by Ronica Black
“It’s not safe here,” Kennedy said. “I’m betting the UNSUB already has this house staked out and mapped. And remember how easy it was for me to get in today?”
Shawn grew paler, then spoke. “What about security? If we’re apart, then—”
“We will help you get new security,” Allen said.
“No,” Veronica said, shaking away her far-off look. “I want Monty with Shawn and the girls.”
Kennedy sighed. “I’m afraid he’s not trained—”
“Now just a second,” Monty said, standing. “I may not be some fancy FBI agent, but I’ve been doing this for fifteen years.”
“I’m not attacking you personally, Mr. Hessinger. I’m just concerned you’re in way over your head here. Your security team is small and probably unqualified in a lot of ways. The security here at the house is terrible. Things need to change. Help is needed.”
“Then hire some new people and train Monty and the guys,” Veronica said. “Do whatever you have to do, but he stays. He’s tried to make a bunch of unnecessary changes that I wouldn’t allow. That’s not his fault.”
Monty’s face reddened and his jaw flexed. Kennedy knew it was a useless fight.
“You teach him, Agent Starling,” Veronica said, holding her gaze. “You go with my family and you show him how.”
Kennedy felt floored, like her feet were nailed to the ground and the walls were closing in on her. She had to get back home, to her family, to watch after them. “I couldn’t possibly—”
“If you go, then I’ll know they’re safe.” Veronica looked completely serious and her voice had softened considerably. “I’ll feel better if I know you’re with them.”
Kennedy didn’t know what to say. A few moments earlier Veronica was throwing daggers her way and doing her best to claim Shawn and her “property.” Now she wanted Kennedy in their life.
“I need to work on the case,” Kennedy said. But Veronica was quick to come back, aiming her question at Allen.
“Can she work this case from a different location? I’m sure you’ve done it before.”
“Ms. Ryan—” Kennedy started.
“Look, out of the dozen or so agents who have been here the past couple of days, you’re the only one who told me like it is. You know what you’re doing and you’re honest and forthright. I want you with my family.”
Kennedy didn’t respond but merely shared a glance with Allen. She knew what he would say. He would tell her to go. This was a famous family and the Bureau was doing all that it could to help them. But Kennedy was still hesitant. She was a trained behavioral profiler, not a bodyguard.
Even so, she knew the ropes, and most of it was common sense. And hadn’t she been playing bodyguard to Keri and the kids?
Allen cleared his throat. “This is something we’ll have to discuss.”
“What’s to discuss?”
He held up a palm. “There’s a lot to consider here, and I’m not saying no.”
Kennedy started to protest, but he looked at her and silently asked her to refrain.
“My guys and I, we know what we’re doing,” Monty said.
Allen pegged him quickly. “You need some help and you will get it. Regardless of Kennedy’s whereabouts.”
“It will be fine, Monty,” Veronica added.
Kennedy stood. “I need some air.”
Allen followed her, gathering his things. “Good idea.”
*
Yonkers, New York
She had missed. That knowledge sent her mind into a fit of pandemonium. All the practice in the world meant nothing if you couldn’t perform when the time came. She would have to work harder. Think about it some more.
If there was one thing she was good at, it was thinking about things.
How had she missed?
She grimaced at her reflection in the mirror. “Stupid bitch.” She leaned across the bathroom sink and fingered a thick strand of hair. Satisfied with the color, she dunked her head and rinsed out the bleach. The scent of it burned her nose. She liked it. And she liked it even more as she rose and studied her reflection. With a half grin, she began to towel dry her hair.
Veronica liked short, bleached hair. So short, bleached hair was what she got. She looked better than Shawn Ryan if she did say so herself. She thought of her and grew angry.
It had been seven days since her failed attempt to kill her.
Maybe the little bitch didn’t have a heart. Maybe that’s why she’d missed.
Yes, wasn’t that what he’d always said? “The blond ones are toys. They don’t think or feel. They are just there for amusement.”
She wrapped her bleached head in a towel and headed into the dining room of her tiny apartment. She eyed the table covered in magazines but decided to check the windows first. With the blinds pulled, she checked the small yard and the face of the neighboring building. No one was watching. No one was there.
Relieved, though only temporarily, she crossed back to the table and sat down to examine her latest letter. She was only missing one word now. The word “again.” Latex gloves on, she grabbed a magazine and began flipping through it.
For the most part, things had been running smoothly. No one had questioned her or even suspected that she might somehow be involved. She really didn’t think anyone ever would because she’d been so careful. The disguise she’d worn, the big man she’d hidden behind, all of it had been carefully executed. She’d also made sure the cameras had been parallel to her rather than facing her.
The cops were probably still analyzing each bit of footage, searching for her, the silent assassin.
Part of her was sure they would never get her. But another part feared being found. And yet another part…dared them. Again, she rose and went to the blinds. Again she checked to make sure no one was watching. She lived in a corner apartment; that way she had access to each angle of view. It was the only way she felt safe.
The sun was setting and that was good. Soon she would venture out for some food and more magazines.
She went back to the table and caught the television news about the shooting. Shawn Ryan had been released from the hospital after an overnight stay and was expected to recover fully. The police, at this point, had no suspects.
