her head, ringing as clear as the day around him.

She’s not Karen, but she’ll have to do.

“Was it just that?” asked Lucy, clearing her throat.

Eliza hesitated in a moment of thought, “I think he said she’s not, uh…it was a woman’s name.”

Lucy nodded, “So, it was something like, ‘She’s not Karen, but she’ll do,’ yeah?”

The teenager’s entire body stiffened at the words with such efficiency that Renee even pulled her hand away in surprise.

“How did you know that?”

Renee quickly looked between Lucy and her daughter, “What do you mean?”

“That’s the name. That’s exactly what he said,” Eliza hastily said. “How did you know that name?”

Lucy stumbled to find a response, “I – it’s a common name. I, I work next to a Karen. I didn’t mean to upset you, I’m so sorry.”

“I think we should maybe stop the interview,” Renee suggested as she nervously stood, the tea untouched by all three. “It might be too soon to do this.”

The author quickly rose, nodding, “Of course, I understand.” She crammed her journal and pen back into her bag, heart skidding in her chest as she followed Renee out of the sunroom. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

Renee held up a soft hand as she opened the front door, “Please, you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just all still very vivid for her. I’ll see if maybe she would be willing to have you come back another time.”

Lucy only agreed, letting out a heavy breath as she left the home, nearly running back to her Jeep. Her body was flooded with guilt, it tearing at her insides and dismantling her sanity. “Why did I say that?” she scolded in a hush voice, shutting herself into her car as she tossed her bag into the passenger’s seat violently. She swore both to herself and at herself, palms covering her face in grief with an inability to collect peace of mind.

A heavy knuckle on the window forced Lucy out of her fixed state, Eliza lingering the same way her mother had at the writer’s arrival.

Lucy quickly lowered the window, brushing her hair out of her face. “I’m leaving, I sorry-”

“You’re not really a reporter, are you?” Eliza asked without hesitation, resting her hands on the ledge of the passenger’s window.

“Let’s just say that whoever shows up in the next half hour may or may be here to interview you,” replied Lucy with a giving sigh, unable to hold the facade any longer.

Eliza watched Lucy tepidly, brown eyes scouring the writer for any hints. “Why did you come here.”

Lucy swallowed her own pride, meeting her gaze. “I wanted to apologize.”

The teen’s expression shifted immediately, confusion lingering in every feature. “What?”

“I’m sorry that this happened to you, beyond words that I can reach for, which is pretty impressive being a writer and I just, I needed to come see you. I needed to know that he didn’t get away with everything he did to Emily.” Lucy could barely hear her own words, blood rushing violently in her ears. “I needed this, and I hate myself for it.”

Eliza eyes widened as Lucy spoke, alarmed by the tear falling down the stranger’s cheek. “I – I don’t understand what you’re saying to me.”

Lucy hastily ran a hand under her eyes, grabbing her bag and opening it without a word. “I was going to leave this in your mailbox. I wasn’t even going to come to the door, but given the fact I made a fool of myself already, I can just give it to you in person.” Shaky hands pulled free a white envelope, Lucy scribbling her phone number on the back. “If you want an explanation, you can call me, but I completely understand if I’m too frightening to talk to again. Just, whatever’s inside, it’s for you, and it’s the least I can do.”

Eliza hesitantly reached for the outstretched envelope, her mind racing a mile a minute. Beginnings of sentences tried to come out, but she could muster no response. She blinked wildly, flipping the envelope in hand. “Will you at least tell me your real name?”

“It’s Lucy,” she said, one hand turning white on the steering wheel and the other ridding anymore tears from falling. “Can I ask you one more thing?”

The brunette gave a mild shrug, beyond sure of what to say in the moment.

“How did you get out of the house?”

“I faked an injury,” Eliza softly said, able to sense her own eyes about to water. “I managed to knock him out and unlock my anklet. I ran upstairs and right out the front door.”

Lucy only smile through stained cheeks, “I’m glad you didn’t go out the window.”

Another salty tear fell down Lucy’s cheek, the author quickly pushing it away as she shifting her Jeep into gear. She left the Soo property, Eliza stunned watching as she drove off, unsure of what to think of the world.

At the first stoplight she came to, she immediately pulled out her phone.

Calling Ramos…

And without a hello, the familiar voice came across the line.

“What’s wrong?”

“I need to see him,” Lucy said as clear as day. “I need to see Hunter.”

Chapter 13

“Are you sure about this, Hamilton?”

A warm wind blew over Lucy as she stepped out of the black sedan, oceans eyes looking over the Los Angeles County Jail. Soft hair billow as she turned her head toward Ramos, a face she’d known since her father’s death.

“I have to talk to him,” she said, positive of her actions as she crossed in front of the vehicle. Lucy wore only basics, aware of what flashy outfits cause in a prison. “I know what he’s done, I’ve seen it. I can get him to say something, or to at least prove he’s done more, the legal way.”

“Are you sure you want your voice on tape?” questioned Ramos. “I can’t alter it if it’s going to be used in court, you know that.”

“Of course I know that,” Lucy agreed with a sigh. “We can swing it as a consultant, or forge a request for him to see me. We can get around Deveraux.”

Ramos tilted his head, having no choice but to agree as Hamilton headed off towards the county prison.

Although she may have lacked total confidence in her steps, she was sure she was where she needed to be.

SA Ramos stopped Lucy just shy of the prison gates, holding a hand out in front of her. “Tell me one thing before we go in.”

“Anything.”

“Are you doing this for the case or for you? I know you feel guilty about Eliza being taken, I can see it on your face. Especially after you risked going to talk to her.”

“This is for Emily, Ramos,” replied Lucy. “For any others that he’s killed, and for the families he’s ruined. It’s not about me.”

Ramos softly nodded, motioning towards the guard already waiting for them.

The entrance into the facility was smooth, both Ramos and Hamilton escorted in without issue.

“You again,” remarked Officer Hudson as he met the pair in the main hall, arms folded across his chest. He nodded towards Lucy, moustache bristling as he spoke. “Who’s this?”

“Lucy Hamilton, she’s a consultant of mine,” Ramos easily replied. “She’s been cleared to be in the room with Hunter.”

“He’s not very talkative, you know that,” Hudson said with a sigh as he turned, leading them toward the interrogation room.

“He’ll talk.”

Hudson’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, glancing back to Lucy. “Are you sure about that?”

“If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t say so,” she remarked, earning half a grin from Ramos as the three walked in near sync.

Officer Hudson gave an unsure sigh, stopping outside of the interrogation room Hunter had met with the FBI in before. “I’ll grab Fowler to stand outside. He’s already in there.” He slid his badge along the mechanical panel on the door, pulling it free as soon as the red light flipped to green. “Good luck.”

The atmosphere of the small room was even worse, sticky with sweat and clouded with anxiety. A body in blue scrubs was latched to the metal table by his handcuffs, head low and ankles bound in steel.

Neil Hunter barely acknowledged the new arrival, head bowed low and eyes averted.

Lucy’s heart was racing, no internal words able to calm her down as she approached the opposite side of the table. She hesitantly pulled out the chair, flashes of the memory she’d been caught in when visiting his house crossing her eyes.

