Twelve Shades of Midnight:

by Liliana Hart

  Central Park, New York City

  “I’m going to kill her!”

  Hallie Barton felt the voice penetrate her. Nausea. Chills. Fright. Confusion.

  It was so loud. But no one was around. She concentrated on catching the breath that had been snatched from her lungs, counting off the seconds… One thousand one. One thousand two. One thousand three.

  A jogger/walker scooting his feet, eighty pounds overweight and at least sixty years old appeared to her right. The old man huffed and puffed so much, he could barely breathe let alone speak. It was impossible that she’d heard the jogger whisper in her ear. He’d been too far away.

  Overworked to the extreme. Coupled with severe anxiety. That was the go-to answer for her doctor. In other words, the job made her crazy and she was losing whatever mind she had left. She squinted at the first rays of sun sneaking over the rooftops and shoved the dark sunglasses onto her nose.

  She needed peace, one moment to recover.

  There was nothing quiet about New York. But she loved living here. Even in the middle of Central Park there was a steady rhythm. Her heart beat in unison with the background noise.

  It didn’t matter that her single room apartment could fit inside the living room of her mother’s home in Wichita. Everything went up to the sky in New York. Back home, everything spread out, leaving the horizon open.

  If there was something other than her mom that she missed in Kansas, it was the sunsets. Living and working here was her dream, though. She’d never give it up for a few minutes of orange and purple reflecting on the clouds. Her mother argued that it wasn’t the fast-pace of Manhattan, the convenience of mass transit, or something to eat every thirty feet that she adored. Nope, she argued that Hallie loved the chase and New York City had a lot of criminals who ran.

  There might be some truth in that. Okay, there was a lot of truth in that. Her mother knew her very well. And working for the FBI had been her goal since junior high. Once she made her decision, everything she’d done focused on obtaining this job.

  It was an early Saturday morning and Hallie looked like she was jogging through Central Park. Tight leggings, well-worn broken-in running shoes and her favorite Bureau-issued piece of equipment…a comfy, thick headband with a built in receiver and microphone.

  First on the scene, she’d been here a half an hour before dawn. She was stretched and ready to go in spite of the cold. Her breath formed a mist around her head to match the thick fog skittering over the pond.

  “Where is he?” she spoke impatiently under her breath. She didn’t need to conceal her actions. There wasn’t a soul in sight, but no one would pay attention to her. People just assumed you were on your cell. At times it was a little hard to tell the crazies from everyone else who spoke into the air.

  “Just keep jogging, Happy Feet. Subject’s car left his building and he should be there any minute.” Her partner, Gage Owens, calmly gave her instructions from a warm van.

  Partner and lover, she added silently. Their involvement broke regulations and complicated operations. They’d avoided a physical relationship for years. The timing had never been right until this past Christmas. And if she was forced to admit it, she was wild for the guy.

  “If I keep going in circles, someone’s going to get suspicious.” She bent over stretching again, keeping her muscles ready for a hard run with the suspect.

  “Believe me, no one’s going to think you’re an agent. There’s nowhere in those tight pants to fit your badge.”

  “Stop it, Owens. You’ll force me to think about filing harassment charges.”

  Everyone laughed. She’d forgotten about the surveillance cameras he and the team were monitoring. She stood quickly, jogging in place. Partly to keep warm, partly to keep her muscles from tightening with the cold, but mostly because she did love the chase. And this chase had lasted too long. It was time for the finish line.

  “Happy Feet, we have eyes on your limo. The two marks are now on foot entering at 72nd. Headed your way. Don’t blow this. We don’t know when we’ll have a shot again.”

  Hallie circled the Bethesda Fountain one time and then headed down the path for an intercept. She needed a little perspiration to look like a genuine jogger, but couldn’t let her strength be depleted. Gage had paused several seconds before reminding her this was their one shot. Did he really believe she’d blow it?

  Their target had been on the FBI’s Ten Most Wanted list for a decade.

