Chapter 5
The McKay Residence
Woodlawn, Bronx, New York
He’d done a chunk of research probing Shane’s NYPD archived cases, flagging all those that smacked of possible retaliation by the guilty party or parties.
He’d then gratefully turned the project over to Yoda for analysis.
At nine o’clock on the dot, he’d made his call to Scott Security, in an attempt to quickly locate one or more of Caitlin’s colleagues.
He did little to no damage, since, as Casey had suspected, only a skeletal staff was in.
Plus, it was hard to ask questions without supplying information.
So, when he finally reached someone in Caitlin’s department, Lauren Robbins, he kept it simple, saying that he was Caitlin’s cousin and that he and one of her good friends were trying hard to reach her, and had hoped they’d find her at work.
Thankfully, Lauren had yet to see the FBI’s press release on Shane’s murder and on Caitlin being a person of interest. Nor had the Bureau yet contacted her.
Nevertheless, she was very reserved and more than a little reticent about having a personal discussion with him. He knew in his gut that she’d be more likely to talk to another woman—especially one as savvy as Casey. So he’d cut the conversation short, thanked her for her time, and hung up.
He’d then immediately passed her name along to Casey, who’d follow up in a heartbeat and play the part of Caitlin’s close friend, admitting she was worried about Caitlin since she’d been very anxious the past week or two.
That would be enough. Lauren would doubtless open up to Casey—almost everyone did.
One name might grow to more. And Casey would work her behavioral magic to find out anything and everything about Caitlin’s current state of mind.
As for Ryan—enough was enough.
He had to get out of there—not only his lair, but the whole brownstone. His concentration had totally deteriorated, and his mind kept going to Kennedy, wondering how she was holding up. Even though he’d made an early morning check-in call to his mom, he felt compelled to be there in person.
Now, he folded his arms over the steering wheel and took some deep breaths, readying himself to go inside and be strong.
As prepared as he could ever be, he headed up the walkway.
His mother greeted him at the door.
“You look so tired,” she said, studying Ryan’s face. “Did you get any sleep at all?”
“Not a wink,” he replied. “How about you? You look pretty wiped out, yourself.”
“I suppose I do,” his mother replied, massaging her temples.
Concern knit Ryan’s brows. He knew that his mother would push herself beyond her limits when it came to family. “Mom, you’ve got to take care of yourself. I’ll watch Kennedy for a while. You take a nap.”
“Your dad offered the same. We’ll see.”
Ryan didn’t push, not yet. “When I called earlier this morning, you told me that Kennedy was out cold.”
Maureen sighed. “She had a rough night. She was up every couple of hours when the memories resurfaced. Once they did, she’d get hysterical, sobbing that her daddy was dead and calling for her mommy.
It broke my heart. Dad took over for me several times.
But whenever Kennedy woke up, she wanted only me. ”
Ryan felt a knife twist in his gut as he, once again, thought about the nightmare Kennedy was living through. “That’s no surprise,” he murmured. “You’re the emotional nucleus of the family.”
“As it should be.”
Ryan didn’t dispute that fact. “So she conked out earlier this morning?”
His mother nodded. “Around nine-thirty. Right before you called. It’s the first real sleep she’s gotten, the poor baby.”
Ryan glanced at the stairs. “She’s still asleep?”
“Yes. And I’m glad. It gives me a chance to talk to you alone.” Maureen led Ryan into the living room, where he sat on the sofa, brows drawn.
“Has something else happened? Or is there any news?”
Maureen lowered herself into an arm chair. “Nothing like that. I just wanted to fill you in on my call with Dr. Abel this morning.”
“Did she speak with Kennedy?”
Maureen shook her head. “Kennedy was asleep. I told Dr. Abel that I’d make sure Kennedy knew she could call her whenever she needed to.
In the interim, Dr. Abel passed along recommendations for dealing with Kennedy’s grief.
” A frown. “There’s an FBI employee assistance program that I’m able to access.
I absorbed as much about it as I could. It offer specific kinds of counseling—I think it’s online. But I’m still a little unsure.”
Ryan jumped right on that. “I’ll talk to Marc and Patrick at the office.
They’re both former FBI. One of them will explain anything you need.
