Snapshot

by Camryn King

  “Yes, but at what price?”

  “You know what, Mom. I’d better go. I’m already stressed, and this phone call isn’t helping.”

  “I’m just scared for you, baby. Those are some of the most powerful people in the country you’re dealing with, even beyond this country, in the world. There are rumors swirling that Russia is after you, that Petrov dude. He’s working with Trout to try and put you in jail. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you, Kennedy. But I feel helpless to stop it.”

  “I can understand your feelings, Mom. I’m worried and scared, too. But I’ve looked death in the face before and figured out a way to cheat it. If I spent every waking moment worrying about dying, there’d be no time left to live. Besides, if something went down now the whole world would think that van Dijk was behind it.”

  “There’s worse things than dying.”

  The comment gave her pause, as Trout’s threats rushed to mind. She’d chosen not to tell her family about the subpoena, or about the numerous threats she’d received. But her mom seemed to have that mother’s wit, already imagining Kennedy being imprisoned, or tortured, or ruined financially. Any number of bad things could happen.

  “I’d rather not think about them,” she finally said.

  “You should think about them, Kennedy. You should have thought about it before going public. And not just about you. You should have thought about how your actions would affect the rest of us. I can’t go anywhere without being stared at as though I’ve done something wrong.”

  “I’m sorry, Mom.”

  “Are you, Kennedy? Are you sorry for all this trouble you’ve caused?”

  “Karolyn . . .”

  Kennedy heard the deep sound of her stepfather’s voice before the voices were muffled by a hand being placed over the phone’s microphone.

  “Mom, what is it? What’s going on?”

  Another few seconds went by. When she could hear clearly again it was Ray, not Karolyn, on the phone.

  “Ken, it’s Ray. Don’t let your mama get to you. She’s worried and has been under a lot of stress. The media has been camped out on the block so long they should pay taxes. Neighbors are mad, sick of the streets being clogged up and their privacy being violated.” He stopped, sighed. “Then there’s the job.”

  “I thought she’d put in her notice?”

  “She did, but you know they’re always shorthanded. She’d agreed to continue working until the closing finalized, which should be in a week or two.”

  “Does she work with a bunch of TBC supporters?”

  “It’s more than a few. Unfortunately, one of them is her supervisor.”

  “Put her on,” Kennedy demanded. “I’ll cover you guy’s expenses until you get moved and she finds a job in Vegas. She doesn’t have to put up with any of their crap.”

  “She’s in the bathroom, but I’ll tell her what you said. Don’t worry about us, though. You’ve got enough on your plate.”

  It was decided that in Kennedy’s best interest, Karolyn would not come to Fisher Island.

  Two days before Thanksgiving, Kennedy, along with Zeke, Dante and two other attorneys, and one man from the press conference security detail, entered a nondescript building not far from the U. S. District Court in New York City. They were there for the deposition, for Kennedy to repeat under oath what she’d claimed during her press conference speech. She was calmer than two weeks ago when she’d had the conversation, and when she’d blown up at her team, learned Karolyn’s troubling news and spiraled to the point of almost being out of control. Dr. Bobbi had returned to Grand Cayman, but continued her counseling by phone. What had really helped were her suggestions just before leaving. For the past ten days, Kennedy spent at least forty-five minutes with a personal trainer and another two hours working with holistic practitioners involved in yoga, meditation, energy healing, and a weird looking practice called tapping or EFT. Zeke often joined her for the workouts. His presence made a difference, too. Together, it seemed to work. Just before entering the office where her testimony would be given Dante had placed his hands on her shoulders, looked her squarely in the eyes and said, “Be fearless. You’ve got this. Just tell the truth.”

