Walk In My Shadow: A Gripping Romantic Thriller (Mirror Book 3): A Mirror Novel

by Stephanie Tyler

  There was a long pause as she wondered if she'd played this right as Vance sat tensely next to her. "Ah, Abs. You really feel that way?"

  "I do."

  "Then why are you fucking my brother?"

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The stalking continued to intensify that week after the phone call. Teige and Kayla insisted on canceling their trip in order to stick close to Abby. And there were more pictures, sent directly to Abby. Or rather, left for her to find, which meant the stalker was in control, since all Abby did was check for pictures and bugs and cameras.

  The worst were the notes, telling her exactly what the stalker's plans for Vance were.

  It's going to be far worse than what happened to Ethan. Ethan's death was peaceful. Vance's will be the slowest, most painful process he could ever endure and still breathe…and by the end, he'll wish he wasn't. He'll beg me to let him go, but I won't.

  I'll record it all for you, Abby.

  She showed Knox, Teige and Jacoby and Ward those notes, but not Vance. She felt like it would cripple him, and maybe she was projecting but she couldn't imagine what he was dealing with.

  Teige didn't want her showing Kayla either and Abby agreed, even though they both knew Kayla would be angry with both of them. But sometimes, as Teige had pointed out, it took others to care for your well-being when you couldn't.

  He was right.

  When Vance went to his place to grab some stuff—with Jacoby in tow since Abby had insisted he not go anywhere alone—Knox stopped by her house.

  Knox was getting angrier with each passing day. He and Vance had a strong history from the military, she knew, but obviously it was more than just that brotherly bond.

  As much as the CIA no doubt discouraged it, they were friends.

  She knew just how good friends when he sat at her table and said, "I'm resigning from the agency."

  She stared at him. "You think you can help Vance more easily from the outside."

  "Yes."

  "And then what?"

  "Right now, I can't see past keeping him alive, Abby," he said evenly. "But I also can't imagine staying in a place that allowed this to happen. Because someone else has to know what's going on. This can't be a one-man operation. And staying is just as good as condoning it."

  "I get it, Knox. You know I do. I'm having the same troubles in my own job. I have for a long time. But I do some good there," she reasoned.

  "Is that enough to assuage your conscience?" he asked.

  And no, it wasn't. "I won't tell Vance."

  "Good," he said. "He's giving me enough shit already. If he knows this, he'll lose it even more."

  Later that night, after Vance had come back, they'd eaten and then settled in to watch some TV, like everything was normal.

  Abby wasn't good at pretending to be normal.

  She wasn't good at being a victim either. And no matter how many countless times life's circumstances had tried to force her into that role, she refused to play.

  She sure as hell wasn't going to stop now. If she and Vance grew apart because of it, that was the price she'd have to pay for not lying down and playing dead.

  This stalker had chosen the men she loved—had put her in the crosshairs in doing so, and walking away wasn't an option.

  Now she tapped her fingers on the table in front of her, the notebook with her list and the computer screen both frustratingly blank. Vance was sleeping on the couch, comfortingly within her view, and her gun remained by her side.

  Vance, she noted, slept with his under the couch pillow under his head.

  It had been a long day and was promising to be an even longer night. She went to the kitchen to make some coffee, notepad in hand. She glanced out the window and saw Kayla walking across the driveway toward her. She opened the side door to let her in.

  "Jacoby's right behind me," Kayla told her after a brief hug. "We've got work to do."

  Jacoby came in a few minutes later. And then she heard the soft hum of a car pull into the driveway.

  "Ward's here," Jacoby said, and Abby glanced up from pouring coffee and saw Ward standing in the doorway.

  Ward was, at one time, Jacoby's rescuer, Jacoby's partner and most recently, Jacoby's husband.

  Ward was an FBI agent—a high-ranking profiler. He'd known her father.

  He'd also been held hostage by a serial killer who happened to be Jacoby's sister.

  Twice.

  So really, they were even, and neither of them was looking to break that tie.

