Security Measures

by Sara K. Parker

  Courtney struggled, her harsh breathing the only evidence that she was in any way distressed as Hunter crouched next to her and yanked her hands behind her back, taking over for Triss.

  “It’s her fault,” Courtney growled, her cheek to the ground. “It’s all her fault.” Her voice was gritty and strange, her eyes staring but not seeing. Hunter glanced toward Triss, saw her fumbling to pull out her phone.

  “I called Goodson on my way here,” he said, and she let the phone drop, leaning against a bleacher step and holding her arm.

  “What did you do, Courtney?” he asked, not expecting an answer. “What did you do?”

  “It’s all her fault,” she repeated, her voice nearly drowned out by the nearing sirens. “None of them were happy. None of them.”

  A sick feeling washed over Hunter as he held her down, though she wasn’t struggling anymore. He exchanged glances with Triss, and she seemed to read his mind, picking up her phone and pressing Record.

  “Did you kill them, Courtney?” he asked.

  “They wanted to go,” she said.

  “Did you kill them?” he asked again.

  “They wanted to go!” she yelled then, and then she was silent.

  Triss scooted closer. “You’re right, Courtney,” she said, her soft voice surprising even Hunter. “Your grandfather wasn’t happy.”

  “None of them were,” Courtney groaned.

  “So you gave them an out,” Triss said softly. Her tone didn’t match the sick realization in her eyes, but Courtney couldn’t see that. “Took some of their money for your troubles.”

  “They wanted me to have the money.” Courtney’s voice changed from an angry monotone to a strangled wail. “They wanted me to have it! But you couldn’t leave us alone. You couldn’t understand.” She let out a guttural wail of sorrow and rage that echoed through the stadium and sent a chill straight to Hunter’s core.

  A misguided nurse who doled out mercy killings? Or a greedy graduate student with a penchant for murder? He had a feeling the truth was somewhere in between, trapped in the deranged mind of this young woman none of them had really known.

  The sirens were close now, as law enforcement vehicles soon arrived on the street behind the stadium, and Hunter’s pulse started to slow. They hadn’t been able to save the four victims, but they’d managed to stop Courtney from succeeding a fifth time. Now, there would be justice, and he could rest knowing that Triss was safe. His gaze settled on her face, pale as the sun that began to rise behind the bleachers. Soon it would be time to say goodbye, but he still wished he didn’t have to.

  FOURTEEN

  Triss was tired. But not the sleepy kind of tired. She was the kind of tired that happens after living six years in survival mode. The kind of tired that happens after surviving several near-death experiences. The kind of tired that happens when fighting against all she’d ever wanted led her to a place where she had started to wonder why she’d ever fought it at all. And then discovered it was too late.

  She sighed, thinking about the weeks and months ahead. She’d need to request exemptions for her classes and take the rest of the semester off. Surprisingly, she wasn’t all that disappointed.

  The idea of rest, mental and physical, for the first time in her life, actually sounded somewhat appealing to her. She’d have to find something to do with her time, though, because she’d spent far too much time checking her phone this week—for a text from Hunter, a call from Officer Goodson or a message from the adoption agency. She’d drive herself crazy doing this for weeks.

  It was Friday now, and already she wished she could go back to school and work. She’d managed to escape Courtney’s attack with only a sprained ankle, a fractured arm and a minor concussion, and Roman had rewarded her survival with five weeks of paid vacation to finish out her Shield career. He’d jokingly explained that he didn’t think her brother or Hunter would be able to handle another hospital stay of hers. Still recovering, she wasn’t supposed to spend time in front of screens or do anything remotely taxing, even reading. That had left far too much time to think. The doctors had warned her that the more she rested, the faster she’d get better. So, she’d rested.

  Except that she hadn’t rested in years, so her version of resting entailed entirely too much thinking and processing.

