“How’s Landry?” Maggie asked. As much as she hated him, she didn’t want his death on her conscience—or Laura’s.
“Stable. Being transferred to a burn center in Denver tomorrow. He’s looking at substantial recovery time, but he’ll live.” Brandt didn’t seem particularly thrilled about the prognosis. “He’s also facing charges for escaping custody, though given the circumstances, a competent lawyer might argue coercion.”
“And Laura?”
The marshal’s expression hardened. “Laura Kemp is under guard in the ICU. Third-degree burns over fifteen percent of her body, severe smoke inhalation. She’s sedated but expected to survive. Which is more than can be said for her previous victims.”
The room went silent.
“Victims, plural?” Maggie’s stomach dropped. “Not just Ryan Drummond?”
“Ryan and Sarah Drummond. Husband and wife.” Brandt pulled a small notebook from his pocket and flipped it open. “Shot to death in their Tampa home five years ago. The casewent cold until tonight, when Ms. Kemp’s fingerprints flagged in the system. She’s been a fugitive ever since.”
Maggie sank back into her chair, knees suddenly weak. “So she... she made up a whole identity based on the woman she killed?”
“It fits her pattern.” Brandt’s voice was coolly professional. “We’ve been coordinating with Tampa PD for the last few hours. They’ve had a task force on this case for years. Turns out Laura Kemp has a history of stalking and violence dating back to her teens.”
“Why didn’t anyone catch her before now?”
“She’s good at reinvention. Changes her appearance, her name, her background story. Becomes someone new in each city.” He flipped a page in his notebook. “She worked as a production assistant on your first show, ‘Building Home,’ but was fired after complaints from other staff members.”
“I don’t remember her.” Maggie racked her brain, trying to recall anyone who might have been Laura. There had been dozens of PAs over the years, faces that blended together in the background of busy production days.
“You wouldn’t. She was let go within the first month, before you became a regular host. But that brief connection was enough. She fixated on you, started following your career online.” Brandt’s expression softened fractionally. “According to the Tampa detectives, she develops these obsessions. Convinces herself there’s a special relationship. When reality doesn’t match her fantasy, she becomes dangerous.”
“She killed Ryan and Sarah Drummond because...?”
“Ryan was her previous obsession. A high school teacher she’d stalked for months. When he rejected her advances and filed a restraining order, she killed him and his wife. Then she disappeared, only to resurface in your orbit.”
The weight of it settled on Maggie’s chest like stone. “All this time, I thought it was Landry. All the gifts, the break-ins... I blamed him.”
“Landry’s guilty of plenty,” Anson growled. “Just not that.”
“Correct.” Brandt nodded. “Mr. Whitaker did violate his restraining order multiple times, make threatening calls, and ultimately assault you. But the more invasive stalking behaviors—the photos of you sleeping, the gifts left at your home—those were Laura Kemp.”
Bile rose in Maggie’s throat. Laura had been in her apartment. Had stood over her bed while she slept. Had touched her things, her life, while she blamed Landry and lived in fear of the wrong person.
“Hey.” Anson’s bandaged hand found hers, squeezing as best he could through the gauze. “You okay?”
She shook her head. “I feel like an idiot.”
“You shouldn’t.” Brandt tucked his notebook away. “Stalking cases like this are complicated. Most victims are dealing with multiple types of harassment from multiple sources. The fact that both Landry and Laura targeted you simultaneously is unusual but not unheard of.”
“What happens to Laura now?” Walker asked.
“Once she’s stable enough for transport, she’ll be moved to a secure medical facility, then face charges here and in Florida. Given her history and the premeditated nature of these crimes, she’s looking at life without parole, minimum.”
The clinical assessment should have been reassuring. Instead, it left Maggie feeling hollowed out. A woman she’d taught, encouraged, praised—a woman whose hands she’d guided on a saw, whose work she’d admired—had been planning to kill for her all along.
“She wanted to kill him because of me,” she whispered. “She thought she was protecting me.”
“That’s not on you,” Jonah said quietly. It was the first time he’d spoken since Brandt entered. “She’s sick, Maggie. Nothing you said or did caused this.”
“But if I hadn’t?—”
“Don’t.” Anson’s voice cut through her spiraling thoughts. “We’re not playing that game. What happened today is on Laura, not you.”
“Anson’s right,” River chimed in. “You’re not responsible for her actions.”
