Pat and Freddie had both pled out on Zoe’s abduction to avoid a trial, which was what enabled their parole now. Zoe’s fury that the DA had been unable to prosecute for Jordie’s murder had compromised her recovery for a long time. No body, no weapons, no evidence, no eyewitness testimony except the word of two young teenagers who had never actually seen anything—the prosecutors had just gone with what they had, assuring Zoe’s and Grant’s families that it would be enough.
It wasn’t.
But that was out of her control, and she’d finally accepted that. Or at least some part of her had.
Dragging herself back to the topic at hand, she said, “So the FBI didn’t send you here.”
“No. I’m here on my own. I have a bad feeling about their intentions, but bad feelings aren’t actionable.” He smiled a little. “Not in real life.” He spread a hand toward her. “You should have someone you can come to if it becomes necessary. Someone you know and can trust.”
Zoe nodded. “I understand. And I appreciate it.” She told him about the phone calls she’d gotten but hadn’t answered. “Is that actionable?”
He slipped a small notebook out of the inside pocket of his jacket. “If you give me the number, I’ll look into it. Thomashunis made a call to Rhomney the day after he was released. I can at least find out if it’s the same number, or if the one you have is connected to either of them.”
Zoe pulled up the last call, glad she hadn’t deleted that one like the others. “They’re going to want the totems,” she said. “Were they ever found?”
“No. But they weren’t listed stolen property and weren’t necessary to the prosecution of the case, so no one looked for them.” He cocked his head, his brown eyes kind in his dark, impassive face. “Do you know where to find them?”
God, she wished she did. When she’d tossed them onto that train car, she’d been so naïve, believing their disappearance would eliminate Pat and Freddie’s obsession. But she knew better now. That kind of psychotic fixation didn’t fade. To them, the totems were a treasure of immense value. There was no way they’d given up their quest for the power they believed the totems would provide them.
“Would it matter if I did?”
He shook his head. “The bureau has no interest in the totems. But if you knew, we could find a way to feed that information to Rhomney. Keep him off your trail.”
Zoe wasn’t sure that would be enough. The totems—according to Pat—needed a key. And they needed someone to “activate” them. Sixteen years ago, that person had been Zoe. She didn’t know if, in Pat’s mind, it still was.
She tried to remember everyone who had been arrested that night. The train yard now seemed an odd place to meet someone, but it had been off the beaten path, for sure. They were supposed to meet the person who had the key, something that explained the totems’ significance and how to unlock their so-called mystical powers. But they’d all still been at the rail yard when the police showed up, and as far as Zoe knew, the person with the key hadn’t been one of them. She asked Henricksen, but he had no more information than she did.
He rose and handed her a business card. “As I said, there’s no open investigation, so I’m limited in what I can do for you. But that doesn’t mean my hands are completely tied. Keep me informed of anything that might connect. Anything that makes you nervous. Even if it seems like coincidence.”
Zoe understood. Every detail could be used to build a case, could combine for enough reason to investigate or act. If she did become a target, this man was on her side.
It was as reassuring as he probably meant it to be.
“Thank you.” She accepted the card and slipped it into a sleeve in her planner. “And the phone number?”
“If it amounts to anything, I’ll let you know.” He raised a shoulder. “Honestly, it’s probably—”
“A burner phone. I realize that. But I appreciate your help.”
“Good luck to you, Zoe.” He closed the door behind him on the way out.
Zoe dropped into her desk chair and stared at nothing. Amazing how much things could change in three short days. She had the career, the love, the life she’d always wanted. Her happiness seemed solid. Grounded.
But it was so much more delicate than she’d thought. A few words—from her to Kell, from Pat to Zoe, even from the media to her mother—could blow it all away like smoke in front of a fan.
If Henricksen’s gut feeling was right, if Pat and Freddie came after Zoe, whether for the totems or for herself, she wouldn’t be the only one in danger. She thought of Kell. Of Olivia. And knew, with growing nausea, what she would have to do.
Maybe not. A tiny kernel of hope remained that nothing would happen. That her captors had changed, or moved on to other obsessions. She’d look back someday not with laughter, but at least with relief and amazement at how lucky she was. She could still live the life she’d designed.
But if she was wrong, it wouldn’t matter if she told Kell the truth or not. She’d lose everything.
Chapter Two
Two days passed. Nothing happened. No phone calls. No weird e-mails or text messages or anything sent in the mail. Zoe spent far too much of her time poring over news reports. There’d been brief mentions in some Ohio papers and on the Internet, but no announcements by major news outlets of Pat’s and Freddie’s release.
Zoe had talked to her parents, who had talked to friends back home. Their old local station had done a more in-depth bit on the history of the case, but as they’d all changed their names and moved to a new state shortly after Zoe’s escape, reporters had struck out in finding anything new to report.
Her parents were more focused on her mental state than any present danger. It had been a shock to her, returning home and finding them so different from the parents she remembered. They’d seemed simple to her, naïve, and she’d tried to keep them that way. It made things easier for her, and it also felt good to know that even after the tragedy they’d been through, they could still be that way. That anyone out there could.
