by Mary Stone
Ellie shrugged, not about to tell him that she’d intentionally buttered him up first.
Fortis blew out an exasperated breath. “Continue.”
“He got a package in the mail yesterday. From Kingsley.”
Her boss went still. “He’s sure it was Kingsley?”
Ellie nodded and explained more about the package and its grisly contents. “He recognized the handwriting. Plus, it’s exactly the kind of sick thing Kingsley would do. Gabe betrayed him. No way a sociopath like Kingsley would let that go.”
“So, that maniac kicks off a game of cat and mouse to torture the poor bastard.” Fortis’s jaw clenched. “You’re right. It does sound like Kingsley.”
Ellie released a silent sigh of relief. Step one of convincing Fortis that Kingsley was involved had proven easier than expected. Now all she needed to do was sell him on the rest of her plan. “Right. Which is why I need to go to Portland. If Kingsley left any clues behind, I’m the best person to find them.”
Across the desk, Fortis’s expression didn’t change. The man had the kind of poker face that came with years on the job. Ellie might as well have been trying to read a rock, for all the emotion she was getting. Her shoulders drooped anyway. He was going to forbid her to go. She could feel it.
Ellie’s jaw gaped open when a huge grin softened his harsh features.
“I already spoke to Clay this morning. He’s going to be leading the Kingsley Task Force. Take a wild guess who the first person he asked to be assigned to his team was?”
What? How? What?
Ellie’s jaw snapped shut with an audible click. Conflicting emotions raged inside her while her mind whirled to process this shocking information. Clay was leading a task force on Kingsley? And he hadn’t told her? The man was living in her house for crying out loud. How dare he keep such crucial information from her?
But even as she ground her molars together, her body vibrated with excitement. A Kingsley Task Force! That was so much better than an authorized trip to Portland to investigate on her own. More than she’d ever dreamed of, if she were being honest. A task force meant the kind of additional resources and manpower that Ellie would never be able to access solo.
Her eyes narrowed. Oh, she still had a few choice words to share with Mr. FBI Agent Clay Lockwood. But for now, she shook off her irritation and beamed at her boss. “A Kingsley Task Force, even better.”
Fortis wagged his finger at her. “Remember, the task force isn’t about Gabe or his safety. That’s what the Marshals are for, so let them do their jobs. The last thing they need is you to prance up there and start interfering, and the last thing I want to do is field annoyed phone calls from the U.S.M.S.”
Prance? Please. She didn’t prance. Ellie wanted to stick out her tongue, but for once, she curbed her impulses. No sense giving her often grumpy boss any reason to change his mind. “No annoyed phone calls. Got it.”
The dark brow Fortis raised looked skeptical. Ellie batted her eyes in an effort to look innocent, which only caused Fortis to rub the back of his neck and groan. “Look, the main reason I approved you for this task force is because I want Charleston PD to get credit when you bring this son of a bitch in. You got that?”
“Yes, sir.” Ellie jumped to her feet. She wasn’t about to argue. Fortis was entitled to his motives, and Ellie was entitled to hers. Forget credit. All Ellie cared about was catching the evil bastard and making him pay for all the pain he’d inflicted. “Thank you, sir, you won’t regret this.”
As she turned to race out of the office before he could change his mind, Fortis raised a beefy palm. Ellie stopped, her heart hammering. Now what? No way he could have changed his mind already.
“Until the task force is complete and ready to go, I have another cold case for you to work on.” Fortis dug through the files on his desk, pulled one out, and slid it across the wooden surface.
Ellie grabbed the folder. The name scrawled across the top jumped out and prickled her memory.
Danielle Snyder.
Ellie remembered the case well.
Danielle had gone missing at a party years ago and was currently presumed dead. Witness interviews said that the sixteen-year-old had discovered her boyfriend cheating and run. She was never seen alive again.
Ellie frowned. She didn’t understand. Fortis had tossed this case to the bottom of the list months ago. “I thought you said this case wasn’t high priority enough for me to investigate?”
Fortis nodded toward the folder she was holding. “It is now that her dad got a phone call from someone claiming to be his long-lost daughter.”
