by Margaret Kay
“Sip,” Sloan commanded.
She struggled to sit up, kicking the pillows that elevated her legs away and she took a drink.
“Now tell me, who are on their way and why?” Sloan’s eyes shifted to Sherman. “We’ll keep it first names or callsigns only.” Then he locked eyes with Kennedy. “The rest of our team will be here in a few hours.”
She was confused by that statement. “What team?”
Sloan considered for a moment what to tell her. “Brian and I are part of a multi-agency task force. We are divided into four-man teams. Mother and Lambchop are our two other team members. Brian’s callsign is the Birdman and mine is the Undertaker.”
Kennedy laughed. “The Undertaker, are you serious?”
A grin spread on Sloan’s face. “Yeah, when the guys found out my prior occupation, the name stuck. It was ironic being a medic.”
“But you were the best damn sniper in all the Teams. The Undertaker was so appropriate,” Sherman said.
“The Teams?” She asked. “You’ve said it a few times. What Teams?”
“SEAL Teams, momma,” Sherman said. His lips cracked into a grin seeing Kennedy’s reaction. “You didn’t know he was a SEAL, did you?”
“You were a SEAL?” She asked Gary.
“Yeah.” Sloan knew by her reaction that she hadn’t kept tabs on him like he had on her for a while. That disappointed him.
“Wow,” she said. She sipped the Gatorade. Her eyes stared into his, as if searching for something.
After she’d downed half the bottle of Gatorade, she sat all the way up. It was then that she realized just how disgusting her body, her hair, and her clothes were. She smelled terrible, and her hair was oily and matted.
The room was quiet, and Sloan watched her intently. The cooler room and the IV definitely helped to revive her. Color had returned to her face. She ran her fingers through her hair, and he noticed how thin her arms were. She hadn’t seen the inside of a gym in a long time. There was not much muscle mass on her.
“Okay, can I take that shower now?”
Sloan crossed the room and came up beside her. “I’ll help you up, but I’m staying in there the whole time.”
“You are not coming in the bathroom while I shower,” Kennedy insisted.
“I’m a medical professional.”
“I will never see you as anything but my ex-boyfriend.”
“Ex-fiancé,” he corrected her. “We were engaged, in case you’ve forgotten.” The ring was still in the safe deposit box at the local bank. He hadn’t the time or inclination to do anything else with it when she gave it back to him.
She shook her head no at him. Yes, she remembered that they had been engaged.
“Look, you could pass out really easy. I’m not trying to do anything, Kennedy,” Sloan explained. “I won’t look,” he added with a boyish grin that made Kennedy smile. He removed the IV and then helped her up from the bed. “Here, drink some more.” He handed her the Gatorade.
He kept his back turned as she disrobed. Only after he heard her pull the shower curtain close, did he turn back around. He sat on the toilet; his eyes fixed on the closed curtain. Besides demanding to know what was going on, he couldn’t think of a single thing to say. She had been the person he was closest to at one point in time, but now she was a complete stranger. He knew she never made it big like she had hoped when she moved to LA. It seemed insensitive to ask whatever happened with the phenomenal music career she planned for herself, that the sleaze ball manager she signed with told her could come true. So, he sat in silence staring at the curtain, listening to the water run.
“Are you still out there?” She asked after a few minutes.
“Yes,” he replied. “I’m just sitting here listening for you to either tell me you feel woozy or for the telltale sound of your body hitting the tub floor.”
“That’s comforting,” she replied sarcastically as a small smile curved her lips.
He chuckled. “There was a time you would have invited me in there with you.”
Kennedy’s breath caught in her chest. Fond memories flooded her thoughts. Gary Sloan had been her first and only love. She sure as hell hadn’t been in any good or lasting relationships since theirs ended, and certainly nothing that in hindsight she would describe as love. Since she moved to L.A., every man she had been involved with, she could not count on. She’d thought she’d found love with the drummer of the headline act on a summer tour, but when the tour was over, he ended it with her too.
Her silence stretched too long and Sloan figured he’d fucked up with that comment. She obviously wasn’t interested in a trip down memory lane.
“I thought about you over the years,” she finally said after a few awkward minutes.
“Yeah, me too,” he admitted.
“I hope your life worked out better for you than mine has,” she said.
Her statement surprised him. “Well, I wasn’t hiding in a deadly hot attic, so I guess it has.”
She giggled. She’d forgotten how much she liked his sense of humor. He had always had a way about him that made her laugh, even at herself. “Yeah, there’s that. Thank you, by the way, if I didn’t tell you.”
“Your welcome. I’m just glad I found you. When Allen called and told me that you were dead, I couldn’t believe it. And when I saw the body and realized it wasn’t you, all I could think about was how I was going to find you.”
