The Seeker

by Ronica Black

  “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

  Kennedy looked at her and then looked back out toward the sea. “I’m afraid so.”

  Shawn sighed. How much worse could it get?

  “I don’t want to know, but I know you have to tell me. So please, just do.”

  Kennedy drew up her knees and interlocked her fingers. “Another letter arrived this morning at the house in Scarsdale.”

  When she didn’t respond, Kennedy continued. “It said, ‘I won’t miss again.’ But that wasn’t the worst of it.”

  “It wasn’t?”

  “No.” Her eyes were rich in depth and sensitivity as they held Shawn’s. “There was a photo included. One of you and Ms. Ryan and the girls.”

  Shawn sucked in a panicked breath.

  “It was taken from a magazine and Xs had been drawn in marker over all the eyes.”

  “Oh my God.” Shawn tried to stand. Kennedy reached for her and held her shoulder softly.

  “It’s okay. Please sit.”

  Reluctantly, Shawn eased back down.

  “Something else has happened as well.”

  “I don’t think I can take much more.” She trembled, her gaze fixed on the girls.

  “About two hours ago a car rammed into the back gate of the house in Scarsdale.”

  “What?”

  “It came at it nearly full speed. The gate opened partway but mostly stayed intact. The driver then reversed and sped off.”

  “They didn’t catch him?”

  “No. But the new cameras did. Unfortunately, they only showed a hooded driver and a stolen tag number. I’ve asked them to review the tapes completely, hoping whoever it is came around before.”

  “So he’s still free.”

  “Yes. However, I think this is the same suspect from before. And I still think it’s a woman. Her behavior is escalating and she’s becoming more and more willing to take risks. Given these circumstances, I think we made the right decision in coming here.”

  “But your family—”

  “My family is okay for the time being. They want me here, helping you.”

  “They do?”

  “Yes.”

  Shawn teared up, unable to stop it this time. “I don’t know what’s happened to my life. It all seems so out of control and circuslike. As if none of it’s real. I’m so scared.”

  Kennedy hesitated for a split second and then placed her arm around Shawn’s shoulders, careful not to hurt her wound.

  “It’s okay,” she whispered.

  “No. No, it’s not.” She wiped her tears.

  “It soon will be.”

  Kennedy’s gaze was strong yet soft. And Shawn found herself believing her. “It will?”

  “Yes.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I’m getting to know you, and you will make it all okay. You will get through this. And you will keep your head held high and you will raise your girls and someday soon you’ll feel happiness again.”

  “But what about love? Will I ever feel that again?”

  Kennedy looked away and slowly removed her arm.

  “What? What is it?” Shawn watched her closely.

  “I’m afraid I can’t help you there.”

  “Why not?”

  Kennedy began shoving her hand deep into the sand. She didn’t respond. And suddenly Shawn understood. All that knowledge, all the traveling, the caseloads she must’ve carried—it was very possible that Kennedy had never had anyone in her life.

  “I know you’re not married, or at least I assume you aren’t. But do you have someone?”

  “No.”

  “Have you…ever?”

  Kennedy looked at her and her irises churned like the sea, full of fire and sadness. “I better go call Allen.” She stood but backed away before she brushed herself off.

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

  “It’s okay. It’s just…not something I like talking about.”

  Shawn stood as well, placing her hot cocoa on the sand. She didn’t want Kennedy to leave but she knew she must let her go.

  “Can I ask one more thing? It’s not about you.”

  “Sure.”

  “Did they talk to Sloan Savage?”

  “Yes.”

  “Does she have anything to do with this?”

  Kennedy sank a hand into her pocket. “They don’t yet know for certain, but so far, no, they haven’t got anything on her that says she does.”

  “What do you think? Do you think she’s involved?”

  “Honestly? No. I think it’s someone else.”

  “Another lover?” Her throat clenched around the painful word.

  “It’s difficult to say. My instinct says no, but I’ve been wrong before.”