She smiled a little and looked back down to the word she held with her tweezers. Then, licking her lips with excitement, she pasted the word in its place.
She held up the newest letter to the light. Heart racing, she grinned as she read it.
I won’t miss again.
*
Scarsdale, New York
Kennedy couldn’t sleep. After her talk with Allen, she’d known she wouldn’t be able to. Instead, she sat on the queen-sized bed in one of the many guest bedrooms, going over the files on their UNSUB. The threatening letters were so intense, so personal and angry. She shuddered as she thought of the mysterious woman behind them.
She scribbled words in her notebook. Loner, paranoid, obsessive. Obsessions escalating to violence. Possibly a late bed wetter, raised in poverty level, broken home. Raised by an overly controlling or violent guardian. Unemployed. Ruled by fantasy.
She chewed on the tip of her pen as she paused in thought. Their shooter was driven by fantasy, no doubt thinking and obsessing about her actions before she executed them. And now that she had attempted the shooting, the UNSUB was left hanging, just waiting to reenact the fantasy once again. This time perfecting it.
Yawning, she glanced at her watch.
Two a.m.
A soft knock came from her door. She jumped up at once, ready to draw her weapon if need be. She’d made sure the house was locked up and she knew that Monty was downstairs, keeping guard. But nevertheless, she was uneasy.
“Agent uh, Kennedy?” It was Veronica but Kennedy didn’t relax even a little as she pushed open the bedroom door.
“I need to talk to you.”
Kennedy motioned toward the bed, offering her a seat. She noted that her face was red and puffy. S
he had been crying, and recently.
Veronica sat slowly.
“There’s something you should know.”
Kennedy waited in silence. She knew that whatever it was, it wasn’t good.
“When you asked us earlier about an affair…”
Kennedy swallowed hard with surprise. While the thought had crossed her mind, her heart now raced at what she was about to hear.
“I didn’t tell you the truth.”
“How so?”
“I’ve had an affair.” The words hung in the air like thick, stifling smoke. Finding it hard to breathe, Kennedy did the only thing she could think of. She asked questions.
“Just one?”
“Yes.”
“How long ago?”
“I ended things a couple of months ago.”
Jesus, Kennedy thought. This complicates things. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her thoughts went immediately to Shawn. Did she know?
“How long did the affair go on?”
“About six weeks.”
“Does Shawn know?”
“Yes, I just told her.”
Poor Shawn. Kennedy couldn’t imagine how she was feeling.
“Was it a woman?”
Veronica clouded, obviously stung by the suggestion she might’ve been with a man. “Yes.”
“Do you think this woman could be responsible for the shooting?”
There was another long silence.
“I don’t know. She didn’t take the breakup well at all. She yelled and screamed at me, even followed me for a while.”
Shit.
“Who is she?” Kennedy needed to know, but a part of her was curious as to just whom she would choose over Shawn.
Veronica took in a shaky breath. “Sloan Savage.”
Her brain searched for an image to accompany the familiar name. It didn’t take long. “The rock star?”
“Yes.”
Kennedy tried to picture Veronica having an affair with the punked-out lead singer of a widely popular rock band. She couldn’t understand it. What had driven Veronica into the arms of a wild rock star? There was obviously more to Veronica Ryan, different layers, deeper behavior.
“This changes everything. We’ll have to investigate Sloan fully.”
“Yes, I understand.” Veronica looked at her with watery eyes. “I’m sorry. I never meant for it to happen.” She swallowed back a sob.
It left Kennedy feeling uneasy. As if it was almost…forced.
Kennedy fought for something comforting to say, but there were no words. Only the obvious.
“Ms. Ryan, we’re going to do all we can in regard to your family’s safety.” She hesitated but then placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Okay?”
Veronica nodded and began to weep. Her body shook with uncontrollable sobs and she wiped at her tears as if she were angry at herself for crying. “I can’t believe what I’ve done. I knew I shouldn’t have, but I just couldn’t help it. Do you ever feel like that?”
Kennedy watched her helplessly. She didn’t answer, she wasn’t sure how.
“No, of course not,” Veronica continued, looking away. “You’re one of those people who has total control over everything in their lives.” She laughed. “You’re one of those perfect people, aren’t you?”
Kennedy cleared her throat as her uneasiness grew. Veronica was upset and distraught and focusing on Kennedy, her own pain and guilt far too great to face all alone.
Kennedy understood her pain, but she also couldn’t help but wonder how Shawn was feeling. She glanced up at the door, her ears straining to hear her cries across the large house.
“How’s Shawn?” she asked, unable to resist. Veronica fidgeted and sucked in a quick breath. Kennedy saw the hint of anger once again.
“I-I don’t know. If she’s hurting nearly as bad as me…”
“Is she still in the house?” Suddenly, she was alarmed and fearful that Shawn had left, alone.
Veronica looked at her in surprise and confusion. “Well, yes.”
“Is she okay?”
Veronica rose quickly, as if she were completely offended by Kennedy’s concern for Shawn.
