CHAPTER 51

Do A Double Take

Agent Kinkade led me into her office. "I'm glad you could make it," she said as she smiled and motioned for me to take a seat in one of the chairs in front of her desk.

"It's no problem," I muttered as I contemplated the chair with dismay. I'd taken my first Krav Maga class last night and Denise hadn't gone easy on me. I woke up this morning with my muscles screaming at me and barely able to get out of bed.

"Would you like something to drink?" she offered.

"I'm good, thanks." I had to stifle a whimper as I slowly lowered myself into the chair. As soon as my ass hit the cushion, I knew I was doomed. How in the hell was I going to get back up again?

Her eyes furrowed at my stiff movements. "Are you okay, Stephanie?"

I sighed as I tried to find a comfortable position. "I had my first Krav Maga class last night, so I'm moving a little slow."

"Sounds brutal." She laughed as she went around her desk and took her seat. "I remember feeling the same way after my first day at the academy. Let's just say, the young girl that got off the bus in front of the dorms at Quantico was just a baby compared to the woman that left."

"It was that bad?"

"I thought I was prepared for the five months of training, but I didn't have a clue. For the final test to graduate, we had to complete what's called the Yellow Brick Road. It almost killed me." She shuddered.

"What's the Yellow Brick Road?"

"It's something the Marine's came up with. That should give you a clue as to how grueling it is. But to answer your question, it's an obstacle course that's a little over six miles long and covers every difficult terrain you can imagine. It was the hardest thing I've ever done, but receiving my gold shield made it all worth it, even if I did want to kill Finnegan Scott by the time it was all over."

"Finnegan Scott?"

Her eyes clouded as if she was imagining something awful and then she sighed. "He was one of the bureau's best field agents," she said and looked down at her desk for a minute. When she lifted her head, the sadness was gone, and respect was in its place. "His wife and daughter were killed by the serial killer he'd been tracking. After that he resigned from field duty and started teaching at the academy. He was hard on us, but I learned a lot from him."

"That's horrible."

"It was," she agreed. "Not long after I graduated, he left the bureau, and no one's seen him since." She shook off the cloud of melancholy that had descended in the office. "Enough about my time at Quantico, tell me about your Krav Maga class."

"It's nothing really. I just thought it was time for me to get professional training, so I joined a local gym. Denise, my instructor, isn't as bad as yours was, but right now she's not on my list of favorite people."

"It's always a good idea to learn the proper ways to defend yourself, but something that no one can teach you is internal strength, and you have that in spades. I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but Agent Shaw was impressed with the way you handled yourself especially after everything you'd been through."

That was flattering coming from a respected man like Agent Shaw, but I hadn't come here to make small talk. "Agent Kinkade, why am I here?"

"Call me Piper," she said as she picked up a blue folder on her desk marked, case #47962. I clenched my fists knowing everything that happened to me and the other women could all be summed up in one thin file and reduced to a number. "You offered some very insightful theories about why Durant kidnapped you and the other women. I wanted to personally tell you that our behavioral analysts have concluded much the same as you did."

I sat up straighter. I'd spent hours in the cellar trying to get into Durant's head. I thought the key to getting out of there was to understand why he did the things he did. "I was just guessing," I told her.

"You have a good understanding of human behavior," she said. "The doctors believe Durant was suffering from antisocial personality disorder." The confused look on my face had her quickly adding, "The terms you are probably more familiar with are psychopath and sociopath. Based on the limited information we have, it's nearly impossible to determine which one he was. The trauma of his sister's death at such a young age, coupled with subsequent parental neglect may have been precipitators to developing this personality disorder or he simply could have been born that way. We'll never know."

I nodded. I'd already accepted that some questions were going to remain unanswered.

"Besides wanting to see how you were doing, I also need you to sign a couple things." She slid two sheets of paper across the desk. "These are routine documents. If you could take a moment to read through them and sign where indicated or you can have Mr. Fusco look them over if you wish."

I bit my lip, thinking about calling Cyrus, but I didn't want to bother him. His rate was probably five hundred dollars an hour and I didn't want Ranger shelling out any more money on my behalf. I read through everything and didn't see the harm in signing. "What's going to happen to the cellar now that the investigation is over?"

