Chapter 5 #2
Kinley knew what she had to do. She had to leave. Get the hell out of Washington, DC, until she figured out what to do next.
She didn’t even think about staying silent. That girl in Paris had only been fourteen. She’d probably been scared out of her mind. Or maybe she’d been like Kinley…alone and desperate for some sort of affection.
But Kinley needed some time to figure out what her next step would be. How could she expose Stryker, and possibly her former boss, without dying in the process?
She had no answers by the time her cab driver pulled up in front of her apartment.
Kinley paid him with the little cash she had in her purse and climbed out.
She hurried into the small foyer and raced up the stairs, not willing to be trapped inside the elevator with someone who may or may not want her dead.
Even after shutting her door behind her, Kinley didn’t feel safe.
Not even bothering to look around, she raced into her bedroom and pulled a large duffle bag out of her closet.
Some things didn’t change. Even though she’d been on her own and out of the foster care system for over ten years, she still made sure to always have a bag ready to be filled at a moment’s notice.
There had been too many homes where, out of the blue, she was told she’d be leaving.
She could only pack what she could carry, so having a sturdy duffle bag was imperative.
Kinley had learned not to get attached to physical belongings. She’d had to leave way too many behind over the years. With that in mind, she packed what she could and tamped down any sentimental feelings about pillows, towels, and other household items that could easily be replaced.
When she was done packing, she wrote a note for her landlord and put it, and another month’s rent, in an envelope to mail. She hoped she’d be back before the end of the following month, but she honestly wasn’t sure.
When that was done, Kinley put her back to the refrigerator and slid down until her butt was resting on the floor.
She wrapped her arms around her updrawn knees and put her head down.
She realized she was shaking. Fear and adrenaline.
It wasn’t even noon yet, but she wanted to wait until it was dark outside before she snuck out.
Her car was parked in a garage about two blocks away.
She didn’t use it much, as it was easier to use public transportation because of the awful traffic in the city, but she’d never been as thankful for her reliable Toyota Corolla as she was right this minute.
She’d made a colossal mistake in calling Brown the night she’d gotten back to town and seen that news clip, but at the time, she’d thought it was the best course of action. She should’ve known she couldn’t trust him. Hadn’t she been shown time and time again that she couldn’t trust anyone?
You can trust Gage.
The words instantly popped into her head.
She wanted to deny them, tell her silly psyche that she didn’t even know the man. There was no way she could literally trust him with her life.
But hadn’t she already done that? In Africa, she’d thought she was two minutes away from being raped and killed by the protestors, but then he was there, taking her to safety. Two seconds in his company and Kinley had felt a comfort she’d never known in her life.
That was part of the reason she’d not responded when he’d contacted her after that trip. She’d been scared of how much she liked him. Respected him. If he ended up being like all the other people in her life who had blown her off, it would be excruciating.
But he’d proven in Paris that he was a good man. That he could be a good friend…if she let him in. But was it fair to bring this to his doorstep? To show up and be like, “Hi! I saw a serial killer with his latest victim and now he wants to kill me.”
No, it wasn’t fair in the least.
She’d head north, then west. Go to South Dakota maybe, it seemed to be in the middle of nowhere, and that’s what she needed right now, to hide out until she could contact the FBI or someone.
Small-town cops wouldn’t believe her, but maybe someone in the FBI would.
Or at the very least, they would investigate her accusation that Drake Stryker and Walter Brown were somehow involved in The Alleyway Strangler case.
Shaking her head, Kinley knew her situation was next to impossible. No one would believe her. Hell, she could hardly believe it herself.
The longer Kinley sat on her kitchen floor, waiting for the sun to set so she could escape under the cover of darkness, the more fearful she got.
Whoever had tried to kill her would try again.
He probably knew where she lived, and Brown clearly had contacts who were skilled with computers. What chance did she have?
Not much of one, but she hadn’t survived what life had thrown at her thus far only to give up now. For the most part, her foster homes weren’t abusive, but there had been one or two that had made her think she might not make it out. But she had.
She’s survived those, and hopefully, she could survive this too.