Ramos, however, was lacking the same apprehension Lucy was feeling, instead pulling out a hand recorder and setting it on the table. He folded his arms over his chest, choosing not to sit. “Good morning Mr. Hunter.”

There was no response.

“My name’s Lucy,” she unsteadily began, pulling herself together as she went on. “I wanted to talk to you about a few things.”

Hunter’s eyes slowly rose, still refusing to meet Lucy’s. Still, he said nothing.

“I wanted to ask you about Emily Morrison,” she said calmly. “You’ve been accused of kidnapping and killing her. Did you know they found a body in the woods behind your home?’

Nothing.

“I, however, don’t think that it’ll be Emily’s body.”

Hunter’s expression shifted, tilting his chin toward her.

A reaction. They’d gotten a reaction.

“Not a lot of people would agree with me on that,” said Lucy. “But they don’t know everything I do. They’ve overlooked your past where they shouldn’t have.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hunter softly said, his first words uttered to police since the night he was arrested.

“Maybe you don’t remember. Maybe you’ve blocked it out,” Lucy began, voice both soothing and calm. “But I think you could never forget what you did – what started it all.” She barely needed to prompt Ramos, handed a file the moment she put her arm out. “Neil, everyone does what they do for a reason, whether they know it deep down or not.”

Hunter’s heart was racing as he watched the manila file in Lucy’s hands, terrified of what she would reveal.

“Was she your first?” asked Lucy, removing a black and white photo from the folder and sliding it across to him.

A young, gorgeous girl stared back at Hunter, hidden behind the passage of time. She was remarkably close to Emily Morrison, as if she had lived forty years before.

Hunter let go of a struggled breath, damp eyes threatening to spill over. “She’s just as beautiful as I remember.”

“Was Karen McDonald the first girl you took?”

His chains suddenly rattled, Neil sharply looking up. “I didn’t take her. She came with me. She loved me. We were happy together.”

Lucy began to recoil the image of Karen, only for it to enrage Hunter.

Hunter quickly grabbed the photograph, body shaking and rage enclosed his body. “Don’t take her away from me again. Don’t take her from me,” he growled viciously.

“I’ll let you keep it if you tell me one thing,” Lucy said, seemingly unbothered by the alarming change in behavior. “Did you kill Karen?”

A tear etched down a ruddy cheek, slowly meeting eyes with the author. “She wanted to leave. I couldn’t let her leave me. I couldn’t let her. I couldn’t let her leave.”

“Neil, how many girls have you taken because they look like Karen?”

It was then when he began to sob.

“I understand how strange it is to see those that you’ve lost within other people. Maybe you thought you could get another try – to make things right with Karen. To make her stay.” Lucy kept her eyes on Hunter, no doubt in her voice. “But they would never stay, would they? They would leave you, just like Karen had. And you couldn’t take it, could you? You couldn’t let them leave like Karen. They would go tell. They would go find someone else to love, far away from you, just like Karen had tried to do. So you would kill them, to make them stay. If they wouldn’t stay with you, they could at least stay on your land – where they could be your secret.”

“I just wanted them to love me,” Neil whispered.

“Hunter, how many girls did you take?” questioned Lucy, eyes unwavering.

“Eight,” he uttered, eyes stinging with tears. “It was only supposed to be seven. Seven was Karen’s lucky number.” Hunter trailed a finger along the photograph of Karen, as if he could still touch her. “I don’t know what came over me after Emily.”

“She was supposed to be the last,” said Lucy, Emily’s death replaying over and over in her head. “Why wasn’t she? Why did you take Eliza? She doesn’t look anything like Karen.”

“I don’t know,” Hunter said, his throat tight and words spilling out. “I know I shouldn’t have. I knew she wasn’t Karen. I was supposed to be done.”

“Neil, I need you to do one last thing for me.” Lucy brought out a small pad of paper and a pen, setting them down on the table. “I need you to give me all the names of the girls that you’ve taken, and where their bodies are.”

Hunter immediately shook his head, “I can’t do that. I can’t-“

“It’s what Karen would want, Neil,” assured Lucy. “You’re done, you don’t need to keep it a secret anymore. Let their memories go home, so their families can love them just like you did.”

And with salty tears and grief lining his face, Neil Hunter picked up the pen.

---

Days had passed over Los Angeles in subtle warmth as the Hunter case began to come to a close, the sun shining high over the crowded city skyline. The media exploded across the country, tens of cases opening back up with seemingly no links to each other.

A set of twins had their cause of deaths changed; their mother finally charged for the crime. A hidden serial killer had been brought into the light and convicted with the murders of eighteen children. A mayor had been caught in her lies and skeletons had been pulled from her closets.

To the public, it made no sense.

To the agents working the cases, it didn’t make much more.

The origins of the evidence has been kept from all involved outside of conference room B, Lucy Hamilton hidden behind the graces and guilt of the FBI. She could remain alone in the comfort of her beach house, editing her newest novel and doting on Alex with no worry of helicopters swarming.

And while helicopters weren’t swarming the LA field office, the criminalistics floor was swimming with information.

Five cases had been put into processing, three solved and the others dissected on composition boards throughout the office. Agents had been dispatched through multiple field offices and police departments, armed with the information pulled from the Stella St. Laurens novels without her name included.

All the FBI told them was that the source was need to know and that they didn’t meet the qualifications. It always worked.

SSA Phillips stood in the center of her domain, arms folded over her chest as she scanned the varied teams set on different cases brought back into the light by Lucy. Her jaw tightened as she looked over her suited shoulder, spotting the cracked open office door towards the back of the massive room. “Damn it, Deveraux.”

The masses seemed to part as Marina moved across the stained carpet, practically slamming Agent Deveraux’s door open.

However, no one was inside.

Phillips walked around his desk, moving the computer mouse just enough to bring the screen back to life. She’d expected to find something on Hamilton, but his only tabs open were of the case he’d been posted on since Lucy was removed as a suspect.

A throat cleared behind the floor director, “Ma’am?”

Phillips would’ve jumped if she hadn’t been with the FBI for years on end, the senior agent only turning her head towards Deveraux.

Vance’s eyebrows lifted as he searched for a cue, unsure of what to say. “Everything all right?”

“No, we’ve got multiple reopened cases on our hands,” Marina quickly said as she moved past him back into the main floor. “Get back to work.”

Waiting until his boss has disappeared, Vance took his place behind his desk as he set his coffee down. He only shook his head softly, opening one of the drawers and pulling out his personal laptop. “No trust around here,” he said to himself absently, bringing up his server.

Phoenix Native Earns Full Ride To Stanford

Lucy Hamilton Graduates Stanford Law Summa Cum Laude

Stanford’s Top Law Student Turns Down All Law Firm Offers

“She’s perfect,” Vance said with annoyance in his voice as he scoured through pages upon pages of research he’d done on the novelist’s true persona.

He’d tried to find a criminal file, a detention notice in high school or anything that could be relative, but lo and behold; she was an outstanding citizen.

Green eyes searched through lines of information on what little was known about Stella St. Laurens, making the connection that her books had begun to soar just about the time Lucy passed the California Bar Exam with flying colors but turned down every top law firm around the country that had invited her to work for them, at top price, no less.

It seemed insane to anyone unaware of the profits she made off of one chapter alone that she would give up the prospect of taking over the US court system.

