Aftershocks

by Damschroder, Natalie J.

  “Is there a problem here?” He removed his helmet and hung it from the handlebars, his demeanor relaxed but his gaze shrewd.

  “No, sir, no problem.” The blond sauntered back to the cab and got in. The vehicle began to move almost before the door closed.

  “Are you all right? I heard someone yell. Was that you?” The cop came closer and pulled a leather folio off his belt.

  She took a deep breath but was already steadier. “I’m fine. He didn’t hurt me. Just grabbed my arm.”

  “Did you know him?” The officer started taking notes.

  “No, I’ve never seen him before.”

  “Did he say anything to you?”

  “He didn’t really have a chance.” Her arm started shaking, and she unwound the leather strap of her case and put it back up on her shoulder.

  The officer looked up. “Do you want to file a report?”

  Definitely not. This would still be on his incident log or whatever kind of records the police department kept, but a report with her name on it would be public information.

  “No, I don’t think so. There was no harm done, and I’m late to meet someone. Thank you.”

  “If you’re sure.” He flipped his pad closed and reclipped it to his belt. As Zoe shifted to begin walking again, he held up a hand. “Hold on.” He bent and picked up the envelope she’d almost stepped on. “Is this yours?”

  The refusal lodged in her throat. Her hand twitched but stayed at her side. She didn’t want it, dreaded seeing what was inside. But if she didn’t take it, he’d probably open it to find out who it belonged to. Information made her stronger. Hiding made her weaker. So she took the packet and shoved it into a pocket on her bag.

  “Thank you,” she said again. He smiled and gave her a semi-salute as he got back on his bike, and Zoe continued down the sidewalk.

  Now what?

  The little foyer of the restaurant was crowded when she entered. She made her way to the podium and smiled at the host.

  “Hi, Todd.”

  The young man smiled back and lifted three menus from their holder. “Ms. Ardmore. Your table is ready.”

  “Thank you.” She gave an apologetic glance at the grumbling people waiting and followed him toward the corner where they usually sat. “Has Kell been here long?”

  “Mr. Stone hasn’t arrived yet.” He pulled out her chair and seated her, then handed her the menu and laid two more on the place settings next to and across from her. “I’ll send him back as soon as he does.”

  Zoe thanked him again and checked her watch. She was ten minutes late, just inside the restaurant’s grace period. Kell usually arrived before her, but he was getting Olivia first, and thirteen-year-olds weren’t known for their punctuality.

  She braced her elbows on the table and her hands against her forehead, inhaling and letting it out slowly, determined not to tremble. If Kell or Olivia noticed she was shaken, she’d have to explain why. Which meant lying. Worse than omission—yeah, she might be able to convince herself of that if she tried hard enough.

  But where were they? Relief at her reprieve disappeared when she thought about some other guy accosting them on their way to the restaurant. She sent a short text that was answered almost immediately. Ten min. Sorry!

  At least they were okay. After a moment’s hesitation, she pulled the envelope from her bag. A six-by-nine size, it felt like it held a stack of photographs. Nothing was written on either side, and the flap wasn’t sealed. She pried open the clasp and slid out the pictures.

  On top was one of her, entering the building her company was in. It looked like every surveillance photo in every movie she’d ever seen. Her face was even turned toward the camera, as if she’d heard a noise just before she opened the door.

  She was being watched.

  “Oh, no.” The next photo was Kell walking down the street, obviously on a workday because he wore a navy suit and carried his briefcase. The camera had caught him twisting sideways to check traffic. His torso was turned toward the camera, the white shirt a target that filled the shot, and his vulnerability struck her hard.

  Conscious of how little time she had, she dropped photo after photo of her loved ones onto the table. Kell’s parents, her parents, Kell again, employees coming into or leaving the building.

  Olivia.

  All innocuous, in public, appearing to be routine surveillance photos shot by a PI. Finally, between the last two photos—one of her mother talking to a friend outside the grocery store and one of Zoe and Kell going into their apartment—she found a folded piece of torn paper. Her fingers trembled as she opened it. The handwriting was amazingly familiar after all these years. The ballpoint pen had dug into the thick paper, carving the words into it and filling the lines with black ink. It made her think of the spiders in the corners of an old house they’d held her in, and her skin crawled.

