by Mary Stone
He needed to get this done in any way possible.
His two targets lived in separate places, so he doubted he’d find them together like he hoped. His new plan was to get one, have her call the other in a panic, and when the other rushed over to help, kill them both. That would work. For some reason, the family wanted this done quickly. There wasn’t time to lose.
He paused at the top of the stairs and looked down. The boyfriend had swiveled his head and was now looking at him curiously, so he quickly made his way down the hall, pretending to go to one of the other apartments farther down the way. Her boyfriend was a suspicious fuck. This could be a problem.
He heard the door to the complex open and thud closed, and went to the landing, peering over. The guy was gone. He thought about listening at the Hatfield girl’s door, but the guy had spooked him enough as it was. She probably wasn’t in there, anyway. Probably went to visit her poor mom in the hospital.
Shoving his hands into the pocket of his leather jacket, he decided to go and see what he could find out at the old bat’s house. He’d scope out the area and see how to make his move.
He pushed out of the apartment complex door, looking for that cute blonde he’d seen before, but she was already gone.
A shame, but it didn’t bother him much. There’d be other girls. A lot of other girls. God, he loved this life.
18
Once upon a time, when Kylie was nursing a bullet wound to the shoulder, her mother had taken care of her, giving her all she needed while she was recuperating. Even months after the injury, Rhonda still cooked her dinner and did the things that Kylie was more than able to do herself. Her mother babied her.
So, it was only fair that Kylie babied her mother right back.
Rhonda was released that afternoon, and Kylie brought her home in her VW bug and set her up on the flowered living room couch, then tried her best to make her a nice dinner. Rhonda told her to get lost because Kylie was a big fail when it came to cooking, and Rhonda’s injuries only had her a little sore. There were no breaks, no sprains. Rhonda kept reminding Kylie of this as she shooed her from the house. “I’ll be fine!” she insisted. “I feel good as new!”
Kylie wasn’t sure if that was true, or just the Vicodin talking, but she knew better than to argue with her mother regarding these things. If she tried to take control in her mother’s kitchen, it wouldn’t end well. That was precisely why Kylie had never acquired kitchen skills—her mother ruled there and never wanted the help, especially from someone as clumsy as Kylie when it came to anything remotely domestic.
When she left her mother’s house, Kylie decided that no way in hell was she going to subject Linc to looking at her bag-lady ass for one more minute.
She was on cloud nine now, smiling every time she thought of Linc. She wanted to do something special for him.
Stopping at her apartment complex, she grabbed all the mail she’d been neglecting for too long. After trudging up the stairs, she tried the doorknob, noticing he’d locked both that and the deadbolt. It was something she rarely did, but that was Linc. He was super-concerned about her safety.
Unlocking both, she went inside, went through the mail—it was mostly junk stuff, since she’d had the important things forwarded to Linc’s house—then stripped and took a long shower. When she came out, she went through her closet of rejects and pulled out a red dress she rarely wore but knew Linc would appreciate. She put her hair up in a simple twist and looked at herself in the mirror.
She looked happy. In love. But more importantly, she looked to be at peace.
After finding out what an absolute douche her father was, maybe she was. She could put that part of her life to rest.
As she was about to leave, her phone buzzed with a text. Surprisingly, it was from Linc. She jumped to answer it, since he rarely texted, wondering if he couldn’t wait to see her as much as she couldn’t wait to see him. Instead, her spirits plummeted when she read, Got another SAR call. Taking Vader and Storm. I’ll be home late tonight. Make yourself comfortable.
Bleh.
No longer in a rush, she collapsed on the couch with her laptop.
She’d promised herself she wouldn’t do it, but she couldn’t help it. Her fingers were getting itchy again, and she was never able to fight that feeling. Giving in, she opened up her background search website and logged in. Then she typed in: Jerry Phillips.
A number of search results came up, too many to go through. She narrowed it down by putting in Dr. and Asheville. There were fewer results this time, the first photograph a picture of the white-haired man she met, wearing a white doctor’s coat and looking as dashing as ever.
Kylie sifted through it all carefully. Yes, he was a widower, married for twenty years until his wife’s death two years prior. Breast cancer. According to the news about him, his ENT practice was one of the best in the state, and as a doctor, his patients had given him great reviews. He’d lived in town all his life, except when he’d gone to Duke for medical school and during a stint overseas, working with poor children in Haiti.
Kylie had thought he looked too good to be true. And now, sifting through all his credentials and history, he sounded too good to be true too. But maybe he was. Maybe some people were just amazing people, and they were meant to be taken at face value and not looked, like a gift horse, in the mouth.
Her father certainly hadn’t been one of those people. How could he have even thought to get married, when he was already married? How did he even manage that? He hadn’t even changed his last name, just started going by William instead of Adam, his actual middle name.
It didn’t make sense.
Had the mafia helped cover it all up? The marriage certificate? The birth certificate?
And if so…why?
