by Blake Pierce
It was a scream. A man’s scream.
Kate tried the front door and found it locked. This door was locked by an electrical lock with a numerical pin—one of the fancier models she’d seen. It was not going to be as easy as knocking the door down at Jeremy Neely’s house. Still, DeMarco gave it a try. Her foot slammed into the door and it trembled quite a bit, but it did not pop open.
So much for the element of surprise, Kate thought.
As she leveled her Glock at the lock, another of those screams sounded out. This one was followed by a second sound, more like a low moan, and this one from the throat of a woman.
Turning her head away from the door, she fired off a single round that tore through the lock and the door itself. DeMarco immediately threw another kick, this one blasting the door open.
They entered the house through a small foyer that opened up into the kitchen. And it was right there, in the space between the kitchen and the opening to the living room, that Jeremy Neely was crouched on the floor. In one hand, he held a knife. In the other, he gripped the neck of the man who was pinned under his knees. The man lay beneath him, struggling to get free, but there were a series of cuts on his arms that had weakened him. Already, a pool of blood had started to form on the floor.
A woman lay on the floor as well. She was on her side, blood everywhere, trying to get up but unable to do so.
It took Kate about two second to see all of this and by the time she had taken it all in, DeMarco had sprung to action. Kate was amazed by how fast the woman was. She took two huge strides forward and was then in a crouched position, like an NFL lineman prepared to bowl over the opposition.
DeMarco threw herself at Neely, her aim spot on. Her shoulder checked his chest and they both went to the floor in a heap. However, as they fell, DeMarco’s left arm jammed down on Neely’s knife. Kate saw it happen and she rushed forward, grimacing and hoping that the blade hadn’t nicked any arteries.
Neely took advantage of DeMarco’s shock and kicked her away. He then raised the knife to plunge it down through DeMarco’s chest, but Kate reached him just in time. She drew her knee up hard, connecting with the underside of Neely’s jaw. He rocked back, nearly falling over but catching himself on the edge of the kitchen bar.
He started to surge forward again but Kate had locked her knees into place and stood in a perfect shooter’s stance less than three feet from him.
“Move and I’ll take out your knees,” she said.
Neely seemed to think about it for a moment. In the seconds that hung in the air, Kate desperately wanted to take stock of the situation. She was afraid the woman—apparently Mrs. Coleman—would be dead in a handful of moments. She also had no idea how badly DeMarco was injured. She saw DeMarco getting to her feet out of the corner of her eye. Even without taking her eyes away from Neely, she could tell that DeMarco was holding her cut arm close to her body.
“Drop the knife, Jeremy,” Kate said. “We know what you did to the other families. Anything you do from this point on is just going to make it worse for you.”
He smiled, as if this was great news. And then he swung the knife around in a flash, aimed directly for DeMarco.
Kate lowered her aim and pulled the trigger. The shot took Neely directly above the knee. His leg crumpled as he went to the floor. DeMarco wasted no time in throwing her full weight into his back.
As Kate dropped to her knees to pull his arms back and handcuff him, the policemen who had been waiting at the top of the driveway came rushing through the door with their guns drawn. Kate assumed they’d been alerted by the first gunshot when she’d blasted through the lock.
It couldn’t have taken them more than twenty seconds to run down here, Kate thought. Is that really all the time that passed between now and then?
“I’m good here for now,” Kate said, snapping the cuffs closed. “Get an ambulance out here. We’ve got a woman in what looked like critical condition, and a wounded FBI agent.”
Kate looked at DeMarco to gauge her situation but saw that the younger agent was kneeling down by Mrs. Coleman. Meanwhile, Mr. Coleman was looking around as if in shock. Kate didn’t think he had been cut badly enough to the point where his life was in danger, but the ordeal had certainly unglued him.
“Why?”
The question came from the floor, from the mouth of Jeremy Neely.
“Excuse me?” Kate said.
“Why? Why did they not love me?”
For reasons she could not even start to understand, a wave of pity washed through her. She had to turn away from Neely. Instead, she focused on DeMarco. Her left arm was bleeding heavily, the wound located on the backside of her upper arm.
“We need to stop the bleeding,” DeMarco said.
“I will,” she said. “But we need to help her first.”
Mrs. Coleman’s eyes were open but they seemed to be looking somewhere very far away, some place on the other side of the ceiling. There was blood everywhere—splashed along her cheeks, covering her chest, on the floor.
“Ruth…”
Her husband was starting to come around. Kate tried to turn her attention to him, to break his focus before he saw the state his wife was in.
As it turned out, she was about half a second too late. Mr. Coleman saw his wife and something inside of him broke. It was a haunting sound that tore through the house even as Kate, DeMarco, and the local officer did what they could to stop Ruth Coleman’s bleeding.
The husband’s screams were piercing and filled with torment. They filled the house and Kate’s head until the sound of approaching sirens and the wails of ambulances drowned him out five minutes later.
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
Kate sat in the little sterile hospital examination room with DeMarco, looking at her phone. It was 8:55 and she was staring at a blank text screen with Allen’s name above it. She had been thinking of what to say for the last minute or so and finally decided on: So I’m terrible. Work called again. Same case. But we wrapped it. That means no dinner. I’m so sorry.