Hands on, if necessary, coming here and talking you through the process.
We’ll introduce him to Kennedy as my friend from work.
They’re both great with kids, so no worries there.
No need to even mention law enforcement. ”
“Good.” Maureen looked utterly relieved. “Thank them in advance for me. There’s only so much of Dr. Abel’s time that I feel comfortable taking up.”
“What else did she suggest?” Ryan asked.
“She thinks we should encourage Kennedy to keep a journal of her thoughts. It will give her an emotional outlet. Also, possible grief counseling, either by a priest or another viable counselor. Kennedy can also access an FBI chat room, if posting there would give her some relief.” Maureen sighed.
“Dr. Abel is being tremendously supportive, not only of Kennedy, but of me. I’m moving blindly through this process, so I need as much professional guidance as I can get. ”
Ryan reached over and squeezed his mom’s hand. “You’re a miracle worker. You’re doing great.”
Maureen’s brows were drawn, and she didn’t respond to the compliment.
“Given the circumstances—especially any outstanding danger as well as Kennedy’s emotional state—I’m going to follow the FBI’s suggestion.
We’ll have a small wake tomorrow and an equally small funeral the day after.
Just the immediate family, plus any of Shane’s law enforcement colleagues who choose to honor him.
Aside from the agents posted outside our house, a few more of them will be at both events, for security purposes.
Originally, Fiona and I were planning on a larger scale, given how many people loved Shane.
But the FBI felt something more contained would be safer and easier on Kennedy. ”
Ryan nodded. “Her mother is missing, and we can’t ignore the fact that Kennedy could be another of the killer’s targets. I agree with the Bureau.”
“As do I.”
“Listen, Mom, the team and I met this morning and did a fair amount of brainstorming.”
Maureen’s brows rose, hope flickering in her eyes. “Anything you can share with me?”
“A few major things. We all agreed that it’s likely Caitlin will want to check up on Kennedy, probably on a steady basis.
She’ll find a way, and it will be through you.
So you and Dad have to be aware of that fact and, should those kind of instances occur, you have to report every detail to me the minute they happen. Not law enforcement. Me. Okay?”
Maureen studied Ryan’s face. “You believe Caitlin is alive.”
“Yes.” There was no hesitation on Ryan’s part. “We do. Alive, scared, and on the run. I can’t get into details, other than to tell you that we’ve concluded it was Caitlin, not Shane, who texted you. Shane was already dead by then. All this information is for you and you alone.”
“And the FBI—do they know this, as well?”
“Not from us, they don’t. Although I’m quite sure they’ll think of it on their own. But as far as FI, this is pure conjecture and we therefore have nothing we need to share with law enforcement.”
A hint of a smile. “Walking that fine line again, I see.”
“Yup. And before Agent Barkley calls to come over and interview you—which he will the day after the funeral—I’ll coach you so that you can field his questions.
I’ll get Kennedy out of the house when you speak to him.
I can review all aspects of that plan with you later.
For now, just remember that no matter what, if Caitlin makes contact with you, the first person you go to is me. ”
Maureen nodded. “All right. I’ll fill your dad in. We’ll follow your instructions—and be on the alert.” She paused, focusing on the rest of what Ryan had said. “Agent Barkley will want to talk to all of us, won’t he?”
“Yes,” Ryan replied, holding his mom’s gaze. “Including Kennedy.”
Maureen’s hand flew to her mouth. “But she can’t—”
“Unfortunately, the Bureau thinks she can. She’s old enough to have picked up on tensions, conversations, arguments, and whatever else she heard at home.
They’re going to ask her questions about that.
Just know that we’ll talk to her first, bolster her in any way we can.
” He paused, feeling ill at what he was about to say and bracing himself for his mother’s stunned fury. “There’s more.”
“I’m listening.” Maureen was starting to bristle.
“It’s about Caitlin. And it’s going to set you off big-time. It sure as hell did me.”
“And what is that?”
Ryan went for straightforward and frank. “The FBI is going to question each of us about the inner workings of Shane and Caitlin’s marriage. You’ve watched enough detective shows on TV. The wife is always first on the list of suspects.”
Angry color suffused Maureen’s face. “Are you telling me that the FBI believes Caitlin killed Shane?”