  The wind whipped at their hair and faces and beat around in her ears.

  Shawn wished it would take her away and deafen out everything. Crying, she turned away from Kennedy and hugged herself. When she turned back a few moments later, Kennedy was gone.

  *

  New York City

  The popular nightclub was throbbing from the inside out. Throbbing so fierce and so loud Veronica Ryan almost always could imagine the mortar shaking loose from between the old bricks. Tonight she actually did see some falling loose like sand as she was hurriedly escorted through the back door.

  Up the back stairs, she went straight to the VIP room. The area was dimly lit and somewhat crowded with a few celebrities and their friends. She smiled and nodded at a few, pleased that she was by far the most recognizable. The room was cool and free from the stench of cigarettes and sweat from down below. She made her way toward the back, where six large booths lined the wall. Candles flickered at the center of each table, set alongside bottles of Cristal on ice.

  She was almost happy save for the painful pressure in the small of her back and the hot breath on her neck. Her new security was worse than a leech. And what was worse was that her two regular guys up and quit. These new jerks had chased them off.

  “This isn’t wise, Ms. Ryan,” he said in her ear. “You should be at home where you are safe.”

  She frowned at him and twisted away from his hand. Why did she have to get stuck with the Terminator? He was as bossy as he was buff, all wrapped up in a nice suit. His pal, RoboCop, who walked like a corncob was up his ass, was ahead of them scoping out the room.

  “Safe? Ha! At home? Right. We all saw the car smash into the gate and we all read the latest letter.” Finding her favorite booth, politely reserved for her as always, she eased into it and tossed her light sweater to the Terminator. He had the gall to look shocked and offended.

  “I’m not your errand boy, Ms. Ryan.”

  Ignoring him, she straightened her pin-striped button-down shirt and smoothed her hands over her worn jeans.

  “Look at how drop-dead gorgeous you are!”

  Veronica turned and shrieked with excitement as two familiar people approached. She rose and greeted both the man and the woman, holding the woman for a few seconds longer.

  As they sat at her table, she realized she could only remember the woman’s name. Jill Reichart, a well-known, luscious soap star. But she’d forgotten her young beau’s. Just as well, though, because it wasn’t him she was interested in.

  “Ms. Ryan?” the Terminator asked.

  She wanted to ignore him but she knew he wouldn’t go away. “Yes?”

  He was still holding her sweater and his face was flushed red. “I have to insist that we leave at once. We don’t have the manpower to properly—”

  She smiled. First at her guests and then at him. “What’s your name again, honey?”

  “Kyle.”

  “Kyle, right. Listen, Kyle, why don’t you go find somewhere else to stand and do your job? And give me a little privacy with my friends?”

  He blinked in surprise.

  “Go on now. I won’t stay long, I promise.”

  He straightened and looked for a moment just like his p
al RoboCop.

  “That’s it. Shoo.” She made a little motion with her hand, encouraging him to leave.

  When he finally did so she sighed. “This new security is killing me.”

  “No pun intended,” Jill’s young stud said, laughing.

  What an idiot.

  She played it up. “I’ve been trapped in my house like a prisoner.”

  “I can’t believe what happened,” Jill said. “How’s Shawn? We’ve all been so worried.”

  “She’s okay. She’s a tough one.” Her stomach pained at the mention of her. They had not parted on good terms. And now she was in Hilton Head with that woman dripping in righteousness and all things pure, Agent Starling.

  “What a fucking psycho,” the man said. “To actually try and kill you.”

  “It’s the fans,” Jill said. “I get it all the time. Some just don’t know when to stop. They think they know everything about you and that you’re the best of buddies, when really they don’t have a clue. I once had a woman follow me into the dressing room at Neiman Marcus. Just walked right in behind me and started talking.”

  Gino, the club’s owner, walked up and bowed his silent hellos. Ever the gentleman, he opened the champagne and filled a flute for each of them.

