by Mary Stone
Her stupid conscience, or anxiety, or whatever the hell had been making her act jumpier than a rabbit who’d spotted a hawk ever since she’d returned home from Clayne’s warehouse, could shut up now. Lots of people managed to lead double lives with no problems. Like in that Lifetime movie Katarina had watched the other day that was inspired by a true story. If some stupid man could go most of his life having two separate families tucked away in different states with no one the wiser, then an occasional outing with Clayne should be a breeze.
A warm hand patted Katarina’s cheek. “Mama, you can’t stop there! What happens next?” The bed rocked as the little girl wiggled around in her impatience.
“Right. Let’s see…” Katarina scanned the page until she located the spot where she’d left off. “Dingo, the leader of the wild dogs,” she paused, rolling her eyes at the author’s utter lack of creativity when choosing the name, “planted all four paws and stood his ground, even though inside, he shivered like he had that day the strange white powder fell from the sky…”
The little girl sighed her contentment and nestled her pajama-clad body closer, melting Katarina’s heart. As she continued to read, the muscles of her neck relaxed, and the last of her nervous energy seeped away.
Katarina stroked Bethany’s hair again and gazed down at her with wonder. Ever since returning home from Clayne’s warehouse, Katarina’s body had behaved like the switch to her nervous system had remained stuck in the “on” position, an unsettling sensation that persisted all throughout homework, dinner, and Bethany’s bath. She’d been unable to sit still, and every little noise rattled her. Bethany had even called her out on that first one, asking her why Mama was shaking the bed with her leg.
But now, like magic, the simple act of snuggling the little girl while reading her a bedtime story soothed Katarina’s residual jitters until they were only a weak vibration. Good riddance.
Katarina couldn’t say that she’d enjoyed the novel sensation, or even fully understood. She didn’t regret her earlier choices. That would be silly. Katarina was pragmatic enough to recognize that her impromptu torture session had provided her with a valuable service. The satisfaction of cutting those men had acted like an air valve, easing her internal pressure to inflict pain until she no longer felt ready to burst.
Every single required parenting class she’d attended so far emphasized the importance of parents setting aside some time every week to relieve stress. It wasn’t Katarina’s fault that the teachers never specified whether or not torture qualified as an approved stress-relief method.
Bethany flinched beside her. Her daughter’s eyelids drooped shut, popped back open, and then fluttered closed once more. Katarina lowered her voice to a more soothing tone and hid a smile. Every night, Bethany struggled to stay awake, and every night, sleep won the battle. But defeat never stopped her from picking up the gauntlet the very next evening.
Pride filled Katarina’s chest. Her daughter was a fighter. Just like her.
The rise and fall of Bethany’s chest slowed and grew rhythmic, and her dark lashes fanned her cheeks and stayed there. Katarina closed the book, pressed a kiss to her daughter’s sweet-smelling forehead, and eased up from the bed. She tucked the green down comforter around the sleeping girl before tiptoeing from the room.
Once the door clicked shut, Katarina stifled a yawn and turned right into the hallway to head for her own bed. A soft tapping noise from the opposite direction stopped her in her tracks. She froze, not daring to breathe while she strained to hear.
Several seconds passed, with no further sounds. Katarina’s shoulders began to ease. Dumbass. Probably another icy Wyoming wind, causing a tree branch to rattle against one of the windows. She chided herself for being a wuss, until the sound came again.
Rap-rap-rap.
Far too rhythmic to be a tree. Katarina’s adrenaline spiked, prompting her heartbeat to thunder in her ears. Someone was on her porch. Knocking at her front door.
Shit. She whirled and sprinted to her bedroom. Nightmare scenarios battled in her head while she grabbed the gun off the top shelf of the closet. The weight of the semi-automatic in her hand comforted her as she crept to the foyer, but not enough to calm her rioting pulse.
Who was outside? Clayne? One of his associates from earlier? Her step faltered. Child protective services? Katarina had no way of knowing. Each night, she followed the instructions the marshals taught her to the letter. Draw all the blinds, then pull the curtains. And no way in hell was Katarina stupid enough to look out the peephole.