Ellie twisted a loose red curl around her finger, frowning at the manila file. “But why? I don’t get how a single phone call changes things. Can’t one of the other detectives work it?”
She knew Danielle’s dad was Charles Snyder, a local celebrity game show host, but she still didn’t understand. Any case not related to Kingsley was a distraction right now.
Ellie jumped when Fortis banged his fist against his desk. “They could,” he growled, “if I told them to work it, but I didn’t. I told you, and I expect you to follow orders. Are we clear?”
Oopsies. Fortis’s jaw twitched, so Ellie nodded and edged her way to the door. Any more pushing, and her boss might very well explode. “Very clear, sir.”
Once she’d responded with as much gusto as a new marine recruit, Ellie whirled and fled. No way was she going to give her boss a chance to rethink his decision to name her as part of the new task force.
5
The bell rang, sending his classmates rushing for the door.
Gabe grabbed his backpack off the floor and pulled out his Walkman. Once his headphones were on and he pushed play, he headed out into the hallway, safe inside his little music bubble.
He allowed the noisy stream of students to carry him down the hallway and out the front door, darting to the left after he cleared the stairs, to where his ancient blue ten-speed with a crack in the seat waited. The armpits of his light gray shirt were already dark with sweat. Another sweltering Florida day.
Gabe unlocked the bike and hopped on, pedaling home as fast as he could, hoping to catch a breeze.
By the time he reached his house, sweat dripped down his back. He hopped off and wheeled the bike to its storage place in the backyard. Desperate for an ice-cold glass of lemonade, or maybe one of those strawberry popsicles if his mom hadn’t finished them off while he was at school. Man, he really hoped not, because now that he was thinking about them, he’d kicked off a serious craving.
He hurried to the back door and flung it open, and then froze. The raised voices hit him like a surprise attack, making Gabe tense up and want to curl into a protective ball. Although the fight shouldn’t be surprising. Not by now. His parents fought like clockwork every time they were high. And they were high almost as often as they were sober these days.
Cringing, Gabe toed off his shoes. He crept his way across the kitchen to the freezer.
“I should’ve known better than to marry a loser like you! Rent’s due, and they’re gonna kick us out, and then what?”
Gabe turned up the volume on his Walkman to drown out the screech of his mom’s voice. He had no interest in the specifics of their argument of the day. All he wanted was a cold drink and a Popsicle.
He blew out a relieved breath when he reached the fridge without drawing his parents’ attention. Carefully, he eased open the door and began reaching for the top shelf where his mom stored the lemonade.
It took him a second to comprehend what his eyes were seeing.
A head.
There was a severed human head sitting on the top shelf where the lemonade should have been.
Gabe yanked his hand away, missing touching a dead cheek by mere inches. His heart raced in his chest as he stood glued to the yellowed linoleum, the Walkman clattering to the floor. The front of his shorts turned warm and wet, clinging to his thighs like a second skin. A puddle formed between his bare feet.
As Gabe stumbled back a step, the head’s eyes popped open. Emerald green irises tracked his movements. Familiar eyes. Ellie’s eyes.
Gabe screamed. He tried to run, but the floor sucked at his feet like wet cement, holding him in place.
The severed head’s jaw unhinged, and a laugh exploded from the red mouth. Ellie’s laugh, only more sinister, with a hissing that slithered over and then coiled around him like a poisonous snake. Saliva strings flew out and stuck to his face, pulling him toward the pitch-black cavernous space between her gaping teeth.
“No, stop! Why are you doing this to me? Please, stop!” Gabe’s begging made no impact. The laughter and giggling and cackling grew in pitch until it completely engulfed him, twisting and pulling as Gabe yanked at his useless legs to escape.
In desperation, Gabe shut his eyes and covered his ears with his hands. The laughter ceased. Hope fluttered to life in his chest.
“You’re next! You’re next! You’re NEXT!” The head shrieked, so gleeful, it tumbled from the shelf.
Hands came down on his shoulders…shaking him, harder and harder…
“Gabe, wake up!”