  The orange barricade barrel was within sight. She heard the familiar crack of neck vertebra before realizing her head had tilted side to side. She was ready to finish this assignment. The team was ready.

  It was up to her. The ritual Sunday morning walk in the park was Harold D. Chandler’s vulnerability. And this time, his visitor was out in the open with him. For five days, Bradford Williams had been rumored to be in the city.

  All she had to do was get them to talk with her. Voice recognition would verify if it was a long time resident of the Ten Most Wanted list.

  On her own. The road was closed to traffic, allowing joggers to use all of Terrace Drive. There were agents posted on foot, but they were few and far between. They had to confirm Williams’ identity and get the appropriate warrant before making their move.

  The men were nearly upon her.

  “I’m going to kill her.”

  This shout stopped her in her tracks. “Did you hear that?” She did a three sixty, spinning on a patch of late season snow, quickly checking the faces of the few people out at this time of morning.

  “What? Is there interference?” Gage asked, his voice deep and soft in her right ear. “Can you hear me? Get this channel cleaned up.”

  “Yes.” Along with the madman screaming. She desperately searched the shrubs, attempting to see around the ornate steps and into tree trunks. Someone was in danger.

  “Get going Barton. You’re going to miss them. They’re turning onto the Literary Walk and we’re about to lose visual.”

  “There’s nothing anyone can do!”

  “You didn’t hear that? Is there something wrong with this microphone?” She adjusted the headband, pressing the receiver farther into her ear.

  “We’re hearing you fine, Happy Feet. Move it.”

  She ran after the two men walking who had gotten yards ahead of her in a blink of an eye. Or were her blinks slowing down to several seconds? Whatever had happened she focused on the two black overcoats, men seemingly out for an early morning stroll.

  “I’ll take the car and bash her legs in and no one will ever know.”

  Hallie stopped dead in her tracks. None of the agents watching or listening to the feed through her headset acknowledged the threat. So no one else had heard it. Again.

  The voice was so loud it seemed to be just behind her right shoulder. Nausea hit her so hard she had to double over.

  “Agent Barton? Hallie?” Gage’s voice kept calling to her through a fog.

  She wanted–even tried–to answer him. She forced her feet to move forward…one at a time until she could stand straight. She searched the faces of the early morning walkers. No one seemed distressed or acted like a potential murderer. And her targets were strolling farther and farther away.

  Hallie ignored the pain shooting through her head and the bright white flashes almost blinding her. She ran without answering the constant questions about her health from the agents monitoring her.

  The faster she ran, the better she felt. Whatever caused the crippling symptoms faded into the background. She had a job to do. Sprinting past the familiar sculptures, she avoided the icy spots aiming for the clear patches of the Mall’s wide sidewalk.

  What to do? She couldn’t just jog by them. She couldn’t pass and return or they’d be suspicious. Even if they weren’t, she was too tired now. She righted herself after almost losing her footing.

  That’s it!

  She passed her targets and was immediately hit with another wave of debilitating everything. She fell
hard to the ground with no need to fake an injury. Another jogger knelt at her side waving people back. In the corner of her vision she watched the targets pause, but hurry on toward Terrace Drive and their waiting limo.

  That’s him!

  Without any doubt, she was certain that the man next to Chandler was Williams. His nervousness filled the air around him. She pushed herself up from the sidewalk and shook off the helpful hands. She pulled the headband hiding the microphone and receiver down around her neck.

  No more voices in her head–real or otherwise.

  Running after the older men, she was baffled at how she knew but she was tired of questioning it. She couldn’t let him get away. She headed for the orange traffic barrel next to the road where she’d stashed her gun and badge.

  “Hallie, I know you can hear me. Stand down.”

  She flipped the barrel to its side. “It’s him. I know it’s him.”

  “Hallie, you’re going to blow any chance we have at this. Put the gun down.”

  “Gun! She has a gun!” The gathering crowd had followed her to the street. There was screaming, running, chaos.