She ducked behind the couch for cover and snapped the safety off the gun. As quietly as she could, she dialed 9-1 on her cell, waiting with her finger hovering over the remaining digit.
Rap-rap-rap!
The third knock rang out louder than the first two times, like whoever waited on the other side of the door was losing patience. The change in volume startled Katarina. So much she nearly dropped the gun when her phone buzzed a moment later. She checked the screen and almost fainted from relief.
It’s me at the door.
The message came from Tonya, the U.S. Marshal assigned to her in WITSEC.
“Christ, Tonya, you about gave me a heart attack.” Once Katarina flipped the safety back on, she shoved the gun under the couch and hurried toward the entryway. New doubts slowed her pace before she reached the door.
What if Tonya knew about Clayne? Or worse, someone had ratted out how Katarina had spent her afternoon? Katarina hesitated and then reached for the lock. Drug dealers weren’t likely to spill her secrets, and besides, it wasn’t like she had much of a choice. Either she answered the door, or the U.S.M.S. would do it for her.
The grim expression on Tonya’s ruddy face when the marshal barreled her way inside didn’t do much to quell Katarina’s concerns. Neither did her marshal’s size. Tonya was a big woman. Over six-feet tall and built like a linebacker. Katarina was scrappy, but if the situation deteriorated into a physical fight, the marshal had a good fifty-pound advantage.
Think fast.
As her mind whirred, Katarina escorted Tonya into the living room, pasting a fake smile on her face and sealing her lips shut. One mistake Katarina knew better than to make was letting her nerves rule her vocal cords and cause her to blabber. For all she knew, the only proof Tonya had about Katarina’s involvement with Clayne was when they’d sat together at the bar. Katarina had lied her way out of far worse situations. Patience was key.
“Didn’t expect to see you here tonight. Can I get you something to drink?”
The marshal shook her head. “Sorry to disturb you at night, but I’m afraid I have some bad news. We should probably take a seat.”
I don’t want to take a damn seat, just tell me already! Instead of screaming the words, though, Katarina followed the larger woman to the couch and perched on the edge of the cushion. She was no idiot. Alienating her marshal right now would only make things worse. She clenched her hands in her lap instead and sifted through possible excuses and lies. None of them helped prepare her for Tonya’s grim statement.
“Kingsley is back in the picture.”
Tonya’s lips moved, but Katarina couldn’t hear anything else over the loud whooshing that pulsated through her ears. Not Clayne. Kingsley. Her frantic gaze darted to the front door.
“Where is he? Here, in Wyoming?”
Oh god, Bethany. They had to leave. Now.
Katarina sprang to her feet, but a hand circled her wrist, snapping her attention back to the marshal.
“It’s okay, calm down. We believe he’s somewhere on the West Coast, not here. Hey, are you hearing me? I said he’s not in Wyoming.”
Katarina stared into Tonya’s concerned face while her brain worked to process the woman’s statements. When they clicked into place, she collapsed back to the couch and hyperventilated into her palms. Once her breathing calmed, Tonya spoke again.
“I’m sorry, I should have told you that from the very start. I’m here because the detect
ive thinks you can help them.”
Katarina lifted her head, wondering if her mind was playing tricks on her. “What detective?”
“Detective Kline, and Special Agent Lockwood.”
A vision of the red-haired officer flitted behind Katarina’s eyes and made her hands clench with instinctual loathing. Help Ellie Kline? That interfering bitch? If it weren’t for her, Katarina would have escaped with Bethany years ago, when she’d snatched the little girl from the people pretending to be her parents.
Instead, the flame-haired cop had spotted the pair, grown suspicious, and run Katarina down. Charged her, even, for the crime of kidnapping her own daughter! What a joke. The most unforgivable part was how Bethany had been tossed back to her fake parents when Katarina was right there. Desperate to be a mother to the daughter stolen from her at birth.
