by Ty Patterson
Beth was haranguing Meghan, urging her to date, when Meghan’s phone rang. She picked it up, looked at the number and frowned.
It was an international one.
She accepted the call just as the ringing stopped.
She shrugged. ‘You recognize the number?’
Beth didn’t.
Meghan rose, went to the counter and got a couple of pastries for them. She quickened her steps when Beth waved at her.
Her phone was ringing again.
‘Hello,’ she answered breathlessly and turned on the speaker.
The line crackled. A female voice came on.
‘Hello…Peltier.’ Words got swallowed in static.
Beth’s eyes widened. Julie Peltier, she whispered. The neighbor from Baybush.
Meghan nodded and shushed her.
‘…your message...couldn’t … earlier… hear me?’
‘Yes, ma’am. The line is bad –’
‘…poor signal…deep…country,’ Peltier cut Meghan off. ‘Amy … in New York…no contact.’
Beth started to interject. Julie Peltier’s call was unnecessary. Meghan stopped her again.
‘…sad…poor woman… Maddie…hope ...he…improved…deserves…happy.’
‘Could you repeat that, ma’am?’ Beth couldn’t hold back any longer.
There was no reply. The call had ended.
She dialed the number back. The call didn’t connect. An automated voice said the cell was out of range.
She sent a text message, knowing it was futile. Julie Peltier hadn’t replied to their previous messages. She didn’t seem to believe in SMS messaging.
‘That was weird. Made no sense.’
She didn’t get a reply. She looked up at her sister.
Meghan had a distant expression on her face. Beth knew that expression well.
‘What is it?’
Meghan rose, as if dazed.
‘Follow me.’
Chapter 43
Meghan moved without thinking; she snatched her bag from their table, the car keys, and walked out, nearly bumping into several customers.
She heard hisses of annoyance and ignored them. She heard Beth’s insistent questions; she ignored those too.
She drove without conscious thought, traffic miraculously bending and twisting around their ride.
As she neared their destination, she made one call. Beth gasped when the caller acknowledged Meghan’s question. Meghan hung up, ignored her sister’s shocked expression and dialed another number.
This call took longer; it too confirmed her query.
She reached their destination, parked, and walked up the small drive, Beth close behind her.
She took a couple of deep breaths to clear the fog from her mind. Sound returned. The city returned. Life resumed.
She looked at Beth; her face was pale, her eyes wide. Meghan knew she herself wore a similar expression.
We were so wrong.
She composed herself and rang the bell.
Amy Kittrell opened the door and smiled widely when she saw them. She ushered them in and led them to the cozy dining room.
Maddie’s pictures were on the wall, as were a few family portraits.
‘You are right in time for coffee,’ the mother gestured at a couple of chairs and called out for her daughter.
She poured with her left hand, pushed forward the cup to Beth, and poured another one to Meghan.
‘What happened to your right hand?’
She bit her tongue the moment the words escaped her.
Way to go, Meghan. You couldn’t sound any more accusatory, could you?
‘Softball,’ Josh Kittrell answered, as he entered the room, placed a baseball bat on the table, kissed his wife, and seated himself.
They heard scampering feet and Maddie burst in, uttering a yell of delight. She hugged Beth, then Meghan, grabbed a cookie and disappeared.
‘I didn’t know you played,’ Meghan looked at the mother.
‘She didn’t,’ Kittrell laughed before his wife could reply. ‘She does now. Maddie threw a wicked one and it struck her right shoulder.’
‘She has a strong arm,’ the mother said lightly. ‘She nearly knocked my head off, once.’
‘You never defended him,’ Meghan said suddenly when the small talk had dried out. ‘You did when Maddie was present, but not when you were alone.’
Amy Kittrell’s eyes flashed to Meghan’s face and fell away, in the silence that followed.
Josh Kittrell looked puzzled, switching his gaze from Meghan to his wife. ‘What? What are you talking about?’
‘Honey, you know what she’s saying?’
‘Your wife didn’t defend you, Mr. Kittrell, when we asked her about your beating.’ Meghan answered him and watched a dull flush appear on his face.
‘Where are you going with this?’
Meghan didn’t respond to him. She half turned to have the mother fully in her vision. ‘In all the explanations, a couple of points bothered me.’
The mother looked up and waited expectantly. Josh Kittrell leaned forward.
‘Your husband made plans. He stashed money, identities. He grabbed Maddie as soon as she left our building.’
‘Why didn’t he take you?’
The mother’s face whitened as she sucked in her breath sharply. Her hands started trembling; she hid them under the table when she felt the twins’ eyes on them.
Meghan turned her head at a sound; a chair scraping.
Josh Kittrell stood, his face tight in anger. ‘You should leave. You two have helped us, for which we are grateful. But you should go now.’
Beth didn’t rise, taking her cue from her sister. Meghan leaned back in her chair, utterly relaxed. Utterly ready.
‘Why didn’t you take your wife?’ she challenged him. ‘Sure, your phones were bugged. You had followers. However, you gave them the slip that day. You could have called your wife from a payphone. Arranged an escape.’
A muscle started to tick on the husband’s temple. The red flush on his face became darker.
