Mirror Me Page 10
He’d ignored her successfully…until now.
*
Abby drove to the diner—Jacoby opted to go with her instead of on his bike, which meant she didn’t even have those few minutes to pull herself together. She turned the radio up so she didn’t have to talk and he didn’t try.
She took her usual booth in the back, with the usual waitress, and realized that her life had become completely routine over the past month. She’d relocated here first while Kayla was watched in a locked-down safe house. Abby’s apartment was two towns over—close enough to get to Kayla fast but not too close so that people connected her and Kayla together.
It was always such a balancing act, and she was doing a good impression of vertigo at the moment. She studied the menu, stealing glances at the iPad she’d parked next to it. Hoping Ethan would get back in touch but knowing she wouldn’t hear from him again for days.
The constant worry from that balled in her gut, but she had to eat. She ordered a burger and fries—her new usual—and caught sight of two young boys sitting side by side, sipping milkshakes and sharing secrets in the way boys did. Quiet. So quiet you’d think they weren’t talking at all.
One of them had a black eye. She wondered if the friend defended him. Her thoughts pulled her back to Teige. Age nine. On the playground, defending an unpopular boy against bullies. Standing up for those who couldn’t stand up for themselves. Not caring how many people turned against him.
It almost seemed like he wanted it that way. Then he could remain alone. Unbothered.
Helping the weak, being left alone—a good deed leading to exactly what he wanted.
Abby scratched an itch on her elbow, caught Jacoby looking at her. She’d decided she’d call him Jacoby because it would annoy a man who wanted to be called Raz. “Where are you staying, Jacoby?”
He didn’t look annoyed, but rather pleased—a cocky pleased. Pleased like she’s-been-thinking-about-me pleased.
You fucked up. “Or would you rather I call you Raz?”
“Right now, I’m at the Hilton. And I prefer Jacoby.”
“Then why let them call you Raz?”
“I pick my battles. That’s not one of them.”
That she understood. She turned the iPad in a circle with an index finger, praying it would flash on, that Ethan would explain more.
Jacoby noticed. “You keep looking at the iPad. Expecting an email?”
“Not exactly. Friend of mine’s in a war zone.”
“Sorry.”
She wanted to say, “He’s fine” or “Don’t be” in that hurried way you say things when you really want to say, “I’m scared to death.”
Instead, she said, “Thanks” as the waitress put their food down. Jacoby shrugged out of his jacket and push the sleeves of his T-shirt up slightly, but enough to reveal the intricate bands of what looked like tribal ink tattoos.
“How long?” Jacoby asked when they were alone again.
Abby stopped looking at his arms and concentrated instead on squeezing the ketchup onto her plate like it was the most important job in the world before saying, “Six months, give or take a few days.”
She had the exact count in her head, but she wasn’t telling him that.
“Shit.” Jacoby turned the mug around inside his palms.
“Yeah, shit,” she echoed. “Any ideas about Mara?”
“Just got the case yesterday. I know the main details, but not enough to work up to a theory beyond trying to fuck her sister over any way she can.”
“Yeah, Mara loves her to death,” she muttered.
“You think she’s waiting for Kayla to join her?” Jacoby asked.
“It’s not out of the realm of possibility. But I also don’t accept Mara as a true serial killer,” Abby told him.
“She presents as one. Mara’s killing to get Kayla’s attention. To get our attention.”
“But most serial killers do kill that one trigger when they have the chance. Usually one of their first kills,” Abby pointed out. “And she was in close enough physical proximity to Kayla for years.”
Jacoby shrugged. “Guess we’ll have to ask her when we catch her. Do you believe Kayla’s innocent?”
Abby dipped a fry in ketchup. “I’m charged with protecting her. My beliefs don’t matter.”
“Not what I asked.” Jacoby played with his coffee mug until she put a hand out to stop him from spinning it.
“I don’t know.”
“Me neither. And I can’t imagine her living with that constant suspicion if she’s innocent.”
If.
Her phone began to beep and she stared down at the text from their boss. “Autopsy on the juror’s back.”
“Rain check.” Jacoby threw down money to cover their tab, and the waitress was already at the table with to-go Styrofoam for them. Abby ate her burger as she drove them back to the office for a briefing, realizing she’d gone five minutes without thinking about Ethan.
Progress, she supposed.
Chapter Fifteen
Abby called her daily after giving her the news that a second juror had gone missing, even though there were no new leads. The rest of the men and women from that particular jury pool were all present and accounted for, so Kayla tried to keep some semblance of normal going, taking Hanny for long walks in the park and the like.
It had been nearly three weeks since Teige left. At one point, Penny called to check on her and when she heard Hanny in the background, she commented, “Guess your soldier’s away.”
She wanted to say, “He’s not mine” but the words wouldn’t come out. Instead, she told Penny, “He’s gone longer than he said.”
“They can’t give exact times. The thing is, Kayla, if something was really wrong, you’d probably know about it already. That’s one of the lessons I learned of military life.”
If something was really wrong, you’d probably know about it already. Penny didn’t know how true those words rang, but Kayla found herself sitting on the floor, rubbing her arms.
