by Ronica Black
“Monty, it’s all right,” Veronica said.
“She’s threatening my job,” he said.
“No, it won’t come to that, I promise. I sign your paycheck, not her.” She shot daggers at Kennedy. “Monty listens to me. He does what I tell him.”
Great. So your happiness is his main goal, rather than your safety.
“Then you better tell him to listen to me. If you want to live through this.”
Veronica walked away, her distaste for Kennedy evident.
The road ahead of them grew longer by the minute.
“When is Special Agent Douglas arriving?” Kennedy asked, suddenly anxious for the levelheadedness of her mentor. “Why aren’t there agents here?”
“He should be here any time now,” Veronica called from the living room. Shawn smiled weakly at Kennedy and led her into a large room furnished with two couches, a love seat, and two additional matching chairs.
Shawn offered Kennedy a seat and then sat slowly on the couch outfitted with a bed pillow and a blanket. Veronica sat next to her and Monty made himself comfortable on the ottoman of one of the chairs.
“As for the other agents,” Veronica said, “I told them all to go home. The house was too crowded and they were making Shawn nervous.”
“I told you I was fine,” Shawn interjected.
“No, you weren’t. They were scaring you with all their talk and running about.”
Kennedy felt the blood drain from her face.
“Ms. Ryan, if you are going to refuse our help, then why am I here?”
Veronica glanced at her quickly, turning from Shawn. Her eyes glinted with a rising temper. “Your help is exactly what I’m asking for. And that’s exactly what I expect. Not the changing and rearranging of our lives. I still run the show here, not you.”
Kennedy fought the urge to lash out at her. Veronica was stubborn and arrogant, refusing to listen, refusing the help, placing her family at greater risk with every move she made. Kennedy could take no more. She would go back home, where she was wanted and needed.
“I think there’s been a mistake,” she said. “I can’t help you under these circumstances.” She stood to walk out, her blood pounding in her ears. Nausea closed her throat as she thought of the two little girls so close to the age of her nephews. They needed to be safe. And she could only hope someone with more patience than she had would be able to help them.
“Wait,” Shawn called out. “Please.”
Kennedy stopped and stood very still. An elaborate clock chime sounded from a neighboring room in the house, letting her know the time. She studied the large professional photos on the living room wall. Photos of the Ryan family, denim clad with white blouses, taken in the dark sand with the gray surf behind them. They looked happy and loved, the girls laughing and cuddling with their mothers. Sighing, she turned slowly and met Shawn’s pleading gaze.
“Won’t you please at least wait for Special Agent Douglas? We desperately need your help, and I promise we will listen.”
Veronica tried to protest but Shawn wouldn’t have it.
“No, V, please. Think of the girls. Let these people help us.”
“But they want to change everything.”
“I’m scared, V,” Shawn said softly. “Look at how easily she got in the house. That terrifies me.”
“I know, and you don’t need to be scared like that. Which is why—”
Shawn shook her head in defiance. “No. I’m more frightened of doing nothing. Of letting this monster get us.” She wiped away a tear and took in a shaky breath. “Please, V. Listen to them.”
Veronica sat in silence. She studied Kennedy for a long moment.
“For me. For the girls,” Shawn added. Veronica’s face softened and she nodded her agreement.
“Okay,” Kennedy whispered, knowing she was still on shaky ground. But Shawn was right. They had to think about the girls. “I’ll just go get my bags from the driver.” With their lack of security, she knew there was no way she was leaving tonight.
“You’re staying here?” Veronica asked, surprised.
“Yes. For tonight. I have a lot of work to do. And I think you need me.”
“I don’t remember discussing that. We don’t need you to stay here. We only need you to find out who is behind this. We have security. Monty—”
“You still haven’t asked for my ID, Ms. Ryan,” she said. “From what I’ve seen in just the last twenty minutes, you desperately need me here. Your family needs me here.”
Veronica started to speak but stopped herself. Instead she closed her mouth and shook her head, then turned and tended to Shawn.
*
“Kennedy.” Special Agent Allen Douglas greeted her with a warm smile and a hearty handshake.
“Allen, good to see you. Sorry I was so gruff on the phone.”
“No need for apologies, I understand. And it’s always nice to see you. Wish it was under better circumstances, of course,” he said as they made their way into the living room where Shawn and Veronica waited.
“Seems like the only time I see you is under dire circumstances,” she said. Allen had been one of her instructors in behavioral sciences at the FBI Academy in Quantico. Now he worked out of the National Center for Analysis of Violent Crime. Allen, along with Kennedy, was one of the best in the field. They had worked together on dozens of other cases and she respected him like no other.
“If you don’t need me, I’m going to go back outside and walk the property with my team,” Monty said after showing Allen in.
“I’d like for you to stay,” Kennedy said. She saw the tiredness in Monty’s eyes and she knew, despite his bravado, that the shooting had probably seriously affected him. “You can fill the others in later.”
“Thank you, Monty,” Shawn said, with a smile from the couch. The big man returned to his seat with a long sigh.
“I see you’ve already made quite an impression,” Allen said, winking at Kennedy.