  Courtney had confessed to the four murders in exchange for a plea deal that could allow for parole in thirty-five years, though she would be unlikely to be granted it. As suspected, she’d used her grandfather’s insulin while he slept to put him into a diabetic coma. She’d gotten more creative with the others. She’d injected bleach into Genevieve’s dialysis line, causing the fatal heart attack. Simple suffocation with a pillow for Connie Mays, and dissolved painkillers in Frank Townsend’s beer.

  Strangely, she hadn’t taken that much money from any of the victims—maybe because she was afraid she’d get caught. She used disguises at the ATMs and “borrowed” residents’ cars late at night. As for targeting Triss, it seemed that Triss had become a threat, limiting Courtney’s ability to follow through with the mercy killings she’d felt she was called to perform. Triss shuddered at the thought.

  The final question was how the evidence showed up in Zach’s apartment, and whether he’d been her accomplice.

  Courtney claimed that she’d just stored the supplies there—easier access because her apartment was in a far corner. Triss found that hard to believe, but trusted that the truth would unfold with time.

  Now it was Friday afternoon, and she was thinking that her head wasn’t hurting as bad, and one episode of a new show on Netflix couldn’t possibly do any more damage. She’d watch it with only a small amount of guilt, help herself to some hot cocoa from the kitchen and curl up on the comfy new bedding Kaye had bought for her.

  With no small amount of effort, she climbed into bed, turned on her television and set her phone next to her.

  She’d done a good job not thinking much about the adoption agency or Hunter in the past couple of days. There’d been a lot going on with the investigation into Courtney that had occupied her attention.

  The show came on, and she settled against the pile of pillows she’d made for herself, determined not to check her phone again, but within minutes, it dinged, and she glanced over to see an email notification.

  Her heart nearly fell out of her chest when she saw the name of the adoption agency pop up.

  She sat up quickly—too quickly. The room shifted around her as she turned off the TV and picked up her phone.

  Her hand shook as she swiped up to unlock the phone, then clicked on the email.

  Joy.

  She gasped, tears springing from her eyes at the image on her screen.

  Her daughter, without a doubt. Dark, joyful eyes set against a cherubic butterscotch face, bouncy curls in disarray. Her smile was wide and uninhibited, and two front teeth were proudly missing.

  She stared long enough for the screen to time out, and she swiped at it again, taking in the sight of the daughter she had carried for nine months and held for two days. The daughter she had sung to and read to in utero on long lonely nights in the teen crisis center, had desperately prayed for even after she’d stopped believing God would answer her prayers. The daughter whose life had driven every moment for Triss over the past several years, even if she had convinced herself she had learned to move on.

  Triss set the phone on the bed and swiped the mess of tears away from her eyes, then scrolled further in the email. She read a short note from the social worker, announcing that the adoptive family had been contacted—and that they welcomed the idea of connecting with Triss.

  Her heart pounded as she clicked on the message the adoptive parents had given the social worker to send to her, and then the message opened and she began to read.

  We have prayed this day would come since the moment Joy was placed in our arms. Yes, we kept
her name—you chose it perfectly, and you can see from the expression on her face that she lives it out.

  Triss didn’t realize she was sobbing until her eyes were so filled with tears that she could no longer read the letter. She dropped the phone onto her lap and gave in to the tears, the relief so palpable she had never felt such joy. Seeing her daughter, hearing about her life, being affirmed that she was not only okay, but also thriving—somehow it all gave Triss new life. New hope.

  She pulled herself together and kept reading, about Joy’s two younger siblings and the family’s life. Their family nights and camping trips, Joy’s affinity for singing and her ability to see the best in everyone. It reminded Triss of herself—how she might have been as a child if the world hadn’t shown its ugly side. By the time she had finished reading, she knew two things and two things only: first, yes, she was going to meet her daughter next Sunday like the family had offered. And second, she absolutely needed to see Hunter.

  She looked at the clock and started to call him but suddenly realized what day it was. Friday. Five past six. Josie’s talent show.

