B00CCYP714 EBOK (11 page)

“Bladen,” a man’s voice said softly.

Bladen turned her head from side to side, trying to find the source. That’s when she saw the bright white light. It was so beautiful, Bladen wanted to rush toward it, but the silhouette of a man appeared between her and the light. As he came toward her, his features became clear. He was tall with a head full of curly, reddish-brown hair and a beard to match. His green eyes were penetrating. Bladen had the sense that she knew him, but could not place his familiar face.

“Are you here to take me to the light?” she asked.

“It’s not your time, Bladen. You have to go back.”

Bladen looked down at her body, with her murderer still trying to revive it. The thought of going back there sent her into a panic.

“Please, don’t make me go back. He’s going to kill me anyway. Don’t make me suffer more. Just take me now.”

“Have faith, Bladen,” the man said, as his image began to dissipate like fog clearing under the warmth of the sun. Just before he vanished completely, he said, “Don’t give up. They’re coming for you.”

Bladen screamed at the man who was now only a mist, “It’s too late. Don’t you see? It’s too late. Please, God, don’t leave me here.”

#

Rainey sat at the desk in her office sending emails, her hair still damp, but clean and pulled back in a loose ponytail to dry. If she left it free, the curls would expand into a frizzy mess. The thought of doing a Halle Berry on her hair had crossed her mind. Mostly, when one of the kids had a handful between fat little fingers, apparently having lost the motor skills to unfold the tightly clinched fist. If Katie said, “No,” it was received with coos and appropriate responses. If Rainey told the triplets, “No,” it was a mere momentary distraction and whatever activity they were involved in would immediately resume, until she physically removed the phone from a mouth, took away the shredded book, or rescued the cat.

Freddie Krueger, Rainey’s bobbed tail black cat, could identify with her on the triplets’ penchant for hair pulling. He had adjusted to the move and the babies fairly well. He roamed the large lot, mostly staying in his yard behind the high-security fence, but was known to head down to the lake from time to time. Rainey knew this from the variety of dead things he left in the garage, where his doggie-door entrance was located. Rainey tried to keep him in at night, and often found him curled up on the floor outside the triplets’ nursery door. She was not sure if he was protecting them, or plotting his revenge for the handfuls of fur forcefully removed from his coat. Just in case it was the latter, he was not allowed in their room unsupervised. They installed a screened door over the babies’ room doorway, covered in plastic-coated hardware cloth strong enough to keep Freddie out and the babies in. That way, the solid wooden door could remain open. Sightlines and hearing were important, with three clever children and an equally cunning feline.

Family life had changed Rainey and Freddie, but they both seemed to be doing well. Rainey never knew she could love something as much as she loved those babies. They seemed to find her amusing and instinctively knew she was the weaker of the two adults. They pulled all their best stunts when she was the one watching them, but they had fun. Katie came home last week to find them all, Rainey included, covered in finger-paint, when an afternoon at home with mom number two turned into a free-for-all of wrestling rainbow-colored children. Rainey had no hope of ever controlling them like their mother. When Katie entered a room, all three of their heads would turn toward her. They seemed to think Katie was some kind of Goddess to be worshipped and obeyed. Katie said it was not her presence to which they were responding, but the appearance of a major food source. 

The food source stuck her head in the doorway of the office, yawning loudly. “Okay, everything is ready for the morning. I’m going to sleep for a bit. You should come too. We’ll be up soon enough as it is.”

Rainey stood and walked to the door. She gave Katie a hug and a kiss, and then said, “I’ll come up in a bit. I have one more email to send.”

