Obsessed

by Devon Scott

  Neither of which will get him very far.

  Later on that day, after successfully completing the second job, Damian pulls into a Wendy’s parking lot. He heads for the men’s room and once inside makes sure he is alone.

  Damian reaches for his cell.

  Without preamble he drops the phone to the tile floor, stepping on it hard with the heel of his boot.

  Twice.

  Damian picks up the crushed pieces of plastic and metal and casually tosses them into a trash receptacle by the door.

  He washes his hands, checking himself in the mirror before exiting.

  A Number Five with a Sprite to go, and then it’s back to the Impala for the long drive home.

  His head is throbbing, yet he’s grinning.

  All in a day’s work, he muses.

  Chapter 35

  Kennedy spends the morning with Daniel in Azela Coffee Shop on Eighteenth Street. She had swung by the office to pick him up, but hadn’t gone inside for fear that Jackson Blair would be cross with her. They chose Azela because it wasn’t overcrowded, as Tryst inevitably would be, even at this time of morning. They chat for a few minutes before getting down to business.

  Daniel has nothing new to report. The staff is treating Kennedy as if she is off on vacation. No one mentions the e-mail or the photos. It is almost as if the incident had never occurred.

  They drink herbal tea as they work on a number of projects. By two in the afternoon, they pack up their legal pads, laptops, and BlackBerrys, and head to the car. She drops him back off at the association and then drives home.

  The message light on her cordless phone is blinking when she arrives. Kennedy drops her keys and BlackBerry on the counter and picks up the receiver to listen to the message. As she’s waiting, she opens her laptop and boots it up.

  Call received an hour and ten minutes ago from an unknown number.

  A feminine voice.

  “Hey, you. I know you’re tied up in meetings for most of today, but I just wanted to tell you, I’ve been unable to get out of my mind what you did to me last night. Oh my God, you always know what I need, but last night? Last night you outdid yourself! Seriously, the feeling was amazing! I can’t even describe it, other than to say I came so hard I was practically numb afterward. And no, I am not complaining. You are truly wonderful. I love you so much. Tonight, I’m returning the favor. Ciao bella.”

  Kennedy’s breath is arrested.

  She replays the message, listening carefully to the words and the way they are enunciated. When it is done, she saves the message then calls up the other saved messages from her phone. She finds the one she is looking for—an unknown voice mail from a female that came in over a week ago. She replays it, noting that the voices are indeed the same.

  Same woman.

  Unknown number for both.

  Kennedy hangs up the phone.

  She sighs heavily.

  I need to let Joe know about this, she tells herself.

  Should I call him now?

  Or Michael first?

  Instead, she logs in to her computer, while checking her watch.

  Call Michael first, and let him know another voice mail came in. Then call Joe.

  Okay.

  In a minute.

  Kennedy brings up e-mail. Quickly scans her in-box. Nothing out of the ordinary. A bunch of spam. Penis enlargements, offers for Viagra. A notification that her Amex bill is now due.

  Today is payday.

  Shit!

  Kennedy almost forgot, seeing how she’s not at work. She recalls that she needs to pay some bills by the end of the week.

  She opens a fresh browser window and types the URL to her bank. Logs in while contemplating the calls she needs to make. She’s procrastinating and knows it.

  Over the last few days her heart rate had actually calmed itself down.

  No new messages.

  Joe has been working the case.

  Michael and her—while things were strained, they were still good.

  She’d been keeping busy, focusing on work.

  But now this.

  Kennedy’s mind is whirling.

  All of a sudden it’s back. The threatening e-mails, the incriminating photos, the pain and humiliation.

  Now—another voice mail. Someone stalking them—and they are not letting up.

  Kennedy suddenly notices something strange.

  She directs her attention to the screen in front of her.

  She’s staring at the online banking page. Down the left side is a column of menus: Account Information, Transfers, Bill Payments, etc. She had clicked, as she does each time she logs in, Account Information to see her total balances—checking and savings.

