He looked up at her, surprised.
“Can I help?”
He shook his head. “Go back inside; I got this,” he replied shortly.
Stella awkwardly walked toward her car and opened her trunk to grab her shovel and scraper. She shuffled to where he was and began shoveling.
“I’m serious, El, I got this.”
“You don’t have to do everything by yourself and you can certainly talk to me.” She looked at him, hoping he’d give something away.
“I…I’m trying to sort out some things.” He continued to shovel.
“Like what?” She wasn’t going to let this go.
He looked back at the house and put his hands on his hips, his chest heaving from exertion. “Like leaving DC.”
Stella stopped shoveling and examined his face, it gave nothing away. “What? Why?”
He shrugged and started shoveling again. Stella wondered if she’d be able to get it out of him or if she should talk to Billy.
“Patrick?”
He looked up at her, his eyes betraying pain and indecision.
“Your person?” She smiled slightly.
He nodded. “My person. Now fucking shovel.”
It had been a week since she’d told everyone she was engaged and she’d stayed at her house since then, mainly because it seemed like Patrick needed to sort things out with Millie, especially if he was thinking about moving. Stella had just stepped out of her car and saw she had a new Voxer message from Patrick.
“El, I think Jamie may have found out you’re working with the FBI.” His voice was quiet and strained. “Be careful.”
Stella felt a flutter in her stomach, nerves that would turn into vomit. Pulling out her medicine, she cussed as she took the last pill. Fuck, I can’t run out of those right now. She always knew that Jamie finding out she was working with the FBI was a possibility, but it still stirred fear that she’d been suppressing for months. She walked into the FBI building and put her bag on the screening belt, her thoughts swirling out of control. Hopefully Harris would tell her things were on schedule and they would arrest Jamie, but she couldn’t shake the ominous feeling she had in her gut. She’d come to the FBI building during her lunch hour, so she was in a black suit and heels, looking like every other professional female in the building. She walked to the conference room where Agent Harris told her he’d meet her.
She opened the door and there were two men in cheap suits sitting at the table with Agent Harris. She stared at them for a beat, trying to figure out what was going on and why she’d been summoned. Stella wasn’t doing witness protection; they’d just have to figure something else out.
“Hi, Stella. These are Special Agents Moore and Stevens. Have a seat.” He gave her an uncomfortable look.
A twinge of fear played at the base of Stella’s neck.
“Sorry I haven’t gotten with you sooner, but I took the recording you got for us up the chain. We were finally able to interview Jack Ryder last week.”
Stella exhaled in relief. This is where he was going to tell her that he got the go-ahead to arrest him.
“The ATF attorneys wouldn’t let us ask anything about his undercover assignment. They basically shut the interview down before it began.”
Stella never sat, but was standing across the table from Agent Harris. She took him in, his forced casual demeanor, his grey pinstriped suit, his pink tie and carefully mussed hair. “B-but, you have the recording,” she stammered, her voice an octave higher than normal. She began pacing the length of the small conference room. Her hopes were crashing around her like waves and she could feel the undertow grab her, trying to pull her under, flipping her head over heels until she finally drowned.
“I know, but it’s grainy and there are some parts that we can’t hear.” Agent Harris’ voice brought her back to reality and she looked at him, at his short brown hair and non-descript features. He looked embarrassed now, as if he couldn’t believe this was the outcome of the investigation. “I believe you, but what I think doesn’t matter that much. It’s all about what the US Attorney feels like he can pursue and because there’s a four-year long undercover investigation in jeopardy, they’ve told me to shut it down.” He sighed, resigned. “I have to shut it down.”
Stella felt like she’d been punched in the gut. They didn’t care that an agent took part in a bombing that killed three agents because of a four-year investigation. They didn’t care that an agent shot an attorney because of a fucking four-year investigation.
“You have to shut it down,” she repeated. “Are you fucking kidding me?” She stalked over to the door, put her hand on the knob, and toyed with the idea of leaving immediately. Stella had so many choice words for him, but her voice failed her.
