A Deeper Fear: A Lucy Kincaid Novella

By Allison Brennan

FBI Agent Lucy Kincaid is back in the new e-Novella, A Deeper Fear, from New York Times bestselling author Allison Brennan

FBI Agent Lucy Kincaid’s husband, Sean Rogan, is in a dark place after being held captive. He won’t talk about it with anyone, not even Lucy. She’s hoping a conference in Sacramento, which includes family and the unveiling of a highly sought after drone Sean’s been working on, will help him heal.

But the upcoming drone demonstration – and the fact that Sean didn’t come home last night – is the least of the couple’s worries. The night before the drone is set to debut to the world, the operator goes missing. Ellen Dupre is Sean’s friend. When she’s found, barely clinging to life, Sean is determined to find out what happened to her.

Ellen Dupre saw something she wasn’t supposed to . . . and those behind the attack are willing to risk it all to keep their secrets.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Macmillan Publishers
• Release date: Jan 26, 2021
• ISBN: 9781250767875

Allison Brennan

ALLISON BRENNAN is the New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of over forty-five novels. She has been nominated for Best Paperback Original Thriller by International Thriller Writers and the Daphne du Maurier Award. A former consultant in the California State Legislature, Allison lives in Arizona with her husband, five kids and assorted pets.

Book preview

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Chapter One

Jack Kincaid offered his brother-in-law Sean Rogan a beer. Sean accepted, twisted off the cap, and sipped.

Like the new place. Sean stared out the picture window. Great view.

Jack opened his own beer and motioned for Sean to follow him out to the back porch. They sat on chairs that boasted the best view of the property. Late May, warm but not too hot. They could see the rolling hills to the north and the sunset to the west. He liked this place more than any other he’d lived in. Probably because he shared it with the woman he loved.

Jack and Megan had moved into the house after the first of the year, but the beginning of the year had been hectic for everyone and this was the first time Sean and Lucy had been out to visit.

For years Jack had lived with Megan in the condo she’d owned before they were married, in downtown Sacramento. Jack hated it. Not the condo, which was surprisingly spacious, but being in the middle of the city. When the FBI moved their headquarters from Sacramento to Roseville and Megan had a forty-five-minute commute on good days, they’d started looking for a place. It took time—because of their schedules—but finally they found this five-acre spread in the small rural community of Newcastle and Megan’s commute was cut to less than fifteen minutes.

Sean looked out at the yard. That your barn down there?

Yep, it’s falling apart. That’s low on my list of things to do.

Hmm.

I don’t think I slept a full night in eight years living downtown. Since we moved here, I sleep like a baby. Still woke up at five thirty every morning without an alarm, but that probably would never change.

Sean nodded, but Jack realized he was only half listening.

I have a lot of work to do on the place before we get to the barn, but we got a great deal. The owners retired to Arizona, a cop and teacher. The house came with a gun safe—I thought that was a plus.

Um-hm.

We talked about moving to Texas.

Huh.

What’s going on, Sean?

What?

You’re not listening. I just said we almost moved to Texas.

Oh? But you just bought this place.

Jack cleared his throat.

What? Sean said.

Your mind is a million miles away. You okay?

Sure.

Don’t lie to me, kid.

Sean shrugged, sipped his beer, then said, It’s been a tough month.

He clearly didn’t want to talk about it.

Jack wasn’t a shrink. That was the world of his twin brother. But Sean hadn’t talked to Dillon when he and Lucy were in DC two weeks ago. Normally, Jack didn’t interfere in the personal lives of his family members, but this was one time when Dillon had asked him to find a way to get through to Sean.

"Lucy and Sean will be in Sacramento for a crime conference, Dillon had said. You need to get him to talk."

That’s your expertise.

This time it’s yours. I tried to discuss this with Kane, but he’s as communicative as a rock.

You think I’m better?

With Sean, yes. He respects you, Jack. What happened with Paxton has him twisted up inside. I don’t think he’s shared everything, even with Lucy.

He’ll talk to her before me.

Not this time.

Jack wasn’t a shrink, he didn’t want to be a shrink, but he understood PTSD. He’d been a soldier for fifteen years. He had friends who had blown their brains out or drugged their brains out—same difference in his book, one fast, one slow—because they carried baggage that would make Goliath stumble and wouldn’t, or couldn’t, share the load with anyone.

Jack didn’t know how to approach this. He didn’t play games, so he just spoke the truth. Dillon’s worried about you.

Sean shook his head. I told him to leave it alone. I don’t want to talk about it. Some things are better left in the past.

I don’t disagree, Jack said. Just make sure that this is one of those things.

I am.

Maybe he was right. Jack didn’t know. He watched Sean as he stared at the land. Yes, he was quieter than usual. He’d lost weight. The outward injuries had healed, but Jack knew better than most that the most painful scars were those that couldn’t be seen.

Time to change the subject, though Jack would keep a close eye on Sean while they were here. What’s Jesse doing this week? He couldn’t come with you?

He has two more weeks of school, which he can’t miss because of finals and a bunch of activities, then eighth-grade graduation the Friday before his birthday. I finally convinced Nate to move into the rooms I built above my garage and get out of the dump he calls an apartment, so he’s there keeping an eye on Jess. He paused. I considered staying, letting Lucy have some time to herself with you and Megan, but she said she’d cancel and stay home. I didn’t want her to do that, especially since she has a presentation and everything.

Jack hadn’t known that Sean wanted to stay home. That was definitely cause for concern—he’d been looking forward to coming out here up until last month.

