“Incorrect, Emma,” Yoda piped up. “While Instagram and, secondarily TikTok, rank high in popularity on the social media platforms for Millennials, who span the ages of twenty-eight to forty-three years old—an age span that would include Caitlin—Facebook still holds its own. It is used at least once a week by eighty-seven percent of Millennials. So it would be foolish for you to discount that platform while doing your research.”
That took the wind out of Emma’s sails, and she let out a sigh of defeat. “You win, Yoda. Fortunately, I’ve included Facebook in all my analyses.” She turned to Patrick. “And I withdraw my inaccurate statement.”
Casey stifled a smile. “Let’s move off the social media aspect of our investigation,” she said, simultaneously glancing from one face to the other. “Anything else?” She paused to look at Ryan. “Go ahead and run your question about Kennedy’s schoolwork by Angela.”
Ryan did exactly that.
Angela listened intently. “I’m going to answer off the cuff, but I’ll follow up with hardcore research. Fact: Your mother is acting as Kennedy’s guardian, unofficial though it may be. Have her make the initial call to the principal and set up a meeting between her, Kennedy’s principal, and her school counselor. Maybe include her teacher; I’m not certain—yet. When they meet, your mother should reveal only the facts released by the FBI: Kennedy’s father was killed and her mother is missing. As a result, Kennedy is living with her and her husband. Let the group of them work this out and decide how things should be handled. My guess is, they’ll agree to allow a designated person from the family to transport Kennedy’s assignments to and from the school. The school will want her to stay current on her homework, and her counselor will want to help her focus on anything other than the loss of her father and the whereabouts of her mother. Give me a few hours to verify or embellish on what I’ve said. In any case, it’s a good idea.”
“Thanks for the advice,” Ryan replied. “I’ll wait for you to give me the go-ahead. It’s not urgent since I won’t be bringing this up to my mom until after the wake and funeral. I know she’ll be happy to do anything in her power to ease things for Kennedy.”
“Speaking of which,” Angela added. “I’ve done some research into the idea of your mother acting as standby guardian for Kennedy, at least until Caitlin’s fate has been resolved. It’s a complicated process that takes months to complete. Forms have to be submitted to Family Court and you need a judge to approve them. My advice? Continue to deal with the Office of Child and Family Services and avoid the legal path. OCFS is aware that your mother is Kennedy’s next of kin, and that she has a large, supportive family she’s close to. So they’ll be willing to keep the current arrangement in place as long as they can.”
Ryan gave her a grateful look. “I appreciate your handling that—even before I thought of asking.”
“No thanks necessary. Besides, that was the easy part. I’m sure that keeping FI out of jail will be a lot harder.”
With a hint of a smile, Casey brought the meeting to a close. “We all know what we have to do. I’ll hold Monday’s meeting at the office, with John included. Ryan, you and Claire, of course, are excused.”
Ryan shook his head. “I want to be there, to stay current with you guys. As it turns out, the funeral isn’t until two PM. If we have our meeting in the early morning, Claire and I can get to my parents’ house, no problem, with time to spare for being with Kennedy before we leave for church.” He frowned, looking at Marc. “Unfortunately, I’ll miss hearing what you gain from your Zoom meeting with that retired FBI agent—plus a whole lot of other things that’ll happen the rest of Monday. And Claire won’t be at the office to hold the personal items you bring back from Shane and Caitlin’s house.”
“We’ll fix all that on Tuesday,” Marc replied. “You and Claire do what you have to.”
Casey nodded. “Sunday is a lost day anyway, since most of the world isn’t working. We’ll hold our meeting on Monday at seven AM, so you and Claire can attend. Whatever minimal updates we have, we’ll bring to the table. And John will be there. He’ll have had more than enough time to coordinate with Patrick and to adjust his schedule so he can join us.” A compassionate look crossed her face. “But Ryan, as for the rest of Monday—we’ll bring you up to speed whenever you’re ready. I don’t want to hear from either you or Claire until sometime on Tuesday. You’re officially off. Be with your family. They need you. Kennedy needs you. And you need to honor Shane.”
Ryan’s eyes grew misty. “Yes, I do. But I also need to find his killer.”
“And you will. We all will.”
9
Ryan’s apartment
Park Slope, Brooklyn, New York
Sunday, 10:35 pm
Claire lay quietly in Ryan’s bed, her head pillowed on his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around her.
The sense of peace that pervaded them was a godsend.
The wake had been hell—for Ryan, for his family, and, most of all, for Kennedy. Her tears had been interminable, her pain something no child should have to endure.
The funeral parlor had been quiet, with only family, fellow FBI agents, former NYPD detectives, and a couple of Hutch’s Special Agents overseeing the event to make sure that no dangers presented themselves. The aura of death, exacerbated by the violence that had preceded it, hung like a heavy cloud over the room, extinguishing any nostalgic stories or cherished memories that usually accompanied such a meaningful occasion.
Claire had tempered the darkness to the best of her ability. She’d weaved her way among the members of Ryan’s family, conveying as much of her positive energy as possible. But overall, she stayed with Ryan, her fingers linked with his as she offered him her closeness, her strength, and her support. She’d felt his pain as her own, even as she watched him manage to stay strong, especially for Kennedy, who alternately wept against Ryan’s shoulder and buried her face in his mom’s loving arms.
The whole event had been heartbreaking, including the family gathering at the McKay house afterwards.
Ryan had held it together until, several hours later, when he and Claire finally left his parents’ house. He was unsettled about leaving, since he was worried that Kennedy might need him. But Maureen felt otherwise. She’d given Ryan and Claire a firm wave of her hand, her expression clearly stating that they needed time alone for Claire to comfort Ryan while he gave in to his own grief. By that time, Kennedy was curled against Maureen’s side, half-asleep, and there was nothing more that could be done tonight. Tomorrow at the funeral, Ryan and Claire’s strength would, once again, be called upon, and they required some recoup time.
The drive home had been silent, Claire letting Ryan stay inside his own head, grappling with his memories and his feelings. Once inside his apartment, she shut the door and turned to him. “Do you need to be alone?”
Ryan gave an adamant shake of his head, his tough veneer cracking. He reached out and drew Claire against him. “Come to bed with me,” he said, his voice trembling as he spoke. “I need you. I need us.”
“You have both,” Claire replied softly.
Their lovemaking was intense and urgent, a deep manifestation of their love and a reaffirmation of life. Even after their passion was spent, Ryan held Claire to him, unwilling to release her and to, once again, be inundated with the pain of loss.
