“You’ve indicated to me that you’re worried about her drinking. Can you elaborate on that?”
“My guess is she drinks like she does everything else–in extreme. Lucy is either very good or very bad, and alcohol is just one example. “I knew even as I said the words I was darkening Wesley’s suspicions.
“I see,” he said.
“Is there alcoholism in her family?”
“I’m beginning to think there’s alcoholism in everybody’s family,” I said bitterly.
“But yes. Her father was an alcoholic.”
“This would be your brother-in-law?”
“He was very briefly. As you know, Dorothy’s been married four times.”
“Are you aware that there have been nights when Lucy didn’t return to her dormitory room?”
“I know nothing about that. Was she in her bed the night of the break-in? She has suite mates and a roommate.”
“She could have snuck out when everyone was asleep. So we don’t know.
Are you and your niece getting along well? ” he then asked.
“Not especially.”
“Kay, could she have done something like this to punish you?”
“No,” I said, and I was getting angry with him.
“And what I’m not interested in at the moment is your using me to profile my niece.”
“Kay” –his voice softened”–I don’t want this to be true any more than you do. I’m the one who recommended her to ERF. I’m the one who’s been working on our hiring her after she graduates from UVA. Do you think I’m feeling very good?”
“There must be some other way this could have happened.” He slowly shook his head.
“Even if someone had discovered Lucy’s PIN, they still couldn’t have gotten in because the biometric system would also require a scan of her actual finger.”
“Then she wanted to be caught,” I replied.
“Lucy more than anyone would know that if she went into classified automated files, she would leave log-in and log-out times, activity logs, and other tracks.”
“I agree. She would know this better than anyone. And that’s why I’m more interested in possible motive. In other words, what was she trying to prove? Who was she trying to hurt?”
“Benton,” I said.
“What will happen?”
“OPR will conduct an official investigation,” he answered, referring to the Bureau’s Office of Professional Responsibility, which was the equivalent of a police department’s Internal Affairs.
“If she’s guilty?”
“It depends on whether we can prove she stole anything. If she did, she’s committed a felony.”
“And if she didn’t?”
“Again, it depends on what OPR finds. But I think it’s safe to say that at the very least Lucy has violated our security codes and no longer has a future with the FBI,” he said. My mouth was so dry I almost couldn’t talk.
“She will be devastated.” Wesley’s eyes were shadowed by fatigue and disappointment. I knew how much he liked my niece.
“In the meantime,” he went on in the same flat tone he used when reviewing cases, “she can’t stay at Quantico. She’s already been told to pack her things. Maybe she can stay in Richmond with you until our investigation is concluded.”
“Of course, but you know I won’t be there all the time.”
“We’re not placing her under house arrest, Kay,” he said, and his eyes got warmer for an instant. Very briefly I caught a glimpse of what stirred silently in his cool, dark waters. He got up.
“I’ll drive her to Richmond tonight.” I got up, too.
“I hope you’re all right,” he said, and I knew what he meant, and I knew I could not think about that now.
“Thank you,” I replied, and impulses fired crazily between neurons, as if a fierce battle were being fought in my mind. Lucy was stripping her bed when I found her in her room not much later, and she turned her back to me when I walked in.
“What can I help you with?” I asked. She stuffed sheets into a pillowcase.
“Nothing,” she said.
“I’ve got it under control.” Her quarters were plainly furnished with institutional twin beds, desks, and chairs of oak veneer. By Yuppie apartment standards, the rooms in Washington dormitory were dreary, but if viewed as barracks they weren’t half bad. I wondered where Lucy’s suite mates and roommate were and if they had any idea what had happened.