Winter's Rise

by Mary Stone

  “I’m fine.” She knew that recalling her vision would drag him fully out of his slumber, and from there, the countdown to his departure would begin. But as much as she wanted him to stay, she didn’t think she could keep the realization about Ladwig’s lawyer to herself.

  “You have a nightmare or something?” he asked when she didn’t elaborate.

  “No, not a nightmare. A…a headache. A vision.” She wiggled her fingers to add the air quotes. Naming the vivid recollections still felt too sci-fi, but she didn’t know a better term.

  Blinking repeatedly, he shifted to sit upright. “About the case?”

  “Yeah. I think I know why Ladwig confessed.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah. It’s that lawyer, Chase Parker. Parker told him to confess.” Her frown deepened. “And we have no way to prove it.”

  My parents had been wealthy and educated, and as long as I have lived, I’ve never wanted for anything. Deb and Tim Schmidt, my mother and father, made their living in the financial industry as hedge fund managers. Even to this day, I wasn’t entirely sure they had even liked one another. In my opinion, the only reason they stayed together was to keep up appearances in their circle of well-to-do friends.

  I thought my mother had tried to be a parent in those first few years of my life, but even at that tender age, I could tell her actions toward me were always forced. Eventually, as I grew older, I stopped caring about the lack of attention.

  Deb had been close to forty when she had me, and it was only a matter of time until the drinking and the drugs caught up to her. When they were gone, I’d inherit their veritable fortune, and that would be the end of it. I tried to care about them, tried to care for them, but I’d never been successful.

  When my father got drunk and drove them off the side of a ravine, I swear I tried to grieve. I tried to summon up memories of the good times to make myself sad, but the only good memories I had were of the housekeepers and me.

  My father screwed around with at least two of the women, but the infidelity didn’t change the fondness I had for my surrogate family.

  After all, what in the hell were those women supposed to do when Tim Schmidt made an advance toward them? Were they supposed to rebuff him? Go to the police?

  Considering almost all the women were undocumented Russian and Ukrainian immigrants who hardly spoke a word of English, such defiance seemed unlikely. And when I learned of his string of adultery, it only put more distance between me, him, and my mother.

  When I was sixteen, my mother caught my father with one of the cooks, and afterward, he fired the woman. By then, I had a healthy understanding of all the twisted shit that went on under our roof.

  My father didn’t know it, but I also knew the combination to the safe in which he stored a hefty sum of cash. One night while he and my mother were asleep—in separate rooms, of course—I unlocked the stash and pulled out close to a quarter-million to give to Svetlana, the cook.

  To make sure they noticed the missing cash, I cleaned out the entire safe.

  When they awoke the next day, I waited for them to come to where I sat beside the fire pit in the backyard. There had been no snow on the ground at the time, but the air was crisp with the first of the season’s chill.

  Before either of them could protest, I lit a book of matches and dropped it down to the cash I’d soaked with lighter fluid.

  I could still remember the way the heat from the flames had distorted their faces as I watched them from the other side of the blaze.

  There was only one thing Tim and Deb understood, and that was money. As much as I’d wanted to give the rest of the stash to the other housekeepers, I’d wanted to hit my father in a way he couldn’t get it back.

  They threatened me, but I had expected the bluster. It wouldn’t make a difference.

  I was untouchable. All my schoolmates and my teachers adored me, our housekeepers adored me, everyone except for them adored me. If they tried to ship me off to a boarding school like they assured me they would, I would drag them down into a spiral of darkness and shame they’d never escape.

  We reached an understanding that day, and my father never touched any of the staff again.

  My mother sponsored Svetlana for her work visa, and she and my father paid for all the other workers to obtain their citizenship.

  After I left for college, the only reason I came back home was to ensure that my parents had not slipped back into their abusive ways.

  When they died, I sold the house and divided up the profits among all the men and women who had worked on the grounds over the years. I kept a small percentage of the estate for myself, but the sum was more than enough for me to live comfortably, even if I hadn’t gone to medical school.

  Money had never been a draw for me. That wasn’t why I conducted my research—I conducted it in hopes of achieving a scientific breakthrough. Fame. Accolades. That was a reward.

  Should have been my reward, anyway.

  Without ever actually meeting the man in person, however, I knew Mr. Parker was motivated by the same greed, the same lust for wealth as my parents.

  When I received the call from him to tell me that the hit he had ordered on Autumn had failed, I could hear the same ire in his voice that I’d heard in my father’s so many years before. But as much as I loathed the man, I knew that the order to kill Autumn had not come from Parker.

  Even now, after more than twenty years of this work, I wasn’t entirely sure the extent of the hierarchy, nor was I so sure I wanted to know.

  As glad as I was to hear that Autumn hadn’t been killed, I knew the failed hit meant that there was a storm on the horizon. And if I stayed to weather it out, I knew without a doubt I’d be swept away by the storm surge.

  35

  As Autumn made her way back to the living room, she passed off an unopened toothbrush to Aiden Parrish like it was a baton. He had accompanied her for Toad’s evening walk around the block, and now, after almost three hours of discussion about her dissertation, Autumn had announced that it was her bedtime.