“I’m telling you they have to pursue that possibility.
We’ll set them straight. But this is procedural, not personal.
We have to answer their questions. We can’t blow up, the way you just did and I did back at the office.
Whatever they ask you and Dad, answer candidly.
I’ll do the same. We all know how special Shane and Caitlin’s marriage was, and how devoted they were to each other and to Kennedy.
It’s up to us to nip that theory in the bud so the agents can get out there and pursue the right ones. ”
Another stoic nod. “All right. I’ll tell your father, as well as Fiona, Nolan, and Garret, so everyone is prepared for questioning. Including Kennedy. But I won’t tell her until after her father is laid to rest and the trauma of that day is behind her.”
“I agree.” Ryan felt ticked off and utterly spent. “Just remember, FI is one step ahead of the Bureau where it comes to this. We know Caitlin’s innocent. So we’re moving on to more valid theories.”
Maureen’s fury banked. “I know. It’s okay. We’ll handle the FBI.”
Ryan sighed, grateful to have gotten past that. Now he had a different question to ask. “Mom, please think. Do you know the names of any of Caitlin’s friends? Personal or professional? Maybe one of them can help us figure out where she is.”
Thoughtfully, Maureen tapped her chin. “I feel as if I do. Let me think. Give my middle-aged memory a chance to warm up.”
On the heels of Maureen’s words, Kennedy descended the stairs, calling out to her great-aunt, as she did. “Aunt Maureen?” Her voice was filled with pain and fear.
“I’m right here, lovey.” Maureen walked over to the foot of the stairs, extending her arms to her great-niece, who stepped right into her embrace, burying her face in Maureen’s shoulder.
Her hair was tousled, the nightgown Maureen had slipped her into during the night was rumpled, and her face was drenched with tears.
Reflexively, Kennedy reached for her pendant, holding it as if it were a lifeline. “Did the FBI find mommy?”
Maureen rocked her in her arms. “Not yet, sweetie. But soon. Besides, not only is the FBI working on this, so is Ryan’s company, Forensic Instincts. Sometimes I think they’re better than anyone at solving puzzles like this one.”
Ryan felt a lump in his throat, and he walked right up behind his mom.
“Hey, sunshine,” he said, gently stroking Kennedy’s hair.
Kennedy lifted her head and stared at him. “Ryan?”
“In the flesh.”
“Did you sleep here last night?”
“Almost.” He wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs.
“I left really late and just got back here now. I thought you and I could have lunch together.” Seeing the panic on Kennedy’s face, he clarified.
“Not at a restaurant. Right here. I make a wicked stack of waffles, remember? And you’re always the best helper. Should we give it a go?”
Kennedy swallowed, then gave him a shaky smile. “Okay. But Ryan, do you promise that your company is looking for mommy and for the horrible person who…?” Her voice broke off.
“You bet we are. We started at the crack of dawn. I took a short break just to come here and spend some time with you. Then I’m driving right back to the office and picking up where I left off.” He cupped Kennedy’s face between his hands. “Trust me, sunshine. I’ll take care of everything.”
“I know you will.”
Kennedy’s absolute faith in him humbled Ryan, doubling his determination to get the bastard who killed Shane and to bring Caitlin home, alive and well.
He eased Kennedy out of his mother’s grasp, and seized her hands in his.
“Tell you what. Let’s let Aunt Maureen lie down for a while.
You and I will whip up the waffles, with more than enough for her.
While she’s sleeping, we’ll cook and eat.
Then we’ll wake her up to enjoy her own portion.
And I’ll head back to the office. Is that okay? ”
With the maturity beyond her years that had always been hers, Kennedy studied her great-aunt’s face. “You’re very, very tired, Aunt Maureen. Get some rest. I’ll be fine with Ryan.”
Hesitation shot across Maureen’s face. “But if you need—”
“Then I’ll handle it,” Ryan interrupted in a quiet voice. “Kennedy and I are a team. We’ll be great together. And you need the energy to take over once I leave.”
For one last second, Maureen hung back.
“Good night, Mom,” Ryan said. “Dream of waffles.”
Maureen’s smile was soft. “Okay, I will.”