by Mary Stone
“Anytime.” Katarina smiled before shooting Ellie a sideways glance. “Seriously, though, you should cut your mom some slack. Having a small human completely dependent on you for every single need is an enormous pressure. You two might clash, but it also sounds like you respect the hell out of her. Yeah, I’m new at this gig and have a shit ton left to learn, but I can tell you this for sure. Nothing is more satisfying than having your kid give you a heartfelt compliment or a simple I love you. When Bethany says that, my heart melts, and I don’t even have a damn heart.”
Ellie studied Katarina for a long time. “Funny. Once upon a time, I would have agreed with you, but I don’t know, Volkov. I think the motherhood gig is softening you up like a campfire marshmallow.”
Katarina screwed up her face. “Whatever. Let’s throw down sometime soon, and we’ll see who’s soft.”
Despite the challenge, Ellie sensed an undercurrent of relief in the woman’s voice. “Oh, and if you ever need to learn mom tips, I’m sure mine would be more than happy to share. Once we find her.”
“And Bethany.”
Both of them sobered over the reminder of what was at stake. Katarina scooted closer to the desk and focused on her monitor.
Another ten minutes passed before Ellie located her mom heading for the museum’s exit. “She’s leaving. Let’s check the footage from just outside the front entrance and the parking lot. You take the parking lot. I’ll do the entrance.” Pulling up one feed on each monitor saved time.
After a minute of silence, Ellie surged forward. “There. I’ve got her walking down the front steps.”
“Anything look weird?”
“No. Nothing at all. She doesn’t talk to anyone, doesn’t stop to check her phone. What the hell?”
Tension hitched Ellie’s shoulders toward her ears as she tracked her mom’s progress as far as that camera allowed. What if this entire endeavor turned out to be a huge waste of time? For all they knew, her mom could have been abducted after leaving the museum.
Katarina pointed. “Here she is, close to the parking lot.”
Ellie crowded closer to Katarina and leaned forward to get a better view of the monitor. “Okay, she’s walking, walking, walk…wait, why’s she stopping?” She’d been the source of Helen Kline’s impatient head tilt enough to identify the gesture, but the annoyed gesture was quickly displaced by a far more troubling expression. “Freeze it. There, does she seem worried to you?”
Katarina frowned. “I don’t…yeah, maybe. Or confused? By whatever caught her attention off screen. What’s she looking at? Can we find out?”
“I think so. Let’s finish this feed out first, though. Use slo-mo.”
About ten seconds in, Helen Kline turned away from her car and headed toward an alley that lined the far side of the museum.
What the hell are you doing, Mom?
“Is your mom usually impulsive like that?” Katarina asked as Helen’s image disappeared from the camera’s view.
“No. I’m not even sure impulsive is in Helen Kline’s vocabulary.” Ellie’s stomach filled with lead as she turned to the security guard. “Hey, can you tell me what’s over here?”
He scooted his chair across the floor to peer at the screen. “That’s the delivery bay, where the vans come to bring the food.”
“Then there should be a camera feed there, right? Since it’s an entrance into the museum?”
“Yeah. Check number eight, I think?”
“Thanks.”
Ellie clicked on the file for the number eight camera and fast-forwarded to the correct spot. Her mom appeared in the frame, striding past the kitchen entrance and disappearing from view again. Ellie smacked the desk. “Dammit.”
She went to rewind the footage, but Katarina’s hand stilled hers. “Look.” Katarina pointed to the edge of the screen.
A car cruised into the frame, following the same path Ellie’s mom had walked only moments before. Something about the silver vehicle’s deliberately slow pace made Ellie think of a predator. Like a hungry shark approaching a swimmer.
She shivered as the images continued to stream. The car rolled to a stop, blocking the only exit. A door opened, but the parking job had been well planned, far enough from the camera that only the intruder’s legs showed.
She let the video play through. Sixty seconds passed. Two minutes. Nothing happened, but then—
Ellie hit stop and rewound. “Watch closely. Tell me what you see.”
