Obsession

by Traci Hunter Abramson

  Greg looked from the detective to Kendra. “As much as I hate to do it, I think it’s only logical to cancel your concert tomorrow night. Ben can’t play, and I’d rather not bring in a last-minute replacement under the circumstances.”

  Kendra nodded, not sure if she should feel relieved or disappointed.

  Detective Eadelton stood and took a step forward. “I assume you have a security system here in the house, but we’ll have a cruiser parked outside just to be safe.” He handed Kendra a business card. “Please give me a call if you think of anything else.”

  Kendra managed to nod as the detective turned and Greg escorted him out. Then she felt reality crash over her. She knew what it was like to have strangers watching her constantly, limiting her activities. She remembered all too well the lack of privacy, the overwhelming feelings of invasion and oppression. Her chest tightened, and she tried to fight back the anxiety that threatened.

  A moment later, Greg returned and held out a cordless phone. “Kendra, I’m sorry, but your father is on the phone.”

  The mention of her father kicked her anxiety into high gear. She had to force herself to reach her hand out to take the phone. She could already imagine her father’s reaction to the news that someone had bypassed security, overpowered her bodyguard, and then planted some kind of bomb backstage. The fact that her parents hadn’t already shown up on her doorstep confirmed that they were still in New York, where her father was scheduled to appear as a guest on one of the late-night TV shows.

  She stared down at the phone for a moment and took a steadying breath. “Hi, Dad.”

  “Baby! Oh, it’s so good to hear your voice,” Sterling said, his voice both relieved and concerned. “Are you okay? I can’t believe someone got past your security.”

  Kendra glanced down at her arms, at the ugly scrapes and minor burns that had resulted from the explosion. “I’m fine.”

  “And I’m going to make sure you stay that way. I’m sending a car to pick you up and bring you home,” he told her. “Your mother and I will catch the next flight out.”

  A fresh wave of panic rushed through her at the thought of moving back into her father’s home, of living with a dozen guards and the carefully controlled schedule, of losing her right to make any decisions for herself without her father’s permission. “No, Dad. I’m staying here. There’s no reason for you to come home early.”

  Sterling hesitated briefly, and then his determined voice came over the line once more. “If you won’t move home, then we’ll enhance your security. I’ve already talked to Bruce Parsons. He and Alan can be over there within the hour. Alan can take over for Dustin until he gets out of the hospital.”

  “I don’t want a house full of security people.” A wave of nausea threatened as Kendra considered what it would mean to have her father’s head of security take over her protection again. “I’m fine. Really.”

  “Kendra, you aren’t fine. The bomb at your concert could have killed you.”

  She swallowed the lump that formed in her throat. “But it didn’t.”

  “I’m not going to take chances with your safety,” Sterling insisted. “Bruce and Alan will be at your house shortly. Let them help you.”

  Kendra swallowed her objections, already knowing her father would ignore them. Instead, she simply said, “Good-bye, Dad.”

  “Be safe, sweetie. I love you.”

  “I love you too,” Kendra said softly and then hung up the phone. She stared at it for a long moment. An image of what her life would soon be like flashed into her mind and pressed on her. What little privacy she had gained would disappear the moment Bruce Parsons walked through her door.

  His paranoia, his insistence on constant surveillance, would stifle her just as it had during her teenage years. Bruce’s son, Alan, seemed to understand her almost desperate need for some space, but undoubtedly, he would follow his father’s instructions and effectively smother whatever creativity she still had left.

  As a teenager, Kendra had locked herself in her room with her guitar to find peace and solitude. Writing music gave her that sense of freedom she always craved but could never quite grasp. Bruce’s men didn’t know how to protect her without hovering, without invading her personal space.

  How often had she discovered a wonderful melody or figured out the perfect lyrics only to have them skip right out of her head when a bodyguard came knocking on her door? How many times had she attempted to take a walk on the beach to gather her thoughts only to be told she couldn’t go? Could they not understand that she needed time alone—time without a constant audience?

  Kendra stood up, her urge to flee surpassing all logic. She grabbed her phone and pressed speed dial. Her knees were shaky, so she lowered herself onto the couch as she heard the sleepy hello. Tears threatened when she opened her mouth, her voice low. “Grandpa, I need your help.”

  Chapter 4

  William Blake hung up the phone and looked up to see his wife standing in his office doorway. She shivered against the chill in the room and pulled her robe more tightly around her.

  “Who was on the phone?”

  “Kendra.”

  She took a step forward, concern evident on her face. “What’s wrong? Is she okay?”

  “Everyone’s fine.” He slipped his arms around her and gathered her close. “A bomb went off at her concert tonight.”

  Hannah pulled back enough that she could see his face. “What?”

  “She’s okay, but her bodyguard ended up in the hospital.”

  “Sterling isn’t going to want her staying in that big house alone.”

  “I know. He’s sending part of his security team over there right now, but she’ll be gone by the time they get there.”

