19. Kennedy
Kennedy
“Wow. That was intense.” Freya leaned back in her recording studio chair, exhaling deeply. “I feel like I need a cigarette, and I don’t even smoke.”
I nodded, smiling wryly. “I know exactly what you mean.”
“Actually, you know what we really need right now?” she said, arching a brow. “To get laid.”
I let out a nervous laugh. “Yeah,” I said, averting my eyes. “Too bad we’re both painfully single.”
“Hey, speak for yourself. I’ve got someone on the down-low.”
My brows shot up. “Wait, what ? You’re seeing someone?”
“Sort of.” Freya’s eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled. “It’s… very new. Right now it’s mostly just sex. I don’t think he’s ready for more. And honestly, I don’t know if I am either.”
“Well, spill.” I put my elbows on the table and leaned forward. “Who is he?”
“I, uhh…” Her smile faded. “I can’t say.”
“How come?”
“I wish I could tell you all the details. Really,” she said, eyes flashing with guilt. “But he asked me to keep things between us for now, while we figure out what we’re doing. And that means I can’t tell anyone about him. Just out of respect for his wishes, you know?”
I nodded slowly. I couldn’t be mad at her for keeping a lover hidden from me, because I was doing exactly the same thing. In fact, what I was doing was much worse, because the man that I’d kept secret was a serial killer. One who was currently holding my father prisoner, no less.
“I get it,” I said. “But I hope he’s not some total fuckboy who wants to hide you forever.”
Freya waved a hand. “No, no, he’s nothing like that. He’s actually really nice. He’s just gone through a lot lately, so he needs some time to adjust,” she said. “Anyway, how about you? Have you had any moments with Hot Cop? Or Sexy Doctor?”
I laughed. “I assume you’re talking about Malachi Sieger and Jacob King?”
“Yup. Has anything happened with either one of them?”
My mind instantly flashed back to last night’s kiss with Malachi.
It was a mistake, and I couldn’t let it happen again. Not because I didn’t want it. God, I did. Being around him felt like standing too close to a fire: dangerous, all-consuming, and impossible to resist. But that was the exact problem.
If I gave in to that pull again, his life could be at risk, because the Carver was always watching. Always one step ahead. And if he sensed that Malachi meant something to me...
I swallowed hard, pushing the dark thought away before it fully formed.
“Oh my god,” Freya said, eyes widening. She must’ve caught something in my expression. “Something has happened.”
I looked down, waving a hand. “No, it’s just… um… Jacob King asked me out the other day. That’s all.”
“Did you say yes?”
“No. I don’t think now is a good time for me to be dating.”
“Oh, please. You don’t have to marry the guy!” Freya said. “It could just be a physical thing, right? Help you get out all the tension and frustration?”
I laughed despite myself. “I think I’m okay on my own.”
“I actually think it could be super-hot,” she said, eyes glimmering. “Older man therapist, younger woman patient… it’s like a forbidden power dynamic thing.”
“Well, in that case, maybe I should give you Jacob’s number,” I said, grinning. “In case things don’t work out with Mystery Man.”
“Actually, that’s not a bad idea,” she replied. “Not because I’m interested in swooping in on your territory, of course. But I’ve been thinking more and more about your idea to have Jacob on the show to discuss the FBI’s Carver profile. Or was that his idea? I can’t remember.”
“His. But I agree. It’s a good idea to have an expert on the show,” I said, nodding slowly. “I also think it’s a good idea to have you arrange it, rather than me. Just so he doesn’t think I’m leading him on, or anything like that.”
“All right. Text his number to me. I’ll call him as soon as I get home.”
We left the recording studio and went our separate ways in the busy parking lot outside. I should’ve felt safe in the light of day, with all the people milling around, but I still couldn’t shake the constant feeling of being watched. Like eyes were crawling all over my skin, just out of sight.
When I turned into my street, I instantly knew something had happened while I was gone.
Red and blue lights pulsed against the row of houses. Multiple police cruisers were lined up along the curb, doors open, and yellow tape stretched across part of the sidewalk, fluttering in the breeze. I slowed my car to a crawl, scanning the chaos.
Two uniformed officers stood at the end of my driveway, arms crossed, keeping back a growing crowd of neighbors who were clearly more curious than concerned.
Some were in robes and slippers, clutching mugs of coffee and excitedly chattering like it was just a form of late-morning entertainment.
Others held up phones, recording every second.
A few feet away, a swarm of journalists and photographers jostled behind the yellow tape, shouting questions at anyone who came close.