Katarina nodded, and Ellie hit play, unsure whether or not her imagination was running haywire. She’d half convinced herself of that when Katarina pointed at the rear tire. “You mean, that bounce there? Like something heavy just got dumped in the trunk?”
“Yeah.” Neither of them needed to voice their fears out loud to understand what the other one was thinking.
The heavy item deposited in the trunk was very likely an adult body.
Ellie’s mouth went dry. If that was true, then Kingsley had abducted her mom at eleven-thirty-seven that morning. And because of the stupid camera angle, they had no way of knowing if she was injured or even breathing when he shoved her in the trunk.
A tiny hiccup of distress escaped from between her clenched teeth. Katarina slanted her an alarmed look.
“Shoving the victims he abducts in the trunk is one of Kingsley’s go-to maneuvers, and they’re almost always healthy and alive. Remember, it’s all about the game for him, and dead people make for shitty players.”
“Thanks.” Ellie was glad there were no mirrors around. She figured she must be giving off serious breakdown vibes for Katarina to bother with reassuring her. She gazed helplessly at the screen. “I just wish we could see something useful. All we have now is a silver car, and knowing him, he ditched it already.”
As she was speaking, another figure appeared in the frame. Much skinnier, and short enough that the camera caught the better part of her head.
The girl’s face was only in profile a brief moment before she turned her back to the camera, but that second was enough.
Just to be sure, Ellie rewound, hit play, and froze the feed when the girl’s face came into view.
“Bethany?” Katarina whimpered the name, the sound so unlike her usual smug tone that Ellie’s heart twisted. The other woman reached for the screen as if to stroke the pale cheek, but she jerked her hand back before making contact.
“Hey, are you o—”
Quick as Dr. Jekyll, Katarina whirled on Ellie, her amber eyes blazing. “Don’t you dare ask me if I’m okay because I’m not! Nowhere close! What good is all this?” She flung her hand in the direction of the screen. “So now we know for sure he has my daughter, so what? We’re nowhere closer to finding her than we were before we sat on our asses watching TV like a couple of stoned teenagers.”
Breath quickening at the surprise attack, Ellie reminded herself that not even an hour ago, she’d worried that they’d been wasting time too. Kingsley had Katarina’s daughter. The woman had every right to be upset. “This is all just part of the process of how we hunt people down. Sometimes it takes time, but we’ll get there.”
“Time? We don’t have any time!” Katarina jumped to her feet, her teeth bared beneath her snarling upper lip.
Ellie stood too, jamming her fists on her hips. She understood all too well that time was a luxury they didn’t have, but she was tracking the leads the best she could. “Do you have a better idea? If so, let’s hear it. Either put up or shut up.”
Katarina’s face contorted, and her right hand balled into a fist. Ellie braced for impact, but the other woman pivoted first and clenched her fingers around the chair instead. “Enough with this two steps behind bullshit and letting him call all the shots. The only way we’re going to catch Kingsley is if we quit giving chase and figure out how to get ahead of him. We need to dig into his bag of tricks and draw him out.”
“Good in theory, but how do we do it?”
Katarina stared at the image of Bethany’s profile a long m
oment before turning to Ellie. “Do you still have that cell phone Kingsley sent?”
A pit opened up in Ellie’s gut. “I’m not sure I like where this is going.”
“Tough shit. Do you want to find your mother or not?” Ellie gave a reluctant nod, and Katarina’s eyes hardened. “That’s what I thought. Get me the phone, and I’ll find Kingsley.”
29
The two female guests tucked into the chairs behind the cheap, scarred dining table were like night and day in both mannerisms and attitude. The duality pleased me so much that when I reemerged from the kitchen with a plate, I paused to appreciate the intriguing picture they made.
Emaciated and wan in the chair closest to me was Bethany. Her hypervigilant twitches reminded me of a frightened mouse. All she needed was a set of whiskers and a long, skinny tail, and she’d make the perfect pet. Her wary eyes tracked me from beneath the curtain of blonde hair that obscured her face, the strands lank and stringy from lack of a recent shampooing.
