by Camryn King
Most travelers began their road trips early in the morning. Zeke liked doing most of his travelling at night. Driving relaxed him. Travelling across the country would give him time to think and unwind. Ready to get started, he decided to go ahead and get on the road. He loaded up his Jeep, filled the gas tank and at around three o’clock was ready to hit the road. He got in the car, placed his phone in an auto holder and scrolled his music library for music to drive by. Known for his love of rock, he felt nostalgic that night for a piece of home, a little West Virginia, and settled on a country station. As if summoning up his family, shortly after merging on to the highway, his phone rang.
“Grandpa Buck! You’re not going to believe it, but I was just thinking of you!”
“You’re probably a lying sack of shit but it still sounds good.”
Zeke laughed. “Seriously! Listen to this.” He turned up the stereo so that his grandfather could hear one of their shared favorite artists, Willie Nelson, belting out a classic. “Do you hear?”
“Well I’ll be damned, boy,” Buck responded. “Somebody sure raised you right. What’s happening over there in Yankee country? You keeping those bleeding liberals in line?”
“Doing my best.”
“I sure love what that Van Dijk is doing for the country. We’d be swallowing a pile of lies if not for TBC.”
“That’s right. Left-wingers wanting to pack people into the country like sardines, trying to stir up trouble for our president.”
“Don’t I know it. But between you and me, I think that draft dodger creates a pile of trouble for himself.”
“Wait a minute, Gramps. I thought you were a solid Trout supporter.”
Trout, a conservative, had eked out a narrow victory and taken office last year.
“Just because I support him doesn’t mean I think his doo-doo doesn’t smell foul. Who else were we going to vote for? He was the only choice we had. His opponent wanted to take what we’ve fought and died for and give it all to people who just came in the country last week. We were already going to hell in a handbasket trying to be friends with everybody and fill folks’ minds with the harebrained notion that the world could become one big kumbayah. Anybody who reads the bible knows that’s not possible. There’s been war in the world ever since Cain killed Abel. I believe if there was only one man left on the planet, he’d go find a mirror and fight with his fool self.”
Zeke smiled at how hard Grandpa Buck laughed at his own joke, but became concerned when the laughing turned to coughing that went on for a while.
“You alright, old man?”
“I’m still breathing.”
“You were coughing pretty good when I was back there. Maybe you need to get that checked out?”
“For what? I’m seventy-nine years old, son. When the good Lord thinks I’m ready to come home then I’ll be ready to leave.”
For all the death Zeke had seen, for all he’d created, he didn’t want to think about it when it came to Grandpa Buck. Quickly changing subjects, he got to why he’d been thinking of him in the first place. About how he’d been told that he’d finished a job successfully, but felt that in the process he’d been demoted.
“I don’t know how long I can take living in Missouri. I might reenlist, go where I can use all these years of training and make a difference.”
“I can appreciate where you’re coming from, but don’t spend too many brain cells on it. Enlisted or not, you’ll always be a soldier.”
Zeke’s father Daniel arrived at the house. The call ended after that. He pondered his grandfather’s words, hoped they would soothe him and make him feel better. But the feeling of unease continued, even grew. Zeke felt an undercurrent swirling around his conversations with Van Dijk, and Bullet, too. Something was going on. Something wasn’t right. He just couldn’t put his finger on it.
25
The week had been crazy, beginning on Monday and Kennedy’s conversation with Monica. She hadn’t been looking forward to it. Was there any chance that her and Scott would be open to Kennedy working from a satellite office? Especially when less than two weeks ago she’d pledged her commitment to the company for the long haul, as part of the Chicago team? However she felt about it, it couldn’t be helped. The horse was out of the stable. The train had left the depot. Her life was unfolding around the upcoming events. She’d have to set her cards out and deal with the consequences.
Not wanting to prolong the intrigue, as soon as she arrived at the office, she approached Monica.
“Hey, lady.”