I, for one, am glad you came. He glanced at his watch. We should get going. I promised Megan I’d join her for the meet and greet.

I can’t, Sean said. I told Lucy I was going to Duke’s.

Want me to drop you off?

I have the rental car, I’m good. Thanks.

I’d join you if I could, but then Megan would be mad at me. Jack didn’t like crowds. They made him itchy.

No, go, it’s okay.

Don’t forget—tomorrow morning is the Pride Tactical presentation, and you know how Ellen is.

We worked out all the bugs months ago.

She’s a friend. You told her you would be there to answer questions.

I’ll be there. But it’s going to be fine.

Sean was usually all over any new tech, and up until his arrest last month, he’d been excited about this project. Pride Tactical had hired RCK and Sean to test a drone, and he’d uncovered and solved half a dozen glitches. He generally liked bragging about his accomplishments, and this was one that he should brag about.

After the demonstration we’re meeting for lunch at DeVere’s Pub.

I miss that place. There’s only one decent Irish pub in San Antonio, but nothing like DeVere’s.

Agree with you there, buddy. Jack stood, clapped Sean on the shoulder and went inside.

Yeah, something was up with Sean, but Jack hoped a few days with nothing on his plate would help.

* * *

The Bi-Annual California Multi-Jurisdictional Law Enforcement Conference, sponsored by the FBI and open to all sworn officers, was the smaller version of the national FBI conference. Someday Lucy would love to attend the national conference, but space was limited and only six agents from the San Antonio office were attending this summer. She couldn’t really complain about not being chosen, considering that all those attending were senior agents with more than five years’ experience. This smaller conference was the next best thing, even though Lucy knew that her sister-in-law Megan had something to do with Lucy’s presentation. Lucy was speaking on a panel about psychology and modern interrogation techniques.

The only thing that put a damper on this week was that Sean was still out of sorts after his ordeal, which had ended only four weeks ago. She’d offered to skip the conference—she thought maybe they could spend a long weekend at their house in Vail where they’d have the privacy to talk, just them, but Sean said no, he didn’t want her to cancel. If he’d insisted on staying home, however, she would have, because she could tell there was something up with him.

Nate, her partner and their closest friend, had moved into the apartment above the garage at Sean’s suggestion. Lucy liked having Nate close by, but it meant they didn’t have as much privacy. It was almost as if Sean had Nate eat dinner with them every night . . . play video games . . . go out with Jesse . . . to avoid being alone with her. Yet . . . he was so quiet. Very unlike him. Dillon thought he should talk to someone—a professional—but Lucy knew Sean wouldn’t. Right now all she could do was be there when he was ready to talk.

He’d told her a lot about what happened after his arrest last month. The interrogation by the police for a murder he didn’t commit had been emotionally exhausting and humiliating, as well as infuriating. She’d seen the interrogation tapes—thanks to a friend of Nate’s in the Houston FBI—and they had been difficult just to watch, so she could only imagine how Sean felt living through it. Then being in jail overnight. He talked about it—his feeling of being trapped, helpless, unable to convince the police that he was innocent of the charges. In fact, he was very open about the first twenty-four hours of his ordeal, the anger and the fear and the frustration.

But he wouldn’t talk about what happened to him at the hands of former senator Jonathan Paxton, who had orchestrated the whole thing. He wouldn’t talk about how he felt when he learned that one of his oldest friends, Colton Thayer, had helped Paxton set him up. He only vaguely mentioned what happened between him and Paxton. Instead he gave details about the prison break to the authorities, about how they traveled, about Paxton killing Jimmy Hunt. A lot of detail—almost as if to downplay what actually happened to Sean.

The only thing he’d said was, "I escaped at one point—late Saturday night. Early Sunday morning, maybe. That’s when they locked me in the cage. Colton wanted to kill me, I know that, but he didn’t." He claimed he didn’t know why or what they’d had planned for him. Colton Thayer wasn’t talking or even trying to negotiate a plea deal.

Sean also claimed he didn’t know Paxton’s motive, or why he hadn’t killed Sean, though he’d had ample opportunity. He vaguely mentioned revenge, since Sean had been largely responsible for Paxton losing his US Senate seat after Sean helped uncover Paxton’s devious plan to poison prisoners. But he’d never sounded convincing, at least to Lucy.

Lucy hated that she thought Sean was lying. Maybe to spare her . . . she had an idea of why Paxton had gone after Sean. She’d even told Sean what Paxton shared with her, some foolish nonsense about Sean putting her in danger, which was asinine. But there had to have been something else that had deeply affected Sean, and she couldn’t figure it out. The senator loved to talk, especially when he felt he was morally justified. She of all people knew that. He would enjoy explaining his motives to Sean. Why wouldn’t Sean tell her?

She tried to dismiss her anxiety and enjoy the meet and greet, but her mood must have been off-putting because she’d been standing in the corner nursing a glass of wine for the last thirty minutes and no one had approached her. She recognized a few people in the ballroom—mostly from the Sacramento field office, where her sister-in-law Megan served as a supervisory special agent.

Over four hundred were registered for the conference in total, and half that number were socializing here tonight. Lucy would have preferred a much smaller group. Sean was the social butterfly, but he wanted to catch up with his brother, which she thought was a great idea. But she realized she missed Sean’s natural gregariousness, his way of making everything fun.

Megan was halfway across the ballroom talking to her boss Dean Hooper, one of the three ASACs of the Sacramento office. Lucy knew Dean well—they’d even recently worked on a case together—but she didn’t want to intrude. As if Megan could tell, she waved at Lucy and motioned for her to