  The words were almost as benign as the photos themselves. Our family is incomplete without you, dear Zoe. Once you have regained our lost assets, we will give you the reunion details. Hurry, so no one is left out!

  “Jesus Christ.” The paper fell from numbed fingers. She fumbled for her phone. She had to call Henricksen. This was a threat, to her and everyone she loved. They could do something now. This was a parole violation, wasn’t it?

  Well, no. She stared at the words and knew the FBI would find this worthless. No names, no addresses, delivered by a guy she didn’t know and could barely describe, and written in friendly words that no one else would ever consider a threat. All the photos were in public. No way to tell who’d taken them, no proof who’d sent them. There would be nothing the FBI or anyone else could do.

  She shoved everything back into the envelope and then her briefcase. She’d still tell Henricksen. This was exactly the kind of thing he’d wanted to know about. But he couldn’t do anything about it.

  Only Zoe could.

  She had two options. The first was to tell Kell everything, and then together they could take steps to protect his family and hers. Then they’d wait for Pat to escalate his tactics until there was something the FBI could do. That could take years. He was smart, and maybe in prison he’d learned patience. He probably wouldn’t rely on Zoe’s obedience, either. He could find the totems himself, and then still come after her or her family, either in retaliation or because he believed he needed her.

  “Zoe!”

  Olivia tackle-hugged her from behind, shooting her adrenaline and blood pressure into the stratosphere.

  “Oh my God, kid! Where did you come from?” Zoe forced a laugh and hugged her, looking up to see Kell coming across the large room, an indulgent smile on his face. She’d sat facing the entrance so no one would sneak up on her. Apparently, she sucked at this.

  “I circled around so I could ‘boo’ you.” Olivia slid into a seat and snatched a thin, crunchy breadstick from the holder in the center of the table. “Guess what? Colin? My friend in algebra?” She launched into a story as her brother kissed Zoe and sat down across from her. Zoe concentrated on listening and tried not to think about the picture of Kell’s sister in the packet burning a hole in the briefcase at her side.

  Olivia was dressed today much as she had been in the photo, in snug, low-rise jeans and an equally snug cami under a cardigan that tied around her waist. She was now talking about which of her friends were hooking up, but she looked way too young for that. Kell seemed to agree, because he frowned and asked if she was hooking up with anyone. Olivia laughed and rolled her eyes. “As if,” was all she said.

  Zoe had to do anything she could to protect this girl. She just wished she knew which decision would do that.

  The server materialized to take their orders. Zoe watched Kell as he explained how he wanted his steak cooked. He had shadows under his eyes, and his face seemed paler than normal under the stubble. His dark hair was never perfectly neat, but tonight it stuck up in odd places. His suit wasn’t rumpled, but since he didn’t take off his jacket, she guessed he had sweat stain
s on his shirt. When he handed his menu to the server, his smile barely flickered.

  “What happened?” she asked as soon as the woman had walked away.

  Kell sighed and opened his napkin to lay across his lap. “The merger isn’t going well, that’s all. Complications keep arising, things that should have been discovered during due diligence. I think one of the parties was pushed into agreeing to this by his partners and is sabotaging the process. I don’t know.” He ran his hands over his face. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s just have a nice dinner.” He smiled at Olivia and plucked a breadstick to brandish at her. “En garde.”

  They dueled until the sticks broke into pieces, and Zoe got winners. Through dinner, Olivia guided the conversation, but Kell’s rally was brief, exhaustion dragging him to one-word answers until even the kid with the never-ending energy became subdued.

  “I’m sorry,” Kell said to his sister as they all shared a giant chocolate chip lava cookie. “This wasn’t what you wanted tonight.”

  Olivia shrugged and dug her spoon through whipped cream and cookie. “It’s fine. I just wanted to spend time with you guys. You could have canceled because of all this work crap.”

