Chapter 61
It’s after eight on a Wednesday night and Kennedy is just getting home.
She drops her bag on the kitchen counter along with the mail that she does not have the energy to examine. Her keys hit the countertop with a metallic thud. Other than that, the house is quiet.
Too quiet.
Zack is spending the evening with his father.
Per the draft visitation agreement.
She can’t get used to this . . . this new arrangement.
Her and Michael not together.
Zack not here with her every single day, as it should be.
She’s told no one. Not her family. Not her friends. Because she can’t even believe it herself.
Denial.
Hoping she’ll wake up from this terrible nightmare.
Praying everything will go back to the way it once was.
When they were a family.
A happily married couple.
Not a care in the world.
Kennedy moves to the couch in the family room and sits, unzipping her boots and removing them from her weary feet. She closes her eyes and leans back, taking a moment for herself.
She’s been keeping herself so busy that she won’t have to think about her situation. But now, with the house dead quiet, she has no choice but to listen to the silence.
Kennedy opens her eyes.
Stares about the quiet room.
Her vision finds the plasma on the wall.
Silver frame, black screen.
Naturally her thoughts go to her son.
A few weeks ago, Zack would have been in this very room, sitting where he always does on the floor in front of the television, playing his Xbox 360. The screen would have been alive with colors and sounds. And as much as those video games drive her crazy, Kennedy realizes she has grown to love the noise, because it means her son is home, and is happy.
She glances around.
Considers pouring a glass of Merlot.
She’s been drinking every night.
Lately like clockwork.
It’s a way to relax.
Calm her nerves.
Should she tonight?
She doesn’t want to become a lush—relying on her drink as a crutch. On the other hand . . .
Kennedy rises from the couch, cutting off the thoughts as quickly as they came.
She moves toward the kitchen, then changes her mind.
Back to the couch, taking a seat again.
Leaning back, head resting on the cushions as she closes her eyes.
The ringing of her BlackBerry brings her out of her reverie.
Zack’s cell.
“Hello. Zack?”
Soft crying on the other end of the phone.
“Baby, what’s wrong? Zack, are you there?”
Rustling. Then more tiny sobs.
“Zack, are you okay?” she asks while getting to her feet.
She glances down at her phone.
Presses a few keys, enabling the Chaperone feature to locate Zack.
A few moments later an address displays on her screen.
A Northern Virginia address.
She hits the Map button to display his location.
Alexandria, VA.
Less than eleven miles away.
“I miss you, Mommy,” Zack says between sobs.
“I miss you, too, honey. What’s wrong?”
“I want to sleep with you. But Daddy says I can’t. He says I need to go to sleep here.”
His voice pulls at her heartstrings.
“I know, sweetheart. I wish you were here. I would let you sleep with me. Guess what? Tomorrow, when you’re home, I promise you can sleep in my bed. How does that sound?”
“All right.”
Kennedy smiles.
She moves toward the fireplace.
On the mantel above the hearth are four picture frames.
Photographs of her family.
Happier times.
“You’re my little man, Zack. Now go to sleep. It’s late, and you don’t want to be tired for school in the morning.”
“Okay. G’night, Mommy.”
“Goodnight, Zack. Mommy loves you.”
Kennedy ends the call.
And stares at the photographs above the hearth.
She stops nearest the one on the right.
Her and Michael.
On their wedding day.
Michael in his smart tuxedo.
She in her pretty veil and wedding dress.
And the next one.
The three of them—her, Michael, and Zack, taken last year on vacation at Disney World, the spires of the Magic Kingdom rising in the background.
That one makes her smile.
And the next one.
Her favorite.
Zack in first grade.
Dressed in his blue polo shirt, hair cut like his father’s.
Smile a mile wide, save for one missing tooth.
Kennedy reaches for the black frame.
Her eyes are beginning to water as she clutches it to her chest.
She wipes at the tears.
Stares down at the photo.
Her little man.
And the skin on her forehead furrows.
Something is . . . off.
The picture frame.
Black frame, narrow edges of wood around the four-by-six photograph.
But on closer inspection it’s not wood, but smooth, polished metal.
Kennedy turns the frame over.
Strange.