Vance idly ran a finger along his bottom lip as he foraged for intel on the author, his eyes narrowing as he came across a file blocked from his FBI clearance level. “What?” he muttered to himself, attempting to bypass the firewall.

But there was no avail; he’d been shut out.

Swearing under his breath, Deveraux nearly knocked over his coffee cup as he picked up his laptop, rising from his desk chair with intent. His oxfords carried him out of his close-quarters office, ignoring every team working throughout the main floor as he headed towards the elevator.

The doors closed around him, encasing him in silver with a distorted figure of himself reflecting off the metal like a funhouse mirror. Only clicks of the passing floors sounded through the box, Deveraux barely breathing as he traveled down to the IT main floor.

In his brief moments alone, he thought of all the things that could go wrong if he didn’t let go of Lucy Hamilton.

He could lose his clearance, his job, or even his life.

Vance wasn’t exactly in the good graces of those above him, and it would only get worse if Phillips caught him digging into Hamilton’s past when she’d strictly told him to leave her alone.

He just couldn’t bring himself to cease the case.

Deveraux was lost in his thoughts as the elevator doors opened on the IT floor, having to snap himself out of the distance before heading through the busy, coffee drenched work tables and towards the back. He nodded slightly in greeting to the few agents who recognized him as he found the singular office space that was exactly where his own was in the mirroring floor plans of the bureau. Rapping his knuckles twice on the door of a familiar desk agent, Vance stuck his head through the slightly cracked space. “Oswald? You in here, man?”

A blond not much younger than Vance looked up from his desk, a computer torn apart and dissected. “Deveraux? What are you doing down in the Pit?” He sat up, running a swift hand through his jaw length hair before motioning for Vance to come inside. “I never see you down here unless you need a -” brown eyes found the laptop under Deveraux’s arm, “favor,” he finished with a skimp laugh.

“I, uh,” Vance hesitated, glancing to his own computer, “yeah, but there are drinks in it if you’re up for the task.”

“You know I never turn down a drink,” replied Agent Oswald, holding out a hand across his messy desk. “What do we have going on?”

“Issue with a file.”

Oswald lifted an eyebrow, looking up to Vance with a questioning expression. “You don’t expect me to believe that, do you?”

Deveraux sat down in the spare seat in the corner, giving a flat look to the boy he’d roomed with in college years before. “I’m serious, Damon. I can’t get to the file.”

Leaning in on an elbow as he deciphered through Deveraux’s computer, he didn’t bother glancing up as he spoke. “Says the Special Agent.” He shook his head, “It’s not a file issue, Deveraux, it’s clearance.”

“Like you just said, I’m an SA, I shouldn’t be having an issue.” Vance stood back up as quickly as he seemed to sit down, going around Oswald’s desk to see the screen. “I thought you could help.”

“Meaning you thought I could break through government firewall,” Damon retorted without question, bringing up the code of the page Vance had been stuck on.

“We lived together the entire time we were at MSU, I know you can.”

Oswald, however, hesitated as he maneuvered his way through back channels. “What’s this even about, anyways? I heard Phillips chewed you out for giving a false warrant to a Stanford Law grad.”

Vance rolled his eyes, muttering, “How did that even make its way down here?”

“We’re the IT department, Deveraux, everything makes its way down here,” countered Oswald as he worked. “So, that’s what it’s about? The weird book case?”

“Yeah,” he replied, “it does. I was trying to look in on – an unsub, and I was shut out.”

“Stella St. Laurens, right?” Damon’s light hair slacked in front of his face as he dug deeper into the locked database, his mind processing the information at an alarming rate. “I heard they shut her name out of everything last week, before they opened all of the cases.”

“What’s the point of secrets if everyone else knows about them?”

“Dude,” Oswald over his shoulder to the hovering Vance, “you do remember you work for the government, don’t you?”

Slightly grumbling against Damon’s quip, Vance motioned to the screen of his laptop. “Can you get me to the file.”

“It was locked from more than just your clearance level, Dev, I’m pretty sure it was hidden from the whole system.”

Vance’s eyebrows narrowed, “Someone hid the file from the whole FBI?”

“Not the whole FBI, but pretty much anyone who isn’t on Jones’ security level, which is basically everyone.” The MIT master’s grad bounced through dark net portals, lifting his fingers from the keys as a noise made itself present on Vance’s laptop. “We’re in.”

The screen seemed the fritz for a moment, the resume and photograph of a handsome man with US flag pinned to his suit showing up slowly.

Oswald’s eyebrows furrowed, “What’s he got to do with this?”

“I was just looking for her father, he never showed up in any of the files-”

Quickly shutting the computer, Damon pushed the laptop back at Vance. “You’ve got to stop. You can’t keep looking into this.”

Vance found himself being rerouted out of Oswald’s office, the slightly smaller man moving his old roommate towards the door. “Oswald, come on-”

“No,” he objected all too quickly, with every intention of shutting the door in his face. “You can’t investigate his daughter. Not his.”

Chapter 14

Malibu was known by heart by most famous actors and authors; lavish homes lining the Pacific Coast on its beautiful beaches and typically only lived in seasonally. The waves never ceased to draw in a crowd, whether they have an Emmy or not. Movie magic is constant and a dismal air only ever seemed to fall upon one home in particular; The Hamilton House.

Alex padded along the shore, small plumes of salt water erasing his paw prints as he paced up and down happily. He sensed nothing out of the ordinary as he waited for Lucy’s return from the waves, shaking out his golden mane with grace.

The neoprene of Lucy’s wetsuit fought off the freezing waters of the early evening ocean as she emerged from under a wave, the screeching of birds powering through the crash of the waters. The warm winds graced over the brunette as she paddled farther out on her stomach, able to feel the divots that the sex wax had left on her board through the black fabric.

The thoughts running through her mind were shrinking as she swam closer to a swell in the ocean, leaving that of the potential end of her career, her lies and her secrets. There was only one left as she swung her board around, beginning to paddle away as she felt like she was starting to fly.

Lucy’s mind wasn’t filled with all of the problems with her life, but instead only the rush and joy of catching the wave as her feet connected with board.

She was free when she surfed, time suspended as she thought of nothing but the happiness it brought her.

It was the only thing that kept her sanity in tact anymore.

And the one doing the best against her sanity? He was waiting on the shore.

Vance Deveraux stood next to Alex, oxfords dangerously close to being submerged in Pacific Coast sand. His suit jacket was missing and his white dress shirt was rolled up to his elbows, bearing dark slacks not appropriate for the beach. A hand was outstretched next to him, petting the retriever’s head while keeping the other pocketed. He kept his eyes out on the water, watching as Lucy came down from a massive wave. Lifting his hand from Alex into the air, he caught the author’s attention in the brief moment she looked over to check on her dog.

Even from the distance the ocean had put between them, Vance could see her expression shift from a wide smile into a look of sheer annoyance. It’d become the face he was most commonly greeted with when it came to Lucy Hamilton.

“She’s not a big fan of me, is she?” questioned Vance as he glanced back down to Alex, Lucy already on her way in from the surf.

Alex didn’t register that Vance had spoken, simply laying down on the beach with a wagging tail as his owner approached.