  Now, Ward embraced her, hugged her tightly, murmuring, "What doesn't kill us," in her ear.

  She gave a quiet laugh, because yes, he spoke the truth.

  "Kayla, I've heard a lot about you. Great to meet you." Ward extended a hand and Kayla hugged him instead. "Isn't this a fine crew."

  "Yeah. A nice, fucked-up one," Jacoby said darkly, but he was smiling. Ward tugged him close with an arm around his shoulders and shook his head. "Let's get this show on the road."

  Kayla leaned forward intently to look at the list Abby had placed in the middle of the table, things that Vance had mentioned about the stalker, things she'd observed. "Obsessive. Violent. Calculating," she read, then looked up. "And strangely passive too, don't you think?"

  "She's good," Jacoby said to no one in particular, and it made Kayla smile a little.

  "I guess something good does come from growing up with a psychopath," she said softly. "Or at least, I hope it will tonight."

  Abby reached out and squeezed her hand, and then they got to work, four people who had a horror in common that very few would believe or understand. Bonded by their tragedies and their ability to survive, they let the part of them that knew killers almost as well as they knew their own souls in. And they sat around a table, drinking coffee as they ripped their hard-won control away, piece by aching piece, and profiled a killer.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Vance had woken an hour earlier and found a virtual brain trust of survivors in Abby's kitchen. He hadn't wanted to interrupt their flow so he'd simply walked next door after a quick nod and point to Abby.

  He hadn't rung Teige's bell but just situated himself on the lit porch and enjoyed the quiet.

  "You really think you should be out here alone?" Teige asked suddenly and Vance pretended the guy hadn't almost given him a heart attack as he'd come out of the darkened woods silently. With a beast of a dog who was also stealthy.

  "You planning on bodyguarding me?" Vance shot back.

  Teige snorted, then asked hopefully, "Did Abby kick you out?"

  "No. The serial killer crew is busy over there. I think they'll work best without me."

  Teige glanced over and sighed. "It's going to give Kayla nightmares again."

  Vance didn't know what to say to that. Obviously, the last thing he wanted was to fuck anyone else up in this situation.

  Teige jumped up onto the deck and the shepherd followed him in what appeared to be a lazy, easy movement for the sleek giant. Abby had mentioned her brother and Kayla had a dog, but in his opinion, dog wasn't exactly the right term to describe it.

  "What's the dog's name?" Vance asked finally after Teige drained a bottle of water.

  "Her name's Hanny. Short for Hannibal."

  Yeah, see, that fit much better than 'They have a dog.'

  "Did they come up with anything?" Teige asked finally.

  "I didn't ask. Doesn't really matter what the profile is—I'm the one the guy's after. I'm the bait."

  Teige stared at him. "So what's your plan?"

  "Haven't decided yet," Vance lied.

  "Bullshit. You're going to leave and let the guy follow you around the jungles or wherever the fuck you're going to go hide."

  "Who said anything about hiding? I was military too, asshole. I know how to hunt," Vance shot back, then stared off into the woods with the monster German shepherd right behind him.

  Vance wasn't sure if Hanny was guarding him or sizing him up for dinner, and Teige didn
't do anything to dissuade the idea of the latter. Guy probably had a secret "kill" signal for the giant beast.

  Granted, the giant beast seemed to love Abby, so…

  He sighed, put his head into his hands…and felt Hanny move closer. Then her hot, heavy, furry head nuzzled against his shoulders as she leaned against him.

  Comforting him.

  "Fuck, she likes you," Teige muttered, then pointed at the dog. "Traitor."

  Hanny barked at Teige.

  "Fine, be like that. See where you end up sleeping," Teige continued, but Hanny barked so loudly that Vance figured he'd lose hearing in one ear but it was worth it, because it make Teige leave the general vicinity.

  "Thanks, Hanny," Vance told her with a pat. "Unfortunately, he'll be back."

  "Damn right I'll be back," Teige said from behind him, and yeah, there was the heart attack again.

  "What the fuck is that with sneaking up on me?" Vance demanded.