  The cross-examination was brutal, but Kennedy got through it, even though the prosecution felt assured of a win. Their cockiness shattered her confidence. Dante assured her they were bluffing, that it was one thing to say what they’d be able to do and another to actually do it. He reminded her of the proof they had to back up her claims. The police reports taken in the Bahamas and Chicago. The naked photos sent to Lydia’s condo that Kennedy had saved. The pictures of Kennedy’s injuries that Lydia had wisely taken before beginning to treat them. The testimonies of friends and family on the Kennedy they’d known before her trip to the Bahamas and the very different one that returned. Yes, they had all of this, but was it enough? On its face, none of this could be tied to Braum Van Dijk. Would the word alleged really hold up against strongly delivered claims of libel, trespassing, and a few other charges? Could “in my opinion” keep her out of federal prison?

  Kennedy was quiet as they walked out of the building, so deep in thought she forgot that Zeke was beside her.

  “This doesn’t have to be as hard as you’re making it,” he said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve got firepower in your arsenal that you’re not using.” She continued her blank stare. “Me, Kennedy. The only other person besides you who was there from the beginning. I know Van Dijk is lying and that what you’ve been saying is true. I know it. You know it. The world needs to know it. This is a way I can make up for all the pain I caused. I mean it, Kennedy. If you need me, I’ll testify.”

  Against everyone’s orders, Kennedy went home for Thanksgiving. A visit home to see her family was long overdue. She’d been given a reason to be grateful, to feel cautiously optimistic, and hoped sharing good news with family would make them feel better, too.

  40

  After Zeke volunteered to be a witness, life took a turn. The timing was perfect, as the week Kennedy had spent at home with her family had helped her regain her equilibrium and gave her a different perspective of her life’s forest that couldn’t be gained when surrounded by its trees.

  The visit had been good for other reasons. Her mother was hurt and angry at what she felt was being ignored as Kennedy went through the scandal. She didn’t agree with Karolyn, but she did understand. In ways, she’d been right. Her mom had suffered, along with the neighbors and the town. There was a saying that money didn’t buy happiness. That was true, but it definitely allowed one to rent a bit of it. Money also gave one choices, the ability to change things, even to make some problems go away. After a long discussion with Karolyn, she learned it wasn’t just waiting until the house sold prolonging the relocation to Vegas, but her mom’s growing reluctance to leave the town where she’d lived her entire life. That Saturday Kennedy talked her and Ray into dropping whatever plans they had for the day and fly to Vegas. On the way to the airport she’d located a realtor online and scheduled an appointment by text. The next day the realtor offered to pick them up. They learned a lot about Las Vegas, the city beyond downtown and the strip that most people never saw. They visited the suburbs of Henderson and Summerlin. They were shown half a dozen houses, one with a yard and a pool that her mom loved. They returned to Peyton. Karolyn gave her two-week’s notice. The day before Kennedy was scheduled to fly to New York, her mom requested that she put in an offer. Movers were hired. They’d be arriving next week. Ray and Karolyn were leaving Peyton. Kennedy knew it was time to make a move too, and not just about her location.

  “I’ll give this one more month,” she announced when she arrived at Dodie’s office in New York.

  “Give what one month?”

  Kennedy spread her arms to encompass the room and as she spoke, continued to the windows and included the world beyond them.

  “All of this, every way my life has been since revealing my id
entity. Every way I’ve had to live because of those pictures. I rented a place in Harlem,” she continued.

  “Did you speak with security?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did they say?”

  “They’ll be close by. There will never be a perfect time to take back my life and start living like a human being instead of a fugitive, albeit one with means. Dante knows about it. He lives there, and to make you feel even better, Zeke will move in with me.”

  “I still don’t get that.”

  “Except for Zeke and I, nobody will.”

  “So are the two of you—”

  “No, we’re not.”

  Dodie raised a brow. “You may have answered that a bit too quickly.”

  “Only because I want to remain on topic. Zeke is an experienced security expert and easy on the eyes, but the only relationship I’m focused on right now is the one with myself.”

  “I get that,” Dodie responded, all sarcasm gone. “I couldn’t have withstood what you’ve been through.”