Now that they’d been reunited, though, the memory of the Charleston detective stung less. And Special Agent Lockwood wasn’t so bad. He’d helped Katarina get into the WITSEC program with Bethany. She relaxed her hands. Still. Katarina wasn’t about to sign up to bake him a fucking cake anytime soon.
“What kind of help?”
Tonya pinned Katarina with an intense stare. “Kingsley is holding one of his former employees hostage. They’re hoping you can help them track down where that might be. Give them some insight into the type of place he might pick to torture his victims.”
The last of Katarina’s terror ebbed, leaving her body feeling drained, like she’d finished running a marathon. So much for capping off her exciting afternoon with a relaxing evening at home. Screw the detectives. All she wanted to do now was collapse on her bed and sleep twelve hours straight.
She leaned forward, ready to tell Tonya she had no clue where Kingsley might be hiding. The sooner she ushered the marshal out, the sooner she could crash.
Katarina was about to do exactly that when an atypical tug of uncertainty trapped her in place. Were there any downsides of Katarina helping them try to hunt down Kingsley? None that came to mind. On the flip side, benefits definitely existed.
For one, if her assistance did manage to lead the police to her former mentor, Katarina could free herself from future incidents of Kingsley-inspired terror. Far-fetched, but possible. And even if she failed to provide any tips that led to Kingsley’s capture? She’d still come out of this looking like a model witness and generate a boatload of goodwill for herself and Bethany.
Given her recent risks with Clayne, Katarina would be foolish to turn an opportunity like this down. Especially one that cost her nothing.
“Sure, I’ll try, but I can’t promise anything.”
Tonya’s eyebrows lifted, telling Katarina she’d surprised the marshal by agreeing. “Great, they’ll be very happy to hear that. I’m sure whatever you can share will be helpful.”
Katarina drummed her fingers on her sweatpants while she racked her brain. If she were Kingsley, where would she be hiding with her latest victim? “He likes big, open spaces.”
Tonya frowned. “Open spaces. Like empty fields or lots?”
“No, indoor spaces. Like abandoned warehouses.”
“Got it. That’s good.” Tonya typed a note into her phone. “Anything else?”
Katarina searched her memory. “Shell companies. He likes to use them to make any big purchases, and he often puts an X in the name as a tag, because he goes by Doctor X.”
Stupid, really, once she stopped to consider it. Katarina sneered. Men, always letting their egos get the best of them.
“Great. What else?”
Katarina chewed on the inside of her cheek as she concentrated. She felt a surprising pang of disappointment when she came up empty-handed. “Sorry, that’s all I can come up with for now.”
Tonya rose from the couch, so Katarina followed her lead and did the same. “Thanks for your help. I’ll be sure to pass this along. If you think of anything else, call me.”
“I will.” Once again, Katarina experienced a jolt of surprise to find that she wasn’t lying.
The sturdy marshal opened the front door before turning back to spear Katarina with a hard stare. “And if you get a phone call, a package, a letter, or notice anything that seems remotely off, call me immediately. Do not wait…unless you want to end up in the same shoes as the poor bastard Kingsley is holding hostage as we speak. Understood?”
Katarina’s nails dug into her palms. A desperate attempt to battle the fresh wave of unwanted fear that washed over her. She hated feeling scared like this. Fear reminded her too much of when she was a little girl and used to creep around, terrified of how the slightest mistake or noise at the wrong time could trigger one of her foster parents to punish her. Like the Davidsons.
As she’d stood by Kingsley’s side and watched flames devour the Davidsons and their house, she’d made herself a promise. From that day forward, Katarina had vowed never to be that vulnerable or frightened again. And she’d succeeded. Mostly. “Understood.”
Now, only two things on this earth plunged that stark, icy terror into Katarina’s chest: fear that someone might hurt or steal her daughter and fear that the very man who’d rescued her all those years ago would one day punish her for daring to leave him behind. Well, that and take a chunk of his money when she left.
After studying Katarina’s expression, Tonya grunted. “Good. Now, make sure to lock up behind me. I’ll be in touch.”