  "If I was your stalker, you'd be dead right now," Teige told him, and again, Hanny barked at her owner. "Traitor," Teige repeated, pointing at her. "And you—you need a motherfucking better plan than running."

  "Great. I'm sure you've got one all prepared, like a Boy Scout."

  Teige sighed and looked toward the heavens. "You don't think profiling will work, so while they're all contained over there, maybe we should think of something."

  "And then we'll take a blood oath not to tell them?"

  "You think I'm telling my sister than I'm helping you to get this guy by yourself?" Teige scoffed. "No thanks—I value my life."

  "Fine," Vance conceded. "So what would you do?"

  Teige settled on the deck next to Vance, snapped his fingers twice, making Hanny go into high alert mode. "About time someone asked me that."

  They'd made good progress, but Ward and Jacoby needed to run some computer searches from their locked computers at their office. And Kayla was fading fast, although they'd all made it to two in the morning.

  After Kayla let Ward and Jacoby out, she came back to the kitchen and began to clear the table of cups and plates.

  "Leave it—I'll get it tomorrow," she told Kayla, who promptly ignored her. Pretty much the same as she did for a long while when Abby was the marshal in charge of her, Abby thought ruefully.

  It was Kayla's stubbornness that clinched her survival.

  "Your shoulder's hurting again?" Kayla asked casually.

  Abby hadn't even realized she'd been rubbing her shoulder, but she wasn't surprised. It always seemed to tingle and ache when she thought about this shit. Whether that was psychosomatic or not, she didn't care, because feeling was feeling. "I guess it is," she admitted.

  Kayla finished the dishes and sat down next to her. "What's up?"

  "Oh, the usual," Abby said, and for a second, both women smiled.

  "Any word on the job situation?" Kayla asked.

  "Nothing. I'm hoping no news is good news."

  "And if it's gone forever?" Kayla's tone was quiet.

  Work had been her touchstone for so long, so without it, Abby always feared she'd lose her moorings. "I don't know. I mean, part of me is relieved. And part of me has no idea what I'll do, once this is over with Vance."

  Kayla stared at her. "And that's just what worries me. What do you mean, once this is over with Vance?"

  "I meant this danger," Abby said defensively.

  "Really?" Kayla cocked an eyebrow at her.

  "I never liked you," Abby told her halfheartedly, which made her future-sister-in-law grin.

  "Because I'm your mirror."

  "You're prettier."

  "Shut up and listen to me, Abby Daniels. You're not your father, Abby." Kayla's tone was gentle but her eyes were serious and sad. "I see how you can fall into his traps, but the thing is, so do you."

  "You're not your sister—never could be," Abby reassured her just as easily.

  "I know that. You and Teige forced me to see that. And now I'm doing the same to you. Look, I was on the run, but like you pointed out, I was also running from myself." Kayla wasn't unkind but she also wasn't mincing words. "You weren't afraid to tell me. You knew I wouldn't break down. And I know you won't either."

  Abby crossed her arms, figured if she was going to be treated like the petulant child on the receiving end of this pep talk, she might as well show that she didn't like this side of the table one bit. Granted, she deserved it. "Go on."

  Kayla literally rolled her eyes at Abby's attitude. "You're trying to run."

  "I'm trying to help Vance."

  "You're using obstacles to put in between you because you feel like you've gotten too attached."

  "Now keeping Vance safe is an obstacle?"

  "You're making it into one. You're keeping him at arm's length. That's great if all you want at the end of this is Vance alive. But there's more there. You know it, and I won't let you throw it away."

  "It's not your choice," Abby pointed out.

  "We're family, Abby. I won't let you fuck this up. Vance can handle you. Let him."

  "God, you're a pain in the ass," Abby muttered.

  "I learned from the best," Kayla said pointedly, obviously meaning Abby and Teige. "Don't be that woman, Abby. Don't be the woman who builds a life filled with temporary things to keep people away."

