Ryan reached over and squeezed his mom’s hand. “You’re a miracle worker. You’re doing great.”
Maureen’s brows were drawn, and she didn’t respond to the compliment. “Given the circumstances—especially any outstanding danger as well as Kennedy’s emotional state—I’m going to follow the FBI’s suggestion. We’ll have a small wake tomorrow and an equally small funeral the day after. Just the immediate family, plus any of Shane’s law enforcement colleagues who choose to honor him. Aside from the agents posted outside our house, a few more of them will be at both events, for security purposes. Originally, Fiona and I were planning on a larger scale, given how many people loved Shane. But the FBI felt something more contained would be safer and easier on Kennedy.”
Ryan nodded. “Her mother is missing, and we can’t ignore the fact that Kennedy could be another of the killer’s targets. I agree with the Bureau.”
“As do I.”
“Listen, Mom, the team and I met this morning and did a fair amount of brainstorming.”
Maureen’s brows rose, hope flickering in her eyes. “Anything you can share with me?”
“A few major things. We all agreed that it’s likely Caitlin will want to check up on Kennedy, probably on a steady basis. She’ll find a way, and it will be through you. So you and Dad have to be aware of that fact and, should those kind of instances occur, you have to report every detail to me the minute they happen. Not law enforcement. Me. Okay?”
Maureen studied Ryan’s face. “You believe Caitlin is alive.”
“Yes.” There was no hesitation on Ryan’s part. “We do. Alive, scared, and on the run. I can’t get into details, other than to tell you that we’ve concluded it was Caitlin, not Shane, who texted you. Shane was already dead by then. All this information is for you and you alone.”
“And the FBI—do they know this, as well?”
“Not from us, they don’t. Although I’m quite sure they’ll think of it on their own. But as far as FI, this is pure conjecture and we therefore have nothing we need to share with law enforcement.”
A hint of a smile. “Walking that fine line again, I see.”
“Yup. And before Agent Barkley calls to come over and interview you—which he will the day after the funeral—I’ll coach you so that you can field his questions. I’ll get Kennedy out of the house when you speak to him. I can review all aspects of that plan with you later. For now, just remember that no matter what, if Caitlin makes contact with you, the first person you go to is me.”
Maureen nodded. “All right. I’ll fill your dad in. We’ll follow your instructions—and be on the alert.” She paused, focusing on the rest of what Ryan had said. “Agent Barkley will want to talk to all of us, won’t he?”
“Yes,” Ryan replied, holding his mom’s gaze. “Including Kennedy.”
Maureen’s hand flew to her mouth. “But she can’t?—”
“Unfortunately, the Bureau thinks she can. She’s old enough to have picked up on tensions, conversations, arguments, and whatever else she heard at home. They’re going to ask her questions about that. Just know that we’ll talk to her first, bolster her in any way we can.” He paused, feeling ill at what he was about to say and bracing himself for his mother’s stunned fury. “There’s more.”
“I’m listening.” Maureen was starting to bristle.
“It’s about Caitlin. And it’s going to set you off big-time. It sure as hell did me.”
“And what is that?”
Ryan went for straightforward and frank. “The FBI is going to question each of us about the inner workings of Shane and Caitlin’s marriage. You’ve watched enough detective shows on TV. The wife is always first on the list of suspects.”
Angry color suffused Maureen’s face. “Are you telling me that the FBI believes Caitlin killed Shane?”
“I’m telling you they have to pursue that possibility. We’ll set them straight. But this is procedural, not personal. We have to answer their questions. We can’t blow up, the way you just did and I did back at the office. Whatever they ask you and Dad, answer candidly. I’ll do the same. We all know how special Shane and Caitlin’s marriage was, and how devoted they were to each other and to Kennedy. It’s up to us to nip that theory in the bud so the agents can get out there and pursue the right ones.”
Another stoic nod. “All right. I’ll tell your father, as well as Fiona, Nolan, and Garret, so everyone is prepared for questioning. Including Kennedy. But I won’t tell her until after her father is laid to rest and the trauma of that day is behind her.”
“I agree.” Ryan felt ticked off and utterly spent. “Just remember, FI is one step ahead of the Bureau where it comes to this. We know Caitlin’s innocent. So we’re moving on to more valid theories.”
Maureen’s fury banked. “I know. It’s okay. We’ll handle the FBI.”
Ryan sighed, grateful to have gotten past that. Now he had a different question to ask. “Mom, please think. Do you know the names of any of Caitlin’s friends? Personal or professional? Maybe one of them can help us figure out where she is.”
Thoughtfully, Maureen tapped her chin. “I feel as if I do. Let me think. Give my middle-aged memory a chance to warm up.”
On the heels of Maureen’s words, Kennedy descended the stairs, calling out to her great-aunt, as she did. “Aunt Maureen?” Her voice was filled with pain and fear.
“I’m right here, lovey.” Maureen walked over to the foot of the stairs, extending her arms to her great-niece, who stepped right into her embrace, burying her face in Maureen’s shoulder. Her hair was tousled, the nightgown Maureen had slipped her into during the night was rumpled, and her face was drenched with tears.