And then there was Malachi.
He stood near the center of it all, jaw tight and arms folded as he spoke with another detective I didn’t recognize. His eyes flicked toward my car the moment I pulled up, and I saw his features tighten with concern.
I threw the car into park and got out slowly, my legs feeling like they didn’t quite belong to me. The air was thick with noise, and I caught multiple fragments of conversations around me.
“Can you get a better angle on that?”
“Oh my god, Nell, did you see what was inside that thing?”
“There’s another call from the lab, sir.”
“Kai, I’m thinking we should go and take another look at the pickup spot.”
“Donovan, grab me some evidence baggies, will you?”
“Is that Kennedy Campbell?”
That last voice snapped everything into sharp focus.
In the space of a heartbeat, the swarm of reporters dashed toward me like a pack of wolves catching the scent of blood. Cameras were suddenly trained on me. Microphones were thrust forward. Questions were fired off from every direction like a barrage of bullets.
“Ms. Campbell, why is the Carver contacting you?”
“Do you feel responsible for encouraging the killer with your podcast?”
My spine stiffened, but before I could open my mouth, Malachi was there. He pushed through the cluster of bodies with a look that could level a charging bull.
“That’s enough,” he barked. “Everyone back behind the tape. Now.”
A few reporters tried to protest, still jostling for position, but Malachi stepped forward, planting himself solidly between me and the crowd. He motioned to two uniformed officers standing nearby.
“I said back . This line’s here for a reason,” he continued, his voice rising. “And let me be clear. Any more attempts to get onto Ms. Campbell’s property, and I will arrest you for trespassing.”
There was a murmur of discontent, but the officers began herding everyone back, forcing the media circus to retreat behind the yellow tape.
The pressure eased just enough for me to exhale. Malachi turned to me, eyes scanning my face like he was checking for injuries. “You okay?”
I nodded, though I didn’t feel okay. I felt like a bug under a magnifying glass. “What happened?” I asked.
His jaw tightened. “Another Carver package arrived about twenty minutes ago. Unfortunately, one of your neighbors saw and immediately blasted it all over a Facebook community group. Took about five minutes for the media vultures and looky-loos to descend.” He motioned toward the chaos unfolding on the lawn. “Hence the circus out here.”
I swallowed hard. “The package… was it…”
He shook his head before I could finish. “It’s not your father.”
Relief hit me first, sharp and sudden, because it wasn’t my dad. Then the guilt came, just as quickly. “How can you be so sure?” I asked.
“It contained a severed foot,” Malachi said grimly. “With a very specific birthmark on the big toe. It matches Heather Voss.”
A fresh wave of nausea rolled through me, followed by stomach-churning guilt. I should’ve stopped this by now. Should’ve figured the Carver out and exposed him. After all, I was the one with a direct line to him.
Malachi stepped a little closer, his voice low and steady. “I hate to sound like an overbearing parent giving you a curfew, but I need you inside between six p.m. and six a.m. from now on. No going out after dark. No exceptions.”
“Okay.” My voice sounded hollow. “That’s fine.”
He hesitated, then added, “And listen, this isn’t about what happened between us last night.
I'm not trying to play the overly-protective boyfriend here. I know we’re not—” He stopped abruptly and ran a hand through his thick hair, eyes flicking away.
“That’s not the point. I’m telling you this because I’m in charge of keeping you alive. ”
I nodded, but I could still feel the heat rising to my cheeks.
Malachi continued. “I’m worried because the Carver is obviously fixated on you, and he seems to be escalating. There were eight days between Miles and Boone. Now only one day between Boone and Voss.”
I felt cold all over. “Do you think he'll kill again tomorrow? Or even later today?”
“I don’t know,” Malachi said. There was a weight behind his words, a shadow in his eyes. The case was clearly getting to him. “But if we don’t find him soon, it’s only going to get worse. If we can just locate your father and Brian Delgado in time…”
“Saving two is better than saving none,” I finished softly.
He gave me a small, grim nod. “Exactly. We’ve pulled in more officers, and they’re working around the clock, going through every tip. Every shred of evidence. I’m hoping we can make an arrest soon.”
Before I could answer, a uniformed officer approached with a concerned look. “Sir, I need to show you something.”
Malachi glanced back at me. “Give me one second, Kennedy.”
He followed the officer toward the large oak tree near the side fence. I stayed where I was, and as they leaned in to talk, their low voices carried just enough for me to catch their conversation.