She typed in her father’s name, and then the name of his second wife, Christina DeRoss, looking for a marriage announcement. One immediately came up, for a marriage that occurred in Las Vegas. It was a long write-up about all the guests attending, names Kylie had never heard about. There was a picture of a much younger looking William Hatfield, who looked exactly like the man in Kylie’s little family photo. She checked the date and frowned.
They’d gotten married only a month after Kylie was born.
Holy cow. Talk about moving fast.
Kylie sat back, trying to make sense out of it. Her dad had walked out on her mother four days after she was born. A week later, he’d sent her the Dear Jane, telling her the marriage had been a mistake. If that was true, he must have been planning this while her mother was pregnant with her.
Any way Kylie tried to slice it, that was totally messed up.
Kylie bookmarked the page and then searched for marriage license information. She found that because licenses were held at the state level and not easily searchable, it was entirely possible he could’ve applied for licenses in both places. That was how he could’ve gotten away with it.
When she typed in her mother’s maiden name and Adam Hatfield, she pulled up only a single line in The New York Times wedding announcement section.
Sad.
Typing in the word “bigamy,” she learned all sorts of things about it. First, that it was a crime to marry another person when he hadn’t yet sought out or received a divorce. Second, that the second marriage to Christina DeRoss wasn’t technically legal. And third, that if her father was caught, he could go to prison for a long time.
Her father wasn’t just a cheater and a liar and a scumbag. He was also a criminal.
Then why did she feel sorry for him? Was it because he was her dad and she’d care about him no matter what, like she cared about Linc? Some people, it didn’t matter what they did. You were just condemned to love them, no matter how awfully they behaved.
When she looked at the clock next, it was because another text came in from Linc. It said: I’m home from the SAR. Thought you’d be back by now. Hope everything’s okay with your mom.
She couldn’t believe how much time had p
assed. It was almost nine, and the apartment had gone almost pitch-black except for the glow of her electronics. She’d been going down the research rabbit hole for hours. The idea of going back home to Linc sound really good.
Flipping the lid of her laptop closed, she tucked it into her bag. Then she shook out her hair, which was dry by now, straightened her dress, hefted her bag onto her shoulder, and left the apartment.
She remembered to lock the door this time. And because she knew it was what Linc would do, she fastened the deadbolt too.
19
The sun was just about gone as Kylie went downstairs into the foyer. Her downstairs neighbor, Baron Murphy, was already in a partying mood, as the smell of pot was strong and hazing up the common area. It didn’t bother her anymore. Nothing did.
One of the ties of her sandals had come loose, so keys in hand, she stooped to tie it. As she did, she looked at the old floor mats. The new superintendent of the place hadn’t been keeping it up very well, and the common areas were really suffering.
But that was okay. This wasn’t her home anymore. Not really. It felt very temporary, like something she’d finally outgrown.
Even the thought of letting go of this place where she’d spent the past six years didn’t bother her. She’d loved this apartment so much when she was an undergrad, but now, saying goodbye didn’t seem so scary. She could probably sublet the place to a college kid. It was, after all, supposed to be for UNC students, and she hadn’t been in school in a while. And then, maybe, when the lease was up, leave it altogether. That felt right.
She stepped out the door and straight into the October chill. She loved the fall. Warm in the day, chillier at night. She closed the sweater she’d pulled on over her dress more tightly together and headed toward her beloved Jeep.
“Kylie!”
She whirled and looked around. Baron was waving at her, holding a black bag out to her. “You forget something?”
Kylie squinted at what was in his hand and realized she’d left her laptop bag in the foyer when she’d stooped to tie her sandal. So much for being mature and having her shit together.
“Oh my gosh,” she said, heading back his way. “Thanks.”
Baron may have been a stoner, but he was one of the few people in the building she was friendly with. He was a perennial college student, as she had once been, older than most of the undergrads. The rest of the people there almost seemed like babies to her now. All the more reason to move on, she thought, as she approached him. Baron—unshaven, ungroomed, and bleary-eyed—didn’t seem as bothered by the fact as she did.
Wrapping her hand around the bag, Kylie felt the toe of her shoe catch on the broken sidewalk and lost her balance.
Bang!
If she hadn’t been so intimately familiar with that sound, Kylie would have thought someone had shot off a firework. But she was intimately familiar with it, and without thinking, she dropped and began to move, making herself as much of a moving target as she could.
“Go!” she screamed at Baron, who yelped as a downstairs window in the building shattered.
Tires squealed as Kylie dove behind the stone sign that named her apartment complex. Peeking out, she tried to see the car, but all she could see was a black blur. A second later, the car was gone.
Heart hammering in her chest, she looked around, expecting to see Baron on the ground. But he was gone. Relief coursed through her that her neighbor had made it into the building safely.
Stunned, Kylie didn’t want to wait to see if the shooter came back. She also didn’t want to be trapped in the building if he did.
What to do?
Spotting the yellow of her Jeep, she made her decision and ran toward it as fast as she could go. She needed to be with Linc. She’d call Jacob when she got there.