"Nothing, I guess. The true owners of the property are an elderly couple who inherited it years ago. They live in Florida now and have no plans to do anything with the property."

I couldn't believe it. That place was evil. It needed to be destroyed. While I tried to make sense of what she'd just told me, she handed me another piece of paper. I quickly signed it and handed it back. "It's just going to sit there waiting for someone else to come along?"

"I really don't know, Stephanie," she sighed as if there was nothing she could do. I put my hands on the arms of the chair to start hefting my stiff body up, but she continued. "Some of the family members of Durant's victims are having a hard time dealing with what happened to their loved ones and have expressed a desire to meet with you. They're hoping after speaking with you it will help them find closure."

My first instinct was to tell her no. I had no desire to talk about that time ever again. They would want details—things I didn't want to relive. But the guilt was already taking hold. I felt I owed it to the women to give their families as much peace as I could. I was the one who made it out of the cellar when they hadn't.

"Governor Allen is particularly eager to speak with you, but so are the other families. Well, everyone but Sharon Richardson's family. Unfortunately, Sharon's parents perished in a house fire when she was only seven. Her Grandmother, Odette Moffitt, raised her after their deaths and is her only living relative. A couple of years ago she suffered a stroke and had to be moved into an assisted living facility in Winston-Salem, North Carolina. She expressed a desire to speak with you but because of her health issues, she's unable to make the trip."

A fresh surge of anger hit me. Sharon had suffered so much loss and then to have her life end like that, at the hands of Durant, was impossibly unfair. I breathed out a sigh and gave Agent Kinkade a small nod. "When do they want to meet?"

She smiled as if she'd known all along I'd say yes. "I can reserve a private meeting room at the Princeton Hilton next Wednesday at 2pm?"

"That should be fine. At least it's closer to me than Newark."

I didn't immediately get up. Instead, I was hit with a wave of guilt that had been slowly eating away at me.

She studied my face and saw that I was conflicted. "What's troubling you, Stephanie?"

I examined the painting on her wall, unable to meet her eyes. "I don't know. I guess I just keep wondering why." I took a deep breath and faced her. "Why was I spared, and the other women weren't? I mean, I'm not doing anything important with my life. I'm just floating from one disaster to the next."

"What you're experiencing is called survivor's guilt. I've seen it many times. But to answer your question, I don't know why you made it out and they didn't. You're never going to know why. But you can take the gift you've been given and do something good with it." I know she was trying to help, but it did nothing to lessen my guilt. "By the way, I owe you a debt of gratitude." She smiled mysteriously, leaving the heavy subject behind.

"For what?"

"Thanks to you, Agent Hobbs is now working permanently from the Anchorage field office." Her smile lit up her entire face.

"Me? What'd I do?"

"Hobbs overplayed his hand. Agent Shaw had been looking for a reason to get rid of him and you gave it to him," she explained.

"Is working out of the Anchorage office that bad?"

"Not if you like cold, which I happen to know Barry does not." She chuckled. "My new favorite hobby is checking the forecast. They're having record lows. Last night it got down to negative 13 degrees Fahrenheit."

"It couldn't have happened to a nicer guy." Her laughter was contagious, and I found myself joining in until I remembered why I was here in the first place and sobered.

She shook her head knowingly and got to her feet. "I'll arrange the meeting and let you know." She rode the elevator back down with me, stopping when we reached the visitor's desk. "I'm sorry we had to meet under these circumstances, but it was nice getting to know you, Stephanie. I do hope you keep in touch and if you need anything, don't hesitate to call."

I made it back to Trenton in time for my first Yoga class. I carefully slid out of the Jeep and winced as I leaned back in to retrieve my bag. I hadn't even entered the building yet and I was already sweating. I couldn't imagine twisting my already sore body into those awkward poses. As it was, I could barely manage to sit down and get back up again.

I didn't need to wait for Lula. After last night's Krav Maga class, she decided she could defend herself just fine with her 44 Magnum long barrel and didn't need to take anymore classes. I can't say that I was surprised. Lula had a problem seeing things through.

The first thing I noticed as I entered the yoga studio was that everyone had brought a mat with them, except me.

Damnit, nobody said anything about a mat.

