Chapter 3
McKay Residence
Woodlawn, Bronx, New York
“Hey!” Ryan called out as the front door shut behind him. “Anybody home?”
Kennedy abandoned the Monopoly board and was on her feet and in motion all at once. “Ryan!” she squealed, racing straight from the living room to the foyer, and flinging her arms around him. “I didn’t know you’d be here!”
Ryan hugged her back. “That’s why it’s called a surprise, sunshine,” he replied, ruffling her hair.
“Besides, did you think I’d miss out on seeing you?
Or at trouncing Fee at Monopoly? Once I heard that you, she, and Claire were here, and the game you guys were playing with my Dad, I rushed right over to join in.
” He winked at her. “I know you’ll wipe me out, but at least I’ll come in second, right? ”
“With a little luck, maybe.” Kennedy’s smile lit up her face, and it made Ryan ill to contemplate what she was about to go through.
Over Kennedy’s head, Ryan’s gaze locked with Claire’s.
A current of painful communication passed between them.
Ryan had spoken about the Walshes to her—but not in detail.
Still, she just knew. Ryan didn’t have to elaborate, to say thank you, to or ask her to stay.
She understood the state he was in. And she wasn’t going anywhere.
“Fiona, your dad, and I are holding our own quite nicely,” Claire said aloud, still holding Ryan’s gaze.
“But Kennedy’s a pro. So the rest of us need time to join forces and discuss our strategies, so at least one of us is sure to beat her.
You two go ahead into the kitchen and eat some of the brownies we brought. They’re awesome.”
Kennedy had already seized Ryan’s hand and started to pull him in that direction.
“We’ve got the better end of this deal,” she called over her shoulder. “We get brownies and catch-up. You get strategy-building time. And I’m still about to buy Broadway which will eventually wipe everyone out.”
Still struggling valiantly to focus on the here and now, Ryan followed Kennedy to the kitchen, quickly punching in a text as he did, alerting the FBI agents that he’d arrived.
No matter what they did, would Kennedy ever be close to the same?
To Ryan’s way of thinking, that was an impossibility.
Kennedy and her parents shared a special kind of closeness.
So, no matter how good Dr. Abel was, how much love and support the rest of the family showered on Kennedy, the end result was the same.
Nothing could bring back Kennedy’s daddy.
Still alone in Fiona’s childhood bedroom, Maureen glanced out the window and saw the FBI’s case agent and victim specialist’s car pull up to the house.
As a result, she reappeared in the foyer just as the doorbell rang. With a pained expression, she greeted the two of them at the door.
“Agent Barkley, Dr. Abel,” she said, her tone hollow. “I’m Maureen McKay, Kennedy’s great-aunt. Her father Shane…” An agonized pause. “…was my nephew.” She gestured for them to come in.
“Mrs. McKay, we’re terribly sorry for your loss,” SA Barkley said with genuine compassion. He was in his early forties, with a solid build, sandy hair, and a personable manner.
“You have our deepest sympathies,” Dr. Abel echoed, her tone gentle. She was older than her counterpart, with fine lines around her eyes, a soothing demeanor, and an astute expression. “We’re here to make this as painless for your great-niece—and for the entire family—as we can.”
Maureen nodded. “Thank you. I don’t know where you want to talk with me alone. I need to understand what I should expect and what you want me to do—both before, during, and after you speak with Kennedy.”
“Where is Kennedy now?” Dr. Abel asked.
Maureen gestured, first at the living room, then at the kitchen. “She was playing Monopoly with the family. Right now, she’s in the kitchen with my son, Ryan. She’s very fond of him.”
Barkley nodded, ingesting that fact, then glancing into the living room. “You obviously have a big, close family.”
“We do.”
“That will be of great comfort to Kennedy.” Barkley gave a thoughtful pause.
“Tell me, is there an empty room on this floor where Kennedy feels most comfortable? That would be my choice for our conversations—the one with you, and, afterwards the one with her. We’ll have privacy but the rest of the family will be close by after our talk. ”
Maureen nodded, pointing. “We have a small den behind the living room. It’s very cozy. Kennedy loves to read and do her homework in there.”
“Good. Then I’d like for the three of us to go there while Kennedy is still in the kitchen. She doesn’t need to know we’re here just yet.”
“Understood.” Without pause, Maureen turned, leading SA Barkley and Dr. Abel to the lovely room she’d spoken of. It had a cushy sofa, tufted chairs, high-piled carpet, and family photos lining the shelves.
“This is ideal,” Dr. Abel said.