Doesn’t recall this particular frame.
She lowers the latch that secures the back cover.
Flips it open and stares openmouthed at what’s inside.
A tiny circuit board with a shiny circular watch battery.
Kennedy almost drops the picture frame.
Instead she stares at it for a good thirty seconds, not moving, until its true purpose is disclosed to her, like fog dissipating, revealing the forest beyond a winding country road.
Chapter 62
The rain has been falling hard for several hours by the time they are ready to wrap up.
Kennedy has divided her time between the couch in the family room and the bay window overlooking the backyard.
Besides Joe, there are two of them.
They are wearing what looks like navy blue flight suits. Kennedy is not sure if they are MPD officers or from some other agency.
Joe isn’t saying, and she’s too frazzled to ask.
It’s late.
Or early, depending on the way you look at it.
Close to two
AM
.
It had taken a few hours for Joe to mobilize the team after she called him. Then to get over here and get the equipment set up.
The actual sweep of the house took under ninety minutes.
She observed them in stunned silence, hunting with their equipment, sniffing for scents in the ether.
Four items were discovered.
Bug in the picture frame—family room.
Bug in the computer power strip—den.
Bug in a hardcover novel—master bedroom.
Three microtransmitters on tiny circuit boards.
And the pièce de résistance—a small wireless transmitter in the attic.
Communicating with their own wireless router.
Incredible!
Joe motions to the team while they are packing up.
“Looks like we got everything. Your house is now clean.”
Kennedy is stunned.
“You okay?” he asks, staring down into her eyes.
“How . . . how did this happen?”
“Someone got into your house and planted those bugs.”
She processes that.
“How?”
“I don’t know, Kennedy.”
“How long?”
Joe shakes his head.
“There’s no way to tell, unfortunately. Could have been planted yesterday or three weeks ago.”
“My God . . .”
“Yeah. It sucks.”
Joe can’t think of any other way to put it.
“But . . . why?” she asks.
“Because this . . .
asshole
wants to get under your skin. He enjoys playing God, messing with you, disrupting your life.”
“But why? What did I ever do to
him?
” she cries.
Joe looks at her.
“You slept with his wife. He obviously found out about the encounter. Perhaps Dawn told him, but I doubt it. Regardless, he’s angry, and its payback time.”
“Are you sure it’s him? Dawn’s ex?”
“I can’t prove it. Not yet. But it’s all coming together. The dots are beginning to connect. Damian Rein is Lindsey Rein’s ex-husband. He owns his own security company. He has the motive and the wherewithal to do everything that has happened to you—intercept your e-mail, bug your house, access your bank accounts. It’s him. I know it is.”
Kennedy shakes her head gravely.
“Then why can’t you go arrest him?” she exclaims.
“Because of what I just said. I can’t prove any of it. Not yet, anyway. But I will. I promise you that.”
She shakes her head again.
“I feel like I’ve just been shot. Or like someone’s just taken a baseball bat and swung into my stomach.”
Joe puts his arm around Kennedy.
“I know. You’re going to get through this. I’m gonna nail this bastard. I just need to connect the dots.”
Kennedy glances up into his face as she blinks away tears.
“Thanks, Joe.”
“One more thing. Tomorrow morning I need you to ditch your BlackBerry and buy a new one with a new phone number. Michael needs to do the same. Understand?”
She stares up at him.
“I thought you said they got everything.”
“They did. But we can’t be sure he’s not tapping your phone. I doubt it—he’d need some serious hardware to accomplish that. But I don’t trust this fucker as far as I can throw him, so to be safe, get rid of the phones. This way, there is absolutely no way he can tap your cell, unless he discovers your new number.”
“Jesus Christ. Is this really happening?”
“Yeah, it is. We live in a technology age. And anything is possible. This evening I went on the Internet and found software that you can install on a PDA like your BlackBerry that listens in to calls. All for less than three hundred bucks per year.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah, I am.” Joe gestures to the door. “I need to get going.”
The team has packed up and passes them in the hallway. Joe shakes hands with each of them. Kennedy issues her thanks.
“Lock the door,” he says, once the team has gone and it’s just the two of them in the house. “Go upstairs and get some sleep. You look like you need it.”