After those initial few snafus when she’d been determined to fight me, her training was progressing nicely. Those refrigerator sessions had proven invaluable in my quest to bend her to my will. Not too much longer before her weaker, childish will snapped like a dry twig beneath my foot, leaving her poised to do my bidding.
My gaze shifted to the dining room’s other occupant. I couldn’t quite repress a sneer. Ellie’s mother sat upright in the chair, her posture more suited to tea with the royal family than the predicament she was in. Still so high and mighty, staring chilly disdain down her nose at me at every opportunity, as if her hands and feet weren’t tied to the chair, and that wasn’t a gag preventing her from speaking. Her haughty attitude couldn’t conceal the fresh grease streaks that marred the once elegant peach blazer or the coral lipstick smeared across her left cheek.
The regal tilt of her chin, the patronizing stare, the exquisite posture, all traits that reminded me of Letitia. Except Helen Kline couldn’t hold a candle to Letitia Wiggins because the woman seated at my table achieved power through no actions of her own but as a byproduct of her husband’s and family’s wealth. The far bigger sin, though, was in how she’d squandered her advantages.
No wielding, no manipulating, no bending others to her will. No, Ellie’s mother flitted from charity to charity, wrapped up in the erroneous belief that such fundraising efforts for the downtrodden would fill her vapid life with meaning.
Letitia never made such repugnant, wasteful choices or took her power for granted. No, my cunning headmistress wielded hers like a weapon. Had devoted herself to teaching the lessons of power and control to the soft, spoiled adolescents at Far Ridge.
I was proof of that, and due to my former headmistress’s meticulous training, Helen Kline would soon learn her money was useless here.
The image of that proud woman bound in such a similar fashion to Ellie when she’d graced my warehouse all those years ago sent delight feathering across my skin.
Like mother, like daughter.
I stepped between my two reluctant guests and set the plate down in front of Bethany. When she spotted the thin sandwich cut into identical halves, her chalky tongue poked out and dabbed at cracked lips. Her body quivered, but in testimony to the progress I’d already made, she didn’t fall on the offering like a rabid beast.
“Good girl. You’ve learned how much Papa dislikes it when you eat before asking. Kids these days can be so entitled, wouldn’t you agree, Mrs. Kline?”
The snobby old hag refused to even acknowledge that she’d heard me. I was tempted to grab my pliers and teach her that such insolence wouldn’t be tolerated, but no, too soon. The stronger they were, the more I enjoyed stripping their illusion of strength from them, bit by delectable bit.
Today we’d start with a less physical lesson.
“My dearest Bethany, there are far too many people out there who believe that taking care of one another is the key to making the world a better place. Sweet, I suppose, but egregiously misguided because, in fact, the exact opposite is true. The more we give people things for free without forcing them to earn them, the worse the world is for all of us.”
I nudged the plate toward Bethany and smiled benevolently at her dirty blonde head.
Her nostrils twitched, but she didn’t move a muscle.
“You see, in the end, strength is what matters most. Strength and power. If we provide for the weaklings among us, how will they ever learn to grow stronger? There’s a reason that the saying ‘survival of the fittest’ has persisted over the centuries.”
After allowing her a moment to digest that kernel of wisdom, I launched into the current lesson. “As I’m sure you’ve noticed, there are three people at the table this lovely afternoon, but alas, only two halves of a sandwich. Your task is to select who will dine on peanut butter and jelly and who will go to bed with an empty belly.”
Bethany released a tiny, excited squeal. “Really?”
I lifted a finger to caution her. “Now, before you choose, it’s my duty as your teacher to point out that your actions will have consequences. First, I understand how tempting it will be to eat the entire sandwich yourself. I also suspect that, having a sweet heart, you will be tempted to split the sandwich with the pretty woman who tried to come to your rescue at the museum. Before you go with either of those options, though, I urge you to consider the potential repercussions very carefully. I beg you to double and triple check that you aren’t making poor decisions based on hunger, which can lead even the smartest person to act irrationally. One crucial point to keep in mind at all times is…” I lifted a single finger. “Who wields the most power and,” I lifted a second one, “will my choice put me on their good side or bad side?”