Someone’s walking on your grave.
“God, no,” she whispered. Hadn’t felt Mara’s presence this strongly since…
Since Hoss.
There was nothing else for her to do but wait to hear from Abby. It might be an hour from now or several days, but a call would come and it would be to tell her they found the second juror. In the meantime, Kayla holed up in the house, going out to walk Hanny midday, gun concealed under her jacket, and that was it. She refused Penny’s invites, didn’t go to the diner or over to Mrs. Mueller’s.
Finally, on the thirty-second day that Teige was away, Abby called.
“We found the second juror,” she said without preamble. Kayla appreciated the non-coddling.
“Where?”
“California, near San Leandro. Another cemetery. Looks like it happened in the last twenty-four hours.”
Kayla sank to the couch, said a quick thank you it happened on the other side of the country and immediately felt guilty. “This is definitely her.”
“We believe so, yes. We’re monitoring it closely, Kayla. You’re safe where you are. Just stay close to the town, do what you’re doing.”
“The press?”
“Is keeping this quiet. The other jurors are being contacted. Put into temporary protection,” Abby explained.
“Why now?”
“I wish I could answer that.”
“Me too,” she said absently, waited until Abby hung up before she did.
Don’t think, don’t think, don’t think.
It’s been six months.
That means nothing.
The creaking upstairs, the moving chair once she got up there, was oddly reassuring.
“It’s escalating. She’s escalating,” she said out loud.
Kayla would work herself into a self-pitying, complete frenzy if she continued like this. She looked at the bottle of Jack Daniels Teige had left her, wondered if that kind of self-medication was warranted or wise.
Probably a little of both. She drank a shot glass full of the stuff and allowed herself to try to remember.
She barely recalled the faces of the jurors, had never known their names. If she and Mara hadn’t looked exactly alike, maybe Kayla would’ve been able to exact more pity from them. Or maybe that was her own guilty conscience. Either way, by the third day of her testimony she’d stopped looking in their direction, no matter how many times her lawyer admonished her for not doing so.
It was a horrible time, but Kayla had been relieved that Mara would be put away for a long time. Mara admitted she was the one to commit the crimes…with the caveat that it was because of Kayla. And that Kayla was a murderer too.
That had changed everything, especially the mood of the trial and the tone of the press. There would always be doubt and suspicion.
And they had no idea their service would cost them their lives. Abby swore that now they were all being contacted and placed under protection. But what kind of life would that be? Some would refuse, and until Mara was stopped—or died—none of their lives would continue as they should.
Twelve jurors and two alternates. Fourteen was down to twelve. No one could figure out how Mara got those names, but Kayla could see Mara holding on to that information for years, patiently waiting until it was the right time.
Could her twin even feel love? The psych profiles made that seem like a slim-to-none possibility. And that made Kayla sadder than anything, meant there wasn’t a chance that Mara could be saved.
If Kayla made a public plea for her, if she asked Mara to come back…
If she admitted to a crime she hadn’t committed…
What would that bring her? The public would come down on her, but if Kayla could get Mara off the street, would any of that matter?
Mara’s body count was up to ten. Ten that they knew of. More women than men, but the BAU simply surmised that women were easier for Mara to subdue, at least physically.
To this day, she could hear Mara telling the police that the man she’d seen was big, with funny drawings on his arms. When they’d asked her to draw the symbols, she’d drawn a swastika. A meth-selling white supremacist.
They’d brought in suspects, but Mara couldn’t identify any of them, so nothing ever stuck.
“But why wouldn’t Mara go after white supremacists?” she remembered asking, because it never made sense.
“Her eight-year-old mind was irrevocably altered,” they explained to her patiently. Mara was disturbed. Not rational at all.
From the trial, she remembered hearing bits and pieces of Mara’s psychology. “Love map—established by the age of six…Mara’s was obviously corrupted by that point.”
As was yours. You’re just lucky you can’t remember.
There were times she wished she did. It would make things easier, simpler.
She tensed when she heard Hanny’s bark. The dog ran up the stairs to her and then went over to the window.
“Teige’s back,” she whispered to herself. He could protect her. “No, you can’t think like that,” she lectured herself. “You can’t think beyond yourself.”
She was too involved. Expecting too much. She knelt down and rubbed her hands in Hanny’s fur. In return, the dog burrowed against her and she knew she’d sleep because of this gentle giant.
“Your dad will come for you soon,” she assured her. How she’d gotten this close to Teige should’ve surprised her, but after knowing him for five minutes it didn’t. He was so completely right for her, no matter how wrong she was for everyone.
Her ex hadn’t been right for her—she’d known it, as had Hoss. In fact, that’s when Hoss started getting close to her in a way that made Kayla slightly uncomfortable…at first. When Kayla did finally attempt to give in to his flirting a few months later, he was strangely hands-off. And after Hoss’s death, the marshals spirited her away quietly, under the cover of darkness, and she’d never thought to mention that Hoss had tried to sleep with her. She’d assumed it happened more often than not, since she couldn’t imagine having a long-term relationship while in WITSEC. She’d been told that there might be times she’d have to leave her new place, new town, new name behind without so much as an explanation. Because how could she ever trust someone to understand, much less keep her secrets?