“She’s fine. I mean—I’m sorry. I’m just hurting so bad.” Her stare locked with Kennedy’s, pleading for empathy. “Shawn is safe. She’s in the house, in our bedroom. I, on the other hand, am here crying in front of you.”
Why didn’t she want to talk about how Shawn was feeling? Was it because she felt too guilty or because she was too focused on herself? Whatever the reason, it was being made clear that Shawn was off-limits for the time being.
Kennedy sat very still, knowing that Veronica wanted her sympathy. Even if she had known what to say, she wasn’t sure if she would have offered it.
Veronica studied her for a long, painfully drawn-out moment. Then, taking a quick step back, she wiped her face and propped her hands on her hips.
“What now?” she asked. “What do we do now?”
“We stick to the plan. We move your family to safe ground while we investigate this fully.”
“Where to?” Veronica asked, all business now, her sadness replaced by cold indifference. It was like night and day, an emotional light switch simply turned on then off.
“Someplace secluded. Someplace Sloan or anyone else would never think to look.”
Veronica began to pace.
“We vacation in California. Shawn’s parents live there,” she offered, thinking aloud.
“No. It needs to be somewhere you’ve never been before.”
Veronica looked down as she walked. “Shawn’s always wanted a house on Hilton Head.”
“Does anyone else know that?”
“I don’t think so. She just confessed it to me a couple of weeks ago.”
Kennedy was vaguely familiar with the wealthy resort island located just off the South Carolina coast.
Kennedy stood. “I’ll have to talk to Shawn to make sure no one else knows. If all is clear, then it sounds perfect to me.” They would have to make arrangements right away and leave as soon as possible.
“I’ll have my assistant find a house,” Veronica said, ready to leave the room to go make the phone call.
“No,” Kennedy said firmly, halting her. “Let me do it. I don’t want your name attached to this in any way.”
Veronica stood still for a moment. Her nostrils flared and Kennedy could tell she was debating whether or not she should fight her on this. She wrung her hands and fingered the large diamond on her left hand. After glancing at it, she looked back up, wounded. “Okay,” she finally whispered.
“Are you still going to go film your movie?” There was a chance she might cancel the shoot to salvage her family. Some people would. But somehow Kennedy didn’t see Veronica doing that.
“Yes,” Veronica answered, raising her chin a little as she spoke. “Shawn and I think it best if we go our separate ways for now.”
Even though Kennedy hadn’t known Shawn for more than a few hours, she knew that Shawn valued her family immensely. The news of the betrayal must’ve shaken her tremendously. Kennedy could only imagine.
“Will you go with them?” Veronica asked, searching Kennedy’s face, once again pleading with her sad eyes. “With the affair and everything…” She paused as she took a deep breath. “Shawn’s really upset and I would just feel better knowing you’re there with them.”
“I understand,” Kennedy offered quietly. The thought of Shawn and the girls virtually alone and heartbroken on the tiny island left her feeling anxious and uneasy. Something in her drove her to want to protect them, to care for them. She’d already discussed it with Allen and they’d both agreed that she should go, at least for a little while, to help with the security at the very least. Sighing, she eased her hands in her pockets and spoke. “I’ll go. But only for a couple of weeks or until we catch the UNSUB. Whichever comes first.”
“Whatever you need to do,” Veronica said, offering a weak smile of grat
itude. She walked slowly to the door and then turned. “Please, take care of them for me.”
Kennedy held her gaze. “I will.”
*
The grass was green, so thick and green it reflected silver in the shining sun. Somewhere nearby a lawn had recently been cut, the scent of it sharp and heavy in the hot air.
Lying in the thick grass was a small boy’s bicycle, blue with Pokémon stickers stuck here and there along the frame.
People moved around it, hurriedly walking, talking, writing on small pads of paper, snapping photos. Many of them wore sheriffs’ uniforms or lightweight FBI vests.
She moved among them like a ghost, floating through the crime scene tape. As she knelt to examine the bike, the world around her blurred and slowed, the bicycle and its immediate surroundings the only thing she could see.
In the distance, she heard a wind chime and the back wheel of the bike began to spin. There was a Popsicle stick lying beneath the handlebars, still stained red. Ants feasted on the remaining sugar. The wind chime sounded again and suddenly she could see the bicycle upright with a child pedaling it around and around the long driveway. He steered with one hand while the other held the Popsicle up to his mouth. His blond hair blew up from his scalp in the breeze. His cheeks were bright and his feet bare.
As he continued to pedal, something caught his attention. A car at the end of the driveway. A man stood next to it, holding a balloon. It was bright yellow and shiny. It was a Pokémon.
The man walked toward him, balloon bouncing in the breeze. He came closer and then headed off the driveway and into the side grass, smiling, welcoming him to follow. The child did so, having to pedal harder in the grass.
“Do you like it?” the man asked, kneeling down to face him.
The child nodded, fixated on the balloon. It was Pikachu. He loved Pikachu.
“Would you like to hold it?”
Again the child nodded.
“Here, go ahead. But hold it tight, don’t let it get away.”
The child dropped his Popsicle and climbed off his bike, letting it fall to the ground. He took the string in his sticky little hand and grinned as the balloon bobbed over him, glimmering in the sun.