Taking a deep breath, Kinley slowly found her resolve. She’d never liked Walter Brown much. Had overlooked the affairs he had while on trips, had put up with his arrogance and bad temper and taking credit for her research and ideas. But she never would’ve thought he could stoop as low as this.
Slowly getting to her feet, Kinley went into the bathroom and cleaned up the gash on her chin.
It had stopped bleeding long ago, and she’d been so intent on packing and getting ready to leave she’d forgotten about it until now.
The cut itself wasn’t too bad, and she didn’t think she needed stitches…
not that she’d be able to take the time to visit an emergency room even if she did.
She put a butterfly bandage on her chin, and even though it looked strange, she didn’t care.
She went back into her kitchen and methodically emptied out her fridge of anything that might spoil. Thankful that she’d decided to go to the grocery store later that week, so she didn’t have too much to waste, Kinley cooked the chicken she’d planned to eat for dinner that evening.
Now that her initial fear had faded, she could actually think a little rationally.
She’d take as much food as she could carry, along with her duffle bag, and stop by an ATM on the way out of town.
She wouldn’t be able to get out a ton of cash, but tomorrow, she’d stop by a branch of her bank and empty her savings.
Then she’d drive as long and as far as she could, using only cash for food and gas. When she got to a town where she felt she was relatively safe, she’d consider contacting someone in law enforcement about what she’d seen. She’d pick up one of those throwaway phones that couldn’t be traced.
For just a moment, Kinley thought once more about getting in touch with Gage. She’d memorized his email, phone, and even his address, as if she was an adolescent girl with her first crush.
Gage would know how to help her, she had no doubt, but the last thing she wanted was the person who’d tried to kill her going after him.
She hated that if he contacted her, she wouldn’t be responding—again. He’d think she was ghosting him once more, even when she’d promised not to.
But not getting in touch was for his own safety. She wouldn’t knowingly put him in danger. Maybe after she’d been gone from DC for a while, and felt safer, she could reach out. Apologize for not responding. Again. She could tell him she’d lost her phone, which wouldn’t exactly be a lie.
Feeling as if she’d lost something precious, Kinley pushed the thought down and concentrated on cleaning out her kitchen. Gage Haskins was better off without her.
Once the weird foster kid, always the weird foster kid.
Lefty sighed when he looked at his phone and didn’t see any messages from Kinley.
He knew Grover had told him to give Kinley time, to not give up on her, but he didn’t like the way her ghosting him, again, made him feel.
It had been a week, and he still hadn’t heard from her.
She’d told him that it might take her a while to respond, but a week seemed excessive.
He was trying to be patient, but it was difficult.
Lefty had tried to call her a few times but the phone didn’t even ring, just went straight to voice mail.
He’d texted and emailed, asking how she was and letting her know he was thinking about her, to no avail.
And to top off his shitty week, he’d just found out that he and the rest of the team were being sent on a mission. He desperately wanted to let Kinley know that he’d be out of pocket for a while…but it seemed as if she’d ghosted him once again. It was frustrating and irritating at the same time.
He’d thought he’d broken through the shields she had up, but apparently not. Maybe working in DC and around politicians had made her a better liar than he’d expected.
“What’s wrong?” Trigger asked as they packed the last of the gear into the plane they’d be leaving on in a matter of hours.
“Nothing.”
“She hasn’t returned your messages?”
Lefty sighed. “No.”
“Maybe she—”
Lefty held up a hand, stopping his friend’s words.
“Once, I can forgive. Twice? When she swore that she wouldn’t ghost me again?
” He shook his head. “I’m done. I can’t do this.
Long-distance friendships are hard enough without me having to do all the work.
She should’ve just told me she wasn’t interested in being my friend. I can take a hint.”
“Kinley didn’t strike me as the kind of woman to be so heartless.”
“Me either,” Lefty said with a shrug. Her silence hurt. A lot. After their day spent together in Paris, he’d thought for sure he’d hear from her. That they might be able to start some sort of relationship, even an unconventional long-distance one. But her silence spoke volumes.
“Come on,” Trigger said, slapping him on the back. “Once we’re knee deep in this mission, you’ll forget about her.”
Lefty nodded. A hard, dangerous mission was just what he needed to put Kinley out of his mind…for good.