  Kennedy smiled as their camaraderie returned. “I think you could. It wasn’t only your expertise as a publicist or your extensive connections. It was your strength that I recognized the most, that helped bolster me up during challenging times. You always came through with a word or a look. I didn’t always agree with you, but I always respected you and felt you truly had my back.”

  “Thank you for saying that, Ken. This has been ugly, but worth it.”

  “As for your partners, they’ve been great and for a while they were needed, but I’d like to go back to working solely with you, effective immediately. I’ll retain the attorneys but only one bodyguard. I’ll speak with the other assistants, the stylists, the makeup artist and inform them that their services are no longer needed. I’m sure there are aspects of this whole operation that I’ve left out, which is why I rented the place for a month. But I’m not staying a day past that.”

  “Wow.” Dodie walked over to a seating area and sat. “You’ve obviously thought this out.”

  “When visiting small towns, there’s a lot of time to think.”

  They laughed.

  “So, after Harlem, and once your focus isn’t on ‘all of this’ as you say, what then?”

  “Coming up with an answer for that wasn’t as easy as the previous steps mentioned. I know I’ll return to Chicago, at least for the time being. It’s where I’ve lived my entire adult life. A city I know and love.”

  “And continue freelance photography?”

  “I don’t know,” Kennedy said, and then chuckled. “My friend Gwen says I ought to be a novelist.”

  Dodie thought for a moment. “You have a very smart friend.”

  “I think she was kidding.”

  “Really? I’m not. Think of all the wild and crazy things that have happened to you, because of something you did by accident? Your life is the poster child for the truth being stranger than fiction. You do have a degree in writing.”

  “Yes, but not creative writing, not writing a book.”

  “You could do it, Kennedy. And you should give the possibility serious thought. You received a sizeable chunk for that picture, but it wouldn’t hurt to add the cushion of a New York Times bestseller.”

  “You really think that many people would be interested?”

  Dodie rolled her eyes in exasperation. “In the woman who literally exposed a media and political conspiracy? Um, yeah, I think one or two people would want to read that book. It has everything,” she continued, becoming more excited. “It has action, drama, politics, scandal. It crosses state lines and continents. There is intrigue and betrayal, and the conversation that has been raised as to what counts as patriotism and who should get to define it. And you’ve got a decorated war hero switching sides for his country! I think, no, I know, if written correctly, a book like that could go all the way to the top. It could be number one.”

  “I don’t know, Dodie.”

  “Think about it, will you?”

  “Okay.”

  “And when answering, consider giving me a slow yes instead of a fast no.”

  Once Kennedy met with the team and put the ball in motion to dismantle it, things moved quickly. Dante and his team met the federal prosecutors and pushed back hard against their innuendos and veiled threats. They revealed a new development, a witness who admitted to having participated in many of the events that Kennedy had described in her deposition. In an offensive move, they shared a statement Zeke had written with the prosecution, a letter expressing pride in having served his country, and how in coming forward he felt he was serving it still. They assured the prosecution that their witness was prepared to go to prison for the American public to be protected and for truth to prevail.

  “No bother threatening him with a jail sentence, boys,” Dante had drawled after dropping his trump. “This man has seen horrors of war beyond what we can imagine. Prison would be a walk in the park.”

  Relaying this information to Van Dijk’s team changed the network’s tone regarding Kennedy and the pictures she’d taken. Van Dijk retreated like a tornado all out of wind. The posts stopped. The pundits shut up. With no director leading the choir, the TBC viewers backed off. In the middle of all of this, President Trout suddenly announced a potential trade deal with North Korea. Capitol Hill went crazy. The media went wild. What Dodie suggested when the media frenzy began, finally happened. A news story broke that shifted the attention away from her.