She sent it and then looked at DeMarco. She was sitting on the very edge of the little examination bed. There was a gauze wrapping around her left arm where she had been cut. She hadn’t lost too much blood and although the wound had been rather deep, it had been easily fixed with sixteen stitches.
“Was that to your daughter?” DeMarco asked.
“No. Boyfriend.”
DeMarco nodded with a frown. “It’s been rough on you, huh? Trying to balance all of this.”
“Yeah. But I’m getting the hang of it. I just have to stop disappointing those around me who live normal lives. And I…wait. Hold on. You’re the one that got stabbed in the arm. What the hell are you doing worrying about me?”
DeMarco shrugged and looked at the floor. “My mom used to tell me stories when I was young about how she almost didn’t go the family route. She was playing guitar and singing in this band that nearly made it. She told me how she always admired Stevie Nicks…you know, the singer from Fleetwood Mac?”
“Yes, I know who she is.”
“Well, my mom looked to Stevie on how to act, how to play the role of a female lead in a band. And oh my God, this is going to come out way cheesier than I intended but…you’re my Stevie Nicks, Kate. The moment I made it as an agent back in the Violent Crimes Unit, I started researching your older cases, learning from you and digging through your files. So yes…I am going to worry about you. The fact that you came back out of retirement to do things like we did tonight floors me.”
“Thanks for that,” Kate said, feeling tears welling up.
If only Melissa thought of me in that same way.
Her phone buzzed in her hand. She looked down and saw that Allen had returned her text. I understand. Raincheck. Call me when you get in.
She was relieved that he had taken it so well but she also felt like she was taking advantage of him. She thought about texting Melissa to fill her in but decided against it. Melissa didn’t even know sh
e had been called back out to Roanoke anyway. Thinking of them both so closely together, it then occurred to Kate that Melissa didn’t even know about Allen.
It can’t be a good thing that DeMarco already knows more about my personal life than my own daughter does, Kate thought.
Still slightly reeling from DeMarco’s comments, Kate tried to think of something equally sentimental to tell DeMarco, but was interrupted by a knock at the door. After a second or two, it opened and Palmetto walked in.
“How’s it going?” he asked.
“DeMarco is a hero,” Kate said, using that as her return compliment.
“Sixteen stitches does not make me a hero,” DeMarco argued. “Although it does add a scar and scars are sort of badass.”
“I’m just glad it wasn’t worse. You truly did save the day, Agent DeMarco. So thanks for that.”
“Anyway, I just wanted to drop by and fill you guys in,” Palmetto said. “Neely confessed to all of it. He’s blaming it on everyone’s inability to love him as a child. When they searched him, they found a scrap of the blanket in his back pocket. He openly admitted that it had been intended to go down Ruth Coleman’s throat. He said he got the idea from watching his dad kill his mom so easily, like it was nothing. First reactions from the cops are that he’s likely going to go for an insanity plea.”
“You think he’ll get it?” Kate asked.
“Beats me.”
“Why the blanket, though?” DeMarco asked.
“That’s where more of the crazy comes in. He says it was the only thing he had as a kid that made him feel safe and comfortable. But as he got older and saw how these people who were supposed to love him didn’t love him the way he thought they should, the blanket started to take on this whole new meaning. He hated it. Wanted to use something he had once thought of as safe to aid in the murders.”
“That’s terrible,” DeMarco said.
“As for Ruth Coleman, she lost a lot of blood and there were two major arteries that were nicked. One stab wound missed her heart by less than an inch. She also has a punctured lung. She’s listed as being in critical condition, but I spoke with the doctor that oversaw her when she came in. It may not be as hopeless as her appearance makes it seem.”
“That’s fantastic news,” Kate said.
“It is,” Palmetto agreed. He then looked at DeMarco and said: “Do you mind if I steal Agent Wise away for a second?”
“Not a problem,” DeMarco said.
Palmetto opened the door and led Kate out into the hall. He started walking slowly forward and had a thoughtful look on his face.
“What is it?” Kate asked. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes, the case is basically wrapped thanks to you two. But I had something else…something I needed to ask you. I know you’re from out of DC and all but I figured it couldn’t hurt to ask if you wanted to try to grab dinner or something before you headed back.”
It was totally unexpected and she supposed the look on her face said as much. Palmetto’s look of thoughtfulness turned to one of apology as she looked for the right words to use.
“Sorry,” Palmetto said. “I noticed there’s no ring on your finger. I thought it would be okay to ask.”
“Oh, it is. And I’m flattered but I’m seeing someone back home. And honestly, between you and I, even if I wasn’t, I don’t know that I would. My life is sort of a mess right now. There’s a balance I need to find and…”
“What?”
“Nothing,” she said with a chuckle. “I nearly just dumped a whole lot of complaining on you.”
“That would have been okay.”
“As for the dinner, I’ll have to decline. But seriously…thanks for asking. Sometimes that’s all a woman needs to feel worthwhile.”
“You’re pretty incredible, Agent Wise. I don’t see you as having issues with feeling like you’re worthy.”