  The only bathroom in the apartment was through her bedroom, so she had told him he could brush his teeth now, or forever hold his peace.

  When she glanced away from the rerun of Supernatural to where he reappeared from the shadowy hallway, she stifled a yawn.

  As far as Autumn was concerned, the past twenty-four hours had lasted for an entire week.

  Between the failed hit and Aiden’s constant presence afterward, she thought for sure she was about to crack. After all the trouble she went through to stop at that damn gas station, she hadn’t even been able to buy a pack of cigarettes.

  She inhaled deeply through her clean lungs. Not getting the cancer sticks was probably for the damn best.

  “How much longer will I need a babysitter?” She hadn’t wanted the query to sound accusatory or irritable, but at this point, she was too tired to care.

  As he dropped down to sit at her side, Aiden’s blue eyes met hers. “Until the moment after we catch whoever ordered that hit on you.”

  “And if you don’t?”

  He kept his intent stare on her in the silence that followed. Shaking his head, he combed a hand through his hair and sighed. “Honestly?”

  “Yeah,” she replied. “Honestly.”

  “Witness protection, more than likely. Nico was the real deal, Autumn. He was a seasoned contract killer for one of the larger Italian crime families in the D.C. area. Whoever hired him had resources, because I can’t imagine his rates are affordable. He was connected, and that means whoever paid him to kill you is just as connected. You don’t get in touch with a Mafia hitman unless you were already into some shady shit to begin with.”

  Her eyes widened, and she made no effort to conceal the shock from her face.

  After everything she’d dealt with in her life, after all the suffering she’d experienced at the hands of her parents and the foster care system alike, she was about to be forced into witness protection
because some unknown goon or some elusive serial killer wanted her dead?

  “Witness…witness protection?” she echoed. “Did I hear you right?”

  Expression grave, he nodded. “Yeah, you did. It’s the only way you’re guaranteed safety. Otherwise, if we don’t find out who sent Nico after you, who knows what else they might try.”

  She shook her head. “No, I can’t do that.”

  As the look on his face softened, he held up an index finger. “That’s only if we don’t find them.”

  “Even if you don’t, I can’t just run away and hide from my problems. Look, without going into all the details, I’ll just tell you that I’ve been through a lot to get where I am right now. None of it was handed to me. I worked for everything I have, and I’ll be damned if I’ll throw it away so I can move to the middle of nowhere in Nebraska to manage a fucking fast food restaurant.”

  She could feel her heart as it hammered in her chest, and she fought against the sting in the corners of her eyes. She’d be damned if she shed a tear in front of someone like him. Someone so polished, someone whose life was so orderly and accomplished, someone who had no idea the type of struggle she’d endured.

  But as a shadow of hesitation passed behind his eyes, she wondered about the accuracy of her assumption.

  Aside from the fact that he was from Chicago, she knew little of Aiden Parrish’s upbringing. Apparently, he was about as forthcoming with his background as she was with hers.

  “You know,” her voice was softer now, “when I was still in my undergrad in Minnesota, I went to a Q & A session with a forensic psychologist from the University of California out in Irvine. It’s one of the schools I applied to, and honestly, I was a little disappointed that I didn’t get in. That lady, the psychologist, she was a really interesting person. She’d been working in the field for something like thirty years, and she had a lot of stories to tell.”

  His gaze was focused on her. “I’m sure.”

  “But one thing she really stressed was what a dangerous job it could be. Not all convicts will be glad to see a shrink, that’s the basis of what she told us. She had been married, and she had a couple kids, but she never changed her last name. Her kids used her husband’s last name. You know why? It was so it’d be harder for people to track her family down if they found her on social media.”

  “Good thinking.”

  Autumn rubbed at her tired eyes. “She’d been physically present when one of her colleagues was killed, and she’d personally known two others who were murdered. She received death threats on a regular basis, and plenty of them were credible. I’ve known since I was twenty-two what a dangerous line of work I was getting into, and I don’t really see what difference a couple hitmen here and there are going to make.”

  A silence descended on them in the wake of her tirade, and she studied the change in his expression as the seconds dragged on.

  She was acutely aware of his closeness, but she wasn’t overcome by the uncertainty she knew she should have felt. As he reached a hand toward her, the motion was tentative, almost like he sought permission for the physical contact.

  Though she should have backed away or leaped to her feet, she didn’t so much as shift in her spot on the couch. The tips of his fingers felt feathery light as he brushed a piece of auburn hair from her face, but even the slight touch was enough to remind her of the same uncertainty she’d called him out on earlier.

  All she had to do was lean forward. She could satiate the bizarre attraction she felt to him, and at the same time, she could distract herself.

  Wasn’t he using her as a distraction, anyway? She wasn’t sure.

  She’d spent enough time around him that the sharpness of her ability to read him had begun to dull. And with Aiden Parrish, she didn’t think it would be wise to let down that part of her guard.

  He wasn’t a bad person, to be sure, but his motive in that moment—in every interaction since they’d met—was questionable. Maybe he didn’t realize the ignoble intent himself, but to Autumn, it had been clear from the start.