  Her check is directly deposited into this checking account—their joint checking. Kennedy pays the bills from here. A portion of their checks is transferred each month into savings.

  She stares now at the balances.

  Checking: $5,372.57.

  Savings: $622.08.

  Suddenly her veins go cold.

  That can’t be right.

  She clicks on checking. Her check had posted last night, as it should. She moves to savings.

  A balance of $622.08.

  Wire transfer of $12,000 three days ago.

  Wire transfer?

  Twelve thousand dollars?

  Their entire savings transferred?

  Kennedy lets out a low moan while reaching for the phone.

  Chapter 36

  She speaks without preface.

  “Please tell me you haven’t done something with our savings!”

  Kennedy’s voice is near frenzy. Michael’s response is equally frantic.

  “What are you talking about? I haven’t touched our savings account.”

  “Oh God!” she wails.

  “Kennedy? What happened?”

  “Twelve thousand in savings. Gone. Wired out three days ago. I gotta get to the bank!”

  The line goes dead.

  “Kennedy? Kennedy, WAIT!”

  He stares incredulously at the lifeless phone. He speed-dials his wife, but gets the beep in the midst of ringing that signals she’s on a call. He leaves a quick message.

  “I’m leaving the office now. Call me!”

  Michael grabs his jacket and makes it to the hallway in three steps, calling out to his assistant as he heads the opposite way toward the bank of elevators. “Something’s come up. I’ve got to leave, but I’ll be cellular.” She gives him a vacant stare, but Michael isn’t focused on her look.

  Michael’s wondering who snatched their savings.

  And how.

  The afternoon is a blur.

  Kennedy and Michael are at the bank for over an hour, screaming at the befuddled bank manager as tellers and customers look on in muted disbelief.

  Joe arrives and takes over, declaring it a crime scene. He ushers Michael and Kennedy outside because their nerves are shot and there is nothing left for them to do here.

  The manager, a wiry white woman with bleached hair and an imported accent, has no answers.

  Someone with appropriate authorization issued a wire transfer three days ago via the Internet. They possessed the proper ID and password, as that’s the only way they could log into the bank’s website and initiate the transfer.

  Receiving banks: Two separate banks located in Atlanta, Georgia.

  Six thousand dollars wired to each account.

  Name of the recipient(s): Unknown.

  Joe is obtaining a warrant, but it may be several days before they know anything definitive. It’s out of his jurisdiction. Since the FBI will be getting involved, getting cooperation may be a problem. He’s going to speak to his captain, see what can be done to make sure he stays in the loop. He’s thinking of flying down to Atlanta to serve the warrants, assuming the department will allow it.

  Michael and Kennedy are like zombies. They want to know one thing: What will be done concerning their money? The bank manager is noncommittal. It’
s a criminal matter now. It depends on what is found in Atlanta.

  Michael directs the bank to take appropriate actions to safeguard what’s left in their checking account.

  Kennedy goes one step further.

  She clears out her checking and savings.

  Everything that’s left.

  Demands the balance in cash.

  Then Michael takes his exhausted wife home.

  Chapter 37

  What Kennedy needs the most right now is rest.

  Michael calls in a favor with a Howard University buddy turned physician. He prescribes Kennedy a tranquilizer and sedative.

  Michael turns off her BlackBerry (a feat in and of itself, but she’s much too exhausted to put up a fight) and leaves her on the couch while he goes to pick up Zack.

  When father and son return a half hour later, she’s out cold.

  Michael makes a few decisions and some phone calls.

  He calls his parents, his job, and consults with a close friend. He tells his son over Chinese food that they are all going away for a long weekend, then proceeds to pack for the three of them.

  He takes enough clothes for four days.

  Sends an e-mail to Zack’s teacher to advise her of his impending absence.

  Has a brief conversation with Joe to alert him that he’s taking his family out of town. He asks that Kennedy not be disturbed, that any new developments be funneled through him.

