FATAL FORTY-EIGHT: A Kate Huntington Mystery (The Kate Huntington Mysteries Book 7) (31 page)

She said another silent prayer of thanksgiving that the April day was sunny and dry. That wasn’t always the case in the springtime in Maryland. The rain plan had been to hold the wedding in her living room, which would have been extremely cramped.

Kate followed her daughter over the strip of white cloth that stretched across the grass. She spotted Rob, standing next to Liz at the end of a row of seats. He was beaming. She caught his eye and he winked at her. She grinned back.

Edie enthusiastically tossed rose petals along the path, and at the guests. Kate tensed, trying to figure out how to discreetly dampen the child’s zeal. But people were smiling indulgently at the little girl so she let it slide.

She looked up at the white wicker archway that the catering company had provided. The minister stood behind it, Charles and his best man slightly in front of it. The groom held his right arm as if it were still in a sling. One of Delaney’s bullets had ripped through the rotator cuff, leaving him with a limited range of motion in the shoulder and nerve damage down the arm.

A small shudder ran through Kate’s body. Being unable to draw or paint like he once could was only one of the issues Charles still struggled with. His physical therapist, Sally had told her, was guardedly optimistic that he would eventually regain most of the use of his hand.

Kate reached the archway. She stepped off to the side and surreptitiously studied the groom, wondering for a moment if Sally’s auntie was right.

Then Charles made eye contact with his elegant bride, and his broad face broke into a huge grin. He reached out his left hand, strong and steady, and took Sally’s hand.

The couple stepped under the canopy.