“Don’t I always?”
“Can we get started please? Shawn really needs her rest.” Veronica’s patience was once again wearing thin.
“Yes, of course.” Allen sat next to Kennedy and opened his briefcase to remove several files stored in large three-ring notebooks. “No one other than Bureau has seen these. Not even the local police. Not yet.”
Shawn held Veronica’s hand, both of them taking deep breaths. The letters would most likely cause quite a reaction. Kennedy had seen it before. When someone threatens your life and your loved ones, a deep-rooted fear you didn’t even know you had suddenly bursts through your soul and spreads like a wicked vine, twisting itself around your heart, your lungs, your mind. She felt for them at that moment. Especially for Shawn. This wouldn’t be easy.
Allen placed the notebooks on the coffee table before them.
“This is the UNSUB’s latest letter. Postmarked two days before the shooting.”
“UNSUB stands for ‘unknown subject,’” Kennedy said.
Allen opened the first binder and removed a letter inside a clear plastic protector. “These are copies. The originals are at our lab for forensic analysis.” He passed it over to Kennedy. Immediately, she noted the block magazine lettering. Allen spoke again.
“The UNSUB took the time to find every word in a magazine, cut it out, and paste it on a piece of thick white paper.”
At once Kennedy knew the UNSUB was higher functioning and organized. This was not at all random or spur of the moment. Not in any way.
“What does it say?” Shawn asked, trying to see.
“No, honey, you shouldn’t read it,” Veronica countered.
“Yes, she should. You both need to,” Kennedy said.
Veronica eyed Allen.
“Kennedy’s right.”
“Here.” Kennedy handed the letter to Veronica. “See if you recognize the wording or anything at all about it.”
“I’m not stupid, Agent Starling.”
Allen shot a look at Kennedy. She
knew what he was thinking. And she knew he would apologize for Veronica’s behavior later, feeling guilty and responsible for bringing her into this case. Allen was a smoother-over. The calm, strong glue that held most investigations together. It was the reason he was made field supervisor of so many cases.
Still, it was too bad that no one was going to hold Veronica Ryan accountable for her behavior.
Allen refocused on the letters. “After the shooting, we went through Ms. Ryan’s fan mail and discovered three letters. As you can see, they escalate rather quickly.” He handed them one at a time to Kennedy.
She arranged them appropriately, wanting to go in chronological order. She read the first one.
Hey Veronica Ryan. Ry-guy.
Can you see me now? Because I see you. I see us together. Why can’t you see that? You will soon.
My love for you will not die. I love you. I love you. I LOVE YOU.
She handed the letter to Veronica. She heard Shawn take in a quick hushed breath as she viewed the content for the first time.
“Do we really have to do this right now?” Veronica asked.
“The sooner the better,” Allen explained.
“It’s okay,” Shawn said, wiping her tears. “I need to know. We need to know.”
Kennedy read the next note.
Hey Veronica. My Ry-guy.
I miss you. I need you. I see your sadness. I know you need me.
I will die for you. I will do anything for you.
I love you. I want you. Why don’t you want me?
Soon, my Ry-guy, soon.
“What are you thinking?” Allen asked, running his hand over his lightly stubbled jaw.
“A lot of things,” Kennedy said, still examining the letter.
“Like what?” Veronica asked, skeptical.
“For one thing, our UNSUB is a woman.”
“A woman?” Allen asked. She understood his surprise. Women weren’t as likely to develop such strong sexual obsessions, let alone act on them with violence.
“Yes,” Kennedy said. “She’s in love with you.” She looked back at Veronica. “Or she sure thinks she is.”
“How can you be sure it’s a woman?” Shawn asked.
“You see here?” She held up the third letter.
Hey Ryan. Roni Ryan. Ry-guy
Miss me? I know you do. I love you. Nothing will change that. Your bitch wife cheats on you. I saw her with my own eyes.
She’s not good enough for you.
I am. Take me. I’m yours. Nothing will ever change that.
NOTHING. I LOVE YOU.
“See how personal she gets with her feelings? And how she’s jealous of you?” Kennedy directed the question toward Shawn. “And she doesn’t start off with violence. Not right away. She eases into it. She feels connected with Veronica. See the use of the nicknames? She’s trying to reach out. She’s got it in her head that she knows you personally. She wants your attention.”
“But I didn’t even get the letters in time to respond to her,” Veronica said, rubbing Shawn’s hand.
“She’s written before,” Kennedy said. “Before these magazine letters, there were handwritten letters. I’d bet my life on that.” She looked to Allen, who was going through his notes.
“I thought the same thing. I would guess that there’s probably close to a dozen or so, written before these.”
She filed through the magazine letters, eyeing them all closely.
“She wrote a lot by hand. Maybe ten to twenty. I’d say well beyond a dozen. And when she didn’t get the response she wanted, she started in with these. The more she felt ignored, the more threatening the letters became.”
“So ten to twenty handwritten letters from a female,” he repeated as he wrote.