  “Olivia,” Kell scolded. She rolled her eyes again.

  “But you didn’t. I wish I could do something to help. But that’s what you’ve got Zoe for now.”

  Zoe propped her chin on her hand, dipping a bite of cookie in the molten chocolate. “If he didn’t have me, if he were going home with you, what would you do?”

  Olivia didn’t hesitate. “I’d fill the Jacuzzi tub—he’d scoff and call it girly, but he really likes relaxing in it—and get one of the books on his pleasure-reading stack that he hasn’t touched in so long it’s all dusty. I’d light Mom’s relaxation candle because even guys like pretty smells, even if they won’t admit it. And I’d pour him a whiskey with one ice cube and lock him in the bathroom for at least an hour.”

  Zoe smiled at her. “You nailed it.”

  “Good.” The look Olivia gave her was shrewd and protective. “You need to know this stuff if you’re going to take care of him. I know there’s other stuff you can do to, you know, ‘relax’ him.” She put down her spoon to make quotey fingers. “But I don’t need to know about that.”

  They laughed and finished dessert, and after dropping off Olivia, Zoe insisted on taking Kell home and forcing Olivia’s prescription on him. She ended it with a massage—and more—and was well satisfied when he dropped into a deep, comfortable sleep.

  And then she eased out of the bed and into the bathroom, where she threw up the cookie and most of her dinner.

  Olivia had more than nailed it. Zoe was supposed to take care of her fiancé. Her husband. Passively hoping Pat left them alone was stupid. She had to act now, whether or not she told Kell.

  But how much more could he handle? She’d never seen him the way he was tonight, so stressed and exhausted. She couldn’t add worse to it. And the photos told her she couldn’t wait until things got better. There had to be a middle ground.

  She threw water on her face and rinsed her mouth, then dried with a hand towel and stared at herself in the mirror. She looked worse than Kell had. Believably sick, and that was how she’d play it to start. She had to handle this right, or it would backfire and not only would she lose everything—he would, too.

  * * *

  “Stone, are you even listening to me?”

  Kell stared blankly at his friend. “What?”

  James sighed. “Apparently not. Maybe I should just work with Tanicia on this case. Your super-assistant can contribute more than you are.”

  “I’m sorry.” He rubbed his forehead and realized he hadn’t taken a single note, and this meeting had started half an hour ago. “I’m worried about Zoe.”

  James dropped his exasperation. “She okay?”

  “She’s been sick.” She’d stayed home from work yesterday and today, and last night when he got home he’d found her in bed, buried under a pile of blankets, her eyes red like she’d been crying. He wanted to take her to a doctor, but she insisted this morning that she was better. He knew she was lying.

  “Anything I can do to help, man?” James looked concerned, and Kell shook his head.

  “Not yet, thanks. If she’s no better tonight, though, I may need to ask you to cover a couple of things for me tomorrow while I take her to the doctor.”

  “Sure, anything.” James tapped his pen twice. “You want to go now?”

  Kell eyed the phone, then forced himself to concentrate. “No, I can get through today. Let’s start this again.” He slipped on his reading glasses and studied the report James had brought him. “What’s their market share?”

  Though he managed to work the rest of the afternoon, distraction plagued him. He couldn’t shake a sense of foreboding about Zoe’s illness. He couldn’t remember her ever being sick in the two years they’d been together. That alone was no big deal, but she’d been acting odd for a while before they had dinner with Olivia, and even that night, she’d only seemed half there.

  Had she been told something about her health? Was it more serious than a simple flu? Possibilities kept popping into his head, compelling him to look up symptoms online. He almost called her parents about their medical history but stopped himself just in time. He’d only met them a couple of times, and they were very protective of Zoe, very clingy. She told him they’d had a scare when she was a child—he couldn’t remember what—and never got over it. So indicating to them that there was something wrong with their daughter, when he had no idea what it was, would be a mistake.

