by Margaret Kay
“Wrong again, Phil. Kennedy told me you were there when Abe was trying to molest that fourteen-year-old girl, stroking your own dick, anxious to get your hands on her too. She told me all four of you were in the room, you, Abe, Pete, and John.”
“I wouldn’t have touched her, too young,” he insisted. “But I wouldn’t interrupt Abe from having his fun either. He’s powerful in this business and could ruin me if I don’t go along with what he wants. I’ve always been decent to you Melody; you know I have. You said you wouldn’t do anal, and I respected that.”
Kennedy laughed a sarcastic cackle. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me! That’s being decent in your book? Forget how you pressed my face to your groin and told me I better make it good or I wouldn’t get a single break in the business the very first time I met you. You only didn’t pursue the anal sex because you knew I’d walk away and then the blowjobs I gave you and the money you made from me would be gone.”
Phil grinned a pleased smile. “You are very orally talented. Your mouth on my cock feels better than anyone else’s ever has. Why don’t you stop all this nonsense and come suck me off? You name the tour and I’ll put you on it. You’ve always wanted to do a tour in the orient. I’ll fly you to Singapore tomorrow to join that tour. Come on, you know you begged me for a spot on it, said you’d do anything but anal to get it. It’s yours if you put the gun down and give me one of your world-famous blowjobs.”
“Fuck you, Phil, and not with my hand, my mouth, my vagina, or my anus. With this gun, fuck you with a bullet from this gun!” Her gaze turned deadly serious. She pointed the gun with determination, her eyes locked onto the sights at the end of the barrel centered in the middle of his chest with a new focus.
“Don’t do it,” Sloan said from behind her, coming into the room. “We’ve got what we need, got his confession on tape.”
“They killed my sister. I have the power in my hands to fix all the wrong he’s done.”
Sloan’s weapon was drawn. He stepped up beside her. He saw the determined look on her face. “Get on the ground, hands behind your back,” Sloan said to the piece of shit standing in front of him that he would not do the honor of calling a man. He was not a man and when the other inmates in prison got a hold of him, knowing he was a pedophile, he’d either be someone’s bitch or he’d be dead. “I said down, or would you rather I let her shoot you?”
The man dropped to the ground.
“Give me the gun,” he said to her.
She didn’t move, except to angle the barrel of the gun so it pointed at the man now laying on the floor.
“You don’t want it this way. Trust me, taking another human being’s life fucks with you. He isn’t worth the therapy you’ll need, to get past what you’re about to do.” He watched tears fill her eyes. “You’re bringing him down right now. Killing him isn’t necessary. He’s done, and he should have to rot in jail for the crimes he’s committed.”
“I’d rather he rots in hell.”
“He’ll do that too, I’m sure. Actually, I’m sure the other inmates will dish out to him exactly what he did to you and the other girls all these years. Wouldn’t that give you greater satisfaction, sending him to jail where he’ll be the one giving the blowjobs and getting ass-fucked? Just killing him is way too good for him.”
He watched her resolve crumble. Then he took the gun from her hands and then went over to Phil, who laid spread eagle on the floor. After he searched him, Sloan secured his hands in zip ties behind his back. Then he helped pull Lewensky to his feet. He flashed his badge in front of his face.
“You are under arrest, you piece of shit, mother-fucker. You have the right to remain silent and refuse to answer questions. Anything you say may be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to consult an attorney before speaking to the police and to have an attorney present during questioning now or in the future. If you can’t afford an attorney, the court will appoint one to defend you. Do you understand these rights?”
Phil smirked. “It’ll never stick. I’ll be home sipping whiskey before it’s dark.”
Sloan shook his head. “Not this time. Unlike your arrest in twenty-oh-eight for rape, there is no deal, no victim to make a sealed agreement with. I’m sure once the other artists the four of you have sexually harassed, abused, and raped hear of your arrests, they’ll be crawling out of the wood work to scream ‘Me Too’ and there will be more charges against the four of you than there were against Jeffrey Epstein and R. Kelly combined. The FBI is all over your shit and I’m sure will find more to charge you with from it.”
Just then the two FBI agents from the L.A. office came into the room. Sloan had Garcia call them in after Garcia had notified Sloan Kennedy’s tracker was on the move. He led Sloan right to her, though Sloan had guessed that she was going after Phil Lewensky.
“Good timing, gentlemen,” Sloan said. “Take this piece of shit away. I’ve already Mirandized him, but please, do it again to be doubly sure. We don’t want any loopholes he can slip through.”
“You better believe I want my lawyer!”
Sloan and Kennedy gave abbreviated statements after the FBI dragged Phil away. The bodycam she wore captured everything that had taken place. Then Sloan ushered her from the property. He drove her to her house. He pulled two nylon cubes the size of his hand from a pack in the back of the SUV.
“We’ll take fifteen minutes to pack up what you want.” They rushed up the walkway. She was surprised when Sloan pulled her keyring from his pocket. “Madison picked these up with your other belongings from the Cleveland PD. And I figured we might need them.”