“Do you really want to take a Stanford Law student to court where you have no case, Special Agent Vance?” Lucy asked as she pushed back her hair, carrying her board under her arm. She had partially unzipped her suit, knowing the heat would be swarming back to her skin soon enough.

Vance held up his hands, “I just want to talk.”

“Funny, you’ve said that to me before,” she quickly retorted. “Didn’t exactly end as just a talk, now did it?”

“For real this time, Hamilton,” Deveraux said. “I just came to talk.”

Lucy hesitated before sighing, going around the FBI agents and up to the house. She mounted her board on the side paneling of her home, intending to clean it once Deveraux left. She whistled without looking back, Alex jumping up from the sand and running past Vance towards the house.

“Click the coffee pot, would you?” she asked over her shoulder as she went through the open floor plan, heading up the stairs to the loft.

Vance wasn’t given the option to disagree, Lucy vanishing to change out of her wetsuit. He briefly looked down to Alex as if he could help before he wandered into the kitchen, concentrating on the buttons before finding the right one to start the preset. Turning around, he stopped as he saw a purple cube sitting on the island out of its plastic wrapping. “Hamilton, why is there sex wax on your counter?”

“Don’t be a creep, it’s for surfing,” Lucy flatly said as she came out from behind the bamboo panel in the loft, drying her hair with a blush hand towel. She wore a pair of gray joggers and a thin blue tee, bare feet hitting the wooden staircase as she rejoined Vance on the first floor. “It’s for the board. Did you never surf in Virginia?”

“Never had the chance,” he replied as he set down the wax cube. “And as a kid, Michigan isn’t exactly a prime spot for waves. Wait,” Vance hesitated, “how did you know I was in Virginia?”

Lucy only lifted her eyebrows as she went into the kitchen, giving him a knowing look as she pulled down two mugs from the cabinet. “You have Quantico written all over you.”

“You would know all about that, wouldn’t you?”

Pouring out two cups of the quickly brewed coffee, Lucy showed no signs of an argument. “Never went to Quantico.”

“But-”

“I didn’t say I didn’t know anyone who did, Deveraux,” Lucy interrupted as she held out a Chicago mug to him. “You jump to conclusions incredibly fast.” She moved out of the kitchen, taking a spot on the sofa next to Alex without telling Vance to follow her.

But he did, of course.

Vance sat opposite of her in the settee, posing a calm facade. “In my line of work, I don’t typically have time to wait.”

“Then my case must be particularly frustrating,” Lucy mused between sips of black coffee, remarkably at ease. “Or my non-case. Whatever you’d like to call it.”

“How’d you manage that?”

Lucy only lifted an eyebrow despite knowing exactly what he was talking about, “Manage what, Special Agent?”

“First off, I think I’ve bothered you enough for you to call me Vance, and second, I mean Phillips dropping you as a suspect.” Deveraux leaned back against the cushioned wicker, watching Lucy’s every move.

“Probably because it made no sense to go after me, Vance. Honestly, you look too deep into things.”

“How many people do you fool, Lucy? Because you’re not fooling me.”

Lucy only smiled, absently petting Alex. “You know exactly what to say to a girl, don’t you?”

“Come on, Hamilton, I don’t have time for games.”

“Did you take your bar time for little old me?” she asked with false flattery. Giving up with a sigh when Vance wasn’t up for her level of mind, she instead rested her palm on Alex’s neck and kept the other wrapped around her mug. “So what are you doing here this time? What made you want to ‘just talk?’”

“How about your book Invisible Ink?”

Lucy hesitated, but her expression remained passive. “Phillips didn’t deter you enough, then.”

Vance’s eyebrow lifted, “You know Phillips?”

“If you’ve figured it all out Vance, shouldn’t that be evident?” inquired the author with a near smug tone. “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t know. So, did you go around her back and find someone on the IT floor that boosted you through the lockdown she put on the file?”

Agent Deveraux remained quiet for a moment, processing her words. “You had her block the file?”

“It isn’t exactly public knowledge,” Lucy replied. “There’s a reason my mom and I had a different name. The FBI helped us but they couldn’t seem to help him.”

“So he is your father.”

Lucy kept her eyes on him, no surprise in her voice. “You knew that already, Vance. You just want to hear me say it.”

Vance was staring into the abyss of an ocean that was Lucy’s eyes, cautious. “Then say it.”

“Former FBI Director Reeves is my father.”

“And Invisible Ink? That’s the book about his murder, right?” Deveraux’s thoughts were slipping as he fumbled in the darkness, unaware of what was really going on. He was only left with accusations and assumptions. “I’ve heard of odd situations when it comes to authors, but writing yourself into a story? Talk about a God Complex, Hamilton. Not to mention, like always, you know more about the murder of your father than the police do.”

“Are you accusing me, Vance? Because if you did read the book properly, you would know I was still in undergrad and no where near Phoenix.”

“I’m simply asking. How does the unsolved get solved if not by the killer? All of your novels have had details even the police couldn’t know. Intimate moments, thoughts before death. None of it makes sense. So how about you tell me why it makes sense to you? How did you know who your father’s killer was, where the weapon was left and what his final thought was before death? It was about you, wasn’t it? So if the book is de facto, written by you, is his last dying wish that no one hears just your narcissism? How dare you assume what the dead think-”

“You don’t know anything about me or my father. You have no right to talk to me like this. I’ve done nothing wrong and you have nothing you can spin for a court case.” Lucy rose from her seat, leaving her mug on the coffee table before moving towards the back porch. “You’re welcome to leave. I’m not letting you tell me about my own dad, a man who died before you even joined the bureau.”

Vance shut his eyes as the glass door slammed shut behind him, able to sense the anger seething in Lucy’s movements. “Good job, Deveraux. You did it again.” With a sigh, he set down his half empty drink on the coffee table as he hauled himself out of the comfortable couch.

He knew he was about to get her to talk, so despite the self hatred it brought him to badger it out of her, he had to keep going.

Following Lucy outside instead of taking her invitation to leave, Vance found the author leaning on the wood railing as she spun a gold ring around her left middle finger. He mimicked her position next to her, resting his forearms on the deck as he looked out on an ocean framed by a molten sunset. “How did you know your father’s last words if you weren’t in Arizona when he died?”

“Because he told me.”

---

The daytime heat of Phoenix had subsided into cool breezes over Roosevelt Row, an art covered suburb of the major desert city. A crescent moon shone down over the near empty streets, the weeknight offering a selective choice of citizens still making their way home.

Edward Hamilton walked down the concrete towards the family home only two blocks away, a hand pocketed in his jeans while the other held his cell phone to his ear. “I’m telling you, Mal, that job grayed my hair. I warned you before you took my position.”

“I thought you were just trying to keep me from those benefits, Ed, I had no idea you were serious,” remarked the light-hearted voice on the other end of the line. “I haven’t had a free moment to myself since I was sworn in. I was lucky enough to get the night off since Ty’s in town.”

“Penn must be on a different schedule,” Ed said. “I haven’t seen Luce in ages. She didn’t come home for spring break and she’s covered in studying for finals.” His eyes wandered up to the sky, feet going at a consistent tempo on the sidewalk.

“Just came home for the weekend, that’s all,” replied Director Jones. “Last visit before he graduates.”