“KW! Good morning. Listen, I’m glad you’re here. I want to talk to you about an event that’s happening in two weeks that I’d like you to cover for the October issue. It’s happening in one of our city’s neighborhoods that rarely sees positive coverage. I think the photo layout from this can be incredible. Come on, I’ll show you the event online.”
Kennedy followed Monica to the office. Once both were inside, she closed the door. Monica immediately turned around, a question in her expression. Unless something confidential or controversial was being discussed, they never closed the door.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
“We need to talk.” Monica sat behind her desk. Kennedy remained standing, in front of her. “Remember the stalking situation I mentioned awhile back?”
“Yes.”
“The situation has escalated. It’s reached a point where I no longer feel safe here, in the city. There’s more to it that I want to share but I can’t, not right at this moment. But it is critical enough that I am making plans to leave the city for a little while.”
“How long is a little while?”
Kennedy shrugged. “A couple weeks, a month . . . I don’t know.”
Monica sat against the chair back, clearly unhappy. “How’s that going to work, given your responsibilities here?”
“It will be challenging, but I love working here. I believe in this company and I feel horrible for having to come here with this, knowing how much building a team means to you and Scott. Maybe it will blow over quicker than I think and I can come back in a couple weeks. I just don’t know, and I want to be honest about that.”
“Did you have any idea that the situation might come to this? When you interviewed and I emphasized how important it was to have a commitment, somebody who was here for the long haul, who could oversee taking this company to the next level?”
“Perhaps I didn’t want to see it,” Kennedy admitted. She paced the room along the window, struck with how the world outside could be business as usual when one’s own personal world was imploding. “I hoped that I could handle it myself, keep the situation contained. But it’s bigger than what I can handle. I’m no longer confident that I can protect myself.”
Monica got up and came around the desk. She pulled Kennedy into a hug. “I’m sorry,” she said with a tone that showed she meant it. She stepped back. “I’m pissed off and don’t know how we’ll work this out if it’s even possible. But nothing is worth risking your life and if you believe leaving town is what you have to do to save it, I can’t be the one to hold you back, have something happen, and then have blood on my hands.”
“Thank you, Monica. That means so much to me, it really does.”
“When do you plan to leave?”
“This coming Saturday.”
The story was set to break on Saturday, just as the Labor Day holiday weekend got underway. Papers would hit the stands at about the same time her flight left for Grand Cayman, just a little after six a.m.
“That means that for the next week I’m going to work my ass off and get as much of the October layout done as possible. I’ll take a look at the event you mentioned, see if there are any shots I can do between now and then that will go with the story. I’ll also outline the November issue. Hopefully I’ll be back by then but just in case, I want to do as much as I can while I’m here.”
With that hard conversation out of the way, Kennedy settled into work. As much as sh
e didn’t like staying late at work, she figured considering that she was leaving on Saturday it was the least she could do. On Wednesday, however, she left around eight to meet Gwen and Logan for drinks. When she entered the lounge where they were scheduled to meet, her eyes fell on them cuddled up in a corner booth. She stopped for a moment and observed their interaction. For a moment, she envied their normal life, having each other, having love. Once this drama was behind her, Kennedy figured it would be about time for her to think about more than work for a change, to figure out who she wanted to be for the rest of her life, and whether she wanted to be it alone. She shook off the melancholy and let her happiness at seeing them shine through.
“Hey you lovebirds. Get a room.”
Hugs and greetings went around as Kennedy settled into the booth. They ordered drinks. Gwen eyed her keenly.
“First of all, Gwen, I owe you an apology.”
“For what?”
“Well, maybe I don’t owe it, but I want to give it to you anyway. You’ve been an amazing friend and were wise to be concerned about me. I know I brushed you off at some times, and got angry at others, but the truth of the matter is that I wasn’t okay. I’m still going through it, and at some point, I plan to take your advice and see someone about all that has been going on.”