“Thank you. I wouldn’t have even thought to ask if we could get some of my things. I really appreciate this.”
Once in her room, he opened and unfolded each cube to reveal large zippered tote bags. “Whatever will fit in these can go with us.”
She opened a few drawers and her closet door and began grabbing clothes and shoes, shoving them into the bags. Then she went into the bathroom and transferred all her makeup, hair products, blow dryer and curling irons into one of the bags too. Back in her room, she tucked several photos in frames between her folded-up clothes to cushion them. She unfolded a pair of blue jeans, and then sat the drawers from her jewelry box along one half of them, laying the longer necklaces from the hooks, between the drawers. Then she folded the other half of the blue jeans over it and added the last of her clothes that could possibly fit in the bag. It was barely able to zip close.
Sloan’s phone vibrated in his pocket. It was Cooper. “What’s up Coop?”
“Just wanted to let you know we’ve got Stanley Angus’ phone signal at Phil Lewensky’s downtown condo. We just got onsite and are preparing to go in. We can see movement within, in one of the bedrooms. Looks like he’s packing up, preparing to bolt, no doubt.”
“Good to hear, that’s all five of them. Mission accomplished,” Sloan said. “We’ll meet you back at the hotel.”
“Make it the hangar. We’re flying out tonight after everything is wrapped up,” Cooper ordered.
“Roger that,” Sloan acknowledged. He disconnected the call and Kennedy’s eyes met his. “They’ve got Stan cornered at a Condo Lewensky owns downtown. They’re getting ready to move in on him.”
“Thank God. It’s really over. They’ve got them all.” She smiled a genuine relieved smile. “There’s a few things of Melody’s I want, and my laptop is in her room. It’ll be okay to pack up and bring my laptop bag, won’t it?”
“Sure,” he said. He lifted the zipped closed bag. It had to weigh fifty pounds. “I’m going to run this out to the car while you finish packing. Stay here. I’ll be right back in.”
“I will,” she promised.
She grabbed her keyring from the dresser and went into the hall and up to Melody’s door as Gary carried the one bag out. She unlocked the door and went in, sadness instantly swallowing her up as she gazed around the brightly colored room. Melody loved bold colors, and they
were everywhere in her room. But Melody would never be back here or anywhere else. Melody was dead.
She gazed around at Melody’s favorite things. Her eyes landed on the five by seven picture on the bedside table of Melody and her mother. She picked it up and stared at it. She’d seen it a thousand times and barely gave it a glance, but now, knowing the woman was her mother, she scrutinized it, overwhelmed that this picture was all she had left of her birthmother and her twin sister. Tears filled her eyes. She’d take it with her too.
She heard footsteps in the hallway and assumed it was Gary. She turned around, alarmed to see Stan standing in the doorway. He looked just as startled as she did.
“Kennedy?”
“No, it’s Melody,” she said pointing to herself, her insides quivering.
Sloan reentered the house. Up ahead, a man stood in the doorway to Melody’s room, his back to Sloan, who approached very quietly.
Stan shook his head. “No, you’re Kennedy and you’re supposed to be dead. Holy fuck! They killed Melody, didn’t they?”
Kennedy clutched the picture to her chest, too afraid to even answer.
She watched Stan pull a gun. He took several steps forward, till he was nearly beside her. He pointed it at her.
“Drop it!” Sloan commanded as he burst through the doorway, gun in hand, pointed at Stan.
Angus grabbed Kennedy and pulled himself behind her. He towered over her by at least a foot, so Sloan had a damn good shot at his head.
“No, you drop it, or I kill her.”
“You’re getting arrested or killed today. Those are the only two endgames for you. You’re not walking out with her and you’re not going to kill her.”
“How do you know I won’t?”
“The minute you hurt her in any way I drop you. I have a clear shot at your forehead, and I will take the shot. I’m an expert marksman, so I’m not in the least bit concerned I’d hit her. Just stay perfectly still,” Sloan said. Angus tried to duck down so Kennedy’s much smaller frame hid him. It didn’t. “I still have a headshot on you as well as a shoulder and your leg. If I fire, I’ll keep firing on you until you’re dead. Last warning, drop your gun.”
“No. We’re walking out of here.”
Sloan stood between him and the door. “Not happening.”
Sloan watched Stanley Angus consider it and his options. Sloan already read in the man’s desperate eyes how it would end. Angus swung the gun, from being pointed into Kennedy’s torso, to out in front of him. Before he even got it to the correct position that would allow a shot on Sloan, Sloan squeezed the trigger once. The .45 caliber round went right through the center of Stanley Angus’ forehead. He dropped to the ground.
Kennedy screamed and jumped back, her eyes on the dead man at her feet. Her ears rang from the shot. That was a sound she’d never get used to. Then her eyes went to Gary, who she watched stalk over to Stan. He kicked the gun away, then he knelt down and checked for a pulse, which perplexed her. Why would he do that? He’d just shot Stanley in the head. Certainly, he was dead.