  Abby's throat tightened. She wanted to hate Kayla for pointing out the truth of the matter, but she couldn't. Instead, she nodded, and Kayla continued. "Vance needs you—not Abby the protector. He needs all of you."

  Of course, Kayla was right. Maybe Abby hadn't fully realized she was doing it, but on some level, she couldn't deny that protecting was far easier than giving her heart.

  You've already given it to him.

  And once that realization settled over her like a warm blanket, she settled in to wait for Vance to come back.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  "Hey, you all right?" Abby asked when Vance came through the door. She'd been lying on her couch, waiting for him to come home. It had taken a lot for her to not march over to Teige's and find him.

  But she knew the work she'd been doing with Ward, Jacoby and Kayla was important, and she also knew that once Kayla got home, Vance would come back.

  "I'm fine."

  "How's my brother?" she asked.

  "Hanny's cool," was all he said.

  "It went that well, then."

  "Abby, he's worried about you. He's right to. I'd probably wonder about him if he didn't hate me," Vance admitted. "And don't get up." He kicked off his shoes and settled into the couch next to her, allowing her to mold herself against his warm, hard body. He shifted and then they were the perfect fit, holding each other, face to face.

  "Sorry we woke you up," she told him.

  "You've got nothing to be sorry about."

  "It was worth it."

  "You look beat, Abby."

  She felt it too, sore, as if she'd gone through some kind of bizarre hazing ritual in which she'd been forced to relive some of the worst times of her life through a killer's eyes. She'd rarely put herself in that position, because she knew how dangerous, how oddly addicting it could be. "I'll be fine. Just hold me." When his arms tightened around her, she asked, "You know what I keep wondering?"

  "What's that?"

  "What's the stalker’s endgame? He's got power—maybe he had a hand in creating the Whitelist or he’s just given the power to recruit. A finder, like you said. Either way, why did he feel the need to destroy the man he was supposed to recruit?" she mused. "It's not making sense, unless he feels he's not getting the respect he deserves."

  "You mean from the men—and women—he's put on the Whitelist?" Vance asked and she nodded. “We don’t know if the stalker was responsible for more men than just Ethan at the time.”

  "True. You said Ethan knew about the Whitelist, knew he was on it.”

  "I'd say the majority of the people on that list are major players. They'd probably get themselves into the CIA because of the work they did. Thi
s Whitelist just gives that extra edge—and it allows the top brass to nudge agents toward where they're best suited."

  "I know you've been trying to remove yourself from the CIA. Are you doing that purposely? To piss the stalker off sufficiently enough to get him to come after you?" Vance stilled, and she had her answer. "Bring me into the plan. I'm sure that you and Teige are trying to come up with something. Don't bother denying it. I've been thinking about this anyway—we'll act like we're going away to get married or something—running off together. Maybe he'll get pissed. He probably saw me as some kind of roadblock with Ethan, but now? Now he'll see me as leading you far away from him, and his easy access. It'll be harder for him to track you when you're not on the CIA's payroll, right?"

  "That's the theory," he murmured. "I'm still not comfortable with you doing this."

  "I'm not comfortable with you dying, Vance," she said softly. "Please."

  "You do cut right to the heart of the matter."

  "No reason not to." She paused. "Kayla thinks that I'm putting my professional hat on because that's easier," she admitted.

  "Are you?"

  "Yes."

  "And what does that mean, exactly?" Vance pressed.

  "It means…I'm scared."

  He nodded slowly. "I get that."

  "I'm not scared of the stalker. I'm scared of losing you. I'm scared you'll realize at the end of all of this that I'm not who you wanted."

  He gave her a small smile. "You gonna run from me?" he asked, and when she shrugged, he said, "Go ahead."

  "Excuse me?"

  "Run, Abby. I don't mind the chase. Because if you think I'm going to let you hand me this bullshit—"

  "It's not bullshit!"

  "—and just let you stroll away, you picked the wrong guy."

  "Technically, I didn't pick you."

  "You picked me up in a bar."

  Shit. "I thought you'd be a perfect one-night stand."

  "And that's why you came back a second night. In a row."