“Still going to Quantico?”

Malcolm laughed warmly, “Definitely. He’s been ready for Quantico since he was born.” There was a hesitation on his end of the line, a mumbling of voice in the background before the director’s voice came back strong. “He actually wants to talk to you. Have you got the time for dear old Ty?”

“Always, always,” Ed answered with a sheer smile. He spoke again once he heard the handset change over. “What can I do for you, Ty?”

“Hey Mr. Hamilton,” the friendly voice of the director greeted. “How are you?”

“I’m doing just fine, Tyler, thank you.”

Tyler held no apprehension, calm with the man he’d known since he was a kid. “And the family?”

Edward softly laughed, well aware of what the Penn State senior was getting at. “Johanna’s well, she’s very involved with the VFW here in Phoenix.” He paused, only to torture Tyler’s pride just a little bit.

“…And Lucy?”

“Still at UCLA, doing wonderful from what I know.” Ed made the turn around a cinder block corner that led towards the Hamilton home, amused as he spoke with Tyler. “Have you heard from her recently?”

Tyler paused for an answer, “No, not…lately. I, uh, was actually just curious is she was still planning on going to the Academy after she gets her J.D.”

“From what I know, she’ll be kicking your ass as a special agent in no time.” The retired director held a grin, knowing that it would no doubt be a fact. He knew his daughter, and he knew she would take over with bountiful success. “Are you ready to go in? It’s not an easy job, you know.”

“I think I’m ready,” Tyler replied with a light laugh. “I better be, I’ve already got a set day to begin training.”

Ed shook his head, “What I would do to be a NAT again, Ty. You have no idea.”

“Did you know which area you wanted to work in before you started at the Academy?” questioned Tyler with his guard lower than usual. “I’m leaning towards the counter-terrorism unit, but criminalistics looks interesting.”

“I had no clue, Ty. No clue at all.” Ed looked both ways as he stopped at a crosswalk, making his way across the street with his phone still held to his ear. “Don’t stress yourself out, okay? Just get through the Academy and everything will work itself out.”

Tyler let out a sigh on the other end of the call, the 21 year old calmed by his words. “Any other advice for me, Ed?”

“Yeah,” Ed said with a laugh, “just breathe, kid. You’re gonna be just fine, I promise. I’ll see you at graduation.”

“Will…uh, will you bring Luce?”

Ed softly nodded his head despite there being no chance of Ty seeing it, “I’ll see what I can do. I’m almost home, but let your dad know I said to have a good night, all right?”

“You got it,” Tyler replied before the two of them said goodbye, a registered click ending the conversation.

Taking another left, Ed hesitated to put his phone away and instead called Lucy as he turned onto the proper street. Although expecting her voicemail, he couldn’t help but smile when the other end picked up. “Hey kitten.”

“Hi Pop,” Lucy welcoming voice greeted through a coffee induced haze. “What’s up?”

“How’s the studying for finals coming?”

“Not too bad. I’m pretty sure I’m personally funding the coffee cart in the quad, though.”

Edward laughed warmly, “Sounds like college. My second year of law school, I recieved an honorable mention by the art department for how much coffee I bought from them, since they ran it out of their building.”

“Iconic,” replied Lucy with a grin in her voice. “I’m definitely your daughter, that’s for sure. I drink enough coffee for a small village.” There were distant taps of her computer keys going in the background, a noise the always seemed to signify her presence. “What’d you call for, Pop?”

“Maybe I just wanted to hear the voice of my best girl,” Ed defended with a chuckle. “I, uh, I’ll actually admit that I felt prompted to call you. Ears burning by chance?”

Confusion was evident in his daughter’s voice, “What do you mean?”

“Mal called me, and Ty was home visiting. Got a couple minutes with each of them,” replied Ed as he ran his hand along the gray scruff lining his jaw.

“Oh.”

The ex-director of the FBI stopped with a slight shuffle of his feet on the sidewalk outside of their family home. “I know, hun, but he just wanted to know if…if maybe you were planning on coming with your mom and I to his graduation once you get home from college.”

“Maybe, Dad…I’m not sure.”

“I understand, sweetie, I-”

The silence of the evening streets was decimated by a single burst that seemed to shatter the sound barrier and the love of Edward Hamilton faltering into nothing but a freezing burn in his chest.

But in the moments that the sound ricocheted within the receiver of Lucy’s phone, she was sat at her desk with a leg pulled up to her chest and her laptop open in front of her. Thoughts of summer agony vanished as her aluminum thermos slipped from her fingertips and clattered onto the tile floor of her dorm room. “Dad?”

Silence met her cracked voice in response, a burst of pavement ending the call.

A shaky hand covered her mouth as she stood, her dorm seeming to spin around her and panic filled her chest at an ungodly rate. “No, no-” Lucy quickly pulled her phone down from her ear, calling him back.

It didn’t even ring.

“This can’t be happening,” she whispered to herself as she called her mother’s contact with barely any hesitation.

But five rings only brought her a voicemail.

Lucy tried again three more times, pacing back and forth across her small dorm enough to dent the flooring.

She knew what she heard, and she knew what it meant.

Yet, she didn’t want to believe it.

Lucy threw her phone onto the futon below her lofted bed, tears staining her cheeks as she forced herself to sit down at her desk. She brought up travel sites within moments, scrounging for a plane ticket or a bus ride that could get her to Phoenix as soon as humanly possible. Swearing under her breath with every motion, she forced herself to hope for the best.

But reality came crashing down all too soon.

“Lucy.”

The brunette’s expression slipped, every inch of her going rigid. She slowly turned over her shoulder, water brimming in her eyes as she let out an all knowing sigh. “Dad, no.”

A wispy Edward Hamilton stood in the middle of her single dorm, only a soft smile lining his features. “Hi, peanut.”

Lucy shook her head, nearly hysterical in her tears. But she couldn’t seem to come up with anything to say.

The graying spirit of Edward moved towards his daughter with a subtle expression of peace, putting his hands on her shoulders. He leaned in towards her left ear, whispering his last testament of love. Kissing her lightly on the forehead – something that felt nothing more than a breath of cool air – he faded into oblivion.

Chapter 15

The Pacific waves crashed in icy glory as the sun faded below the horizon, a silence coating over both Lucy and Vance. She kept her eyes on the water, but he couldn’t look at anything except her.

How could he believe a thing like that?

Yet…how could he not?

“It’s called clairvoyancy,” Lucy said as she leaned into the railing of the deck. She ran a knuckle under her eyes, brushing away the tears that had formed. “It’s a family thing, like a trait or gene. I don’t really know how it works other than that it skips a generation and it’s through my mother’s bloodline. It gets confusing and doesn’t make a lot of sense all the time, but it’s who I am, and I have no control over it.

“There’s a trigger to become truly clairvoyant. It can be brought out in every other generation, but only under certain circumstances. To be able to see through the veil, you have to die and come back to life, as well as have the gene in your DNA. It’s a technicality, but it has to happen for it to work.”

Vance’s eyebrows rose, studying Lucy carefully. She showed no signs in her body language that she was lying, and he had no other option than to believe her. “Are you saying you died and came back?”