One of the agents nodded in confirmation. “I’m afraid so, Ms. Murphy. The investigation has been closed.”
Pulling her voice out of her ass, she allowed the hardness she’d been pushing away for the past year and a half take over her entire body. “You know, I’m sure the families of Trey Williams, Jeffery Riggins, and Peter Richardson will appreciate that one of the guys that killed their loved ones is back doing his job.” Her voice sounded stronger than she felt. “I’m sure they’ll be able to sleep better at night knowing that you had information to put him away but chose not to pursue it.”
“As you are aware, any information you have regarding this incident is top secret and cannot be disclosed to anyone. If it is disclosed, that would be a violation of federal law,” the other agent threatened.
“I’m a fucking witness. What I know is who killed those people and shot me.” Stella was incredulous. “That’s not top secret, that’s testimony, asshole.”
“The US Attorney told me that they would pursue charges against you if you disclose anything from your time in Montana,” Agent Harris said, not even looking at her now.
Stella paced the entire length of the room again before responding. “Okay, then I can disclose what was admitted to me by Jack Ryder,” she suggested, thinking out loud.
Agent Harris shook his head and looked down.
“You know what, Agent Harris? Fuck you. And fuck the FBI. You guys can charge me if you want, I’m sure that will go over really well—witness got dirty agent to admit his involvement in a terrorist act and witness is facing charges for telling the truth.” She stalked out the conference room and slammed the door.
She pressed her phone. “Patrick…” her voice failed her again, but she refused to cry. She was not fucking crying. “We’ve got to go back to the drawing board.”
“What’s your twenty?” Patrick’s voice echoed in the hall as she exited the building.
“Leaving now. Headed to your house tonight. We’ll talk then.”
Her thoughts were so jumbled she didn’t even know what emotions she had.
This changed everything.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Red Hands
The weekend after the meeting with Agent Harris, the one where he bent her over and shoved a pole up her ass, she had plans to spend the night with Millie. A nice, quiet, wine-heavy girls’ night was exactly what she needed. No boys allowed.
When she’d told George what happened with Harris, he couldn’t believe it and made her conference call Greg; they talked for an hour about what her legal options were. It wasn’t very pretty. Patrick had been less surprised and listened to her rant about the FBI and the ATF; they drank and then passed out. Millie was at a reception on the Hill that night, and without her around, she and Patrick were able to talk frankly about her situation. He’d called it “their” situation, but she knew it was hers—it wasn’t his, or theirs, and she was trying to come up with a solution.
Stella took a sip of her third glass of wine and pushed her empty plate across the coffee table. She and Millie were lounging in the den watching Pitch Perfect, laughing hysterically and decompressing from her horrific week. Billy was out of town all month for an investigation in Chicago and Patrick was in Atla
nta with Jesse, doing God knew what at football parties. Stella had met Millie at their house after work and made one of the meals she could cook, eggplant rollatini and a salad. She was looking forward to a night without talking about anything heavy, just chick flicks and wine.
“Okay, that had to be one of the funniest movies I’ve seen in a while,” Stella said, picking up their dinner plates.
“I liked the No Diggity part,” Millie agreed, taking a sip of her wine. “So what now? Do you want a romantic comedy? There’s one with Justin Timberlake—let’s watch that one. We could mute it and pause it when he has his shirt off.”
Stella’s laugh rang through the house. “Or we could drink every time we want him to break into song.”
“It’s not a fucking musical.”
“It doesn’t matter. When I see him I see him with the frosted curly hair and the matching denim outfit with Britney Spears.”
“Ummmm okay… I just see him naked with his fucking arrow.”
“Why are you so obsessed with the arrow?” Stella teased, plopping back onto the couch.
“Because that’s the best part of a man’s body.”
“The arrow or the dick?”
“It depends on the day,” Millie commented, which sent Stella into hysterics.