Kate smiled and relaxed.

~~~~~~~~

She sipped wine, standing off to the side of the lawn and observing her guests. Sally’s ancient mother, confined to a wheelchair, was holding court in the shade of one of the giant pine trees. A parade of grandchildren, nieces and nephews stopped to greet her, squeezing her hand or leaning over to give her shoulders a hug. Sally’s aunt, her mother’s younger sister, stood nearby, leaning on a cane and nodding her approval.

Manny stood on the other side of the lawn, drinking non-alcoholic punch from a plastic cup. He was munching on hors d’oeuvres from a plate held by a young woman with café au lait skin and long, shiny black hair. Her thin, elegant posture suggested a link to Sally’s gene pool.

Kate smiled.

Manny must have sensed her watching them. He glanced up, caught her eye and waved a beefy hand. Something fell off the cracker in that hand. He looked down at the ground, then back up at her. He shot her a lopsided grin and shrugged his broad shoulders.

Kate giggled as she returned his wave.

“Hi there.”

She whirled around. “Tim! I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I didn’t think I’d make it, but the case I was on wrapped up quicker than expected.”

Heat crept up her face. That wasn’t what she’d meant. She was surprised that Sally had invited the FBI agent, whom she’d only met in the context of being interviewed about her ordeal. Wouldn’t he be a reminder of the trauma she and Charles had endured?

But then again, Sally had invited Manny. It was the woman’s nature to address such things head on.

Kate swiveled her head around and spotted the smiling bride and groom, making the rounds, chatting with guests. Her residual doubts about the wisdom of this marriage faded. Sally certainly had both the skills and the determination to guide both of their wounded psyches back to sanity.

Relative sanity
, Kate silently corrected herself. Experience had taught her that nobody was completely sane.

She turned a bright smile back toward the FBI agent. “How are you?”

“I’m good. Lisa’s with me this weekend.” At her blank look, he added, “My daughter.”

Kate looked around. “Is she here?”

Tim pointed to a huddle of young teens across the lawn–some of Sally’s younger nieces and nephews, plus the children of several of the trauma center’s employees.

Kate assumed Lisa was the white girl she didn’t recognize. She flashed Tim a grin. “She’s beautiful.”

He let out a mock groan. “Gotta oil my shotgun tonight.”

“Supervisory Special Agent Cornelius.” Skip’s arm snaked possessively across her shoulders, as he extended his other hand to shake the agent’s.

She and Skip had long since talked out the misunderstandings of that weekend. And Kate had confessed to a slight seven-year itch. She’d downplayed her attraction to Tim, but she’d admitted to herself that a certain amount of projection was involved. Granted Skip wasn’t wearing his ring and was paying a lot of attention to Julie Wallace, but Kate had realized in retrospect that her reaction to all that was exacerbated by her own guilt.

“Good to see you, Canfield,” Tim said. “How’s the detecting business?”

Kate couldn’t tell if his jovial tone was sincere.

“A lot calmer the last few months,” Skip said. “Thank God!”

Tim chuckled. “Hey, you remember Jane Broderick?”

Skip’s brow furrowed, but Kate said, “Of course. Our own Penelope Garcia.”

Now Skip looked even more confused.

“The tech gal on the phone,” she said.

“Oh, yeah, yeah.”

“Well, she’s applied to be a field agent,” Tim said.

“Wow! She’d be great,” Kate said. “After all, she’s the one who first pointed us toward Delaney.”

Would this wedding even be happening without that lead?
She shuddered slightly and pushed the thought aside.

Tim was grinning. “Yeah, that’s what I put in the recommendation I wrote for her.”

Kate’s mood sobered. “Any leads on the other serial killer, the one who killed Carrie?”

“Not yet,” Tim said. “Jane’s working that case with me. There’s a real good chance that the guy got himself killed, or he’s in jail somewhere on some other charges.”

“How’s Julie Wallace doing?” Skip asked.

Tim’s face sagged. “She resigned.”

An awkward pause as they all stared at the ground. Kate suspected the young woman had been asked to resign, to save face for her and the agency.

“She’s joined the Virginia State Bureau of Investigation,” Tim said, “as a profiler.”

“Isn’t that a step down from being a profiler for the FBI?” Kate asked.

Tim’s forehead creased into a slight frown. “The FBI doesn’t actually have profilers
per se
. That’s a common misconception, perpetuated by that favorite TV show of yours. We’re all fully qualified agents, just some of us are assigned to BAU teams. Julie was put on my team mainly because the powers-that-be thought I could help bring her along. Guess I wasn’t such a great mentor.”

Skip sighed. “Me neither.”

Tim gave a slight shake of his head. “Who knows, she might have been fine, in time, if she hadn’t…” He didn’t finish the sentence.

“Have you talked to her?” Skip asked. “Does she like it in Virginia?”

Tim didn’t answer right away. He looked off into space. “She hasn’t returned my calls.”

“Mine either,” Skip admitted.

Kate stared at him but he was looking at Tim.

“You think she’s okay?” Skip asked.

Tim shrugged one shoulder. “Her dad was FBI.”

Skip’s eyes widened slightly and his mouth opened a little. Then he tilted his head in a small nod.

Julie didn’t share that bit of info with him
, Kate thought as she watched her husband’s face.

“I think she put too much pressure on herself,” Tim said. “Hopefully she’ll be happier where she is.”

Kate hadn’t noticed the slight tension in her chest until she felt it relax. She was surprised to realize that it wasn’t from jealousy. She actually felt bad for Julie Wallace.

It hit her that either she and Skip would be true to each other, or they wouldn’t. Worrying about it did no good. Besides, she knew the odds were in their favor. They loved each other, and they loved their life together.

She hadn’t realized she’d sighed out loud until both men turned to look at her.

She smiled at them. “I love weddings.”

~~~~~~~~

It was almost Edie and Billy’s bedtimes by the time the last of the guests had left. Their father noted the signs that they were very tired little beings–faces slack, eyes red-rimmed. Billy yawned so wide Skip could see his tonsils, even in the fading light.

Maria made clucking noises and herded the children off to get them ready for bed.

A few minutes later, Skip went upstairs to read them their stories. But they were already asleep. He kissed their foreheads and slipped back out of their rooms.

Returning to the backyard, he found Maria and Kate gathering up trash from the lawn. He walked over and put an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Leave it. We’ll finish cleaning up in the morning.”

“But stuff might blow away,” Kate said.

He grinned. “All the better. Then we won’t have to pick it up at all.”

Maria gave him a mock stern look. She laughed as he made shooing motions at her. Then she headed into the house.