The instructor pointed to a cubby lining the far wall. "If you don't have a mat, grab one and join us." I quickly spread my borrowed mat beside an older woman in the back row, thinking I wouldn't be too embarrassed by my abilities if I was compared to her. Unless a woman in her seventies was more limber than me. Then I'd slink home with my tail between my legs in shame.

"This is yoga for beginners. My name is Sukie. If everyone will be seated cross legged on your mat, we will begin."

When Sukie said to lift my spine, I lifted it, and when she said to balance my bones, I tried. I really did. I just wasn't sure I accomplished what she suggested. Maybe I should see if they offered a class before the one for beginners. Like maybe Yoga for kindergarteners or dummies or something basic like that.

"Close your eyes and inhale," she said and on the last exhale, class was finally dismissed. I rolled over onto my back and laid there for a few minutes, breathing as heavily as if I'd just run a marathon. I'd moved my body in ways I hadn't thought possible and I'd had some pretty intense encounters of both the sexual and the life and death kind.

"You'll get better." The older woman patted my shoulder, seemingly fine while I gasped for breath. "This is my second time taking this class. I should know." It was embarrassing, knowing that a woman my Grandma's age was in better condition than I was. But at least the poses had limbered me up and I was ready to head to my kickboxing class across the hall.

I wasn't sure how much I was going to be able to participate since my left hand was still in the process of healing, but I was determined to give it my best. I got one of my newly purchased gloves out of my bag and began putting it on my uninjured hand. "Grab a partner," a smoky voice announced from behind me. I turned around, hoping to find a partner quickly so I wasn't the pathetic person left all alone. My mouth fell open as our eyes connected from across the room. She was the last person I expected to see.

I closed my eyes, groaning at my luck. Jeanne Ellen Burrow's was my kickboxing instructor. Joe's gleeful warning came to mind, inciting images of Jeanne and Ranger naked and rolling around on his bed, limbs entangled together, their bodies flushed from their lusty activities. The pain in my chest was swift and consuming, colored with a red haze. I was woman enough to admit I was jealous.

My urge to flee was strong. The exit was right there. All I had to do was take a few steps and then I could breathe again, but my feet wouldn't move. I imagined the satisfied smile on her face as she watched me cowardly running away and I couldn't do it. By the time I tuned back in, everyone had paired up, leaving me with… her.

Damn… Damn… Damn.

"Hi, Stephanie." She smiled. "I'm glad to see you in my class."

I squinted at her, trying to decide her angle, but she didn't waste any more time on pleasantries. She began by showing us the guard position. She arranged my hands, so they were protecting my head and my elbows were tucked close to my body. Drawing attention to me for the others to imitate, she said, "Now draw your body in and hunch over a little. You want to make yourself as small of a target as you can manage."

Next, she showed us the traditional boxer's stance. "Stand with your feet shoulder-distance apart and left one forward. You're going to be pivoting on your right foot while using your glutes to power your punches. Like this." She demonstrated and we all tried to mimic what she was doing. It took a few tries before I got the hang of it. "Keeping your elbows drawn in by your sides, bring your fists up to your cheeks, thumbs almost touching and punch with your right arm, straight from the shoulder." We watched her complete a couple jabs and copied her movements. "Do you feel the force of the jab coming from your back hip?" There was some groaning coming from different areas which I took to mean we were all feeling the burn in our hips.

We spent the rest of the class practicing the new techniques and soon class was over. Begrudgingly, I had to admit she was a great teacher. The way she demonstrated the moves made them seem easier than they were, and she had plenty of advice for women to compensate for our size differential. While she was bombarded with questions from other students, I got the hell out of there.

Before I could get far, Denise motioned me over to the juice bar. "How was kickboxing?"

"Between your Krav Maga class and this one, I'm barely putting one foot in front of the other," I said and plopped down in a chair at her table. I smiled when Denise laughed, but I was being serious. Keeping up with this training was taking its toll on my body. She took a drink from her cup and condensation dripped down the sides, falling onto the table. My mouth watered. "What is that your drinking?" I asked.

"Kim," she called out to the girl behind the counter. "Get Stephanie a strawberry banana smoothie, please."

"Thanks." I sighed gratefully.

We made small talk until my smoothie arrived. I frowned when I noticed the bits of green stuff mixed in with the strawberries and bananas.

"Go ahead," Denise encouraged. "Give it a try."