Gabe jumped, and his eyes flew open. Frank Otto of the United States Marshal Service stood peering down at him, his big hand latched to Gabe’s shoulder.
“Are you okay?” The marshal stepped back, frowning. “I heard you yelling. Nightmare?”
Gabe blinked several times and gave an involuntary shudder. A dream. That had all been a dream. There were no severed heads in his fridge. No Ellie screaming that he was next.
He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. “Yeah, I’m fine. Can’t even remember what the dream was about now.” A complete lie, but Gabe didn’t want to talk about it.
“We got word from the higher-ups. We’ll be transferring to the new safe house in an hour. Go get dressed and grab your things so we can be ready.” Frank turned to head out of the bedroom and give Gabe some privacy. He paused in the doorway. “Oh, and you’ll need to hand over your phone before we leave here.”
Once the door shut, Gabe lifted his shirt to wipe his sweat-drenched face. The dream’s vibrancy faded, leaving behind a steady trickle of dread. What he needed was a quick shower to wash the sweat and lingering sense of doom away.
Fifteen minutes later, Gabe was clean and dressed in jeans and a fresh t-shirt. The sweat was gone, swept down the drain along with his shampoo and body wash, but the drip-drip-drip of uneasiness down his spine remained disturbingly insistent. Probably because Ellie’s shriek kept echoing in his head.
You’re next!
He shivered before turning his attention to packing his scant belongings into a navy-blue duffle bag. It was a dream, nothing more. His conscience’s way of reminding him that he should have gone to the authorities about Kingsley sooner. Maybe if he had, he could have saved more lives. Maybe if he had, the police would have captured Kingsley by now, and Gabe wouldn’t be on the run.
He looked down to find his hands in a death grip, squeezing the life out of a sweatshirt he’d folded. Reminiscing over Kingsley was probably the worst way to try to push past his anxiety. Better to focus on the good in his life. Like Rob.
Rob’s lopsided grin and twinkling blue eyes filled Gabe’s head, helping his hands release the garment and return to packing. He’d run into Rob at the coffee shop one morning, and the two of them had started bantering while waiting on their lattes. Before long, Gabe and the handsome librarian were laughing and sharing stories like a couple of childhood friends. Talking to Rob had been so easy, even during that first meeting.
Gabe frowned at the sweatpants he was in the process of folding. Maybe too easy?
He didn’t like the direction his thoughts were going, but he couldn’t stop them from wandering down that dark trail. Someone had ratted him out, and Rob was the only person in Portland Gabe talked to, with the exception of Frank. What if Rob had been sent to the coffee shop by Kingsley?
Had he really been so gullible? So stupid? So…lonely?
Gabe shoved the remainder of his clothes into the bag, followed by his toiletries. No, that was absurd. No one could fake the warmth that filled Rob’s eyes whenever he looked at Gabe. Or the passion in his voice. Rob loved him, and Gabe felt the same way about Rob.
It had been so perfect.
Gabe’s fists clenched, and a low moan escaped his lips. And now he had to leave Rob behind in Portland, without so much as a word of goodbye. How could Gabe possibly do that to him?
Gabe stuffed the last item into his bag and zipped it closed with a determined tug. He couldn’t. No, he refused. There had to be a way to tell Rob where he was going, but how? Face-to-face was out of the question, and a phone call was only slightly less risky. A letter, maybe?
He had to find a way. He just had to.
He looked at the device, turning it over and over in his hands. Maybe there was a way…
After wasting time waffling over what to do, Gabe peeked under the rickety bed with the loose spring that poked him whenever he rolled to the right, before peering into the drawers of the garage-sale dresser that was missing two of its knobs.
Once he was satisfied he hadn’t missed any of his meager possessions, Gabe hustled into the living area to meet Frank with only two minutes to spare. “Ready.”
Frank held up a hand while he pressed a radio to his ear. “Yeah, copy that. Just tell me when.” When he finished, he turned to Gabe. “Sit tight for now. The team is still finishing up their sweep, and given the circumstances, we want to be extra careful that no one’s watching the transfer.”