Kate shook her head, an indulgent smile on her face. He steered her toward the back door. As they entered the house, he braced himself for the usual onslaught of scampering puppy feet followed by an exuberant attempt to jump up on them and dispense puppy kisses.

Nothing happened. Kate turned to him. “I wonder where–”

“Shh.” He held a finger to his lips, then pointed.

The dog and cat lay curled up together in a corner of the mud room, one big bundle of sleeping fur.

Kate followed his line of vision. Her hand flew to her mouth to stifle the laughter gurgling in her throat.

Skip extended a hand toward the open door to the living room. They tiptoed through it. Once he’d closed it behind them, he stopped and made a show of listening.

The house was quiet. Maria must have gone on up to her third-floor apartment.

He turned and wrapped both arms around his wife. Leaning down, he kissed her, long and thoroughly. Warmth flowed through him as he felt her body relax against him.

He broke the kiss and grinned down at her. “I’ve been wanting to do that
all
day.”

~~~~~~<>~~~~~~

AUTHOR’S NOTES

You might have noticed that this book is much more a thriller than a standard mystery, complete with ticking clock. That seemed to be the only way to write this particular story. If my long-time Kate fans find this disturbing, have faith. The next book is more a classic whodunnit.

Two things inspired me to write this story. One was the realization (fortunately made after I had retired) of just how vulnerable therapists are. We sit in our offices waiting for our next client, with the outer door of the waiting area unlocked so said client can get in. In more dangerous urban areas, my colleagues often had some way to provide a bit more security, but still this did not keep someone from posing as a new client who really intended to do us harm.

The other reason was the desire to raise consciousness about missing persons. It is a common myth that one must wait forty-eight hours to report an adult who has gone missing. This is no longer true in most jurisdictions in the country. But the myth persists.

And even in places like Maryland where the laws regarding missing person reports are the most advanced, the police still may not always make much of an effort to locate an adult who seems to have left of their own free will.

As a woman, I find that particularly scary. If I’m abducted by a rapist or serial killer, will the police believe my husband when he says I should be home and something must be wrong since I’m not? Or will they assume that I forgot to tell him I was going out, or that we had a fight and I left in a huff?

On the other side of this coin is the reality that police departments have limited resources. While they may no longer have waiting periods before they will take a report, they may not be able to expend much energy on a search for an autonomous adult when other more obvious and heinous crimes need their attention.

There may not be a good answer to this dilemma, but I think it is something we as a society should be examining.

On a lighter note, you may have figured out that
Criminal Minds
is one of my husband’s and my favorite TV shows. He likes it because the teamwork is so reminiscent of his years as a government employee (he worked in a different agency). I like it, of course, for the psychological stuff and also because I love the way the characters interact. Nonetheless, I felt I needed to make my book as realistic as possible, so I have pointed out some of the things that are not accurate on the show. I’m sure some of the inaccuracies on the show are because they need to cram an entire story into one hour, less time for commercials. Quite a challenge. I do not envy TV writers!

Now let me spread some gratitude around. As always, I am indebted to my beta readers, Gina, Sue and Ralph, and also to horror and mystery writer, Rhonda Hopkins, who read the story and gave her input. My partner in crime at
misterio press
, Shannon Esposito, was also one of the early readers and gave me her assurances that the story didn’t suck (the fear that all authors have when they first put a new story out there for others to read). And thank you as well to Vinnie Hansen (one of our
misterio
authors) for proofreading the final version.

I owe a huge thank you to my editor, Marcy Kennedy, who has helped me bring my writing to a new level.

And last but not least, my sincerest gratitude goes out to my street team, Kate’s Clan. These folks have rooted me on through the final phases of getting this book published and have helped spread the word to others about the Kate Huntington books. Their enthusiasm and encouragement is so inspiring to me!

I owe some apologies as well. I hope that the real supervisory judge of the New Haven, Connecticut area will forgive me for making his fictional counterpart a bigot. Also, my apologies to Liz Franklin and Dolph Randolph for not giving them greater roles in this story. The pace was just so fast that there wasn’t room for very many characters.