  Then he piles his son, his sedated wife, and their bags into the Range Rover.

  At a little after eight PM, Michael steers his family out of the District of Columbia and onto 95 North for the long drive ahead of them.

  The trip to Ithaca, a quaint little town in upstate New York where his parents reside, takes a good seven to nine hours. Michael is tired, but he is determined to drive straight through the night, stopping only when his family needs him to.

  Michael is taking his family back home.

  Where they can relax and be safe from harm.

  Kennedy opens her eyes around nine the next morning.

  She sits up, disoriented, glancing around frantically for three to four seconds before she recognizes her surroundings.

  She finds herself in a good-sized guest room in the midst of a king-sized bed, high off the floor. The down comforter is weighty; the oversized pillows perfect. Directly across from the bed is an old oak chest that sits between two windows. Dark wooden shutters keep out the morning light, but as Kennedy’s feet touch the cold wooden floor, she crosses the space quickly to the windows on the balls of her feet, flinging open the shutters and letting in the brightness of a new day. Snow covers the ground. There’s a tall red barn off to her right. Behind that is a chest-high fence made of wood that runs parallel to the barn and contains thirty cattle. She watches them for a moment, observing the small brown calves nuzzling against their mothers as their breath is expelled from wet snouts.

  Michael is in the kitchen downstairs frying up bacon and percolating coffee. Kennedy arrives in a terry-cloth bathrobe, with thick pink socks on her feet. Michael kisses her forehead and smiles.

  “Where . . . where is Zack?” she asks uncertainly.

  Michael grins.

  “He’s with Nana and Pop Pop. They’ve taken him to Rochester. They had some errands to run and people to visit. I told them to go ahead without us. Figured you needed your peace and quiet.”

  Kennedy blinks. Michael pours her a hot cup of coffee. “When did we get here? I don’t recall . . .”

  “You were out of it last night, thanks to the medication. We drove through the night. Got in around three-thirty AM.”

  “I slept the entire time?” she asks, eyes wide.

  “Yes. To say you were exhausted is an understatement.”

  Kennedy nods. She sips at her coffee.

  “I’m making omelets with ham and cheese. Got some fried onions that I’ll throw in as well.” He hands her a slice of just-cooked bacon. She bites into it.

  “I’m ravenous,” she says after swallowing the pork.

  “I know, baby. I got you covered.”

  “Thank you, Michael.” Kennedy puts her arms around her husband’s neck and kisses him on the mouth. His arms go around her waist as he returns the passion.

  “After breakfast I want you to take a hot bath or a shower and then just relax. There’s nothing to do for the next few days but chill and enjoy your family. Okay?”

  Kennedy nods silently. She sighs, remembering everything that has transpired lately.

  “Any word from Joe? The bank?” she asks cautiously.

  Michael reaches out to stroke her shoulder.

  “Do me a favor and try to give that a rest, at least for a day or two. I know it’s hard, but Joe is on the case. There’s nothing more we can do. When Joe learns something, he’ll call. He knows we’re here.”

  Kennedy nods once.

  “Okay.”

  “I put in a call to a CPA-slash-attorney I know. He’s going to check into the bank incident and let me know what our options are. But basically he said not to worry. The law is on our side.”

  Kennedy stares at Michael for a moment, processing his words.

  “Love you,” she responds plainly.

  “Love you, too, Kennedy. And I will not allow this guy, whoever he is, to destroy our family. I simply won’t allow it.”

  And with that, Michael returns to the task at hand.

  Nourishing his woman.

  After a scrumptious breakfast, Kennedy takes a long, hot shower. She dresses afterward and joins Michael outside, where he is splitting logs around back. A light snow is coming down, but the temperature feels nice. She is warm, dressed in layers and the L. L. Bean goose-down parka that Michael brought from home. Kennedy helps by stacking the freshly split logs against the back of the house. The work is invigorating, and she finds that she quickly forgets their troubles out here on eleven acres of farmland that has been in the family for generations, where the air is crisp and clear.