“I was visiting my cousin in Maine during my freshman year of high school. We were on our way to some party that was happening at a frat on the USM campus. It sounds stupid recounting it, especially since I was barely 15 and he was 17, but he wanted to have fun while I was there. He’d been trying to convince my parents to move there, since Phoenix was hell to visit. There was a deer, and Jordan’s reaction time was a moment too slow, he swerved and the car flipped off the highway at 11:32 at night. We rolled eleven times before the car finally stopped, but Jordan had gone through the window before the fifth.

“I was still in the passenger’s seat, but I’d hit my head more than once on the window. By the time the car had stopped, it landed on my side and shattered the window in on me. A shard of glass, more than one really, cut along my throat.” Lucy moved her damp hair to the side, revealing evident scars on her neck. It was clear that there were very few people she’d shown them to. “I was losing a lot of blood very quickly, and I could feel myself getting colder. I went unconscious within minutes, dead in fifteen. Everything was black for a while, but then all of the sudden, I felt the world flood back in. The paramedics had gotten there just as I slipped, and they brought me back after being dead for five minutes.

“The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes wasn’t the paramedic hovering over me, but instead Jordan watching over her shoulder. I was so thankful that he was okay – that he wasn’t hurt after the crash, but I was wrong. Really wrong. He just smiled at me, like all he needed to know was that I survived, and then he was gone.” Lucy’s eyes were glazed as she recounted one of the most painful moments of her life, the one that completely changed her.

Vance stayed quiet as he hung on to every word that left her lips, aware he’d been shown a side of her that was often, if not always, kept under the radar.

Clearing her throat, Lucy forced herself to continue. She’d gone too far to stop where she was. “The books are a way for the spirits that come to me to move on. When you die and you have unfinished business, especially an unjustified murder, you’re stuck. It’s like limbo, where you’re on Earth, but no one except people like me can see or hear you. Writing someone’s story is one of the few things I can do to help them. To take their story, and in a way, let people know what really happened to them. That’s why I do it. It’s not for me to get money or fame. It’s for them, so they can move on.”

“And what about your dad?” questioned Vance. “He didn’t tell you his whole story, he just said his last words.”

“There are slips when it comes to blood, at least with direct links, deep or emotional tethers. Since I had such a strong bond with my father, he could transfer his memories to me through the kiss on my forehead just before he vanished.” Lucy idly motioned to her head, recounting the wispy breeze of the last kiss from her dad. “I could see what happened from an external perspective, but he blocked out one thing from me.”

Deveraux’s eyebrows furrowed, “What do you mean?”

“You know the saying of how all your questions will be answered in death?” she asked. She went on when she received a subtle agreement. “When you die, you get more than just your perspective on it. You know the identity of who killed you, things they did to prepare, their thoughts about you. Stuff like that becomes common knowledge, because since you’re dead, who are you going to tell?”

Vance’s lips parted, it all making sense. “Then they come to you.”

“And when my dad learned everything, he gave me all of his memories except for one,” Lucy told him. “What could he possibly keep from his only daughter that was planning on going in the FBI?”

“Who killed him.”

Lucy lightly nodded, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth. “He knew me so well, and he knew that I wouldn’t give up if I found out who murdered him, let alone have a perfect way to find him.”

“Is that why you didn’t go into the FBI?”

“I would’ve been too tempted,” she replied softly as she looked over to Vance. “I let Jones know everything I did, and I didn’t stick another finger into the investigation. If they know who the hit man was, I’m not aware of it. I stayed away from the FBI because I couldn’t deal with having so many people know about me, about my father, and much less knowing that I would have endless sources to lose myself in some ridiculous revenge plot.” Lucy ran a hand along her jaw, sighing. “So I planned on being a lame lawyer with a Stanford degree. But the books kicked up, and by not burying myself in legal work, I have more time to help by writing.”

Vance hesitated briefly, “And you were close with Jones and Tyler?”

“Remarkably.” Lucy motioned over her shoulder with her chin, “Come on, I want to show you something.” She headed into the house, Alex greeting them warmly from exactly where he’d been when they had left. Going over to the bureau below the wall mounted TV, she opened the top drawer and removed a box with a Middle Eastern pattern that was incredibly familiar to Vance.

Following in behind her, Vance lingered by the settee as Lucy turned around to face him. His expression changed through confusion to mild wonder, “I was with him when he bought that in Bangladesh.”

“He sent it to me as a grad gift when I finished up at Stanford.” Lucy opened up the delicate box, photographs and mementoes inside. “We met as kids through our parents. Our dads went through the Academy together ages ago and they stayed friends.” She held out a picture to Vance, one she would never get rid of no matter what. “This was just before his first year at Penn and my last one in high school. His family stayed with us for a month in Phoenix before school started.”

Vance took the photo from her willingly, seeming to be discovering a new side of his best friend.

In the Phoenix heat with no signs of aging on their faces, it was the girl in front of him and a memory of his deceased partner with the brightest looks in their eyes. Tyler’s hair was a beautiful mess in the wind and laughter was no doubt evident under the glossy film.

The FBI agent’s lips parted, “I knew there was a girl, but he wouldn’t say much more than ‘Phoenix.’”

Lucy sat down on the armrest of the couch, the box still in her lap. “It was complicated between us. It went from a summer fling to spells of one of us avoiding the other on and off for years. Phoenix before college was really the only good time there was.”

“I can’t believe it,” expressed Vance with a light shake of his head. He offered the photo back out to Lucy, his mind shattered. “This is all so insane. You and Tyler, your dad being FBI, much less the clarity thing.”

“Clairvoyance,” Lucy said as she shut Tyler’s box and set it next to her. “And if you’re going to call me crazy, you can get the hell out of my house-”

Deveraux smiled lightly, “I don’t think you’re crazy, Lucy.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, evaluating the strange expression on Vance’s face. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking we should get you on payroll.”

Chapter 16

In a world of utter anarchy and strife, there are few moment when one is completely happy. It either comes in the form of blissful ignorance or a flicker of warmth that isn’t blocked by the pain that seems to come so frequently.

Lucy’s visited her very rarely, but as she sat on a circular blanket on the sandy shores of Malibu with her legs folded and her hands balanced on her knees, she was doused in the goodness of the world.

Sun poured down over the author and her dog, both with their eyes closed and their expressions beyond calm. Waves crashed and the tide swarmed in closer as the sun rose ever so higher.

It was utter serenity.

Until Lucy’s phone rang.

One sea shaded eye revealed itself, the familiar ringtone of her mother drawing her attention away from her meditation. She reached over Alex while apologizing for disturbing him, scooping her phone up from the other side of her towel. “Hey Mom, what’s up?”

“Hi sweetheart,” Johanna greeted kindly. “I just wanted to check in on you. How’s everything going in California?”

“It’s good. Al and I are just relaxing out on the beach,” Lucy told her mother as she ran a hand through salt-induced waves.

Johanna gave a light sigh, “You know what I’m asking, Luce.”

“You don’t have to worry about me,” she assured. “It’s definitely not going to be a problem.”

“Planning on elaborating, kiddo?”

“One, I’m twenty-seven, and two, the investigation was called off. There’s nothing to worry about. Stella St. Laurens in completely safe.”

“And the one FBI guy that was giving you slack? What about him?” inquired Johanna. “Are you sure he won’t try to go digging? He seemed pretty insistent.”