JT didn’t disappoint and Stella was about to open their third bottle of wine when they heard what sounded like a knock at the door. Cooper, who’d been asleep on the floor, stood straight up and growled.
Stella paused the movie, looked out the window, and cursed. “Mil, are you expecting anyone?” she asked, looking toward the foyer.
Millie took a sip of her wine and shook her head. “No. You?”
A year ago, Stella would’ve just chalked up the noise to an aggressive paparazzi dickhead trying to get a picture of her, but since the FBI wasn’t concerned with her and basically told Jamie she’d told them about him, she was scared. She walked to the front windows and gazed out into the dark. The front step was empty, though Millie and Stella had both heard the noise. Shrugging, Stella walked back over to the couch, pressed play, and took a large gulp of her wine. The week caught up with her all of a sudden and she put her glass down. “I’m about to pass out. You care if I change into my night clothes?”
“Night clothes? What are you, fifty?” Millie laughed, spitting red wine on the floor, which made her laugh even more. “Shit.”
“Well, you know I don’t own pajamas. I’m sleeping in shorts and a tank top solely for your benefit. I don’t really think you want me sleeping naked.”
A loud clank sounded in the backyard, making them both look toward the back door.
Cooper growled, the hair on his back standing straight up, and ran from the front of the house to the back, barking like a maniac, stopping occasionally to shake his head, like the noise hurt.
“What the fuck was that?” Millie asked, an edge creeping into her voice.
“Do you guys have anything in the backyard that might’ve just blown over in the wind?” Stella asked.
“Not that I’m aware of.” Millie pulled her caramel hair back into a knot on the top of her head. “Should we go investigate?” she suggested, moving to grab a broom from the closet.
“Really? We’re going to investigate?” Stella laughed and looked toward the front of the house where she’d heard the first noise. “Don’t you know you never go investigate—haven’t you ever seen any horror movies?”
“Good point,” she murmured. “What do you think that was?”
“I don’t know, Mil.” Stella shook her head, her heart beating faster in her chest. “I heard something up front too.”
Millie’s eyes widened at Stella’s concern. Just then, the back door burst open, glass from the window exploding everywhere. Cooper growled and barked and then stopped. Dread filled Stella’s gut and disappeared into her throat; she tried not to throw it up.
Dread crept up her spine when Jamie sauntered around the corner and she knew no one could protect her now. Millie’s shock was evident on her face as she looked at Jamie then back at Stella. Cooper was nowhere to be seen.
“Millie.” Jamie nodded courteously. “Stella.” He grabbed the half empty bottle of cabernet sauvignon and turned it up, enjoying a healthy swig, his eyes locked on Stella. “Stella, why don’t you save Millie a lot of trouble and come with me?”
“Where’s Cooper and what’re you doing here?” Stella asked, trying not to show her terror, her face a blank mask.
Millie stood and flattened herself against the wall, her eyes the size of saucers. Whatever was going on had nothing to do with her, and she tried desperately to fade into the background.
“I’m here for you, babe.” Jamie’s eyes didn’t waver from Stella’s. “Like always.”
“You know,” Stella said, voice oozing with confidence she didn’t have, “I should’ve killed you when I had the chance.” She looked toward the back door and Cooper came waltzing back in with a huge bone Jamie must’ve thrown outside for him. She felt like she could breathe again.
“Me too, Stella, me too.” Jamie laughed and took another gulp of wine out of the bottle. “You know what they say, should a, could a, would a…”
“Why are you here, Jamie? Or should I call you Jack? I can’t remember.” Stella’s eyes narrowed at her former fiancé.
“Oh, babe, you call me whatever you want. I’m here for you and the fucking money you promised me when you were making that recording for the FBI. Now get your bag and let’s go so I don’t have to hurt your friend here. Camille, right? Millie?” Jamie’s gaze went over to Millie for a few seconds. “Unfortunately, Millie, I only have plans for us, so I really don’t have time to deal with you.” He set the bottle on the coffee table right in front of Stella and stared intently in her eyes, daring her to do something stupid.