Gabe nodded and sank onto the vomit green couch behind him. “Hey, tell them not to hurry on my account. Extra careful sounds great to me.”
Frank’s mouth twitched up on one side, which for the serious marshal was the equivalent of a full-blown grin. “Figured it might.”
“Do you know where I’m being transferred to yet?”
The marshal’s expression returned to its usual deadpan state. “I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to reveal that information quite yet.”
Gabe slumped. “Extra careful, I understand.”
“I’m glad to hear that. I’ve never lost a witness under my watch, and I’m guessing we’re both equally invested in keeping it that way.” This time, Gabe detected a softening around the federal agent’s eyes before his radio squawked and snagged his attention. After listening for a moment, Frank gestured at Gabe. “It’s time.”
Gabe slung his bag over his shoulder and followed the marshal into the entryway. Before they made it to the door, Frank turned and held out his hand. “Almost forgot. Phone.”
Gabe’s nerves jangled wildly as he dug his phone out of his pocket and dropped the device into Frank’s outstretched palm. Gabe held his breath, and even his heart seemed to temporarily cease beating while he waited for the marshal’s reaction. If the other man checked for the SIM card, Gabe was destined for a long night of interrogation.
Gabe’s legs went weak with relief when Frank popped the battery off the back of the phone and then chucked both parts into a sack that dangled from his arm. Safe. For now.
The marshal pulled a Cubs cap from the same bag and handed it to Gabe. “Put this on.”
Gabe smashed the baseball hat over his curls.
Frank perused him from head to toe and gave a satisfied grunt before opening the front door.
Gabe paused to take one last look around. He wouldn’t miss this place much. The furnishings were neither stylish nor particularly comfortable, and the interior always smelled faintly of mildew, no matter how many times Gabe cleaned. No, the real loss was his coffee shop…and Rob.
Maybe.
He thought of what he’d just done, hoping he hadn’t made a terrible mistake.
Gabe trailed Frank to one of the two domestic SUVs idling at the curb, the thrum of their engines interrupting an otherwise quiet evening. Frank led the way to the second SUV, opening the door and ushering Gabe into a back seat that s
melled like a combination of pine air freshener and old burgers.
It wasn’t until the doors locked around them and the driver accelerated after the lead vehicle that Gabe realized how taut his muscles had been. The smaller the house shrank in the rearview mirror, the more he relaxed into the leather upholstery. The dark tint on the windows made him feel like he was tucked away in the safety of a hidden cocoon.
“Sorry for all this.” Frank waved his hand around the SUV’s interior. “Since we don’t have any leads on how Kingsley tracked you down, we’re operating under an abundance of caution.” Frank pinned Gabe with his dark, probing gaze, making Gabe flinch. He knew what was coming next. “Are you sure you haven’t been in contact with anyone lately? It’s important you’re upfront with us. Otherwise, we can’t protect you effectively.”
“I know, but there’s no one.” Gabe shoved his crossed fingers beneath his thigh. No one except Ellie, who he’d only contacted after he’d received Kingsley’s letter.
And Rob.
Like a sudden rainstorm, uncertainty washed over him, making Gabe fidget in his seat. Had he been too quick to dismiss Rob as the potential leak? Gabe knew his feelings for the Portland librarian were real, but how could he be sure that Rob truly loved him in return? Gabe had yearned for a boyfriend so badly, and Kingsley knew that. Was it really that unlikely the doctor would plant a hot guy like Rob to weasel his way under Gabe’s defenses?
The driver navigated the SUV onto the freeway, keeping a few car lengths behind the first one. For the next three hours, Gabe stared out the side window. A single question tumbled over and over again, trapped in the relentless spin cycle of his mind.
Was Rob the culprit or not?
Gabe didn’t notice that the SUV had stopped until Frank snapped his fingers in front of his face. “Hey, anyone awake in there? We’re here.”
Gabe jolted upright and looked around. The tidy brick house they’d pulled in front of was bathed in light from several strategic fixtures. Neatly tended shrubs lined the narrow brick walkway to the front door.