I took a cautious taste and my mouth flooded with wonderful flavors. It was nothing like the smoothies Ranger makes. "I'm pretty sure this is going to be my new favorite drink," I told her.

"Mind if I join you?" The voice came from behind me, but I didn't need to turn around to know who it belonged to.

"You can have my seat. I've got to get back to work." Denise got to her feet and started walking away.

Jeanne sat down, smoothie in hand. "I was surprised to see you in my class."

Was she telling me to find another class? I regarded her suspiciously. "Are you kicking me out?" I asked after several uncomfortable moments.

She shook her head appalled that I'd asked. My only interactions with her consisted of a few minutes over a year ago, but she is not the woman I remembered. The Jeanne Ellen I remembered was sleek and untouchable—a badass like Ranger. Although she was still a badass, she was projecting a more approachable, dare I say friendly attitude. But my question caused her eyebrows to draw together, creating lines of confusion. "Why would I do that?"

I resisted the urge to look around to see if I was being punked. "Um, I guess because you don't like me?"

"Where would you get that idea?"

I was struck dumb—unable to respond. Didn't she remember her animosity toward me? And let's not forget how she hid my car.

"Maybe we've gotten our wires crossed." She smiled, putting a perfect row of white teeth on display. "For the record, I like you just fine. In fact, I told Ranger that if you gave me even the tiniest bit of interest, I'd give him a run for his money."

"Run for his money?" I shook my head to clear the cobwebs. "What are you talking about?"

Her eyes narrowed. "He didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what? I honestly have no clue what you're talking about." And I really didn't. If she was depending on Ranger to share information, she wasn't as smart as I'd given her credit for. When I'd asked him about her, he simply smiled, humoring me, leaving me with the impression they had been romantically involved or possibly still were.

She studied me, gauging my sincerity. "I've been attracted to you since the first moment I met you. Ranger told me to back off, that you wouldn't be interested."

Talk about left field. I gulped. I did not see that coming. I sat there stunned for several seconds before laughter slipped out. I gulped again. Shit. Shit. Shit. I couldn't stop laughing. This was bad. I'm a dead woman.

Pain flashed in her eyes and she sat back in her seat. "You think it's funny?"

I quickly sobered once I realized she'd taken my laughter the wrong way. "Oh, no, it's not that. It's just—" I bit my lip as another laughing fit came over me and then I tried again. "It's just that I thought you… Ranger made me think you and him… that you and he were having an affair." She seemed to be getting the picture now because she was smiling along with me. I laughed harder. "I hated your guts because… but you weren't… and he let me think you were… or had."

She leaned forward with a big smile on her face. "Are you telling me Ranger let you believe that he and I had been sexually involved?" I couldn't talk through my laughter, so I nodded. Tears were flowing freely and by the time we finished laughing, I knew I'd made a new friend—one that I sorely needed. "I'm glad you finally decided to get training," she said once we calmed down.

"I thought it was time."

"How are you doing after—?"

"Some days are better than others." I don't know what made me say this next part, temporary insanity maybe? Either way, I verbally spewed all over her spandex outfit. "I broke off my engagement to Joe Morelli after I found him fucking Terry Gilman. Ranger doesn't want a relationship; he just wants to fuck me occasionally. I run all the time because the nightmares won't leave me alone. And I can't even go to the grocery store anymore to buy food for fear I'll attract another stalker."

I took a huge breath. "I'm sorry; I can't believe I just unloaded all of that on you. I don't usually talk about my personal feelings." I paused briefly. "It's just… I met with the FBI agent today. She wants me to talk to the families of the other victims. And now I find out you were attracted to me and not Ranger." I shook my head. "Everything's just turned upside down. Nothing makes sense anymore."

She put her hand over mine, comforting me. "I'm so sorry all that happened to you, but you're going to be fine, Stephanie. You have to give yourself time to deal with all the things you've experienced."

I breathed a sigh of frustration. "I'm tired of getting hurt. I want to learn how to be better at my job. I highly doubt you would have ever ended up in that cellar."

"I'm not invincible and neither is Ranger. You have your own set of assets. You have a great sense about people and situations. Those same skills make you a target because people are afraid of them. Once you have the self-defense training to back you up, you'll be unstoppable."

It was exactly what I needed to hear, and it came from the last person I'd ever imagined I'd hear it from.