His words hit her hard. He came as soon as he heard she was dead. She wasn’t sure where from. But she knew he didn’t live in this area. “Why did you think I’d be in the attic,” she asked, pleased that he had been determined to find her. She squeezed the hair conditioner into her hand.
“I didn’t. I was taking a trip down memory lane and wanted to visit our old shag pad.”
She laughed out loud, but then she felt sad. And here she thought that maybe, even after all these years, there was a connection and he just knew where she’d be. “Well, I’m just glad you did.” She rinsed the conditioner from her hair and then turned the water off. “See, all showered, and I didn’t even pass out. Will you leave the room now?”
“Yeah, I gotta get you some clothes to put on. I’ll lend you some of mine. I don’t have any women’s clothes, sorry.”
“Well if you did, that would make for an interesting conversation.”
Then the thought occurred to her that maybe he would if he was married or had a serious girlfriend. She heard the door open then close. She peeked out of the curtain. The room was empty. She grabbed the towel and wrapped her body in it. Then she grabbed another and twirled it around her hair.
The mirror was steamed up. She wiped a circle so she could see herself. She looked like crap. Her eyes had black circles beneath them, and her skin looked dry and had blotches of red. She wondered what Gary thought, seeing her at her worst when he carried her from that attic. And what he’d think now. She looked bad, and she had no makeup, not even moisturizer. She towel-dried her hair and then she finger-combed it through before wrapping another hand towel around it.
She cracked the door open. Gary and the other man stood close together near the desk. They stopped talking in the hushed whispers and turned to view her when she stepped into the room.
“I’ve got a pair of shorts and a t-shirt for you, no underclothing though, sorry.”
Kennedy smirked. Like going commando in someone else’s shorts was her biggest worry. She wished! “Thank you and it’s fine. I think my own clothes just need to be thrown away. They’re disgusting.”
“We’ll stuff them in a bag and get them washed up. There was no blood, urine, or feces on them, just sweat. They’ll wash up,” Sloan said.
She took the clothes back into the bathroom and dressed in the beige cargo shorts, they were loose, and the dark clay colored t-shirt was also a size or two too large. It smelled good though, like Gary. She had noticed his scent a few times, a spicy woodsy scent, his deodorant she assumed. He was never one to wear cologne, and she
doubted he had changed that much even in all these years.
When she reentered the room, Gary motioned her over to the desk. He had a container of chicken soup open. “Do you feel like trying to eat this?”
She pointed at the sub sandwich beside it that was half eaten. “That looks better. I’m starving.”
“Baby steps. You keep the soup down and you can have the other half of my sandwich,” Gary offered.
“Thanks.” She sat in the chair and devoured the soup without putting her spoon down.
While she ate, she gazed at Gary, studying his features. His hair was worn longer, kind of shaggy like he was way past due for a trim. He looked like the young boy she remembered from grade school. His face had some creases near his lips, not the lines smokers get. These lines bracketed his lips, like he smiled often. His body was sturdy and solid. He looked strong yet still looked lean. She still found him attractive. He’d aged well.
What really got her though, were his eyes. They were serious eyes, experienced eyes that had seen too much. His gaze was steady and intense, and when it focused on her, she felt as though he was invading her on every level, evaluating what he saw there.
Kennedy devoured Gary’s sub sandwich half. She drank two more bottles of water too. She noticed his bag of potato chips was only half eaten. Her eyes led his to the bag. She smiled suggestively.
“Sure, the salt will be good for you,” he said, turning the bag to her. “Kennedy, you need to tell us what’s going on. We can help you.”
She popped another chip into her mouth and chewed it to stall. “You’re already in danger because of me, just because you helped me. I don’t want to put you in anymore and I surely don’t want to drag you into my problems. Please, can you respect that I have to handle this my own way?
“Looks like that’s served you well. There was a dead girl on your mother’s kitchen floor that everyone thinks is you and you nearly got yourself killed in that attic.”
She glanced away, her eyes on the door. She contemplated getting up and going out it. The problem was, she had nowhere to go, no one she could ask to hide her or help her. She hadn’t stayed in touch with any of her high school or college friends. She hadn’t even stayed in touch with Gary like she had thought she would.
“Don’t try it,” the southern accent said.
She turned her head, so she looked Brian in the eyes. “I wasn’t going to.”
Sloan knew that was a lie. She had been considering it. He knew that if she were to get hold of their cash or credit cards, she would take them and bolt. He wasn’t sure what he needed to do to convince her she could trust them to know what she was involved in, or how to make her understand they could handle it, whatever it was.
He watched her drain her bottle of water. Then she stood.
“I’m going to use the bathroom and then I really need to lay down.”
“She’ll rabbit first chance she gets,” Sherman said in a whisper once she was behind the closed bathroom door.
“Yeah, I know. Watch your wallet. All she needs is some cash or a credit card and she’ll be gone.”
Sherman nodded. “I’ll stay over here, near the door. How hard are you going to push her to get the info?”