  “Thanks, Gino.” Veronica gave him a winning smile.

  “No, thank you. You make my club famous.”

  Touched, she rose and hugged him. Then she kissed him on the mouth, which drew several whistles.

  He walked away pumping his fists in the air, loving the applause. She smiled and said, “That’s my number one man.”

  Laughing, she sat back down as a popular pop song began to play.

  She loved this song and thought briefly about going to one of the platforms to dance. But she’d only do it if Jill went with her. And if Jill went with her, she’d prefer to dance in private.

  “So have I told you, V? That the writers are toying with me going lesbian?”

  “Really?” She raised an eyebrow.

  “I told her to go for it,” the man said. “Turns me on just thinking about it.”

  Veronica studied his faux mohawk and his Hollister clothes. He was youngish, probably mid to late twenties, with nice muscles and pretty-boy good looks.

  She had to get rid of him.

  Jill smiled coyly at her. “I was wondering what you thought of it. And if you’d help me. I’ve never played a gay character before. I’m afraid I’d go about it all wrong.”

  “Not you, babe. You’d be great,” he said, kissing her on the cheek and then flashing a bright smile.

  “Say, uh, sweetie,” Veronica said to him. “Would you do me a favor?”

  “Anything.”

  “Would you go down to the deejay and request a few songs for me?”

  “Sure.” He rose like a man on a mission.

  “Anything from the eighties. Prince, especially Prince,” she said.

  After giving Jill a quick peck, he left quickly and Veronica slid next to her, resting her arm along the back of the seat. She looked deep into Jill’s blue eyes for a long moment before she spoke.

  “Yes, I think you should do it,” she said slowly. “And, yes, I’d be glad to help.”

  “Really?” Veronica watched as the pulse jumped in her neck. Then she watched as she slowly and carefully licked her lips.

  “Definitely,” Veronica whispered.

  “I think I might like that.”

  They were only inches apart and white flames shot through Veronica’s body.

  “I know I will.”

  She placed her hand on Jill’s denim-covered thigh and felt her react. Then, very slowly, she traced her fingertips upward.

  “What about Shawn?”

  Veronica stopped her hand. “What about her?”

  “Would she be okay with this?”

  Veronica removed her hand.

  “With her just being shot and all—”

  Veronica pulled away. She rose and downed her glass of champagne. She was refilling another as Jill tried to apologize and urged her to return. But there would be no returning. Jill was out.

  Why did she have to bring up Shawn? At a time like this? When she just wanted to get out and away from the house and all the madness and just have fun? She was leaving for her shoot in a day, so she only had tonight. And the house was so goddamned lonely and empty and she missed the girls and she missed Shawn but she couldn’t stand that look on her face. It was better when Shawn merely suspected and they could go about their lives pretending. Now that she knew, things had changed. And Veronica hated it.

  Turning to escape from Jill, Veronica crossed the room to the back corner toward the restroom. Just as she pushed in on the door, she heard shouting and clamoring. A glass broke somewhere and she saw the Terminator sprinting across the room toward her. Then, just as quickly, a hooded stranger ran right into her and shoved her into the restroom. They slammed against one of the stalls and the stranger hurriedly shoved the door closed and locked it. Then the person turned and lowered her hood and removed her sunglasses. It was Sloan.

  Breath knocked from her lungs, Veronica struggled to speak. “Sloan?”

  Though breathless as well she seemed to have little trouble speaking. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, V?”

  Her pupils were large and she wasn’t wearing any makeup. Veronica had never seen her out in public like this.

  “Telling those motherfuckers that I could be the one who shot at you? Fuck you, V.” She shoved her finger painfully into Veronica’s sternum.

  Instantly, banging came from outside the door.

  “Open the door! FBI!”

  FBI? What the hell?

  Veronica didn’t have time to ask before a terrified woman exited from one of the stalls. She had on stiletto heels and some semblance of a top. Her large breasts heaved as she breathed in panic.