  “What do you mean? She isn’t running away again, is she? I know Sterling can be overprotective, but this isn’t the time to argue about security.”

  “I agree. That’s why she’s coming here, at least until I can find a better solution.” He saw her processing his words and knew that she understood his concerns.

  Her eyebrows furrowed. “You’re worried you won’t be able to protect her by yourself, aren’t you?”

  “Maybe . . . but I definitely think it’s time for me to pull in a few favors.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Why don’t you go back to bed? I need to make a phone call, and it’s going to be at least six hours before Kendra gets here.”

  “She’s driving?”

  William nodded. “I don’t like it either, but it’s safer than flying.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You think someone would try to follow her here?”

  “I think I’m not going to take any chances with Kendra or with you.” He nudged her toward the door. “Go get some sleep. I need to make that call.”

  With a reluctant nod, she gave him a kiss and then disappeared back down the hall.

  William glanced at the clock and considered waiting for a couple hours so his old FBI buddy could get some more sleep. Then he shook his head. Kendra was family, and she had the same stubborn streak that William had passed along to her father. She was adamant that her grandfather could give her the privacy and safety she so desperately craved, but he knew better. As much as it pained him to agree with his son, Kendra needed a bodyguard, whether she wanted one or not.

  * * *

  Elias Washington hung up the phone and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He glanced over at his wife, who was lying peacefully beside him, and was grateful that she had learned years ago to sleep with earplugs.

  He slipped out of bed and headed straight for his office. William’s call had woken him up shortly after three o’clock, and he wanted some time to consider his friend’s request before the morning briefing.

  As the agent in charge at the FBI’s Phoenix office, Elias knew no one under his command would question him if he assigned a protection detail to Kendra Blake, even though the explosion in Los Angeles was technically outside their jurisdiction. Assigning protection to someone who
potentially didn’t want it would be a lot trickier, especially considering William’s other request. He wanted the agent assigned to his granddaughter to either be one of his female operatives or someone who was LDS, preferably both.

  Since Kendra knew most of his agents, his options were limited. Elias knew it was going to take some time to look through his personnel files, to consider his options, and to identify the right person for the job.

  He powered on his laptop and automatically opened his e-mail. An urgent message caught his attention. He opened it and read through the disturbing details of the woman found dead the night before along with a request from the LA office for some extra support in hunting a possible serial killer.

  Elias shook his head and headed for the shower. Whether he liked it or not, this workday had already started, and it was going to last well into the night.

  * * *

  Kendra stared at her grandfather, still not quite sure what to think. She was exhausted after not sleeping at all last night, not to mention everything else that had happened. She must have misunderstood what he was telling her. “You want to assign me a security team?”

  “It wouldn’t be like the bodyguards your father keeps around. I just want some of my FBI friends to keep an eye on things for a while, at least until the police finish their investigation.”

  “You know I can’t live like that anymore. That’s why I came here.” She shook her head, already feeling like the walls were closing in on her. “I can’t do it anymore, Grandpa. I just can’t. You used to be FBI. I’ll be fine here with you.”

  William let out a sigh. “If whoever planted that bomb at your concert was trying to hurt you, he might be able to track you here, and I definitely don’t want you staying at your condo here in town. I just don’t know if I trust myself to keep both you and your grandmother safe.”

  Sickness and nerves sloshed inside her, and her face paled. “I never really thought about that.”

  He rubbed a finger along his snow-white mustache, the way he always did when he was thinking. “Did you tell anyone that you were coming here?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I left a note for my manager, but I didn’t tell him where I was going. I just said I’d be gone for a few weeks so he could handle the press. I also wanted him to know that I plan to be back in California in time for a couple of benefit concerts next month.”

  “In that case, I do have one other idea.”

  “What?”

  “You could stay in one of our cabins in Pinewood for a few weeks. Not many people go up there this time of year, and you’d be able to have that peace and quiet you’ve been wanting.”

  A glimmer of hope speared through her as she considered what it would be like to truly be by herself for the first time ever. Part of her couldn’t believe that her grandfather would send her somewhere alone, but hope overshadowed her doubts. “Could I really do that? You think it would be safe?”

  William nodded. “A lawyer friend of mine is going to be staying in the little cabin. He picked up the keys yesterday, and I think he was heading up there today, but the cabin you normally stay in with your parents is empty.”

  Kendra threw her arms around her grandfather. “That sounds perfect. Thank you.”

  He motioned down at the sandals on her feet. “Did you pack any other shoes besides those?”

  “My tennis shoes are in my gym bag in the trunk.”

  “In that case, why don’t you let your grandmother get you some breakfast, and then you can try to take a nap. I’ll load up some supplies and check out the car before you head up the mountain.”

  “Thanks, Grandpa.” Kendra nodded and kissed his cheek. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  Chapter 5

  Charlie entered the briefing room, his stomach still a bit unsettled after the events of the night before. He’d slept restlessly all night, images of gunfire infiltrating his dreams with annoying regularity. Determined to appear unfazed by the fact that he had shot someone, he moved forward and exchanged greetings with a few of the men and women he worked with before taking a seat on the left side of the room. A minute later, Special Agent in Charge Elias Washington walked in and took his place at the front of the room.