  She pushed herself off the bed, limping on her bad ankle, and shoved her feet into a pair of slipper boots. She didn’t even spare a glance in the mirror, but grabbed her purse and hurried out of her apartment.

  Kaye was the first person she found, and the woman looked up from her book, surprised.

  “Doctor says no driving,” she said, eyeing Triss’s purse.

  “I’m not,” Triss said, unable to contain her smile. “You are. Want to take me to Josie’s talent show? I’m already late.”

  Kaye jumped up so fast that Iris woke up next to her. “Just let me grab my keys! Come on, Iris, we have a show to watch.”

  * * *

  “Whose talent show is this again?” Iris asked several minutes later from the back seat as she snapped her seat belt.

  “Little Josie’s.” Kaye reversed too quickly out of her parking spot, then slammed on the gas down the yards of gravel to the wrought-iron gate.

  Triss laughed, grabbing the side pocket of the door for equilibrium.

  “Oh, that sweet girl,” Iris said with delight.

  The gate slid open in slow motion and Kaye glanced over at Triss, her gaze flicking from her eyes to her hair and to her red leggings and black slippers.

  “There’s a comb in my purse,” she said.

  “A comb won’t hold up to this mess,” Triss said, absently flipping down the sun visor and peeking in the mirror. “Oh, wow.” Maybe she should have taken those extra minutes to pull herself together after all.

  “Try the comb, dear,” Kaye insisted.

  Iris passed Kaye’s purse up, and Triss reached inside, pulling out a thin black comb with fine bristles. It was a sweet gesture, but the comb would break in her hair on the first pass-through.

  “It won’t work, but thanks for trying.” Instead, she worked her fingers through her hair by sections, loosening the tangles and taming the mess. She rummaged around in her purse and managed to locate a rubber band, which she used to pull her hair into a low ponytail. She looked at Kaye at the next red light. “Better?”

  Kaye sighed, but a soft smile formed. “Much. Anyhow, I doubt the love of your life would walk away because your hair’s a fright and you’re wearing your pajamas to his daughter’s school talent show.”

  “The love of her life?” Iris asked, leaning forward.

  “Josie and Levi’s handsome father, Iris,” Kaye said with good-natured annoyance. “When will you get your new prescription? You’re missing all the important stuff.”

  Triss broke into real laughter at Kaye’s words, her heart lighter than it had been for as long as she could remember. She had no interest in denying it. Hunter was, absolutely, the love of her life. But then, her smile fell. He might not be up to giving her another chance. She’d walked away twice, and he had no reason to believe that she could be trusted.

  The school was just around the next corner, and her heart sped up. She glanced at her leggings and wished she’d changed. “For the record, this isn’t pajamas,” she said, attempting humor even as nerves took hold.

  Kaye shrugged. “You’ve been wearing them for two straight days. I’m guessing you’ve been sleeping in them.”

  Triss couldn’t disagree.

  “Like I said, pajamas. But I doubt Hunter will mind.”

  “These aren’t slippers, either,” Triss said. “They’re slipper-like boots.”

  Kaye laughed at that and pulled into the packed school parking lot. “Okay.”

  Kaye found a parking space and the three women climbed out of the car. It was sunny and cold, and the school was silent. Triss paused and looked at her watch, immediately questioning her spontaneous decision.

  “What’s the matter?” Kaye asked.

  “Maybe I should wait in the car until it’s over,” Triss said. “We’re late. For all I know, I’ve already missed Josie. And I don’t want to make a scene and—”

  Kaye marched over and linked her arm through Triss’s good arm. “We’re here. We’re going in. Maybe you’re not too late. If you are, at least you tried.”

  Reluctantly, Triss let Kaye lead her toward the school, Iris flanking her other side. Triss imagined that this might have been what it would have felt like to have a mother, and she felt the years of experience Kaye had with her many daughters. Somehow, that was comforting, and she knew that no matter what happened, she wouldn’t be alone.