Sloan ran his fingers through his hair. Good question. “I think when Mother and Lambchop get here my efforts might be more productive. I’ll let her lay down and rest, but then the four of us will go at her hard.”
The bathroom door reopened. Sloan watched her settle herself on the bed with her back to them and without a word spoken. He stared at her still form. What could she possibly be involved in that would get her killed? And why wouldn’t she tell them? It had been over ten years since they’d talked, and he knew she was a different person with a life he knew nothing about, but certainly their history together would make her feel at least a little trust in him.
Kennedy felt the two men’s eyes fixed on her back. She knew that at some point, they would stop being nice and they would not accept her refusal to talk. She wasn’t sure what they’d do to her to try to get her to tell them about Melody and why she was killed. She bit back the grief and regret that radiated through every part of her. She wouldn’t cry! She was safe right now, and that was what she needed to hold on to. She laid perfectly still and pretended to be asleep as she had countless times.
Sloan received a text from Lambchop. He and Mother were in the lobby checking in. He messaged back his room number. Kennedy still slept or pretended to. He wasn’t sure which. She had laid still on the bed. He sent another message to Lambchop telling him to text when they reached the room.
When the text popped in that Lambchop and Mother were outside of his room, he quietly opened the door and joined them in the hall. “She’s sleeping, but I wanted to give you an update before we wake her with you coming into the room. She hasn’t given us any info. She’s either too afraid to, or she doesn’t trust us. First opportunity she gets to bolt, I’m sure she will, so I didn’t want to push her too hard till you got here.”
“Shepherd isn’t going to be happy about this. We’re handling this as a mission, facts unknown. She has to give it up, all of it, and soon,” Lambchop said.
“I know, and we go at her hard now,” Gary said.
“Is she anything like the girl you knew?” Mother asked.
Sloan shook his head. “No, not that I’ve seen so far, anyway.”
Mother cracked a small grin. “That’s okay. I’m sure you’re nothing like the boy she knew either.”
Wasn’t that the truth! Sloan thought. And after they pushed her as hard as they were going to, she’d definitely think he was nothing like he had been when they were together. He knew that boy was long gone.
“Madison flew in with us and is going to the local PD to acquire her cell phone and other personal effects. She’ll swing by here and we’ll send the DNA samples you collected back to HQ with her,” Lambchop said.
“Garcia wants us to send some DNA samples from Kennedy too. Collect that when we go back in,” Mother relayed.
Sloan nodded. It would be good to have independent results of the dead girl’s identity in case Kennedy wasn’t forthcoming. “Yeah, as far as the dead girl’s identity, I hate to say I may not believe Kennedy, but...” He ended it there. He shook his head and slid his cardkey through the lock.
They came through the door. Mother and Lambchop quietly greeted Sherman.
Echo
Kennedy heard the door click open, waking her from her shallow sleep. She remembered right away where she was. But when she opened her eyes, they landed on a muscular black man, who she had never seen. Then her eyes went to another man, a Hispanic man that she didn’t know either. He was a few inches shorter than the black man, not as muscular, but looked solid, nonetheless. They were both dressed in t-shirts and jeans. She knew she reacted poorly. She gasped and flinched upon seeing them both. Then she saw Gary, moving in towards her.
“Easy Kennedy. These two are the rest of my team I told you about. This is Lambchop, and he goes by Mother,” he said, motioning to the two men.
She nodded and forced a pleasant expression to form on her face. She sat up, still feeling exhausted, aftereffects of being overheated, she assumed.
The large black man smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, Kennedy. We’re here to help you, but I understand you have been reluctant to give Sloan any details.”
“I just don’t want to involve anyone else, put anyone else in danger.”
“We can protect you,” Mother said.
“I’m not sure anyone can,” she replied.
“You have to trust someone, Kennedy,” Sloan said. “Come on, you know me. We have a history. If you’re going to trust anyone, shouldn’t it be me?”
Yes, they had a history all right, and that was exactly why she didn’t want to tell him. She didn’t want to have to admit to him, of all people, all that she’d done over the past ten plus years. She didn’t want him to be disappointed in her. She didn’t want him to ju
dge her, and she knew he would. Hell, she judged herself harshly enough for them both.
“Kennedy, come on,” Sloan said.
“I saw something I shouldn’t have, something they are willing to kill to keep quiet. I can’t say anymore, please, they will find me. They will kill me. No one can be trusted. I went to the LAPD and gave a statement to a detective there. I had pictures on my phone. He deleted them and told me to stop telling lies. He had to be on their payroll. They’re powerful, above the law.”
The four men exchanged glances. She wasn’t sure what that meant. Did they not believe her?
“Look, you need to tell us what this is about. Then we can get you hooked up with the right federal agency to tell your story to. We’ll keep you safe until we can get you into the hands of the Marshals,” Sloan promised.