The second the door thudded shut, Katarina did as instructed and clicked the locks back into place. Wow. Not the way she’d predicted her night going at all. Katarina hurried over to the couch and knelt down to retrieve the gun before heading for her bedroom. Hard to believe that half an hour ago, she’d been close to nodding off in her daughter’s bed. Now, every cell in Katarina’s body pulsed with energy, like she’d guzzled down an entire pot of coffee.
She bounced on the edge of her bed, tempted to call Clayne. But no, that wasn’t a smart move. Katarina couldn’t afford any mistakes right now. Just because she and Clayne had slept together and shared a little emotional intimacy through their torture session didn’t mean that he could be trusted. In fact, she knew better. The only person Katarina could truly rely on in her life was Katarina.
The headboard thumped the wall when she collapsed on the blue and white checked comforter. She sighed. Too bad, because having a badass like Clayne to watch her back would feel pretty damn good right about now. Katarina knew better than to indulge in fantasies, though. From her parade of foster parents to Kingsley to the random men she’d picked up along the way, no one else had ever, truly protected her.
She didn’t kid herself that someone would start now.
25
The crime scene and IT techs scanned every nook and cranny of Gabe’s safe house with the precision of carpenter ants scouring a picnic for crumbs while Ellie’s shoes wore out the same five steps back and forth across the entryway. She hated this part. Stuck on the sidelines twiddling her thumbs, waiting on other people to finish their work and loop her back in.
Impatience pivoted her feet toward Frank. “Are you sure they knew how important it was for Katarina’s marshal to call us back right away? Maybe you should try again.”
A muscle twitched in Frank’s jaw. “Look, I appreciate that you’re impatient. I’m on pins and needles here too. But if I call the marshal’s office back one more time, they’re gonna bust my ass from here to Sunday.”
Ellie turned to Clay, who shook his head. “He’s right. You already had him check back in twice. They’ll call.”
They’ll call. Clay made everything sound so simple. Meanwhile, each minute that ticked by was another minute that Gabe suffered at Kingsley’s hands. Too many minutes, and…
Ellie shoved the rest of that thought into a mental box, slammed the lid shut, and locked the damn thing away. She went back to pacing. From the exasperated sighs Frank kept releasing, her constant motion was getting under his skin. Too bad. Pacing beat the hell out of allowing her brain time to travel unchec
ked down dark paths.
A phone rang, jolting her to a stop. She whirled as Frank punched a few buttons on his screen. “Hello, Tonya?”
“Yeah.” A raspy voice, deep for a woman, emitted from the phone’s speaker. Ellie and Clay moved in closer, until the three of them formed a loose huddle. “I talked to her. She didn’t come up with much, but she did say that Kingsley has a thing for open, abandoned warehouses and shell companies. Look for names with the letter X in them. That was all. I hope it will be enough.”
Ellie hoped so too. While Frank continued probing Tonya for information, Ellie dug her own phone out and dialed. She bounced on the balls of her feet while she waited for Carl to pick up.
“Detective Kline?”
“Carl. Yeah, it’s me again. Were you able to geo-locate a signal from Kingsley’s burner phone yet? Sorry, I wouldn’t pester you if it wasn’t urgent.”
“I was actually finishing up when you called. Like I told you before, burner phones are next to impossible to trace with any precision. The most I can tell you for sure is that the phone is pinging off towers in the Vancouver, Washington area.”
Despite the tech’s lack of precision, hope stirred in Ellie’s chest. Sure, trying to locate Kingsley in Vancouver without anything else to go on was a little like searching for a needle in a haystack. But that information was a lot more than they’d had a second ago. At least now, Ellie knew where the haystack they needed to examine was located. “You’re the best. Thanks, Carl. Talk soon.”
She hung up right as Frank ended his call with Tonya. “That was Carl. Kingsley’s burner phone shows him being in the Vancouver area.”
Frank perked up. “Okay, we can start with that. It’s time to rope in the Pacific Northwest Violent Offender Task Force, let them know we need immediate technical assistance in tracking Gabe and Kingsley down. They incorporate a shit ton of local agencies into that group, so they should be able to provide us with some bodies.”