Born, Madly (Darkly, Madly 2)
I let a slight smile break through before I leave the ER room.
Agent Nelson is waiting in the hall.
“Eavesdropping?” I say as I pass him.
He catches up to me easily with his long strides. “Doing my job doesn’t make me the bad guy.”
I give him a sideways glance, but say nothing.
“Believe it or not,” he says, “I agree with Foster. It’s not safe for you to stay in Bangor.”
My immediate, reflexive response is to continue arguing my points with the agent. But I take a moment to consider my options. “Maybe Foster is finally right about something. I’ll leave by this afternoon.” I sign out at reception, then head toward the double doors.
Agent Nelson stops me before I cross over into the media craze. “Let me secure a place for you.”
I put distance between us. “No, thank you. Please. I don’t want to go to some FBI safe house.” I swipe my bangs from my face. “I have a place to stay. A friend’s. I’ll be safe there.”
“Can I have this friend’s information?”
“You’re the FBI,” I say as I walk through the parting doors. “I have no doubt you’ll figure it out before the end of the day.”
Actually, I’m counting on it.
15
Power of Suggestion
Grayson
The vultures have landed.
From Portland to Bangor, a swarm of hungry, greedy scavengers have infiltrated every city and town. News crews, journalists, law enforcement, serial killer fanatics. Those hoping to get their fifteen minutes are infesting the area and squeezing me out, pushing me farther into the shadows.
Gaze trained on the laptop screen, I complete a rep. I lower my body, muscles s
trung tight, then pull myself up again. My chin meets the edge of the wooden beam, and suddenly I’m thrust back into an eight-by-five cell. White walls. Bars. The footfalls of guards. I release the beam with a groan, chest heaving.
The reporter on the monitor mentions Foster, and I crank the volume.
The New Castle detective is reported as recovering well, where he’s being kept in the ICU under heavy guard. No further updates…
He’ll recover enough before long. He’s only hindered, not broken.
Despite Foster’s interference and his brainless interviews with the press, I remain in the very state I once hunted in. Where I was apprehended and served a year of a life sentence behind bars at the Cotsworth Correctional Facility.
Daring or reckless?
I heard the safest place to hide is right beneath your enemy in plain sight.
I’m not sure if this statement merits any truth, as I can’t recall who first uttered such ludicrous words, but it serves my cause, my purpose, and so here I am.
Foster forced my hand, so now my choices are limited. Either I initiate the final phase, or I run.
Only one option aligns with my objective.
London.
The thread tethered between us is too strong to be broken by the simple threat of captivity or death. Black or not, dead or not…my heart beats because of her.