She hadn’t…until Teige.
She’d thought she’d had enough excitement in her life…enough upheaval that safe and boring would feel right. But that had been all wrong.
*
Weeks of excruciating silence. Each day, the tension got worse. Abby’s sleep was restless at best, and she’d survived by eating greasy food and downing coffee solely to stay awake and keep moving. She had constant contact with Kayla, who was taking Teige’s extended absence hard.
Abby didn’t know if that was good or bad.
“Jurors are all good,” Jacoby reported now. He’d taken on the task of letting the marshals guarding each of the remaining ones check in with him three times a day.
“She’s too quiet.”
“She’s definitely not dormant—no chance of that happening. If anything, I’d expect her to be escalating,” Jacoby mused.
He was definitely profiling, but Abby recognized it was necessary—at this point, guarding Kayla wasn’t enough. Anticipating Mara’s next move, in conjunction with the FBI, was.
At the start of this, Abby didn’t want constant contact with the FBI. Now, she didn’t have much choice. It was once again the most active of investigations, with a new team, a new profiler on the case. The old one had died of a heart attack years ago, so they were starting from scratch with his notes and Kayla’s help.
Which Kayla wouldn’t really give them.
Thankfully, Jacoby was running point with the FBI team, leaving her to be Kayla’s constant contact.
“Best not to make too many changes on her now. You know her best,” Jacoby had said and Abby was only too happy to agree.
Kayla had been actively refusing to have Abby stay with her, or to be assigned a 24/7 detail. Abby and her supervisor had agreed that it might call too much attention to Kayla and her status with the town…
As for Mara knowing where Kayla was, Abby felt the only way that would happen was if Kayla was actually speaking with Mara.
Which she wasn’t, as far as any of them knew.
“Trail’s gone cold,” Jacoby told her after he hung up with the FBI. “No leads. Nothing. She’s really covering her tracks.”
“How do you know she hasn’t gone dormant? It’s happened before.”
“I wish, Abby. I think we have to concentrate on other avenues.”
“Like?”
“Mara’s got to have help,” Jacoby said, frowning at the case files he’d been paging through.
“Now who’s profiling?” She caught a fleeting expression on his face that told her profiling was a more personal thing than he was letting on.
“Everyone’s got to do their part, right?” he offered by way of explanation before continuing to sift through Mara’s records. “Any way Mara could’ve turned Hoss?”
“Never.” She must’ve hissed the word, because Jacoby put his hands up in silent surrender. “Sorry, but to even consider that…”
“Consider it,” he ordered firmly. “Females who kill can be more charming than their male counterparts.”
Abby managed, “Suppose he didn’t know?”
“What, he falls for Kayla, and then Mara comes on to him and he doesn’t realize the difference?” He shook his head at the theory. “My bet’s on Mara convincing Hoss of her innocence.”
Abby didn’t want to consider that. It was too horrifying to think that Mara could break a man like Hoss. “If she can get to him…”
“He’s not unique,” Jacoby said shortly. “Men are easily swayed by a beautiful woman in jeopardy.”
“And women aren’t?”
“I’m admitting that, as a whole, women are the smarter sex and you’re arguing with me?”
> She sighed. “So Mara’s been seducing marshals?”
“And lawyers. Guards at the hospitals. Kayla herself admitted that Mara was the one who made friends far more easily. That people were naturally drawn to her. Hell, Kayla faces almost the same, if not more suspicion, as Mara did. I swear, with a little more time, Mara could’ve convinced a jury to put Kayla in jail and walk free herself. Why everyone’s been underestimating her’s beyond me.” Jacoby muttered that last part under his breath.
“Well thank God you’ve finally arrived to save us all,” she shot back.
“Touchy. And technically you just caught this case. Why’re you so invested?”
“You’ve got your skeletons, and I’ve got mine.” He got up then and pointed toward the coffee machine on the other side of the office space. She shook her head and watched his back retreat for a second.
Did he really not know about her whole past?
Before he came back, she quickly ran Jacoby’s name through the database.
Nothing.
She went to Google instead.
Nothing.
Not totally uncommon…but he should show up in the department’s files. Of course, anything more than a cursory search would flag her for doing so. She might even be flagged now, but most marshals and law enforcement took a gander at their new partner’s background, to know what they’d be getting into.
“Just ask him,” she told herself, before letting her gaze fall to Mara’s files. It was getting dangerous for her, because she’d let herself get pulled in, and she’d sworn to herself, to Teige, that she wouldn’t. All for her own good, and she knew that. She’d survived something terrible. She was lucky to not be more scarred than she was, inside and out.
When he came back to the files, he sat on the edge of her desk. She turned her laptop to him so he could see the search screen with zero results.
He raised his brows but managed not to look concerned. “That’s all I’m worth? A free search? What, no background check?”
“I didn’t want to do any of this. Not at first.”
“And now you’ve tried. Figured out I don’t exist. So you’ve got all these theories running around in your head now,” he said. “I’m in witness protection. I killed the real guy and I’m actually a criminal.”