“Okay, don’t stay up all night. You need some sleep.” Katie yawned again, before saying, “Goodnight, I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Katie went off to bed. It was now after two a.m. They had talked for the better part of an hour, after Rainey returned from a quick shower and a change of clothes. Rainey outlined everything she knew, from the writer preparing her character assassination, Mackie’s condition, the risky surgery, hearing her father’s voice, Ernie’s warning, and the feeling she was being watched and not by the stalker. Rainey restated her belief that Cookie Kutter was involved in the blog, and how she hoped to catch her, or someone who worked for her, on the security cameras at the hospital. She told of Danny’s forced betrayal and the leaked Grand Jury testimony. Rainey admitted she felt evil lurking, more malignant than a photographer posting pictures or a writer telling tales. Katie listened, promised to be more aware than usual of her interactions outside the home, and then told Rainey what she needed to hear.

“If you think someone is out there plotting your demise, then I believe you. Do what you have to do to keep us safe. I’ll do as you ask.”

That was hard for a strong-willed, free-spirited woman like Katie. They had survived two serial killers together, but it was a struggle to get Katie to listen in the beginning. Katie Meyers was determined not to let what happened to her affect the way she lived her life. She would not raise children in a house filled with paranoia and fear. Rainey had to explain it really had nothing to do with living a fearless life and was more about surviving to live it. After their last brush with death, Katie tended to follow the security procedures Rainey set out for them without fail. She still thought Rainey was paranoid, but not nearly as much as she did before.

Rainey sat down to write her final email. She already sent one to her stepfather about Mackie’s protection detail, and one to the security company office alerting them to a possible threat. She could not describe the threat to either John or the security company. Unsure of what or whom she was up against, she kept her concerns vague. She also sent a message asking Brooks to tweak the software she designed, which searched twenty-four hours a day for any mention of Rainey on the Web. Her former job as a criminal mind-hunter made Rainey a target for twisted individuals out there fixated on the Behavioral Analysis Unit members. It was common to find reams of information about the unit and their work in a serial offender’s home. Rainey needed to know if one of them was focused on her.

Now, the last message had to be written. She held off on this one until the end, not wanting to write it, but knowing she had to. She opened the encrypted email program to insure privacy. This message was for Danny McNally’s eyes only, and only he would have the key to open it.

“Danny,” she began. “I’ve thought long about how to broach this subject, but I find no way other than directly. Your Grand Jury testimony in the Chambers case has been leaked. Martin Douglas Cross, the writer, will be publishing quotes from that testimony in his new book about me.”

She stopped typing and looked across the desk at a picture of Danny and his Godchildren, Rainey’s children. It was taken at the triplets’ birthday party, which he flew in to attend. His goofy grin was so wide, his eyes were forced into smiling slits. Katie had framed the photo and placed it on the desk. Danny had Rainey’s back since they joined the BAU together, nearly twelve years ago. He had seen her at her most exposed. Had he betrayed her? She could not know for sure without reading all the testimony, which was unlikely to happen. Marty might be able to get his hands on it, but no one was going to give that testimony to Rainey willingly.

With a heavy heart, she typed, “I know I put you in the position to have to testify to what you heard me say to and about Dalton. You tried to warn me the day would come when you would be forced to tell the truth. I admire your integrity. You were correct in your testimony. Under the right circumstances, I would have killed Dalton Chambers. Still, the fact remains, those circumstances did not arise. Chauncey Barber confessed, and is serving life without parole for Dalton’s murder. As you told me before, if I were involved, I left a mile-wide trail right back to my door. I believe you said it was the smartest or dumbest thing I had ever done.”

Rainey selected her words for the next paragraph carefully. Encrypted or not, the only safe communication was face to face in a listening device free environment, a luxury she did not have at the moment. 

“No one would believe I was that reckless. No one, but Detective Rex King, who has a deep desire to see me rot in prison; author Martin Douglas Cross, who, as it turns out, I should have at least wounded enough to scare into never crossing my path a second time; a certain blond journalist named after a kitchen utensil that my wife would like to punch again; and possibly you, my friend. My position is still the same. If Chauncey Barber did murder Dalton Chambers because of some kindness I showed him, then bless his heart. I did not personally order a hit. Call it semantics if you will, but those are the facts. Read up on Henry Plantagenet and the Archbishop of Canterbury. This story has several parallels, but you’re not going to find me wailing at the altar wearing a hair shirt.”