  He gave in and called the apartment twice, but there was no answer. Sherry said she hadn’t seen Zoe all day, which, knowing her, didn’t mean she wasn’t there. But short of running over there, Kell was powerless. And he had a client meeting he couldn’t miss that afternoon.

  By four o’clock, when he walked the client out to the lobby, he couldn’t stand it anymore.

  “Tanicia, what’s left on my schedule?”

  She smiled up at him. “You’re clear.”

  “Good. I’m taking off.”

  “All right. Take care of Zoe.” She smiled again and turned back to the brief she was reviewing.

  The anxiety that had grown all day had him swallowing acid by the time he pulled into the parking garage of their building. Zoe’s Civic was parked in its spot, but facing in. She usually backed it in, so she’d gone out today. Kell got out of his BMW and beeped the lock, frowning at her car. The back seat was full of…bedding? That looked like the quilt her mother had made.

  He swallowed back panic and hurried to the elevator, cursing internally every time it stopped at a floor, hating that they’d chosen view over convenience. Two floors up, then a ding. One floor. Three more. Why the hell didn’t they have an express elevator? The doors opened again and he shoved his hand through his hair, trying to keep a shout of frustration inside.

  “Kellen! How lovely to see you!”

  He smiled tightly at Mrs. Ridgebottom, an elderly woman who lived on their floor. She swung a tennis racket at his rump as she stepped onto the elevator and turned to face front.

  “Gladys and I just got back from the club. She pulled her hamstring showing off for the new tennis pro, so I helped her to her apartment.”

  “I hope she’s okay.” He wasn’t really listening. His whole body was tense. He needed to be in his apartment now. Something was going on. Something far worse than a pulled hamstring.

  Mrs. Ridgebottom chattered at him all the way to the twentieth floor, then waved a cheery goodbye, hardly seeming to notice his rudeness. A lifetime of “good breeding” was all that kept him from running down the hall. He unlocked the deadbolt and handle and shoved open the door, shouting Zoe’s name.

  But she was right there. Waiting for him. Standing in the middle of their perfect apartment, dressed in perfect-fitting jeans and the sweater he’d gotten her for Christmas.

  “Kell, I’m sorry.”

&n
bsp; With three words, she shattered their perfect life.

  Chapter Three

  Zoe almost couldn’t do it. When Kell burst through the door and saw her, when his face crumpled before she finished the apology she’d promised she wouldn’t make, she almost took it back. Told him everything.

  But then she thought of the pictures, of Olivia. She really had only one plan of action that would keep them safe, and Kell wouldn’t allow it. He’d try to protect her, and that would increase the danger for all of them. The only way to keep him out of this was to be brutal and sharp, cut clean. So he could heal and move on with minimal damage while she did what Pat wanted and kept everyone safe.

  “What the hell…?” Kell’s voice came out a rasp. “Are you—you’re not—leaving me?”

  Zoe nodded and swallowed hard. Her eyes burned. “I have to.”

  “Why?” He rushed forward and wrapped his hands hard around her upper arms. “Are you sick?”

  She shook her head. “Not like that. No. I just realized that I don’t belong here. With you, in this life. I love you, Kell.” She knew she couldn’t lie to him about that and didn’t even try. “But we can’t be together. It won’t work, and if I let it go on even a day longer, it will hurt you more in the end.”

  He shook his head, the pain and confusion in his eyes cracking her heart in two. “It couldn’t.”

  He was wrong, but she couldn’t explain. Couldn’t tell him that her past had invaded their present and would shred their future. Pat could insidiously destroy everything, and Kell just wouldn’t understand. He’d want to make things right, and only she could do that.

  “I think you’re being selfish.” He dropped his hands and backed up a step.

  She folded her arms against herself and nodded. Of course she was. She would rather he hated her for breaking their engagement than for her secrets. At least his memories of their time together would be whole. Better he find someone else to take her place than be carved up by Pat and Freddie.

  “I left the ring on the dresser. In a box.” She ignored his flinch, the way he rubbed his chest with the heel of his hand. “I didn’t take anything we got together. Just my clothes, some of the things from my childhood…”