She thought she managed to hide her distraction and anxiety, but Kell noticed.
“Are those carrots, or carrot-sauce?”
Zoe stared at him blankly. “What?”
He motioned with his knife at her cutting board. She looked down and saw she’d minced the carrots to mush. “Damn. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.” He laid filleted chicken breasts on the broiling pan and started to baste them. “We have more. But you want to talk about what’s bothering you?”
She shrugged and scraped the mess into a little bowl. “Just work stuff. Same old kind of thing. No big.” She felt Kell’s eyes on her and kept her gaze down, focused on chopping a new set of carrots to the proper consistency. She glanced up at the ironwork clock on the ivory-painted wall. “James and Sonya will be here soon. I don’t want to get into a rant. It’s fine.”
He didn’t look convinced, but the reminder of the time put him off. Zoe spent the rest of the evening studying Kell and their friends, listening to them discuss people in the firm where he and James both worked, and to Sonya’s gossip about the spouses in their circle and their “scandalous” escapades.
Zoe and Sonya weren’t close, but they had a fun, carefree friendship. How would that change if Sonya learned about the kidnapping? Would it automatically make things more awkward? Would Sonya feel like she had to be careful with what she said, afraid to trigger a traumatic reaction in Zoe? Then everything would be awkward and uncomfortable, and Sonya would withdraw. People avoided what they didn’t know how to handle. Zoe had dealt with that over and over again, until she just stopped telling. It was so much easier to be friends with people who didn’t know.
And what about James and Kell? They’d been best friends since prep school. Kell had commented how glad he was that Zoe and Sonya enjoyed each other’s company. If that changed, the couples’ dynamic would change. He’d hate that.
Telling Kell the truth didn’t have to mean anyone else woul
d know. But he’d probably tell his family. They had been slow to warm to Zoe anyway, as they would be to anyone not already part of their crowd. They respected her blue-collar upbringing and the way she’d worked her way through college and built her business so successfully. But they weren’t without their prejudices. They would worry about the effect the “criminal element” had had on her, being around them for so long. They’d wonder what else they didn’t know, what else she’d hidden. She would have to earn their trust all over again.
By the time James and Sonya went home, Zoe had a blistering headache.
“Come on, sweetheart.” Kell turned her after closing the door behind James and eased her down the hall toward their bedroom. “We’ll clean up tomorrow. You’ve been tense all evening.” His fingers dug gently into the tendons of her shoulders and she moaned.
“Just a headache. I’ll be okay.” At his urging, she lay down on the bed. He perched beside her and worked on the tense muscles, applying just the right amount of pressure to loosen them. He didn’t speak, just slowly worked out all the tightness until her headache eased and she relaxed.
But she had to press her face into the pillow so he couldn’t see her tears. She lay motionless when the stroking slowed to a pet, his fingers pulling slowly through her hair. Probably assuming she’d fallen asleep, he went into the bathroom and closed the door with barely a click.
It was incredibly selfish, but she couldn’t tell him. He’d soothed her pain away without question, without any concern that her excuse hid anything deeper. Once he knew her secrets, how she’d lied to him, he could no longer see her with such clarity. He’d always wonder if she was hiding something more.
He would touch her differently, in case something triggered a memory or caused her pain. He’d imagine the horrors she’d lived through, encourage her to talk about them. Because he was an attorney who often had to spin and twist facts and hide truths, he was adamant about being open in his personal life. She loved that about him, about the freedom it gave her as long as they lived in the now. When he found out she’d held back, he’d never trust her again.
Before her parents agreed to move and change their last name, everyone knew about Zoe’s kidnapping, and everyone wanted to talk about it. Her teachers spoke to her in hushed voices and gave her too much leeway with her schoolwork. She didn’t want to be different like that. The other kids at school asked awful questions, full of morbid curiosity. Her old friends didn’t know how to talk to her anymore. They assumed she wouldn’t want to do the things they used to do, that she would want to stay safe and close to home. No one believed her when she said they were wrong. Confinement of any kind was the last thing she wanted. But at first, it was all that was offered to her.
Once they’d moved and started fresh, she’d refused to tell anyone about it, with two exceptions: whoever her therapist was at any given time, and Grant. He was the only one who only knew her from the abduction, so the way they interacted felt normal. No one understood them like they did each other. It was her fault that relationship failed, but it was because that past drove them in different directions.
It still took too long to learn her lesson. The first guy she’d told in college had been completely freaked out. The questions were never-ending and usually out of the blue. He barely touched her and when he did, acted as if she were made of tissue. He worried about how much damage had been done. When she found herself unable to escape the tension or frustration, she’d broken up with him. His relief had hurt far more than his concern had ever soothed.
The second guy, she waited until she knew it was serious. That had been her senior year, and they’d been seeing each other for nine months. His reaction had been completely different. He’d withdrawn, wary about everything she said to him. Suspicion colored more and more of their time together, and he’d talked Zoe into attending therapy with his psychologist sister. No part of her wanted to do such a thing, except the part that thought she loved him. Until they got into session and it became clear he couldn’t believe anything she said. His sister declared their trust destroyed, and he’d decided not to try to rebuild it.