Lucy lightly smiled to herself, “I’m sure.”

Johanna’s hesitance was like a fog, radiating all the way from Arizona to California. “How…how did you get him to back off?”

Licking her bottom lip idly as she thought of what she could say, she knew she was running out of time before Johanna would suspect it. And just as she opened her mouth with an excuse on hand, her mom was already two steps ahead.

“You told him, didn’t you?”

Lucy audibly pondered the fact, “Okay, so here’s the thing-”

“Lucy, you can’t just tell people. It’s a family secret. It’s-”

“Mom, listen for a second. I’ll explain everything,” eased Lucy as she leaned back on her elbows. “Vance was best friends with Ty from Quantico.”

Pausing, Johanna’s end of the phone briefly crackled in silence. “Oh.”

“It’s just – he found out about dad, and he was thinking I was a murderer or something and I knew that if Tyler trusted him, I could trust him. I told him all of it; the crash, Jordan, how they pass on. Vance isn’t going to say anything.”

“As long as you’re sure, Lu,” said Johanna mildly.

Lucy ran a hand along her jaw, watching the ocean ahead of her. “I’m sure. In fact, he even offered me a job.”

Surprise was evident in Johanna’s voice, “Oh, really?”

“Phillips is up for it too,” replied Lucy even though she held doubts in her mind. “No less Malcolm would be more than happy.”

“And you’d be helping people, even more than you already do,” Johanna added. “I know you help the spirits, but you could help the living and possibly prevent more crimes.”

Lucy’s eyebrows furrowed immediately, “Wait, you think it’s a good idea?”

Johanna laughed, “Honey, you were always meant for the FBI, whether you like it or not. It’s in your blood.”

“You don’t think they would just, y’know, trick me or something? Take me to Area 51 and poke me with needles?” Hesitancy was evident in every feature, genuinely worried for becoming a science experiment.

“I think that if you were to use your powers for good, the FBI would be able to keep it quiet. Not many people would have to know. And it’s the government, sweetie, it’s their job to keep secrets. If you’re an asset, they’ll keep you safe. They probably already have a bunch of weirdos working for them, anyway.”

“Did you just call me a weirdo?”

“Lovingly, yes. Plus that agent boy was cute,” Johanna said with a warm laugh. “Work perks equal eye candy.”

Lucy tried to hide a disturbed laugh, “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.” Sighing lightly as she shook her head, she unfurled her folded legs and got up from her beach blanket, doing her best not to disturb Alex.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Lu.”

A smile was evident on Lucy’s lips, her mother’s tempered humor something she could never get tired of. “I don’t know if I can do it, Mom,” she finally said. “What if I can’t help in real time? And if I get too caught up in it, I won’t have time to write. Then I won’t be helping anybody.”

Johanna softly laughed, “You’re just like your father. You think too much, kiddo.”

“What if I make the wrong choice?” Lucy asked, one arm tucked around her waist as she held the phone to her ear with the other. Her eyes lingered out on the water, calm waves rushing in as the tide drew closer.

“You won’t,” Johanna replied. “You always know what to do.”

The last remaining Hamiltons exchanged brief goodbye, Johanna having to run errands before noon.

Lucy idly held her phone, looking out to the ocean as if it could help her make up her mind. She chewed on her bottom lip as scenarios danced through her head at an alarming speed: Of all the things that could go wrong, and all the ones that could go right.

Her cell phone vibrated in her palm, fate coming in too quickly.

Deveraux:

What’s the verdict?

Her sea shaded eyes rose up to a setting sun that matched their beauty, Lucy at a sheer loss for words.

Epilogue

Wisps of a winter ocean called out for Lucy Hamilton in elegant crashes and coursing swells, blending with a pale sunrise over the Pacific Coast rising in the east. Sea salt lingered in the fibers of the beach homes that lined the shores, rolling tides reaching inland for the Atlantic longingly. The Hamilton home remained silent, windows and doors untouched for weeks and dust beginning to collect atop surfaces around the spacious beach residence. Mail was piled up in the box just outside the door and surfboards were zipped away from the elements under the deck.

It seemed that just when the house had settled itself, the front door opened.

A January breeze powered through the home, altering the calm air within moments. A slicker version of Lucy bustled into the open floor plan, hauling a package in one arm and dragging a suitcase behind her with the other.

It had been 20 weeks since she’d been inside, but it felt like she never left.

The brunette left her suitcase by the stairs to the loft, bringing the heavy box over to the island counter and setting it down on the stone. She took one more trip outside, carrying her last piece of luggage and the massive stack of mail that had been crammed in the box.

Her palm skimmed over the varied envelopes and brochures, reaching a neat, hand addressed letter with a familiar name that brought nothing but a smile to Lucy’s lips. She used her fingernail to rip open the envelope, pulling free a folded piece of paper that she was eager to unfurl.

Dear Lucy,

I know it’s been a while since we last spoke. I enjoyed being able to meet for coffee at Sage Café. I never did have a chance to truly enjoy coffee as a kid so it’s nice to find someone who knows the best places. Sleep has been coming to me easier as time passes, especially since Hunter is indefinitely institutionalized. I’m glad no one else can be hurt by him. After the other bodies were found, I began receiving calls from the parents of the other girls, and I felt like there was nothing I could do to help. They wanted to know about their daughters, but I never knew there was anyone beyond Emily.

I’m not sure when you’ll get this, I know you’ll be away for a while on the East Coast. I hope it goes well for you, I have no doubt you’ll be amazing. So far, I’ve been catching up with online school, which has kind of been a pain. I’m already at a 10th grade level, so that’s something.

I was reached out to by a few universities, oddly enough. It was a strange feeling, something so alarmingly normal that it didn’t seem right. They said I could even go without a GED. They called it ‘special circumstance’, but it sounds more like they want good press. I want to be able to do it the right way – to be normal for once in my life. A lot of people said I was crazy for turning down top schools, but I don’t want to go on a pity card, you know?

I know you’ve refused to take back the money that you gave me when you first came to the house, so I’ve decided that I’ll just give in. But no, I won’t be stupid about it. I already have it in a bank, waiting for me until I do go to college. And hopefully, law school. Maybe you can help me out with that one.

I hope we can get together again soon, even with your soon-to-be busy work schedule. Maybe you can finally teach me how to surf. I’ll make sure to keep you updated with life and hopefully you’ll do the same for me.

~ Eliza

---

Lucy let go of a calm sigh, smiling to herself as she inhaled the seaside aroma of her house, setting down the letter on the counter. She untied the loose bun of rib length hair, evidence of time passed as she grabbed a knife from the stainless steel butcher’s block by the stove.

As the author slid open the tape lining the package from her publisher, her phone vibrated in her pocket with a message from her mother.

Smiling at the information of Johanna and Alex all packed up for the trip to Los Angeles later that night, Lucy had never felt so at peace with the world.

Lucy parted the flaps of the delivery that had arrived not an hour before her plane landed, timed out perfectly for her return to the West Coast. A wide grin spread across her lips, a giddy feeling greeting her as she ran a finger along the glossy hardcover of the first copies of Clockwork Ruins. “Hello, gorgeous,” she warmly said with excitement as she took out the top copy. Thumbing through the cream pages decked in her personally designed black font, she couldn’t help but let a smile staple into her face.