“What has been going on?” Gwen asked. “I know it’s more than what you’ve told me.”
“You’re right. It’s a lot more than I’ve told either of you. And I’m still not at liberty to share everything but because the two of you have been there for me, I want to share what I can. Especially to you, Logan. You’ve been affected by what’s happened and didn’t know why.
“Gwen, remember the trip I took to the Bahamas?”
“With what all happened to you down there, how could I forget it?”
“I guess so, huh? While I was there taking pictures, I accidentally captured something, or more specifically someone, who’s very high up in government, and wields a lot of power. I didn’t even know what I’d taken until I had the pictures enhanced. And once I did, I understood that if they got out it could ruin the person’s life. But they knew. I didn’t see them, but they saw me take the pictures and they’ve been after me ever since, trying to get them back.”
“Oh no, Kennedy.” Gwen’s eyes grew fearful. She reached for Kennedy’s hand and unloaded a barrage of questions. “Is that who broke into your place? Is that why you moved? Are you safe?”
“No, Gwen, I’m not. Truthfully, I haven’t been really safe for months. Logan knows about some of it because in helping me, he got caught up, too.” Gwen looked at Logan, confused and annoyed. “No, don’t be mad at him. I swore him to secrecy, figuring the less anyone knew the safer they’d be. When I was robbed in the Bahamas and all my electronics stolen, it was because they were looking for the pictures that at that time I didn’t even know I’d taken. There’s something else that I didn’t know, and only found out recently.”
She paused, ashamed to even mention the naked pics.
Logan leaned forward. “What, Ken?”
“While I was drugged, naked, and passed out, pictures were taken of me.”
“Damn!” Logan spat.
Gwen’s expression crumbled, “Oh. My. God. How’d you find out?”
“After turning down Anita’s offer to sell the pictures to her.”
“Who’s Anita?” Logan asked.
Kennedy told him about the six-figure offer she’d gotten from someone she now believed worked for the man in the shots. “Not long after that the envelope was delivered. Somewhere around that time I also found out that someone had placed a GPS on my car.”
“You can’t be serious?” Logan said, now looking as concerned for Kennedy as Gwen did. “That’s some mission impossible movie shit. Kennedy, you know me and law enforcement are none too friendly but you need to get somebody in on this, for real.”
“Who’s in this picture?” Gwen asked.
Kennedy took a deep breath. “Okay, guys. It’s going to come out soon anyway and because of our association, I want you both to know. I mentioned him to you, Gwen, forever ago when this all just started. Anyway . . . I’ll just tell you who it is. But first you both have to promise, swear on your lives, that you won’t say a word until the news breaks.”
“Whoever this is can make breaking news?” Logan asked.
Gwen looked at her. “I remember.” She turned to Logan. “He owns the news.”
“Who is it? The president?” Logan asked, laughing.
Kennedy didn’t crack a smile.
“It’s not him,” Gwen answered. “But someone just as powerful.”
“The owner of TBC,” Kennedy said.
“That racist network?” Logan asked.
Kennedy shrugged. “That’s one way to describe it.”
“What could he have possibly been doing to warrant all of this drama?”
“Probably stepping out on his wife,” Logan said.
“Don’t they all?” Gwen countered.
“Maybe,” Kennedy said. “But in traditional circles, it’s usually not with another man.”
“Oh my gosh,” Gwen breathed. “No wonder you’re going crazy, Ken. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I didn’t want anyone coming after you, like they came after me and Logan.”
Gwen shot a look at Logan, who looked at Kennedy.
“You can tell her.”
“Kennedy gave me a thumb drive to keep.”
“You gave him the pictures?” Gwen asked Kennedy.
“I didn’t know what was on it,” she said. “Plus, you can’t see anything with the naked eye, no pun intended.”