She leaned into Gary as he wrapped his arms around her.
“It’s over. He’s dead.”
“He wasn’t supposed to be here!” Kennedy cried, not for Stanley Angus, but for herself and for Melody. “I’m not sorry he’s dead. I’m sad for Melody.” She stared at the picture of ten-year-old Melody and their mother. “I’ll never know anything about her, about our mother, and why she gave me up for adoption, why I was separated from Melody all these years.”
“I know, babe.” He held her for a few quiet seconds. “I have to call this in.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed Ops.
Ops informed him that when Cooper and the others moved in on the downtown condo, they found Phil Lewensky’s assistant madly packing his belongings up. He knew of Lewensky’s arrest and figured he was next, so he was attempting to flee before the authorities got to him. He had Stan’s phone, an order from his boss to help Stan. He started talking, answering unasked questions, spilling everything he knew about everything. The only thing he didn’t know about was the two hitmen who had killed Kennedy Bristow.
Kennedy settled into her seat on the Lear, overwhelmed with grief and exhaustion. She held the pillow and blanket on her lap. As soon as she was allowed, she’d recline her seat and try to sleep. She numbly watched the others load the plane with bags. Madison took the seat across from her, facing her, when they were done.
“This was a win,” Madison said. “All four men are in custody and they aren’t going anywhere.”
“They’ll start flipping on each other, to save themselves,” Cooper added as he dropped into the seat beside Madison.
“I just want positive IDs on the two hit men who killed Melody,” Sloan said. He stood in front of Kennedy, offering her a water bottle. Then he went back to the small refrigerator and got several more bottles, handing them out to the others before he settled into the seat beside Kennedy.
She held the bottle up at him. “I wish there was something stronger on board.”
Kennedy gazed out the small window as the plane broke free from the confines of the hangar. It was a clear night. The lights of the city were brilliant as the aircraft flew over, before it banked hard to head east and climbed high in the dark night sky, leaving L.A. and everything that had happened that night behind them.
They landed in the predawn light at Chicago Executive Airport. Kennedy was numb as they deplaned and got back into the dark SUVs that sat where they left them in the Shepherd Security Hangar. She wasn’t sure what lay ahead for her. The events of the previous day jumbled in her mind. She couldn’t believe it was over and each of the foul-four had been arrested.
A part of her felt remorse for wanting to kill Phil. She would have, if Gary hadn’t stopped her. She worried the foul-four would get off, a technicality or lack of evidence. She also hoped like hell that the other women who she knew had been abused, coerced, or actually raped would come forward. If no one else did, it would be her and Kaliah’s word against theirs.
“You still look exhausted,” Madison said to Kennedy as she slid into the front passenger seat, her eyes fixed on Kennedy in the middle of the backseat.
“And I slept nearly the whole way. Maybe I just need some coffee.” She glanced at Gary who sat beside her, holding her hand. Danny got in the other side beside her as Cooper eased behind the wheel.
“Or more sleep,” Madison said with a supportive grin. “It’s okay and expected that you’d be tired still. Stress will do that to you, and you’ve been through a lot.”
Sloan’s phone buzzed with a text before the SUV even descended past the outer security gate in the parking garage. It was Lassiter, summoning him to his office as soon as they were within the building. This time, Sloan found the check-in to be valid. He had just killed a man. He glanced at Mother, who eyed him as he read the text.
“Lassiter, post-mission check-in. I’m up right away.”
Mother nodded. “I’ll keep Kennedy company while you’re in with him. We’ll be up in my office. Come find us when you’re done.”
After they’d stowed their gear in the Team Room, Sloan took the stairs to four, to Lassiter’s office. Mother and Kennedy got on the elevator.
“You do look tired,” Mother said to Kennedy. “Didn’t you sleep well on the plane?”
“I don’t know. I think I’m just exhausted from everything that happened.”
“Would you rather go back to the apartment on nine and try to catch a nap?”
“I’ll wait for Gary. You already told him we’d be in your office.”
“I can text him and tell him the change, if you prefer.”
Kennedy shook her head. “No, that’s okay.” The elevator door opened on eight. She stepped off.
“Kennedy, I know there was a one-hitter in your things that Madison collected at the police station. I’m not judging you, I’m just asking, are you having any withdrawal issues?”
Kennedy glanced away.
Madison promised she’d keep that secret. And she thought she could trust her. She had obviously thought wrong.
“Madison told only me, so I could watch out for you, for any signs you were suffering. She hasn’t told anyone else, and it’s not even in the official report.”
They got to the door marked D. Trio. He opened it and turned the light on, motioning her inside.
“No, I was never addicted to anything. I used socially, and if I’m being honest, to self-medicate. It’s a lot easier to do things you don’t want to, if you’re drunk or high,” she admitted.