“Yes. And look for them to be relatively normal and unassuming. They will contain personal questions aimed at Ms. Ryan, requests to meet up, maybe an expression of her feelings toward Ms. Ryan, but nothing violent. She didn’t want to scare Ms. Ryan off. Not right away, anyway.” She looked to Monty. “You want to come have a look?”
He stood and approached with caution, as if the letters might strike. He held each one carefully and swallowed hard as he did so. Kennedy could see the fear on his face.
“Seen anything like that before?” she asked him. “In the mailbox or on the property?”
He nodded. Shawn leaned forward. “You have?”
“Last week, there was some graffiti on the front wall.”
“Well, that could’ve been anyone,” Veronica said.
“No, it was like these. It said, ‘Soon, my Ry-guy.’”
“Oh my God,” Shawn let out, covering her mouth.
“I didn’t know what it was. I mean, I didn’t think it had anything to do with Ms. Ryan.”
“I’m glad you told us,” Kennedy said. Some would’ve never mentioned it, preferring to save face. “Thank you.”
He returned to his seat looking ashen.
“This is crazy,” Veronica said, shaking her head. “I’m good to my fans, I don’t understand this.”
“She’s not a fan, Ms. Ryan,” Allen said softly. “She’s obsessed with you. Feels that you owe her something because she’s convinced you’re meant to be together. This goes way beyond fandom.”
“Do you have poor boundaries with people, Ms. Ryan?” Kennedy asked, already knowing the answer.
“How do you mean?”
“Yes, she does,” Shawn interjected.
“I don’t understand,” Veronica said, looking first to Shawn and then to Kennedy and Allen.
“I noticed how casual you are with Monty,” Kennedy said. “He’s head of your security, yet you are as casual with him as you would be your brother.”
“I treat him like one of the family,” she stated proudly.
“I think what Kennedy’s trying to say is that—” Allen started.
“That I’m too nice.”
“In a matter of speaking, yes. You have an ability to make people feel like they know you on a personal level,” Kennedy explained. She knew the actress was known for her close relationships. She let people in, some of them before she even knew them well at all, and it had, in some cases, led to very public disagreements and hurts.
“And that’s a bad thing?”
“In this situation, yes.”
“This is my fault?”
“No, of course not. It’s just a good idea to distance yourself a little from here on out. This woman, for whatever reason, feels that she’s in love with you. That you two are meant to be together. And if neither you nor Shawn have had any extramarital affairs, it’s safe to assume that she’s unstable and that her fantasies are unfounded.”
They sat in silence as the word affairs lingered in the air. She hated to even suggest it, but she had to know. And she could only hope that Shawn and Veronica would be honest with her.
“There have been no affairs, have there?” she asked into the stifling silence.
“No, none,” Veronica answered, squeezing Shawn’s hand.
“Shawn?” Kennedy asked, needing to hear it from her as well.
“No,” she said softly.
“Then I would like to suggest that you and your family get away for a while while the FBI hunts this UNSUB down.”
“Don’t you mean lunatic?” Veronica asked with a scoff.
“No. No, not at all. She’s not crazy, Ms. Ryan. She’s organized and very justified by her own means. Believe me, it would be easier if she were crazy.”
“I see,” she said, shuddering at the words.
“What do you mean by organized?” Shawn asked.
“Her actions are premeditated and well planned. She’s manipulative, cunning, and narcissistic. Her actions are deliberate and methodical and she lacks empathy and remorse.”
“It’s all about control for her,” Allen added. “She feels powerless in life, therefore she strikes out and tries to control her victim.”
Kennedy studied the letters and shook h
er head. “I don’t know, Allen. I think our UNSUB may skew into the disorganized arena as well.” She met his gaze. “She’s very intense in the way she’s obsessing over Ms. Ryan…it would take up a lot of her time. Leading me to believe she’s a loner, with few social skills. She can’t relate to other people or form relationships. I would say she’s unemployed, lives alone, rarely ventures out, and she may be unkempt in appearance. And if she’s coming here and leaving her mark on the walls, I’d say she’s very bold and even fearless.”
“So what does that mean? If she’s disorganized as well?” Shawn asked.
Allen cleared his throat. “It means she’s also likely to act spontaneously. That her violent behavior could be acted out on impulse.”
“And that’s dangerous,” Veronica added softly.
“It’s very dangerous, Ms. Ryan. It means we will not be able to predict some of her behavior. Increased stress in her life will set her off. Something probably happened just before these magazine letters and the shooting itself. And now that she’s had a taste of the violence, she might want it again, to achieve her high or sexual thrill. I would say our UNSUB has some extremely dangerous qualities about her. Which is all the more reason you and your family should leave for a while.”
“I can’t, I’m shooting a new film next week.”
The words were spoken sternly, letting everyone know that putting the movie on hold was out of the question.
“Then perhaps, at the very least, Shawn and the kids should go away somewhere,” Kennedy suggested.
“I don’t want them to. They can just go with me.”
“Your presence on the set of the movie would be well known. It wouldn’t be safe for them there. Or safe for you either,” Kennedy countered.
“It’s better for them to go away someplace less exposed, Ms. Ryan,” Allen added.