  Hallie pointed her weapon at the ground. “It’s okay ma’am. I’m a federal agent.”

  Chandler and Williams ran faster than she thought possible for their limo. They’d heard her. She made eye contact with Williams and he laughed.

  The whine of a distant siren as the limo pulled into traffic made Hallie sit on the melting ice. She’d just made a complete fool of herself and Gage was right…they’d lost Williams. He’d be gone within the hour. She’d seen that in his eyes, too. And on some level, she’d heard his thoughts along the lines of “you can’t catch me.”

  Oblivious to all the chaos around him, the older jogger passed her again. And again she heard the voice in her head, “I hate exercise. This is killin’ me.”

  “There was nothing I could do, Hallie.”

  Gage continued to talk, continued to say he was sorry and continued to pace around her apartment as she packed. Boxes were everywhere. It didn’t seem like she was taking a break and intended to return.

  The lease was up at the end of the month. The discussion before the incident had been about leasing together. Almost their apartment. Almost. In the corner sat a box of the items he’d left over the past year–including his toothbrush.

  She wasn’t coming back.

  “I haven’t blamed you, Gage. I screwed up. I know it. That’s why I’m leaving. I don’t really have any choice.”

  “It’s a ridiculous, irrational decision for you to pick up and go home. You hate Kansas.”

  “Grammy said I could come stay with her in Dallas until I decide what to do.” She ducked her head and tried to zoom by him.

  He spun her slender body around until they faced each other, wanting to tug her to his chest. “Come on, Hallie. We’ll get this straightened out. You don’t have to run away.”

  The long sigh escaped her as she closed her eyes. It was her way of covering the eye-rolling offense. He’d known her far too long not to recognize the gesture. She’d shared her silent insult several years ago.

  “What’s the problem? I have money. Everybody knows I can afford it. You don’t have to go anywhere. I can handle your apartment until you’re back on your feet. Or we could move in together without any partner issues keeping us a secret.”

  “I can’t possibly do that. Everything’s changed.”

  “I don’t see it that way. It’s an opportunity, that’s all. You had a seizure. You’ll get back on your feet soon.”

  “Oh God. Why won’t you believe me that it wasn’t a seizure? It’s even worse that you want me to live off your family’s money until I find another job. And where is that mysterious employment going to come from? The FBI certainly isn’t offering a letter of recommendation.”

  “You don’t have to work.” Mistake.

  All she’d ever wanted was a career with the FBI. Reminding her it wasn’t going to happen didn’t score him any points. Hallie jerked back like he was a poisonous snake. He reached for her and she stumbled over an empty suitcase trying to get away from him.

  What the hell?

  “After all the years that we’ve been friends, you don’t know me at all if you think I’d leach off of you.”

  “I know you. But am I supposed to just let you ruin your life without trying to help?”

  “Oh, really? We’ve gone from me running away to ruining my life. And don’t you mean get me help? As in a shrink.”

  “I took all the same analytic classes that you did, Hallie. Don’t put words in my mouth. I didn’t imply that you need professional help.”

  “Even when I’m obviously hearing voices in my head?” Hallie pulled a shirt off a hanger, shoving it into her suitcase.

  If he hadn’t picked up that she was upset before, he would have then. She hadn’t worn his tattered college sweatshirt in months. The last time he’d asked about throwing the ratty thing out, she told him it was staying for sentimental value. At the moment, he didn’t think she was being too sentimental about anything they’d shared.

  The idea of her getting a good therapist had been on his mind since the incident. He couldn’t help it. She was hearing voices for crying out loud.

  “Look, Gage. I know it’s what you mean. I can hear you shouting it into my mind.” She placed her palms flat against her ears. “Just leave. Please leave.”

  “Hallie?”

  He had been thinking they needed to find someone to help her. How had she known? She’s an analyst. That’s how. It was logical that he’d be having those thoughts.

  “I’m not shouting at you. I just want to work this out. I can help.”