‘Why didn’t Kittrell make a move against your wife? He could have grabbed her and forced you into surrendering. We all thought your wife was surrounded by cops. Surrounded by people. That’s why he got no opportunity. But that’s not the reason, is it?’
‘What are you accusing me of?’ the husband shouted, his eyes dark and narrow.
Maddie came running when she heard his raised voice and looked inquisitively at them. She turned away slowly and disappeared, an uncertain look on her face, when her mom smiled at her and gestured, it’s okay honey.
‘Did you check out Darien Kile, the lawyer?’ Meghan ignored the husband’s outburst. ‘He specializes in divorce. Especially divorce that arises from domestic abuse. Your wife was readying for a separation.’
Josh Kittrell’s head whipped round to look at his wife accusingly. Her head remained bowed.
‘You remember Julie Peltier, Mr. Kittrell?’ Meghan didn’t let up. ‘Your neighbor from Baybush? We tried contacting her…she returned our call, finally, today.’
Kittrell’s nostrils flared and he breathed angrily. His finger pointed at Meghan. ‘You –’
‘She hoped you had improved.’ Meghan talked over him. ‘She said your wife deserved to be happy.’
‘That’s enough. Get out of my –’
Meghan didn’t heed him. She looked at him directly and continued remorselessly. ‘Your plan was brilliant. Making Maddie believe you were hitting your wife. Explaining it away to the cops, in the aftermath.’
She leaned forward, aiming her words at him, as if she could see their impact on his body.
‘You fooled us. The truth is you were hitting your wife. All along. You were abusing her.’
She waited for him to respond.
He didn’t. He stood there, a picture of rage, his harsh breathing filling the room.
‘The lawyer didn’t move on your wife, because he knew you didn’t care for her. H
e had bugged the house; he knew you were hitting your wife.’
The husband made an inarticulate sound; Meghan cut it off with an imperious hand.
‘Don’t bother denying it. Julie Peltier is a witness. The NYPD can find recordings from the bugs if they look hard enough. They will.’
Meghan looked once in Amy’s direction who still hadn’t raised her head. ‘You controlled her. She didn’t leave you because of Maddie. Maybe she feared for her life. For Maddie’s life too.’
She paused and when she spoke, her voice was low and soft, but her words were diamond hard.
‘You are a wife beater, Mr. Kittrell.’
Josh Kittrell exploded with a roar of rage. He grabbed the bat and pushed his chair back.
It toppled.
‘Bitch.’ He yelled at his wife. ‘I shouldn’t have returned.’
He took a step towards her and swung the bat in a wide arc.
Maddie ran in on hearing the commotion.
‘MADDIE!’ Amy Kittrell shrieked.
‘No,’ Beth yelled and dove. She grabbed Maddie and took her out of the room.
The bat descended. Amy Kittrell flinched.
Meghan hurled herself over the table, across it, and came between the bat and the mother.
The bat landed on her right shoulder like a sledgehammer. She screamed in agony and crashed back into Amy.
They fell to the floor, Meghan on top of her.
Kittrell advanced, the bat rising over his head.
Evade, thought Meghan dimly, trying to think over the burning in her shoulder.
The bat started falling.
No room.
She curled tight and braced herself for the blow.
It never came.
Beth attacked Kittrell from behind with a feral cry. She pounced on his back and grabbed his bat.
Kittrell stumbled. Lost the weapon. He whirled and yanked Beth by her hair and backhanded her.
She crashed into a wall.
That’s my sister!
Meghan saw Beth’s head slam against the wall as she slid down to the floor.
Rage flooded her. Brought her to her feet.
She grabbed Kittrell by a shoulder and swung him around.
Later, much later, Beth would say she was snarling.
Meghan wasn’t conscious of that. She had eyes only for Kittrell’s red face.
Her right fist sank into his belly; a cry escaped her when fire radiated from her shoulder and spread through her body.
Ignore. Compartmentalize.
Her left fist curled and its fleshy base hammered the husband’s chin.
More effective than knuckles, Zeb had coached them.
Kittrell flailed out wildly.
She ducked under his arms and brought her knee up.
He doubled over with a grunt of pain.
She floored him with an elbow to his back, twisted his right hand behind him, and held him immobile with a knee on top of him.
‘Josh Kittrell,’ she panted.
‘This is a citizen’s arrest.’
Eight months later
It was a glorious autumn day in New York when Beth came into the office and found Meghan standing against the picture windows, staring out from their private bubble.
Leaves littered the sidewalk and turned burnished copper and gold as they caught rays of sunshine.
She joined her sister and studied her profile. Her green eyes were unblinking and were lost in thought.
Beth knew what her Meghan was thinking.
The Kittrell case was behind them; in the months that followed, a couple of Agency missions had cropped up.
Both of them had been successfully concluded and yet Meghan hadn’t stopped thinking of Amy and Josh Kittrell.
Josh Kittrell had confessed to domestic abuse and was serving a two-year sentence; a term that Darien Kile had skilfully negotiated.
Maddie had taken the breakup surprisingly well; perhaps she knew it was coming.