If she didn’t have Allen back at home waiting for her, she would have kissed him right there and then. Not out of an attraction or strong desire but because those were pretty close to the exact words she’d needed to hear ever since pulling herself out of the dark period she’d lived through after her husband, Michael, had been killed.
“Thank you,” Kate said. “For the comments and your help on the case.”
He nodded, understanding that her comment had ended the talk of relationships and placed them back on official business. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Agent Wise. DeMarco, too. Be safe getting back home.”
With that, he continued down the hallway. Kate watched him go for a while before heading back to DeMarco. When she returned to the room, the nurse had returned and was handing DeMarco the outpatient paperwork.
“What did Palmetto want?” DeMarco asked, looking up from the forms.
“Nothing.”
“Everything good?”
Kate smiled. She looked at DeMarco’s arm. She thought of Melissa, Michelle, and Allen back at home. She thought of the Colemans, both together and alive elsewhere within this very same hospital.
“Yeah,” Kate said with a genuine smile. “Everything is good.”
***
After they left the hospital, Director Duran had called to touch based and requested that Kate come back to DC for a brief meeting. She had been looking forward to getting back to Allen as soon as she could but agreed to make the trip. That was how she ended up taking the elevator up to Duran’s office on Monday afternoon. Part of her was very nervous, wondering if perhaps she had crossed some lines or had overstepped her bounds in catching Jeremy Neely.
Could be some sort of a complaint or grievance that was filed against me during this last case, she thought. Then, behind that thought came another: Where is all of this negativity coming from? You never questioned yourself this much before you retired…
“Agent Wise, welcome back. I’m glad you and Agent DeMarco made it back relatively unscathed. Have you spoken to DeMarco today?”
“I have. She thinks it’s ridiculous that she’s having to stay at home for a week because of a nick on her arm.”
Duran smiled. “You know, Agent DeMarco reminds me of another agent that I know rather well.”
“She’s much smarter and braver than me,” Kate said.
“So you like her as an agent?”
“I do. If I didn’t know the situation and you told me she’d only been with the bureau for a little over two years, I wouldn’t believe you.”
Duran tapped his fingers anxiously on the folder in front of him and slid it over to Kate. “Take a look at this and let me know what you think.”
She took the folder and opened it up; there were only two pages inside. And within five seconds of skimming the top one, she understood what she was looking at. She looked up at Duran, making sure he wasn’t playing a joke on her.
“Reinstatement?” she asked.
“It’s the closest we could come up with based on the fact that you retired. You did not quit and you were not fired. But we also wouldn’t be hiring you as a new employee. So yes…consider this the bureau’s official request that you come back as a full-time agent. And based on what you’ve told me today, I’d like to enlist Agent DeMarco as your full-time partner.”
Kate looked the forms over and was filled with the same emotions she’d felt when Palmetto had so generously complimented her in the hospital hallway. It made her feel valued. It made her feel wanted.
But she knew she couldn’t. Could she?
“I can’t move back to DC,” she said. “I’m in Richmond for the long haul. My family is there…a new granddaughter and everything.”
“We can work around that,” he said. “It’s not just me, Agent Wise. Even those above me think you’re still a valuable asset. I know lots of agents retire and come back to help with research and teaching. And while you’d be great at that, your skills would also be going to waste. I felt it when I was there at the meeting last week where you guided those younger agents towards an answer in the child abduction cas
e—an answer, I might add, that led to an arrest this morning.”
She sighed and closed the folder. “Can you give me some time to think it over?”
“Absolutely. Take your time. And again, I truly do appreciate the work you’ve put in for these last two cases.”
“Thanks.”
“That’s all for now,” Duran said. “Sorry to make you come back to DC for this brief meeting.”
“It’s okay,” she said, gripping the edges of the folder. “It was worth it.”
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
It was the first time she’d made pesto from scratch and Kate did not mind saying that it was damned good. She poured it from her pot into a ceramic bowl and placed it on the table by the salad. The entire house smelled of baked ziti and garlic bread. Her back door was open, the screen door allowing a breeze inside. As she stood at the table, making sure she had not missed a beat, the breeze that came through froze her for a moment.
I’m happy here, too, she thought.
She smiled and went to the wine rack in the kitchen. She plucked one bottle of white and one bottle of red from the rack. She set them down on the table just as someone knocked on her front door.
“Come in!” she called.
The door opened and Allen came walking through. He was carrying a small plastic bag and a six-pack of beer. He hefted it up and shrugged. “I didn’t know if this was a wine sort of thing or a beer sort of thing.”
“Both is fine,” Kate said.
She met him at the door, took the plastic bag, and gave him a kiss on the lips. It was a quick one, but Allen took her by the arm with his now-free hand and pulled her back to him. He kissed her again, this time lingering. When they pulled apart, Kate found herself pleasantly dizzy.
“Honestly,” Allen said, “I brought the beer for me. I figure if the conversation gets awkward, I can sneak off, chug two of them, and come back in a much looser mood.”
“I don’t think that will be necessary,” she said and then gave a little smirk. “You’re meeting my daughter and granddaughter…not my parents.”