Stella shook her hair behind her shoulders, trying to buy a little time to come up with a plan, willing Millie to get away from Jamie.
Jamie took another step toward her and grabbed her left arm in the crease of her underarm. His touch pushed her over the edge and she reacted, grabbing the bottle off the table and swinging it at his head with all her might. Jamie moved quickly to the right and it just grazed his chin.
“Fuck!” he yelled.
Red wine sprayed all over the floor and the wall, mixing with the blood from his now split-open chin. The blood quickly rushed down his neck and dripped to the floor.
“Fool me once,” Stella said and she moved quickly to shove him off balance while he was still in shock from the blow to the chin.
Jamie finally got his wits about him and kicked her legs out from under her, the move effortless and detached. She fell on her back on top of the coffee table, which in turn crashed to the floor, the wind knocked out of her. The back of her sweater soaked in the wine for the few seconds she lay on the floor, waiting for Jamie’s next move. She didn’t have to wait long. He punched her in the face and Stella saw an explosion behind her eyes and then stars before she rested her head on the floor in the pool of wine. Pain bloomed in her head and she froze for several seconds.
“Stella!” she heard Millie cry from far off.
“Why are you always so difficult?” Jamie said, picking her up by the arm and dragging her to the front of the house.
Her vision was blurry and black around the edges; she probably had a concussion. I will not be taken out of this house. I’d rather die, right here.
Stella mustered the courage to fight, to fight with everything she had left, when she heard an explosion. Her ears were ringing, everything slowed, and she felt what she thought was water spray on her. Stella reached up to wipe the water off her face, but her hand came back crimson.
Jamie’s grip on her arm loosened significantly and she took a step to the side. Turning slowly to see why Jamie released her, she saw him collapse to the ground. Confused, she looked down to see the entire right side of his face gone; blown off. Stella heard a bloodcurdling scream and looked frantically arou
nd to see where it was coming from while taking another step back from him. She stumbled over her own feet and fell backward on her ass, frantically using her heels to push away from him.
The screaming continued. It just kept going. She looked down and there were pieces of his face on her shirt. Flesh. Blood. She brought her shaky hands to her face and felt pieces of him on her face. The scream amplified and Stella finally realized it was her. She was screaming and she couldn’t stop. Blood was soaked through her hair and she pushed it back so that she could see clearly. Her vision, although still dark on the edges, showed Jamie slumped awkwardly on the ground with a third of his face blown off, blood pooled on the hardwood floor and splattered on the wall. Stella, still screaming, felt herself lose her grasp on consciousness.
Stella came to on the floor in the front room of her old home. There were people everywhere; a young EMT was smiling down at her.
“Hello there. Stella, right? We were hoping you’d wake up before we had to take you in. How are you feeling?”
Immediately, Stella turned to the side and threw up. When she looked up again, she saw the police officers and Jamie’s body. She looked down at her shirt, still splattered with Jamie, and threw up again; red wine and what looked like blood. Her stomach seized again and again until there was nothing left to come up.
“Can you tell me your name?” the EMT prodded gently after Stella stopped vomiting.
“Stella Murphy.” Her voice was hoarse from dry heaving.
“EL!” Millie ran from the den, sobbing. “Oh, God! El! Oh…”
The EMT looked at her with a question in her eyes.
“El’s my nickname,” Stella supplied quietly.
Nodding, the EMT shined a light in her eyes.
“El, oh my shit... What the fuck... I mean, what—” Millie was all over the place; Stella didn’t blame her. This was hard to wrap your brain around.
“Where’s Cooper?” Stella frantically wondered. “Cooper. Is he okay?”
“He’s in my room,” Millie answered, her sobs turning to quiet, free-flowing tears. “He’s fine.”
Seamless Page 21