  Interest surrounding the pictures didn’t end. But the American public’s attention span was short. They quickly moved to the next headline. Media requests slowed, and even though Kennedy no longer gave interviews, they didn’t stop completely. Those opposed to the hold Van Dijk had on the media went out on a majority of airwaves, keeping the story alive, aided by news channels with twenty-four hours to fill. Still, Kennedy felt she’d been released from prison, was able to walk around rather freely, and could get back to some semblance of a normal life.

  By the end of the third week of Kennedy’s four-week stay in New York, the legal battles had calmed to a simmer and her team had been redefined. Publicly, Van Dijk and his buddy President Trout continued to blow smoke about bringing traitors to justice. But he no longer posted about the pictures and he no longer mentioned her name. Still, the attorneys told her that the case was far from being settled, that legal matters like this could drag on for years. At this point, time was on her side. And so was a man named Zeke Foster. When it was time for her court close-up, she’d be ready, and Zeke would be there. In the meantime, another project had captured her interest. Dodie, and her endless list of influential contacts, had connected Kennedy with a high-powered literary agent to shop her book idea. By the time Kennedy left New York, several publishers were interested, and three weeks after returning to Chicago and signing the lease on a six-month rental, Kennedy decided on the publisher that was right for her and signed a lucrative contract. An opportunity that came about because of her true love and passion—finding beautiful objects and having others see them through her lens. It was often said that a picture was worth a thousand words. Kennedy was going to write more than that about the snapshot she’d taken that changed her life, and put them in a book.

  Don’t Miss

  Stiletto Justice

  Available wherever books are sold

  Camryn King’s sizzling debut novel delivers an intriguing tale of three resourceful women with a ruthless senator in their sights—and even more explosive ways to take him down . . .

  A successful businesswoman who used to play by the rules. A cautious single mother who never took chances. A gorgeous rebel out of money and almost out of time. Each loves a man unjustly sentenced to long prison terms by former prosecutor Hammond Grey. They’ve tried every legal remedy to get justice—only to see Hammond climb ever higher up the political ladder and secure himself behind power and privilege. So when Kim, Jayda, and Harley meet in a support group, they’ve got no options left. It’s time for
them to launch Plan B. And they won’t stop at infiltrating Hammond’s elite world and uncovering mass corruption. Exploiting his deepest weakness is the ultimate delicious payback—and the kind of justice they’ll gamble everything to get . . .

  Enjoy the following excerpt from Stiletto Justice . . .

  PROLOGUE

  “Is he dead?”

  “I don’t know, but seeing that lying trap of a mouth shut is a nice change of pace.”

  Kim Logan, Harley Buchanan, and Jayda Sanchez peered down at the lifeless body of the United States senator from Kansas, Hammond Grey.

  “I agree he looks better silent,” Kim mused, while mentally willing his chest to move. “But I don’t think prison garb will improve my appearance.”

  “Move, guys.” Jayda, who’d hung in the background, pushed Harley aside to get closer. She stuck a finger under his nose. “He’s alive, but I don’t know how long he’ll be unconscious. Whatever we’re going to do needs to happen fast.”

  “Fine with me.” Harley stripped off her jacket and unzipped her jeans. “The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can get the hell out of here.”

  “I’m with you,” Kim replied. Her hands shook as she unsnapped the black leather jacket borrowed from her husband and removed her phone from its inside pocket. “Jayda, start taking his clothes off.”

  “Why me?” Jayda whispered. “I don’t want to touch him.”

  “That’s why you’re wearing gloves,” Harley hissed back. “Look, if I can bare my ass for the world to see, the least you can do is pull his pants down. Where’s that wig?”

  Kim showed more sympathy as she pointed toward the bag holding a brunette-colored hair transformer. “Jayda, I understand completely. I don’t even want to look at his penis, let alone capture it on video.”

  Harley had stripped down to her undies. She stood impatiently, hand on hip. “I tell you what I’m not going to do. I’m not going to get buck-ass naked for you two to punk out. It’s why we all took a shot of Jack!”