Barkley nodded. “Let’s sit. I’ll explain what is going to happen, as well as guide you so you’re prepared—as prepared as anyone can be in this situation. Once we’ve answered any questions you have, you’ll get Kennedy and bring her in here to join us.”
Maureen perched at the edge of a tufted chair, waiting as the others took their seats.
“When you bring Kennedy in, why don’t you sit with her on the sofa?” Dr. Abel suggested. “You’ll be right beside her.”
“Good idea.” Maureen understood at once. “That way, I can hold her, embrace her.”
“Exactly,” Dr. Abel said.
SA Barkley leaned forward and began. “I’ll be the one who delivers the difficult news.
As we term it, I’ll be the talker, Dr. Abel will be the comforter.
I’ll be sure to keep eye contact with Kennedy so she feels connected throughout my entire explanation.
I’m going to be very gentle, but very straightforward.
Euphemisms don’t work. They’re confusing and ineffective.
Kennedy needs to understand the truth and not feel patronized.
I’ll use her name and tell her that her dad is dead, that he was shot and killed.
I know that sounds cruel, but she’ll process that better than a longwinded sugarcoated explanation. ”
“I’ll assure Kennedy that we’re here to answer any questions she has and to help in any way that she needs,” Dr. Abel added.
“I’ll be sure to ask Kennedy if she wants any more trusted adults present, or even a religious leader.
We’ll wait, if need be. After that, we’ll hold a moment of silence while she’s processing. ”
Once again, Maureen was fighting back tears. “I…that’s very kind of you.”
“Weeping is a natural reaction, Mrs. McKay,” Dr. Abel said softly, studying Maureen’s face.
“Shane was your nephew. You’re feeling his loss, as well.
In addition, your emotional expression will encourage Kennedy to display hers.
That will keep her from repressing her feelings, which is of vital importance.
We don’t want her to internalize. We want her to reach out to you and to share what she’s experiencing. ”
You’ll be assessing her, Maureen deduced, unable to say the words aloud. A suicide assessment.
She shuddered. “I understand,” was all she said aloud.
Her gaze met Dr. Abel’s, and the victim specialist saw her reaction and interpreted its cause.
“You’re a wise and strong woman, Mrs. McKay,” she said.
“And a caring one. Kennedy is fortunate to have you. With so much love surrounding her, she’ll get through this.
And we’ll be here to help make that happen. ”
Maureen swallowed, understanding what Dr. Abel was telling her, and feeling a swell of relief at her words. Her mind raced on. “What about afterwards, once you’ve told Kennedy what she has to know. Will you leave immediately? Is there follow up of some kind?”
SA Barkley answered. “We’ll stay as long as Kennedy wants us to. We’ll ask how we can make her feel safe. We’ll also reassure her that we’ll keep an FBI presence at the house. Hopefully that will ease any fears she has.”
Maureen paled. “I never even thought of that. Given that Shane was killed and Caitlin is missing, Kennedy herself could be in danger. The killer might think she knows something or that she overheard her parents talking…”
“I don’t believe that’s a strong possibility, but we are prepared for it,” Barkley said. “The Bureau will ensure her safety. We’ll have to shut down her social media and IT presence—laptop, cell phone, iPad—to minimize potential tracking by the offender.”
“She has no social media presence,” Maureen replied woodenly. “Plus her devices have strict parental controls on them. Being an FBI agent, Shane was very protective of Kennedy and her safety.”
Agent Barkley nodded. “Good. That will make the process that much easier.”
Dr. Abel spoke up. “I’ll be giving Kennedy a Bureau-issued cell phone and my work cell number.
She can call me anytime she needs to. In addition, before I leave this evening, I’ll ask if I can call or visit tomorrow morning.
Whichever makes you and Kennedy feel more comfortable, I’ll do.
At that time, you and I can discuss grief counseling, coping skills to mitigate Kennedy’s anxiety, and all the other resources that are available to you, especially given that your nephew was FBI.
We’re not going anywhere. We’re in this for the long haul. ”
Maureen’s lips quivered as she looked from Dr. Abel to SA Barkley and back. “You’re fine people. I can’t tell you how grateful I am for all your support.”
“You’re very welcome.” Barkley gave her a questioning look. “Are you ready to get Kennedy? Or do you need another moment or two?”
Slowly, Maureen came to her feet. “I’m ready.”
Ryan looked up when his mother walked into the kitchen. He and Kennedy had been munching on brownies—brownies that tasted like sawdust in Ryan’s mouth. He gently gripped Kennedy’s shoulder as his mother spoke.