No matter how many times she published, the first copy was always euphoric.

Absently checking her watch, Lucy tucked a wave of hair behind her ear after setting the book down on the counter. She headed around the living room and snagged her two bags before taking the blonde wood staircase up to the loft.

Lucy smiled to herself as she glanced around her room, unzipping her suitcases after setting them on top of her neatly made bed. Although already in maroon slacks, a white blouse, and low heels, the author dug through her neatly packed bag and removed a blazer the same hue of her onyx shoes. Her eyes drifted to the wetsuits hanging in her open closet, hesitant as she clutched the jacket.

The waves seemed to echo outside, whispering her name longingly.

She hadn’t surfed once in her time away from Malibu, and it felt like it was killing her. It had become such commonplace that she felt as if she were missing herself if she went longer than a day without the caress of the ocean.

“Soon,” Lucy said aloud as her eyes trailed out the window, sliding on the the fitted blazer and adjusting the cuffs. She pulled her hair free from below the black material before adjusting her belt and attaching a holster that she’d failed to wear to the airport. A delicate hand removed a matte 9mm sig sauer handgun from the back of her slacks and replaced it in the slim holster at her side. She adjusted her blazer once more to cover the weapon, double checking she had her wallet and phone as she jogged down the stairs.

Lucy checked the time once more, picking her keys up from the kitchen island without taking a moment to gawk over the copies of Clockwork Ruins as she kept her pace up and went out the front door just as quickly as she has come through it.

She, for one, regretted taking the extra night in Virginia and was cutting it remarkably close to missing her first shift. But all in all, catching up with Jones was worth it.

Lucy locked up the beach home behind her, dragged away from the welcoming scent of the sea as she shut herself into her Jeep and started the engine. As the radio crackled back to life, she pulled her hair back in a low bun and secured it with the single hair tie resting on her dashboard.

As a song drew to an end, the practiced voice of a radio host came blaring into focus.

“Sixty minutes of ad-free music coming to you after after these short moments with me, if you can handle it.” An annoying laugh echoed through the speakers, holding something hollow despite them attempt to be funny. “Updates in your social media include the newest drop of author Stella St. Laurens’ Clockwork Ruins. Check out your local bookstore for midnight release parties and join a live Twitter Q&A with the woman herself at 8 p.m Pacific Standard! Rossi Strause has apparently broken up with her long time girlfriend and it wasn’t pretty. Hit us up on or website for more details and trust me, you do not want to miss the paparazzi shots we got of the argument. I-”

Muttering to herself slightly, Lucy reached forward and changed the radio channel over before leaving her driveway. She appreciated the shout out for her novel, as well as reminding her she did actually have to Q&A that night, but her interest was tainted once the radio star did his typical act of forcing celebrity personal matters into the spotlight. “That’s enough of that,” she softly said to herself, wondering why she even had the station programmed in her car.

Lucy’s travel time shortened, slipping her Jeep into Los Angeles traffic and leaving the comfort of Malibu. Blaring horns of angry drivers greeted her as the cramped highways always did, lengthening her sighs the longer she remained in the vehicle.

But after avoiding irritated breakdowns from road rage, Wilshire Boulevard offered a towering white safe haven for the author.

Lucy parked her vehicle in her designated spot in the staff lot, climbing out of the Jeep with haste as she checked her watch, making her way up to the front of the building. It was her first and last day of driving her own car to work, Johanna planning on helping Lucy get her company car home while she still had her own.

The newest arrival was easily greeted, recognized before she even got through the glass doors of the department. She was promptly shown the elevator, given the circumstances of her timeliness being slightly questionable.

Lucy thanked her escort once the middle age gentleman in a gray suit gave her the right floor number, letting the metal doors shut in between them. Her heart was beating heavy in her chest, recalling the last time she had stepped inside when matters were rather dismal. Careful sea shaded eyes watched the numbers fluctuate as she was carried higher, not realizing she’d been holding her breath until the doors parted on her floor.

“Well, well, well, look who decided to finally show up.”

Marina Phillips stood in front of the elevator, her arms crossed over a navy blazer as she guarded the criminalistics floor of the LA Field Office. A smirk lined her red lips, hair tightly pulled back and hidden warmth in her eyes.

Lucy let a wide grin spread across her face, “Better late than never.”

SSA Phillips tilted her head, motioning over her shoulder as she swiveled on her heel. “Come with me, kid.”

“Good to see you again, Phillips,” Lucy said as she joined Marina at her side, the pair walking through the open floor plan filled with cubicles and conference rooms.

“Sorry I didn’t say hi while you were in last time.” Marina kept a calm pace, heels clicking in sync with Lucy’s. “I didn’t want to compromise you, but Deveraux did his own damage. I didn’t mean for it to go that far, I apologize.”

Lucy gave a soft shrug, it clearly not a concern. “No worries. He’s determined anyway. Even if Jones had asked him himself, he wouldn’t have stopped looking into it.”

“I should be thanking him, honestly,” said Marina as the pair of them stopped at a neat but bland cubicle. “He finally dragged your ass in here, where you belong – and not in the interrogation room.” She motioned to the desk, a manila folder placed in the middle, “What you asked for last night.” Clearly with places to be, Marina had a job to do. “My office is two lefts at the end of the hall if you need me.”

Lucy smiled as she thanked Marina, the Supervisory Special Agent patting her shoulder briefly before heading off. Lucy picked up the file, opening the front cover before snapping it shut within a minute. Clearly pleased, she moved away from her cubicle instead of christening it.

Vance Deveraux worked seamlessly within the four walls of his small office, his suit jacket hanging on the back of his chair and his hair slicked up in a graceful style. A blue ballpoint pen hung between his lips, eyes focused on his computer screen as it paneled through varied classified information.

A knock on the open office door sounded, Deveraux’s attention lifting to the newest arrival.

“Ready for your first day with the big kids?” Vance questioned with a wide grin, holding out one of two coffees waiting on his desk as he rose from behind it.

Happily taking the cup he offered, the FBI legacy held up the manila file folder with a smile, “I’m already ten steps ahead.”

“You talk a big game, Hamilton,” remarked Deveraux with a knowing eye.

“That’s Special Agent Hamilton to you.”

“Well, well,” said Vance as he stood from behind his desk, “let’s get started. Where are we headed?”

Lucy only grinned, “Hollywood.”

Deveraux shook his head with a smile, picking up his car keys without question. “I had a feeling you were a hit the ground running kind of girl.”

“Absolutely,” Lucy agreed, already on her way out with her coffee in hand. “I couldn’t have it any other way.”

The two made their way across the expansive floor, the newest agent sending a wave to Ramos before she stepped into the elevator with Vance at her side.

“Sure you’re ready for your first case?” Deveraux question as the door shut, weight shifting as they began to lower through the LA field office.

“I’m just happy to be on the other side of the investigation,” countered Lucy with a laugh. She took a sip of her coffee as she handed over the file for Vance to skim, her cell phone suddenly ringing. Her eyebrows furrowed softly, pulling free the device from her slack pocket. Although it was unknown, she answered it anyway. “Hello?”

“By the looks of that badge, it seems like you’re finally ready to come get me.”