  The chatter ceased immediately.

  Elias set a file on the podium beside him and spoke in a grave voice. “I’m sure you have all heard of the Malibu Stalker.”

  A wave of assents rippled through the room. Charlie looked around. Concern showed on everyone’s faces, confirming to him that he was the only person in the room who didn’t know who this Malibu Stalker was.

  In that moment, he wasn’t sure what was worse: being the new guy in the Phoenix field office and not knowing what they were talking about or being back at FBI headquarters where everyone knew him as Senator Whitmore’s son.

  Biting back a sigh, Charlie lifted a hand to get Elias’s attention. “I know I’m the new kid on the block, but who exactly is the Malibu Stalker?”

  As expected, everyone turned to stare at him. Thankfully, Elias answered without any animosity. “He’s a serial killer the Los Angeles office has been tracking for the past three years. He’s the prime suspect in six murders, including this most recent one. All of the victims fit the same general description. Tall, blonde, early to mid-twenties.” He hesitated before lifting his eyes to look out at the room. “They found another victim last night. The medical examiner places the time of death to be about four days ago. The victim was supermodel Joslyn Korden.”

  Charlie’s gut clenched as he considered the challenges of identifying the culprit. From his training, he knew that serial killers typically looked like normal people and could be exceptionally difficult to recognize.

  “The LA office has asked for some extra support from us on this case. They specifically asked for agents who have prior experience with serial killings.” Elias looked around the room, and then his gaze settled on Daryl Montgomery, one of the senior agents in the room.

  A knowing look passed between the two men, and Daryl nodded. “I’ll go.”

  Elias nodded his approval. “Assemble your team, and check in with Rick Michaels in LA. He’s taking the lead on this.”

  Charlie listened quietly as the morning briefing continued and various new assignments were passed out. He was surprised that he wasn’t given any new cases, especially after he and Ray had closed down the pornography ring the night before.

  When the meeting concluded, Elias motioned in his direction. “Charlie, I need to see you in my office for a minute.”

  Charlie nodded, acutely aware of the surprise on the faces of several fellow agents—surprise that rippled through him along with a combination of curiosity and concern. During all of the weeks he had been in the Phoenix office, Elias had never asked to see one of the junior agents. Of course, this was also the first time since his transfer to Phoenix that anyone had been involved in a shootout with a suspect. Afraid to speculate as to the reason he had been the only agent singled out from last night’s incident, Charlie stood and followed Elias out into the hall.

  * * *

  Elias settled behind his heavy oak desk and watched Charlie fold his six-foot-three frame into the chair across from him. He plucked Charlie’s personnel file from a stack of folders on the left side of his desk and slapped it open in front of him. Elias didn’t need to read the information in front of him. He had already memorized it.

  Charlie Whitmore: twenty-nine years old, a Georgetown University Law School graduate, a recent transfer from the Washington DC office, and the son of Senator James Whitmore. A few casual inquiries had also revealed that, like his father, Charlie Whitmore was a practicing Mormon, and the incident report from the night before proved that he knew how to handle himself on the job.

  He also appeared to be without any personal entanglements at the moment that might complicate his upcoming assignment. From what Elias had gathered from his file and the rumor mill, Charlie hadn’t dated anyone seriously
since breaking up with his former fiancée shortly before entering the FBI Academy.

  Elias tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair. “I have an assignment I’m considering you for, but I have a few questions first.”

  Only a hint of curiosity sparked in Charlie’s eyes as he leaned back slightly, as though getting more comfortable before the interrogation that was about to begin.

  “I understand you’re Mormon.”

  Charlie nodded, one corner of his mouth lifting slightly. “That’s right.”

  “Have you ever met Kendra Blake?”

  “The singer?” Charlie asked, his eyebrows drawing together. “I’ve heard of her, but I’ve never met her.”

  “Good.” Elias leaned back more comfortably in his own chair. “Her grandfather retired from this office a few years ago, but he’s asked for a favor, and I think you may be the person who can help.”

  “What kind of favor?”

  “She needs protection,” Elias said simply. “There was an incident at her concert in Los Angeles last night. A bomb went off backstage, injuring several people. Her bodyguard was knocked unconscious during the show, and we’re moving forward with the assumption that Kendra may have been the target.”

  Charlie’s voice was professional when he asked, “How many people will be on the protection detail?”

  “Just you.”

  “Just me?” Charlie straightened, and confusion flickered over his face. “I don’t understand.”

  “You’re not a woman, which is a minor downfall, but you’re one of only four agents in this office who hasn’t met her,” Elias admitted.

  “Why would that matter?” Charlie asked. Then his eyebrows lifted, and understanding dawned. “Wait a minute. You want me to protect her without her knowing about it?”

  “Exactly.”