As Kylie drove, everything was a blur as she scanned the road for the black car and checked her rearview multiple times for a tail. She held her breath as she passed the shiny guardrail and didn’t seem to let it out until she pulled into Linc’s driveway.
As the gravel crunched under her tires, she tried to put everything in perspective. Who would want her dead?
Her father’s face flashed in her mind. His panic. His whispered words. He’d told her to leave. Told her she was in danger.
Had that danger followed her here?
She shivered.
What was going on?
Linc was surprised that Kylie still hadn’t arrived at the house when he got back from the rescue he’d been sent on. It was an average, ordinary case—a hiker went off the trail and got turned around—with a happy ending. The hiker was found only a half hour after the dogs were sent out. He’d fallen off a steep incline and bruised his ankle, was a little shaken, but was able to accompany them off the mountain on his own, refusing medical attention.
When Linc finished up and loaded the dogs into his truck, he thought about what a beautiful night it was. A good night to open all the windows and let the mountain breeze through the house. He was really looking forward to a shower, a beer, and a quiet night on the back porch, listening to the crickets, with Kylie. When he got home, the house was dark, so he got out the beer, texted Kylie to let her know he was home, and settled down to relax. He knew Kylie would be along in a few minutes.
A half hour later, Kylie still hadn’t arrived. He pulled out his new phone and sent her a second text: Is everything okay?
There was no response, not even an indication that she’d read the message. Maybe she was on her way back.
Pressing his lips together, he picked up the phone and called her.
The call went right to voicemail.
All right. Now he was getting worried. He went to the front porch and nearly tripped over the dogs as he started to pace back and forth.
About fifteen minutes later, when he was on the verge of pulling his hair out, he saw the lights, cutting through the trees at the front of the driveway. A second later, those lights pulled into view. It was her Jeep. He dug his hands deep into his pockets and watched as she came closer.
She opened the door and Vader ran down the steps to her, excitedly licking her bare knees like he hadn’t seen her in ages. Linc waited his turn, impatiently, then came in for a kiss. “Hey. I was starting to worry. What took you so long?”
When she came into the porch light, he noticed her face was streaked with tears.
“Kylie,” he said, alarmed. “What happened?”
She pressed her lips together, as if she needed to do that to stop herself from crying some more. Then she threw herself into his arms. She was trembling as if she’d touched a live wire.
“Shh,” he calmed her, smoothing her hair. “It’s okay.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know,” she sobbed. “I really don’t know if anything is anymore.”
“Wait. Come on inside. Let’s talk about it.”
He took her hand and led her inside, sitting her down on the sofa. “You want something to drink? Tea? Beer? Wine?”
“Wine,” she said quickly. “I need something strong. My nerves are shot.”
He jumped up and came back with a glass of her favorite Merlot. He handed it to her, and she took a large gulp. “What was it? Did you nearly get in a car accident?”
“No!” she shouted, then started to cry again. “Oh, my god. It’s much worse.”
Worse? What could be worse than that?
It occurred to him that, because of their little tiff over Faith, he hadn’t had a chance to ask her anything about her business trip to New York. Was this a result of that trip? Something had sent Kylie packing sooner than she’d expected to leave. But she’d been fine when he saw her earlier that day.
“All right, well, why don’t you start at the begin—”
A knock sounded at the door.
What the hell? The reason Linc liked this place so much was because it was out of the way, and he never got many visitors. Truth be told, he was a bit of a misanthrope. Lately, this place had felt a little li
ke Grand Central Station.
Kylie looked terrified, her fingers digging into his arm.
“What’s wr—?”
“Yoo hoo! Linc!”
He groaned. Faith.
Kylie transformed from scared to pissed in an instant. “Is that her?”
He was seriously going to kill someone.
He liked Faith. He really did. But he could only take her in small doses, and he’d gotten enough of his fill of her today. What was she doing here now?
“I’ll make her leave.” Kylie wrapped the sweater more tightly around her, the tears beginning again. He kissed her forehead. “You run upstairs and get into bed. I’ll be there in just a minute.”
He waited until the bedroom door clicked shut before opening his front door, unable to keep the pissed look off his face. “What do you want?”
She looked at him with wide eyes through the screen. “Bad timing again?”
“You got it,” he muttered, turning away to shut the door.
She pushed inside, holding it open. “I know. I know you probably don’t want me here,” she said. “But I’m desperate.”
His jaw worked as he looked at her. What was going on? Faith was constantly on his tail. She’d practically accused him of stalking her, but he got the distinct feeling it was the other way around. And the only reason he could think of her doing so was because…she wanted to get back with him.
“Yeah. But I don’t think I can help you,” he said, his voice flat. “Look, I told you. You and I are over. And whatever you’re coming up here for, I can’t help you with it.”
“But you can!” she insisted, following him into the kitchen as he pulled open the fridge and grabbed a beer.
He used his keychain opener to pop off the top and took a long swig, his eyes never leaving hers. If she was going to make a pass at him now, with Kylie upstairs, he’d have to set her straight. He swallowed his beer. “Oh, yeah? How so?”