20. Kennedy #2
Whatever was left of Jacob’s brazen confidence drained from his face. His mouth opened, but no words came out. Just silence.
Malachi stepped over to me and held out a hand. “Did he hurt you?” he asked in a low voice.
“I… I’m okay,” I said shakily, letting him help me back to my feet. “He barely touched me.”
Freya appeared in the doorway, wide-eyed. “What the hell is going on?”
“This man just assaulted your friend, ma’am,” the taller officer explained as he dragged Jacob toward the door.
She blinked, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Then she rushed to my side. “Oh my god, are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I murmured. “Just a bit shocked.”
Her gaze snapped to Malachi. “Thank god you guys were here,” she said. She cocked her head. “Why are you here, anyway?”
“We came looking for the two of you, because it was past six and neither of you were home yet,” he replied. “And it’s lucky we did, given what we saw when we came in.”
Freya’s eyes darted to the clock on the wall. “Shit,” she murmured. “I didn’t even notice the time.”
“Me neither,” I said, voice still unsteady. “Sorry.”
“It’s all right. I’ll take you both home,” Malachi said, concerned eyes still on me. “I’ll have someone drop off your cars later.”
“What about him?” Freya motioned to the door Jacob had just been dragged through. “Is he going to jail?”
“He’s going to the station for now,” Malachi said, his voice measured. “Depending on what his lawyer says—or doesn’t say—he might spend the night in a holding cell.”
Freya’s face was suddenly pale, her expression stricken. “Could he be the Carver?” she asked in a low voice. “I mean, he seemed normal at first. Charming, even. But attacking Kennedy like that… it’s just crazy. And we all know the Carver has a major thing for Kennedy, so…”
She trailed off, leaving the big question lingering in the air like smoke; thick, cloying, impossible to ignore.
Malachi’s jaw flexed. “We’re not ruling anything out.”
I felt a wave of revulsion roll through my stomach, bile rising with it.
All these years, I’d sat across from Jacob in his comfortable office. Cried in front of him. Poured out my pain over my father’s disappearance and presumed death at the hands of the Carver.
He’d looked me right in the eye as he listened to it all. Sympathized. Offered me advice. And all along, he might’ve had my father locked up in some basement cell.
The back of my throat suddenly felt like it was burning. I pressed a hand to my mouth, breathing shallowly.
Freya hugged me, fierce and tight. “I’m so sorry, Kennedy,” she said. “I never should’ve invited him on the show.”
“It’s not your fault. We both invited him,” I replied, hugging her back.
“We don’t actually know if he’s the Carver, so let’s not get ahead of ourselves just yet,” Malachi interjected. “But Kennedy, I’d strongly recommend filing a restraining order. Whether or not he’s a killer, I don’t want him anywhere near you again.”
“Me neither,” Freya muttered.
“Fine by me,” I said. I never wanted to see Jacob King again. Unless he was the Carver, in which case I wanted to see him rotting in prison for the rest of his life.
Malachi checked his watch, then jerked his head toward the hallway. “Come on. Let’s get you both out of here.”
We rode in tense silence. When we dropped Freya off at her house, she gave my hand a quick squeeze and whispered, “Call me later?”
“I will,” I promised.
Malachi pulled into my driveway five minutes later and gave me a faint, reassuring smile. “You can give your statement about what happened in the morning, if that’s okay with you. I figured you’d prefer to get some rest for now.”
“Yeah, that would be good. Thanks.”
“I’d offer to stay again tonight,” he added. “But I think I’ll be working all night now that we have a potential suspect in custody. So Officer Donovan’s posted inside. He’ll stay close.”
I nodded slowly, the tension in my chest refusing to loosen. “You really think Jacob might be the Carver?”
Malachi hesitated. “It’s far too early to speculate on that,” he said, rubbing his jaw. “Really, I shouldn’t even be referring to him as a potential suspect. But it’s definitely suspicious, because he targeted you , the Carver’s fixation.”
I leaned back against the seat, staring at the gray car ceiling. “I don’t even know what to say right now,” I murmured. “It’s just so much to take in. I feel like everything’s spinning.”
“I understand. It’s—” Malachi was cut off by the buzz of his phone, and he frowned, glancing at the screen. “Sorry, one second. I have to take this.”
I turned toward the window, pretending I wasn’t listening as he answered. The voice on the other end was muffled, but Malachi’s clipped responses gave everything away.
“Yeah… already? I thought Mendoza would drag his feet on a search warrant.” There was a short pause, and then his voice dropped. “Of course. Give me both addresses.”
He offered me an apologetic wave before he reached across me to grab a small notepad from the glove compartment. As he leaned in close, I caught the faint sound of the other person on the line.
“You need to get here right away, sir,” they said. “We started searching King’s house as soon as that warrant was signed… and we already found something.”