She spent a lot of time at Gramma’s home, with her besties, and their love helped her tide the separation.
Amy Kittrell took longer to bounce back. Her self-esteem, her confidence, had taken a battering, but they returned. The whirlwind that was Carey Landsman, stepped in, took charge, and helped Amy get her bearings back.
Meghan likes everything to be neat and tidy. She sees the world in black and white, Beth thought.
Kittrell brought down Dividing Zero despite the personal danger to himself and his family. He was also a wife beater. She can’t reconcile the two sides of him.
People aren't black and white. They are all shades in between. Meghan finds that hard to accept, sometimes.
‘Hey,’ she called out.
Meghan didn’t respond.
‘Sis? Meghan?’
The green eyes, so similar to her own, turned to regard her. A small smile appeared on Meghan’s face.
‘Maddie is happy, remember?’ Beth told her softly. ‘It all started because of her. Her mom is in a much better place now.’
Meghan nodded after a long while and her smile became a sunburst.
It was afternoon when Maddie marched into their office, Lizzie, Peaches, and Gramma in tow.
She was holding another girl’s hand; a dark-haired, doe-eyed, slim girl who seemed to be the same age as Lizzie.
She dragged the girl past a couch on which a brown-haired man was lounging. He rose at their approach and kept an impassive face when Maddie’s loud whisper filled the office.
‘He’s their driver. Ignore him.’
Maddie introduced the girl to the twins. ‘Percy, my bestie,’ she declared and then looked at Lizzie and Peaches and giggled. ‘One of my besties.’
‘Percy?’ Beth arched an eyebrow.
‘Persephone Minter, ma’am,’ the girl replied shyly.
Maddie nudged her in the ribs when Percy fell silent. ‘Tell them.’
The doe eyes turned dark when she looked at the twins.
‘My sister is missing.’
Coming soon
Defending Cain
Gemini Series, Book 2
BY
Ty Patterson
Bonus Chapter from Defending Cain
The blade slipped between Cain’s third and fourth rib. Effortlessly, like a knife cutting through butter. It punctured his heart and slid out again.
The piercing took just a few seconds. So smooth, so fast, that Cain didn’t know he had been knifed.
By the time his body told him, the assailant was gone.
All Cain saw was a departing back that got swallowed in the crowd.
He knew calling out was futile. He knew he was dying.
Cain looked down at himself. Blood was turning his black shirt wet and sticky.
They got me, finally.
His breath was coming short. His knees were starting to buckle. His pulse was racing.
No. I can’t die like this. I have to meet her.
She was standing at the other end of the crosswalk, waiting for the signal to change.
She was blissfully oblivious of Cain dying. She didn’t even know he was there.
No one knew. No one had yet spotted the blood on his clothing, his faltering steps.
He took a step forward. His knees collapsed. Blood emerged from his mouth.
Noise started to fade. Just as his vision started to blur, the signal changed and she started forward.
Towards him.
He reached out with his arms.
He had set out from his hideout early in the morning. He knew they would be looking for him. Everyone would be, not just them.
He was lucky he had one of those unrecognizable faces. You saw it, you didn’t remember it. Dark eyes. Dark hair. Healthy tan. No conspicuous hair styling. Ordinary body.
He dressed in black. His usual uniform when he was at his job. The job that he loved.
He emerged from the depths of Building Twenty Six. Made his way through the ruins, skirted discarded furniture and pigeon drop
pings and blinked in the sudden sunlight.
He turned back and looked at the building when he was away from it. Maybe it would be his last glance.
Building Twenty Six was part of an abandoned asylum in Queens Village, New York city.
It had once, almost a hundred years back, treated the mentally ill. The asylum had been deeded to the city by a descendant of one of the country’s robber barons. In its heyday, it had witnessed hundreds of patients being treated.
Changes occurred during the twentieth century. Medicines improved. Attitudes toward asylums changed. Budgets were slashed.
The descendants of the descendant mounted a legal challenge to claim back the land. A legal battle that moved very slowly.
The result was ruins.
In the busiest city in the world, amidst the bustle of the fastest moving metropolis, stood the abandoned asylum.
No human lived in it. No person ventured in it. Pigeons nested in it. Rats ruled it.
Cain discovered it when he was searching for a home for his hobby.
He had stumbled on the building quite accidentally. One moment he was in the Queens Village, exploring, the next, it was as if he was in a war zone.
Building Twenty Six became his abode. It was there that he practiced his hobby.
No one saw him. No one heard him. The pigeons swallowed any sounds from the building.
It was perfect.
It was during one of his experiments that he came to know of the conspiracy. She babbled initially, like the others. Cain paid no attention.
It was when he saw the desperation in her eyes, that he paid attention and listened.
What he heard, turned him cold.
Cain didn’t know fear. It wasn’t an emotion he had ever experienced. However, what he felt on hearing her, came close to it.
He questioned her. She was incoherent. Dying did that to a person. He leaned over her and shouted. With her last breath, she answered him.
Cain left the asylum early the next day, when dark hadn’t turned to dawn.
He went to Manhattan and lounged in doorways till the city stirred. He kept his face lowered always, knowing he was hunted.