  They make their way over to the barn next, where Michael grabs two large bags of chow and slits the opening with a serrated knife, dropping the food into a six-foot-long plastic trough. Then, while Kennedy waits behind a steel fence, Michael trots to the back of the barn over hardened mud and opens the back gates, stepping aside as the cattle rush in, eager for a spot at the trough. They push and shove one another as Michael and Kennedy look on in earnest, feeling sorry for the calves, who are simply too small to maneuver their way around the larger animals to the trough.

  Five minutes later, the chow is gone. Michael and Kennedy leave the animals to mill about the barn entrance, their breath misting in the morning air, wondering when the next feeding time will occur.

  They make their way back inside, kicking off the packed snow from the bottoms of their boots in the rustic hallway.

  Michael prepares a crackling fire in a stone fireplace in the great room. They sit in front of it for a while, silently enjoying the warmth and the way the flames dance, coming alive. They each focus on the light and its movement, deep in the solitude of their own thoughts.

  Kennedy is hypnotized by the fire. She doesn’t see Michael get up or feel him kneel behind her. Silently, he peels off all her clothes. And she puts up no fight.

  She lies on top of the throw rug facing the raised hearth, her nipples distended not because of the air but due to her husband’s erotic touch. Michael undresses himself as his wife watches wordlessly. When he is fully nude, he mounts her quietly.

  Michael kisses his wife passionately, first on the mouth, then leaving a trail of kisses that begins at the nape of her neck and follows a line down to her waiting tender breasts.

  Kennedy can feel his manhood on her thigh. It is fully hard, and when he shifts his body to reach her other nipple with his tongue, she reaches for him, positioning the head against her moist lips, rubbing herself with him, feeling her clit pulse with pleasure as he drives against her folds, before guiding him inside her.

  She is alrea
dy wet, but Michael takes things slow, pushing himself in unhurriedly, expanding her insides as he goes, taking his time, in no rush, enjoying the feeling, this connection with his wife, the two of them joined together in this sensual way, Kennedy placing her hands on his well-sculpted ass and pulling him into her.

  When he is fully inside, entombed like a caterpillar in its cocoon, Michael lifts his chest off hers while kissing her tenderly, staring into her eyes as he slowly, begins to pull out. The feeling is exquisite. The heat ripples over their bodies as Kennedy moans. When he is dangerously close to falling out of her, Michael stops, keeping the head of his cock breached at her opening, rotating his hips as he pushes back in, this time a bit more aggressively. He increases his tempo, placing his hands on the insides of her thighs and pulling her legs up and spreading them apart. He glances down; Kennedy is observing him fucking her, taking her with an urgency that she shares. She encourages him with movement in her hips; she meets his hurried thrusts, watching him slide in and out frantically, his engorged cock filling her up in an instant before pulling out, leaving her desperately wanting more. Michael takes his fingers and intertwines them with hers, pressing his pelvis down upon her body, his forehead against hers as their flesh slaps seductively together.

  And then Kennedy is pushing him off, maneuvering onto all fours, glancing back, signaling him without words what she wants and needs next.

  And Michael, without a sound, complies.

  He positions himself behind her, hands on her ass as he thrusts deeply home.

  Kennedy cries out, not from pain, but from intense delight.

  The heat is blasting. Her face, neck, and breasts.

  The heat between their legs is blinding.

  They make love as if this is the last thing they will ever do.

  Kennedy is moaning incessantly, her howls increasing to a crescendo as she comes, her entire body shuddering like a tsunami that thunders toward land.

  Michael joins her moments later, crying out as if in excruciating pain, washing his seed lovingly into her cavern.

  Moments later they are curled up on the throw rug, bodies still connected, Michael spooning Kennedy from behind, a thin blanket covering them as they drift off to sleep.