  The warmth inside the building wasn’t enough to cut the sudden chill Triss felt, but she kept moving toward the auditorium, anyway. The sounds of laughter beckoned their little group, and together they slipped into the darkened auditorium as an adorable nine-year-old finished up a series of surprisingly funny knock-knock jokes.

  “Sorry, we’re out of programs,” a greeter whispered to Triss, as she followed Kaye to a set of three seats nearby. There was nothing open closer to the stage, which was just as well. The auditorium was not that big, and they could see the stage fine.

  Kaye and Iris filed into the seats and Triss took the aisle seat, her heart rate settling as a trio of little boys set up their drums and began a fun take on “The Little Drummer Boy.”

  Triss peered out over the audience, unable to find Hunter and Levi in the shadows. As more acts went onstage and the hour grew late, she realized she must have missed Josie after all. Disappointment mixed with second-guessing her decision to come in the first place.

  “Maybe we should go,” she whispered to Kaye.

  Kaye glanced her way. “Let’s see it through.”

  Triss was about to insist, knew that Kaye would agree if she pushed, but then Josie’s name was called, and their attention fixed on the stage as Josie took her place on the center X and the spotlight illuminated her.

  She stood statue-still and unsmiling, her glittery red tutu-like skirt shimmering under the stage lights as the opening bars of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” played.

  For what felt like minutes, but was only long, terrifying seconds, Josie stood silently, missing her cue. The audience sat silently, too, collectively holding their breath as the little girl stood voiceless.

  “Oh, no,” Kaye whispered.

  Josie’s lips quivered, and Triss’s heart broke. Without thinking, she jumped out of her seat and jogged down the side aisle, ignoring her tender ankle and slowing down only as she made her way up the steps to the stage so she wouldn’t scare Josie.

  “Sorry I’m late,” Triss whispered as Josie turned to her, her eyes lighting in surprise. “Want a partner?”

  FIFTEEN

  Josie nodded, her nose pink and eyes wet from the effort not to break down in tears in front of her audience of peers.

  Triss offered her hand and turned to the microphone as someone with good sense in the sound room restarted the track.

  “I
was late for our duet,” Triss explained with a smile into the microphone, her heart hammering at the realization of what she’d just done.

  A few people chuckled and Josie looked up at Triss as if she was her forever hero. And then their cue came, and Triss started the song, hoping Josie would find her voice.

  She did. Within seconds, her voice joined Triss’s, and they took turns seamlessly at first, until Triss felt she could let Josie take over the verses. Her entire focus was on Josie, so much so that she couldn’t even bring herself to look out into the audience until the final chorus, when Josie reached up for the hand that she’d let go of and they finished the song together.

  Hunter’s gaze met hers, and Triss nearly lost her breath at the broad smile on his face, the sheer love in his expression. She had a feeling that stepping onstage had told Hunter all he needed to know about her commitment to him and his family. They finished their song and bowed together, walking off the stage to a standing ovation.

  Triss squeezed Josie’s hand and led her to the row where Hunter was waiting with Levi and Samantha. Hunter motioned for her to wait, whispering something to Samantha. Then he hugged Josie and scooted down the row to the aisle, his hand guiding Triss up the dark aisle to the exit.

  Kaye caught Triss’s eye as they passed, and she raised knowing eyebrows that made Triss feel like laughing again.

  But Hunter reached for the door and they were suddenly out in the silent lobby together, his hand dropping from her as he turned to face her. His expression was serious suddenly, and for an uncertain moment, Triss was afraid he was about to remind her of their agreement.

  “I don’t think Josie will forget this day for as long as she lives,” he said, and his eyes glistened with emotion. “Thank you.”

  Triss smiled, trying to catch her breath and form her thoughts. She’d rushed away from Harmony and to the school so fast that she hadn’t had time to think through what she wanted to say. “I couldn’t leave her up there alone,” she said. “But I’m sorry I didn’t dress for the occasion.”