“That’s an understatement.”
“In the morning, do what I told you to do regarding the . . .”
Joe holds his thumb and pinky to his ear, mimicking a phone.
Kennedy nods.
He gives her a hopeful smile before heading out into the steady downpour.
Work still to be done.
Connecting the dots.
Chapter 63
“Denied.”
Joe stands immobile in front of Captain Renee Watts’s desk.
It’s barely nine
AM
, and yet she’s in a foul mood already.
“Captain—”
“Denied.”
“May I speak?” Joe asks.
Captain Watts glares at him for a moment, then nods.
“If I’m to catch this perp, then I need to go down to Tampa. The ex-husband is our strongest lead. He’s our guy.”
“No.”
“But Captain—”
“DENIED, Goodman. You are
not
using department funds to question an alleged perpetrator in Tampa, of all places.”
“All evidence points to him,” Joe exclaims, throwing up his hands.
“Then let Tampa PD deal with it. I won’t. Not when we have plenty of unsolved cases right here in our own backyard.”
“Ma’am—”
“You must be hard of hearing. I said DENIED! Now, you are excused.”
Joe grits his teeth, his jaw muscles pulsing under his cheeks. Renee Watts has returned her attention to the paperwork before her.
Joe scratches at his scar with an index finger.
“Ma’am, I would like permission to take two days’ unscheduled leave.”
She looks up into Detective Joe Goodman’s eyes.
“For personal reasons,” he adds, eyes unblinking, “beginning today.”
Captain Watts stares for a moment more before shrugging.
“If you’ve got the vacation time, then I won’t stand in your way.”
Joe nods once before turning on his heels and walking toward the door.
The captain clears her throat.
“And if you happen to get caught down there meddling in someone else’s jurisdiction, you’re on your own. Don’t call me to bail you out. Understand?”
Joe nods without glancing back. Then he leaves the office.
The captain watches her detective go.
He’s packing when she comes in.
Joe wasn’t expecting this.
It’s not even ten
AM
, and he’s back home, out of uniform, now in jeans, sweatshirt, and sneakers, garment bag sprawled across the bed, placing a change of socks and underwear into the side pockets.
Tara should be at work.
“Going somewhere?” she asks acidly.
Joe ignores the question.
“Shouldn’t you be at work?” he says instead.
“I should be asking the same thing.”
They stare at each other. Tara’s arms are folded across her chest.
Joe blinks first.
“I’m taking a few days off. Going down to Tampa.” He adds hastily, “For work.”
Tara purses her lips and nods several times.
“I see.”
Joe’s not sure what else to say.
“Purpose of this trip?”
“The perp is there.” Joe continues filling his bag. “I need to question him.”
“And yet you’re taking a few days off?”
Her head is cocked to the side, an expression of confusion covering her normally peaceful face.
“The captain won’t okay the trip.”
“Yet you’re going anyway and spending our money?”
“My money. I’m using my money, Tara.”
“Oh, it’s like that now?” Tara nods to herself. “Interesting.”
“Tara, please don’t start with me, okay?”
“I find it intriguing that I can’t get you this motivated where our impending wedding plans are concerned. But you’re all into this case, aren’t you? Interesting . . .”
He turns to face her, a pair of folded jeans in his hands.
“Just because I don’t spend my time picking out invitations and place settings doesn’t mean I’m not motivated about our wedding.”
“Really? Well, what does it mean, Joe? Because I’ll be damned if I can explain how your ex gets your gears cranked so high. I mean, wow, truly amazing. I haven’t seen you this enthused in a long, long time.”
Joe ignores the comment and throws the jeans into the main compartment. He goes into the bathroom, comes out seconds later with his toiletry bag. This is tossed into the main compartment as well. He zips it up as Tara watches him mutely.
“I’ve got a flight to catch,” Joe says, finally making eye contact with her.
“I’m sure you do,” Tara replies.
He grabs the garment bag and leans in to kiss her. Tara’s hand comes up, like a karate move, blocking his attempt at intimacy.
Joe pauses, glares at his fiancée for a moment before sidestepping around her, leaving Tara in their bedroom to stew all alone.