Her comment lightened the mood a bit and the conversation shifted to other things. It was her last casual night before leaving. Between work and packing the last two days were a blur. But Saturday finally arrived. Kennedy was so ready to go, she hadn’t even needed an alarm even though her flight left at six a.m. At just past four-thirty, she zipped and locked her luggage, took a last look around the room and tiptoed out the door.
She hated that it was still so dark outside. Rather than having to pull her luggage around the block to her car, she propped it by the gate and drove her car back there. After popping the trunk and tapping the hazard lights she left the car running and went to retrieve her luggage. She put the larger bag in, reached down for her carry-on and settled it beside the larger one. Just as she reached up to close the trunk she paused, sure she’d heard a noise. Before she could turn, one arm slammed her back against a hard body. At the same time a cloth was clamped over her mouth and nose. She clawed at the hand, raised her leg to kick him. And then her world went black.
26
Kennedy came to and found herself in total darkness. A panic attack threatened. She felt it from the tip of her toes to the top of her head. She’d never considered herself overly claustrophobic but now, bound and blindfolded in the backseat of what she quickly realized was her own car, she couldn’t imagine that. Appropriate, since she was quite sure her destination was death. She’d been caught totally off guard by a kidnapper who wore some type of mask so she couldn’t see his face. There were so many questions that would go unanswered with her death, including who kidnapped her, who was the man calling himself Jack Sutton that she’d met in the Bahamas, and would Dodie finish what they started? Would the American public ever know what a monster Van Dijk really was?
Her body rocked as the driver took a sharp turn. Where was she being taken? What statement would be made about her demise? What circumstances would be created to surround her death? She was a young Black woman living in America. She could be painted by the enemy with a very broad brush: prostitute, drug user, drug dealer, battered girlfriend, runaway. Any number of believable scenarios could be created. The possibilities were endless. She thought about her family, imagined two officers knocking on her mom’s front door, Karolyn buckling after receiving the news, her brother’s stoic presence at the funeral comforting their
mom. Tears formed beneath the tape used to blindfold her. They ran down her face and into the leather. She forced herself to stop thinking that way. Her time would be better spent figuring out how to keep living. It wasn’t over until it was over. She wasn’t dead yet. Maybe if she engaged with her captor, made him see her as human, maybe she’d have a chance to see another sunrise.
“Who . . .” She paused, cleared the frogs out of her throat and began again. “Who are you?”
Silence.
“Why did you kidnap me? Where are you taking me?”
She heard the radio come on, stations being scanned. When the sound of heavy metal came through the speakers the driver turned up the volume. His meaning was clear. No talking.
The car shifted again and accelerated. Her body slammed against the back of the seat. She felt the car merge, heard speeding vehicles. They had entered the highway. Kennedy’s heart thumped against her ribcage. Waves of panic washed over, causing beads of sweat to pop out on her forehead even as her teeth chattered with the chilly reality of what would be her final moments on earth. Tears rushed up from her soul, pushed against her eyelids and spilled over. Broken, resolved, she allowed them. Tears for a life not even half-lived. For her unfulfilled dreams. For her family and friends.
For yourself.
The thought slapped her senses like an open palm. It staunched the tears. Kennedy prided herself on being a modern woman, on being independent and forging a place for herself in the career of her choice. In middle school, she was sure that life would be lived on the stage. She’d idolized Alicia and Destiny’s Child, imagined herself on The Parkers. Her talent didn’t live up to the dream, so by high school the stage had been replaced by the race track. She attended meets and won medals but the day she saw a photographer and went over to ask if he’d taken a picture of her jumping the hurdles, her life changed. He showed the picture he’d taken, and many more, how he focused on different aspects of the subject, blurred backgrounds and varied exposures, she was hooked. She entered college determined to be an award-winning photographer working for a national magazine. Her life had been focused on education and career. She was on the precipice of realizing that dream. Until now it was all that mattered. But now, on what may be the last trip of her life, she realized there may have been something worthier, or at least equally worthy of her efforts—marriage, children, a legacy, something other than and greater than herself.