  Rather than put into motion a series of events she was almost certain she would regret, she took hold of his wrist. Her grip was gentle but resolute as she guided his hand back to his lap.

  Rising to stand, she pointed to a microfiber blanket draped over the cushion at his side. “If that’s not enough, there are more in the linen closet in the hallway.”

  “It’s still warm outside,” he replied. The disheartened look in his eyes was fleeting. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  “Peach, my cat, she likes to sleep on the couch. She’s persistent, so I hope you don’t mind cats.”

  “I don’t. Cats are fine.” There was a wistful tinge to his slight smile as she made her way over to the hall. “Sleep well, Autumn. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  She forced a smile to her lips, though all she wanted to do was swear at him. If she wasn’t drawn to him, rejecting an advance, even one as innocuous as what had just happened, would be easy. She could tell him she wasn’t interested, that he was acting like a creep, or both.

  “You too. Thanks again for, you know, being my babysitter.”

  With a quiet chuckle, he nodded. “Any time.”

  36

  The last time Autumn remembered catching a glimpse of her alarm clock, the glowing numbers had advised her that it was after two in the morning. When her eyes snapped open at quarter ‘til six, she flopped an arm over her face and groaned. For another hour, she tossed and turned as she tried to fall back to sleep, but the effort was for naught.

  As she muttered a string of four-letter words under her breath, she shrugged into a zip-up hoodie. Toad’s little feet clattered against the hardwood as he followed her down the hall to the coat hooks.

  If the person lying on her couch had been Winter or Noah, she would have made a concerted effort to keep any noise to a minimum. She would have carried Toad to his leash to avoid the sound of his steps, and she would have eased the door shut as she let herself out into the musty corridor.

  Even when the attempt on her life from the night before popped to mind, she trudged out to the grassy courtyard by herself.

  She shouldn’t have been outside alone, but she was sure she had closed the door with enough force to wake both Aiden and her cat. For the duration of the short trip, she glanced around the surrounding area, one hand easily within reach of the folded knife she’d tucked into the pocket of her running shorts.

  When she returned to the foyer and unclipped Toad’s leash, she caught a glimpse of movement in her periphery.

  Though she entertained the idea of stomping across the wooden floor, her steps were little more than a whisper of sound as she padded to the kitchen.

  But what she missed out on while walking, she made up for as she retrieved a red container of coffee from a cabinet. The wooden door fell closed with a clatter, and she made sure to smack the serving spoon against the side of the canister when she was done.

  “Jesus Christ,” Aiden spat.

  At the muffled outburst, she felt the corner of her mouth turn up in satisfaction. “Sorry, did I wake you? One of the detriments of having an open floorplan, I guess.”

  Propped up with both elbows, Aiden narrowed his eyes. His caramel brown hair was disheveled, and she realized it was the first time she had seen him look like anything other than an attendee at a black-tie event.

  In response, she offered him a sugary sweet smile.

  “My sister used to do this shit all the time,” he muttered. “She was ten years older than me, and when I was eight and she was a senior in high school, my mom made her take me to school. Instead of just waking me up, half the time, she’d stomp around and slam kitchen cabinets, much like you’re doing right now.”

  She chuckled at the dry sarcasm as she made her way back to the living room. “I never had to worry about that.”

  “Must’ve been nice having a younger sister.”

  Autumn froze mid-step.
r />   She knew she’d never mentioned Sarah to him.

  She’d never mentioned Sarah to anyone.

  Part of the reason she kept her past records sealed so tightly was to avoid the mention of Sarah or her stepfather. Unlike Autumn’s biological dad, Ryan Petzke had beaten the scourge of addiction. The last time Autumn ever saw Ryan or her little sister, the man had been determined to make a better life for his daughter. He’d even gone so far as to tell Autumn that he would try to sue for custody of her too.

  Whether he never tried or was simply unsuccessful, she still didn’t know.

  The mirth on Aiden’s face turned grave, but he didn’t speak.

  She didn’t know what expression she wore, probably a combination of ire and outright terror, she figured. Enough to tell him he’d fucked up.

  No matter how many times she swallowed, she couldn’t will away the tightness in her throat or the sting of bile as her stomach turned.

  She shouldn’t have been surprised. Aiden Parrish was a Supervisory Special Agent at the damn FBI. It was his job to know anything and everything about a witness or a suspect’s background.

  But if he knew, then who else? Who else had dug around in her past? Who had dug so deep they’d come across Sarah?

  As much as she wanted to shout the questions at him, the edges of her vision started to blur as a sudden twinge of pain speared through her stomach. Clutching the site of the pang with one hand, she grimaced as she dropped down to sit at the edge of the couch.

  “Are you…” In a rush of movement, he pushed away the plush blanket as he straightened. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” She managed a nod. “It’s just my stomach. That’s why I was in the doctor’s office a week ago when they found that GPS tracker.”

  “Did you find out what was causing it?” His tone was quiet and gentle enough to displace some of her anger, and she was left with only fear.

  She nodded again. It was endometriosis, but she didn’t want to discuss her uterus with a federal agent. As it stood, he already knew far more about her than she was comfortable.