  Sloan yelled at her. “Stay right there and keep your mouth shut! And as for you,” she looked to Veronica. “I want answers.”

  More banging and more yelling. Someone said to get the manager to open the door.

  “I didn’t tell them I thought it was you,” Veronica said. “They just assumed because—”

  “Because we fucked?”

  “Because you got crazy after I ended things.” Veronica spoke softly and gently.

  Sloan looked frayed and wired. Clearly she wasn’t well and clearly she was causing a scene. Veronica had to think quickly to get out of it. She was afraid of Sloan. Afraid of her unstableness and temper. Whether she was the shooter or not, Veronica didn’t want to be alone with her.

  “I got crazy?” Sloan shouted. “Me? Who was the one who said we should run off and get married? Who was the one who said Shawn mistreated you? Who was the one that said I was the best fuck she’d ever have?”

  Veronica flinched as more banging ensued. “I may have said those things—”

  “May have?” She laughed loudly and then banged the stall wall with her fist. “Remember that last night we were together and you were between my legs and you said you had your two favorite things right there? Remember? And then you snorted a line off my clit and then—”

  “That’s enough, Sloan.”

  “You lied to me, V.” She looked like a child. A lost child. “That’s what got to me.” She grabbed her head and clenched her fingers in her hair. “And now these fuckers won’t leave me alone. They fucking follow me everywhere!” She pounded on the bathroom door in return as they banged again. “Tell them to stop, V. I can’t take it anymore.”

  “I will,” Veronica said quickly. “I’ll tell them.”

  Keys jangled from outside the door and Sloan sank to the floor. Strange whines rose from her almost like a dying animal. Veronica watched her, her own heart pounding loudly. She looked to the woman in the stilettos, who stood ramrod still, her face truly shocked. The door was pushed open quickly and several angry men bombarded the bathroom. Sloan was tackled and held on the floor as the Terminator and Robo
Cop shoved Veronica outside, asking if she was okay. They spoke hurriedly into microphones all the while.

  Cameras began to flash as they maneuvered her back through the VIP room. Fellow celebrities and their friends had now become blood-hungry sharks, eager for a photo.

  “Did she hurt you?”

  “Are you okay?” All of these were being thrown at her from agents and citizens alike.

  “Yes,” she said, only to be told not to speak.

  The men escorted her outside and helped her into her limousine. Again she assured them that she was okay.

  “Can we just go, please?” she asked. She was suddenly tired and embarrassed and angry at Sloan for causing such a scene.

  “Special Agent Douglas wants to speak to you first,” said the Terminator. He barely got the words out before the door was opened and the agent slid inside.

  “Ms. Ryan,” Special Agent Douglas said. “We weren’t expecting you here this evening.” Obviously he and his colleagues had been tailing Sloan.

  “I didn’t know I had to inform you.”

  He grimaced but chose not to argue. “Did Sloan hurt you in any way?”

  “No.”

  “What happened, then?”

  “She just wanted to talk. She’s upset that you guys are all over her.”

  “There’s a reason we are all over her.”

  “She doesn’t see it that way. Can I go home now? I’ve had enough of everyone’s so-called security for one evening.”

  “Why are you here, Ms. Ryan?”

  She glared at him. The nerve. “My social life is none of your damn business.”

  “Oh, but isn’t it? You’re the one who asked for our help.”

  “Yeah, and look at all the good it’s done me.”

  The special agent didn’t back down. “Sloan said there have been other women, Ms. Ryan. Is this true?”

  She clenched her teeth. “Get the hell out of my car. I’m going home.”

  He stared at her hard for a few moments and then climbed from the car. When the door slammed shut, she yelled up to the driver.

  “Get me the fuck out of here.”

  *

  Hilton Head, South Carolina

  Cold, rain-slicked street. High weeds off to the right, blowing and bending sharply when the wind came.