Bethany’s hollow eyes skittered from the sandwich to my face and back again. Her teeth ripped at her lower lip until the chapped skin bled as she battled out the options in her head.
She had yet to choose when the doorbell rang. The shrillness whipped my head in that direction, my spine rigid with a combination of annoyance and misgiving. I wasn’t expecting any callers.
“Stay put. I’ll be back in a flash.”
As I passed Ellie’s mother, I patted her head like I would a stray dog and savored the instant mood boost when she tried to jerk away.
Oh, I’ll bring you to heel yet, bitch. Just wait and see.
Apprehension took over as I bent down to peer through the peephole. Once I comprehended the perfectly groomed woman who graced my porch, the only sensation my frozen body experienced was complete and utter shock.
Three sharp, perfect raps on the wood followed, and the racket knocked me from my stupor. Digging the key from my pocket, I unlocked the bolt and pulled the door open. My heart hammered in my chest, though I managed to keep my reaction from my voice. “Well, well, well. I see we’re as demanding as ever, aren’t we, Letitia?”
The icy intensity of Letitia Wiggins’s eyes as they raked over me from head to toe hadn’t thawed a bit in the two-plus decades of our separation, nor had her immaculate appearance. Age had yet to claim her regal bearing or delicate beauty, though her fiery red mane had been swapped for platinum blonde.
Even after so much time had passed, her presence struck a hammer blow to my lungs. I gaped, dizzy as the oxygen rushed free in a startled gasp.
“So, it is you,” she murmured. “When you first opened the door, I wondered.” She nodded to herself, then switched to a snappier tone. “Now, don’t just stand there gawking at me, Mr. Kingsley, invite me in.”
Without giving me a chance to do exactly that, she swept inside, pivoted, and pushed the door shut.
Rattled, it took me three attempts to fit the key into the lock. When I faced her again, her elegant hands were balanced on her still slim hips. One dainty shoe tapped a staccato rhythm on the floor. “I cannot tell you how dreadfully disappointed I am that the first occasion we’ve had to meet since our academy years occurred because I felt compelled to scold you for acting like an absolute f
ool. Because of whatever antics you’ve gotten up to, a ridiculous policewoman with even more absurd hair showed up and ruined my salon day.”
As surprised as I was, I managed a clever retort. “Not your spa day, how very taxing.”
With a huff, her frosty gaze traveled across the house, scrutinizing the contents of the living room with that critical air that dredged up long dormant memories. When she finished, she granted me an approving nod. “I’m pleased that you haven’t forgotten my lessons about organization and tidiness.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Good. You know, I was quite surprised when I received your invitation to visit you in the mail, though it has been such a very long time. But, silly me, now is hardly the right moment to dwell on such things, is it?”
That same siren’s smile I’d spent countless nights dreaming of lit up her face. When her warm palm cupped my cheek, that ancient thrill sizzled beneath my skin.
“My darling boy, have you missed me over the years, the way I’ve missed you?”
I disliked the sudden difficulty I experienced when I swallowed or the clamminess that broke out beneath my shirt. “You know I have. I never wanted us to be separated the way we were.”
“Of course not, although I’m sure you’ve managed perfectly fine without me. I do hope you think back on our time together with fondness every once in a while. All of those afternoons we spent in my office as I helped transform you from a weak, needy boy who lacked self-control into a strong, disciplined young man.” She pressed a palm to her impressive bosom and heaved a theatrical sigh.
“I do remember those days fondly. I credit you, in large part, for the man I am today, and my accomplishments over the years.”
At my compliment, she arched her back and all but purred. “Let me have a better look at you.” The slow circle she prowled around me was so reminiscent of one of our secret academy sessions that nostalgia filled my mouth like warm honey. “My my, did you make a deal with the devil? Because time has been ever so gracious to you. Quite a transformation, bravo.”