That was as close as Rainey could come to telling Danny the truth. As she had just discovered, if placed on the stand and under oath, Danny would reveal what she said. She moved on to the second reason for her email.

“There was one more piece of information from Mr. Cross that I think you should be interested in. He brought up Michael Paul Perry, insinuating that people were talking about the incident, and implicating me in his death. Either he’s bluffing, or you have a misinformed leak in the unit. I know we did what we did out of respect for the boy’s family, but if this blows up, you and the Bureau will be forced to make a statement. I was following orders from way above my pay grade, as were you. I won’t remain silent and take the fall by myself. You might want to let the powers that be know that. I suggest you find out if anyone has been looking at that case and with whom that information may have been shared.”

Rainey almost forgot to mention Mackie’s situation and added it as a final note. 

“Mackie was hit in the vest tonight with a .44 at close range. He suffered the usual resulting injuries, but had a heart attack later in the hospital. He’ll undergo bypass surgery as soon as he is deemed stable enough. I’ll be tied up with him for a few days. We’ll chat about all this when he is out of the woods.”

She closed with her standard, “Your friend, always, Rainey,” attached a new picture of his godchildren, and sent the message.

After shutting down the computer, Rainey stood and walked to the window. Her office was at the rear of the house, with a view of the backyard. The moon was in the waning of its cycle, with only a sliver of light reflecting down to earth. Here, in her little fortress, Rainey felt safe most of the time, but tonight she had let the evil follow her home. She sensed it out there, watching. Rainey closed the blinds and went to the bookshelf she brought from the old house at the lake. It had been her father’s and still contained memorabilia from his soldier days. It also held a secret, one where Rainey broke one of Katie’s rules. A thick volume of Shakespeare’s Complete Works rested on the middle shelf. Only it wasn’t a book at all. It was an empty shell concealing a small, snub-nosed, .38 revolver that belonged to her father. Rainey verified it was still there and in working order.

She left the office to check the window and door locks, stopping in the foyer to scan through the camera images on the wall-mounted security panel hidden behind a hinged painting. One more check of the alarm system to see that all the indicator lights glowed green ensured the security net was solidly cast around her family. Satisfied that she had done all she could do, Rainey climbed the stairs to the master suite.

As she reached the first landing, Rainey was drawn to the large arched window that looked out over the backyard. She stopped and stared into the night, out beyond the thick brick security wall with its heavy iron gate. The wall was imposing, but not impassable. Night vision cameras would capture the image of someone scaling the wall or tampering with the gate. Motion detectors would sound the alarm and lights would blare down on anyone stepping a toe into the net laid out over her property. Everyone in the neighborhood knew when someone violated Rainey’s safe space. It caused a clamor at one of the neighborhood association meetings, but Katie handled that with ease.

One neighbor expressed fear that if Rainey felt the need for that much security, what kind of element might she attract to the area?

Katie stood up and replied, “You live in a community behind iron gates and armed guards. You call once a week about some suspicious email you’ve received, wanting Rainey to check it out. Might we also be concerned about the people of whom you are afraid?”

The neighborhood quieted down about Rainey’s presence after that. Some neighbors even hired her to help with security plans for their homes and families. She identified a stalker for a frightened woman, helping her take the appropriate legal steps and security measures. More than one neighborly wife or husband had approached her, wanting a wayward spouse caught on camera during an extramarital dalliance. Rainey did not do that type of private investigating. She had enough business without stooping to long nights of surveillance outside hotels and strip clubs.

Beyond the backyard, Rainey could see the thick woods that led to the shore of the lake. Anyone could be in there watching her search the blackness for movement. She was sure that some of the photos of her family had been taken from the higher limbs of one of those trees. The hair began to stand up on Rainey’s neck and arms. Danger was in the air. Cliff was right. There was great disturbance in the force.

“Dad,” Rainey whispered, “if you can hear me, I need more clues.”

“Get some sleep so you can understand the clues,” Katie said from the top of the stairs, in a ghostly voice.