After that disaster, Zoe vowed not to take the risk again. Her relationship with Kell took her by surprise, going deep slowly. There would always be some point in the future that would be perfect to tell him the truth. Except there never was. And then it was too late. She’d passed the point when telling him would do more damage than not telling him. Still, she’d believed it wouldn’t matter. She was simply the woman he was in love with. He didn’t have to know what or who had made her that way.
So stupid.
She rolled onto her back and glared at the ceiling. This was ridiculous. Her secret didn’t have to destroy their relationship. Wallowing in it was setting that up quite nicely. She had to forget about Pat and Freddie and Agent Henricksen and just live her life like normal.
If only it were that easy. A week passed. Work was fine, and with the merger Kell wasn’t around to notice her continued preoccupation. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop waiting for something to happen. For Pat or Freddie to contact her, or an ambitious reporter to pick up the story on a slow news day, or even for the FBI to uncover some disruptive detail to turn everything upside down. As they’d expected, the phone number was a burner. After Henricksen sent her an e-mail saying so, she didn’t hear from him again.
During it all, she came to realize something she never would have admitted before.
As much as she loved her life, it was an exceedingly lonely one. She was surrounded by acquaintances, a few women she considered friends. People she’d go shopping with, or ask to be attendants in her wedding, and even share the minor frustrations that were part of any relationship. But she didn’t have a single person she could tell about what she was going through.
Somehow, in trying to keep the past in its place, she’d avoided making true connections that might bring it to light. She’d always thought that was a good thing, but now she knew she was fooling herself. If she wanted to tell someone, there was no one to tell.
Except Kell. And that never-ending roller coaster of indecision was driving her insane.
* * *
To compensate, she spent more time at the company, solidifying operations and building their customer base, as well as shifting more responsibility to her two managers. By Sunday, when she was the only person in the office except the two off-shift web maintenance staff, she knew she couldn’t continue like this.
Olivia had been complaining about not seeing them, so Kell had cleared an hour for dinner tonight at their favorite restaurant. Zoe decided to walk. It was several blocks from her office, but the late-September night was lovely, and it was after tourist traffic had dissipated and before nightlife started rocking the city. She took her time, thinking maybe the cool air or post-sunset peace would help her de-stress.
And it worked. The gentle light, soft breeze and smiles of passersby gave her reasons to smile. As her body responded, she told herself if nothing had happened yet, nothing was going to happen. She couldn’t keep living with the anticipation of something that would never come.
A cab pulled up to the curb slightly ahead of her. She kept walking, assuming the person opening the back door would cross the sidewalk and go into the apartment building on her left. Instead, he put himself in her path. When she swerved, he grabbed her arm.
“Hey!” Surprised, she leaned forward and then jerked her arm up and out of his grasp. “Leave me alone!” she yelled at the top of her lungs. She expected the cab driver to get out, but he didn’t even turn. She realized the cab wasn’t legit—just a black car with random numbers and the word “taxi” painted on its side.
No one was nearby on this side of the street. Some people a couple of blocks down had turned at her shout, then kept walking. She’d never be able to outrun him in the heels she was wearing, so she didn’t try. She backed off a few steps and let her briefcase fall off her shoulder, catching the strap and wrapping it a
round her arm.
The man, a sandy-blond, tall, skinny guy she’d never seen before, dressed in cargo pants and a hooded sweatshirt, held up his hands in a placating gesture. He held a small manila envelope in one.
“Hey, sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. Just trying to get your attention.”
“Why?” She took another couple of steps back to give herself room to swing. Her case had a stack of files and a book in it. It would hurt if she hit him right.
“I think you know why.” He sketched a shape in the air, and because she’d been dwelling on them so much, she recognized the shape of the totems. Her eyes began to widen before she caught herself, not wanting to let on that she understood.
His eyebrows went up, questioning. “I have something for you,” he said when she didn’t respond. “I think you’ll find it enlightening.” He wiggled the envelope.
She didn’t move. She didn’t know this guy, but she recognized his type. Charming, confident that he could get anyone to do anything. A watered-down version of Pat. He’d be one of his more trusted followers, at least until he was no longer needed. Pat’s “gang” had been too small and disorganized to be considered a cult, but he’d had the kind of charisma that got people to do what he wanted. A fervor, a belief, that made people think that if they stuck with him, he’d get them the power and riches they thought they deserved.
Her breathing was getting too fast, too obvious. You’re an adult. Not a kid. They have no power over you. You can walk away.
The tight band around her lungs eased. She just had to act like this was a normal thing. Decline his offer. “No, thank you.”
The guy scowled. “You don’t have a choice.” He shoved the envelope at her. Zoe didn’t take it, and it fell to the ground at her feet.
A bicycle glided up behind the cab, and a cop climbed off.
Aftershocks Page 3