Ryan squeezed her fingers. “What would I do without you?”
“Don’t waste your time on that one. I’m not going anywhere.”
Ryan had just opened his mouth to reply, when his cell phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID, then, brows drawn in puzzlement, pressed answer. “Hi, Mom. You okay?”
“No.” Maureen’s voice was trembling. “Where are you?”
“Driving down your street.”
“Thank God. I need you here. Now. I just got a text message. I don’t know from whom. But it’s thrown me. Please just get here.”
Ryan accelerated. “Give us two minutes.”
Claire and Ryan were out of the car almost before it came to a stop.
Maureen was standing on the outside step, her expression grim, her cell phone clasped in her hand.
She walked across the lawn to meet them. “I don’t want anyone else to know about this,” she began. “Not yet. Especially Kennedy. She’s falling to pieces as it is.” With that, Maureen handed her phone to Ryan, the text she’d received open and ready.
Wordlessly, he scanned the message, which was comprised of two cryptic sentences:
I’m watching Kennedy. Are you?
“Shit,” Ryan muttered, his jaw clenched. “A pointed threat about Kennedy’s safety, sent, no doubt, via a burner. Either Kennedy herself is a bigger threat to the killer than we thought, or they’re using texts like this to draw Caitlin out. Or both.” He turned off the phone and pocketed it. “I’ll need to take this back to the office with me, Mom. Use your home phone for both incoming and outgoing calls. I’ll reroute your cell calls to that number here, as well. I want things to seem like business as usual.”
“But it won’t be,” Maureen said, her forehead creased with worry. “You’ll be trying to trace the text and do whatever else you need to do. The problem is that there will be FBI agents stationed at the church. Don’t we have to share this with them first?”
Ryan shook his head. “Not today. Today is about saying good-bye to Shane. No one will expect us to address the investigation, or even to check our phones. Give me tonight. I’ll get what we need. Then first thing tomorrow, you can share the text, and your phone, with the Bureau. Tell them you just checked your cell and found the message.”
Claire was looking unsettled. “Hutch would be furious.”
“He won’t find out. I’ll work all night. My mom can have her phone back by dawn.”
Claire was still visibly uneasy. “Okay.”
Ryan turned to her and frowned. “You think Hutch will somehow figure it out?”
“No.” Claire massaged her temples. “But something isn’t right. Something about the text message. And about the danger that exists.”
Maureen blanched. “Is Kennedy at immediate risk?”
Claire took her hands away from her forehead, confusion and anxiety clouding her expression. “I don’t think so. At least not from the text.”
“Or the person who sent it?” Ryan demanded.
At that, Claire nodded.
“So the sender isn’t the killer,” Ryan surmised, brow furrowed. “They could be a hired hand, some flunky. But the killer is out there, threatening, not only Caitlin, but Kennedy, as well.”
“Yes.” Claire was looking more and more confused. “I…maybe I’ll hold the cell phone on our drive home tonight—if that’s okay with you?” she asked Maureen.
“Of course,” Maureen replied. “I’m grateful for any help you can offer.”
Claire placed a hand on Maureen’s arm. “Ryan will figure this out. You’ll see.”
Maureen fought back tears. “I know.”
From the corner of his eye, Ryan saw his father and Nolan hovering at the open doorway, looking puzzled.