  “You can help more by leaving. I don’t know what’s happening to me. But I do know that I need to figure it out with someone who believes what I’m saying.”

  She didn’t look good. For the past month they’d rarely been together. Insisting on fighting this battle alone, she’d kept him at arm’s length. The more he tried to help, the more she pushed at him to get lost.

  Forcing the words, he croaked out, “I believe–”

  She ran at him, crying, shoving his chest. Pain clearly in her eyes. He slid his arms around her, capturing her to him like he’d wanted to do for a month.

  “I don’t want to lose you, Hallie.”

  He kissed her hair, breathing her scent in as deeply as he could. Would it be the last time he smelled the citrus and coconut fragrance she loved? What if it was?

  No!

  “I’m sorry, Gage. There’s no other way.” She leaned back still close enough for him to count the tears on her cheeks.

  She’d be back. She loved everything about New York City. She had to come back. They were best friends, partners, buds.

  It couldn’t end this way.

  Chapter Two

  More than two years later

  Hallie concentrated on the click click click of her heels hitting the downtown Dallas sidewalk. She kept her eyes level and didn’t search the ground. But the stilettos that shot her up to six feet were not only expensive, they were fragile. She couldn’t afford to step in a crack or stumble over a broken piece of concrete.

  Why she’d agreed to take this meeting, she had no idea. Then again, she actually hadn’t. Grammy had set it up. Playing the scene all innocent, like she didn’t remember the name Gage Owens.

  College classmate, best friend and lover. Grammy knew the whole story. They’d been on the same track for a criminal justice degree. Both recruited by the FBI, they’d come up through the ranks together. Partners. Lovers breaking the rules.

  Well, it didn’t matter. She was almost at the restaurant and needed to prepare. Normally she wore her earphones when she ventured into a crowd. She couldn’t today. Not if she wanted to find out what Gage had to say.

  Heels, her best suit and matching handbag. If it meant work…she had to accept whatever crumbs Mr. Hot Shot FBI Agent could throw her way. Anything that would put dollars i
n her bank account. Her lack of employment had drained her account. She couldn’t accept her grandmother’s charity much longer.

  Customers were leaving the restaurant, holding the door open. She paused when the feeling of dread swirled around her like a cooling mist at a theme park. Not her dread. It was a young woman hanging her head. She felt sorry for the tint of a yellow bruise hiding under her makeup-covered jaw. The large unfashionable dark sunglasses were already parked on her delicate Asian features before she tackled the hot Texas sunshine.

  At first glance, or even a second, an untrained eye might not pick up on the fact the man holding the door was carrying. The person she’d been a year ago might imagine a poor stranger scenario from the tremendous emotion coming from the woman. But Hallie was trained and she was definitely not the same woman. There was more of a story here. She knew it. She understood it on a level she couldn’t control.

  Things had completely turned around.

  She was stronger and more confident. Being changed would help her face Gage. She’d left New York and never returned his calls.

  Another couple followed out the door. The Asian woman and her heat-packing muscle passed to her right. Hallie forced herself to take deep breaths like Grammy insisted. She smoothed her straight skirt, threw her shoulders back and squeezed into the restaurant as quickly as physically possible to escape the overcoming dread.

  “Gage Owens, please.”

  The maître d’ didn’t say a word, just scooped up a menu and preceded her, weaving through the close tables. All too quickly, he pulled her chair away from the table and a pair of deep-green eyes she’d never wanted to see again smiled up at her.

  “Hallie. Glad you could make it.” Gage stood and leaned in for a welcome kiss.

  At the last moment she remembered their breakup and his pucker connected with air as she turned her cheek away. “I thought you were bringing a potential client. Is this just a ploy to see me while you’re in town?” She tried to smile, but he wasn’t offering much encouragement.

  He hadn’t changed in the past two years, making her wonder if she had that much. No, she didn’t need to debate with herself again. She had come far enough to face the only man to ever break her heart. He oozed the essence of a fit man under thirty.