Maureen frowned, recognizing that her son was still in shock. “Where are you now?”
“In Marc’s car. He’s dropping me off at your house. We hit traffic. But I should be there in fifteen minutes.”
“Good. You need to be with us. Plus, Kennedy will be thrilled to see you. You know how she adores you.” Maureen paused again. “When will the FBI people be arriving?”
“Soon. They’re already nearing your neighborhood. They’ll wait until I get there and have a few normal minutes with Kennedy. Then I’ll text them and they’ll drive right over.” Ryan swallowed. “Keeping myself together is killing me, Mom. But, I have to…”
“My poor Ryan,” Maureen murmured. “I’m so sorry the weight is on your shoulders. But, remember that Dad, Claire, Fiona, and I are all waiting. We’ll all be here for you. And, of course, for Kennedy. We’re family. We stand together.”
Ryan felt a rare surge of feeling come over him. Relief. Gratitude. Love.
“Thanks, Mom,” was all he could manage to say.
3
McKay Residence
Woodlawn, Bronx, New York
5:50 p.m.
“Hey!” Ryan called out as the front door shut behind him. “Anybody home?”
Kennedy abandoned the Monopoly board and was on her feet and in motion all at once. “Ryan!” she squealed, racing straight from the living room to the foyer, and flinging her arms around him. “I didn’t know you’d be here!”
Ryan hugged her back. “That’s why it’s called a surprise, sunshine,” he replied, ruffling her hair. “Besides, did you think I’d miss out on seeing you? Or at trouncing Fee at Monopoly? Once I heard that you, she, and Claire were here, and the game you guys were playing with my Dad, I rushed right over to join in.” He winked at her. “I know you’ll wipe me out, but at least I’ll come in second, right?”
“With a little luck, maybe.” Kennedy’s smile lit up her face, and it made Ryan ill to contemplate what she was about to go through.
Over Kennedy’s head, Ryan’s gaze locked with Claire’s. A current of painful communication passed between them. Ryan had spoken about the Walshes to her—but not in detail. Still, she just knew. Ryan didn’t have to elaborate, to say thank you, to or ask her to stay. She understood the state he was in. And she wasn’t going anywhere.
“Fiona, your dad, and I are holding our own quite nicely,” Claire said aloud, still holding Ryan’s gaze. “But Kennedy’s a pro. So the rest of us need time to join forces and discuss our strategies, so at least one of us is sure to beat her. You two go ahead into the kitchen and eat some of the brownies we brought. They’re awesome.”
Kennedy had already seized Ryan’s hand and started to pull him in that direction.
“We’ve got the better end of this deal,” she called over her shoulder. “We get brownies and catch-up. You get strategy-building time. And I’m still about to buy Broadway which will eventually wipe everyone out.”
Still struggling valiantly to focus on the here and now, Ryan followed Kennedy to the kitchen, quickly punching in a text as he did, alerting the FBI agents that he’d arrived.
No matter what they did, would Kennedy ever be close to the same? To Ryan’s way of thinking, that was an impossibility. Kennedy and her parents shared a special kind of closeness. So, no matter how good Dr. Abel was, how much love and support the rest of the family showered on Kennedy, the end result was the same.
Nothing could bring back Kennedy’s daddy.
Still alone in Fiona’s childhood bedroom, Maureen glanced out the window and saw the FBI’s case agent and victim specialist’s car pull up to the house.
As a result, she reappeared in the foyer just as the doorbell rang. With a pained expression, she greeted the two of them at the door.
“Agent Barkley, Dr. Abel,” she said, her tone hollow. “I’m Maureen McKay, Kennedy’s great-aunt. Her father Shane…” An agonized pause. “…was my nephew.” She gestured for them to come in.
“Mrs. McKay, we’re terribly sorry for your loss,” SA Barkley said with genuine compassion. He was in his early forties, with a solid build, sandy hair, and a personable manner.
“You have our deepest sympathies,” Dr. Abel echoed, her tone gentle. She was older than her counterpart, with fine lines around her eyes, a soothing demeanor, and an astute expression. “We’re here to make this as painless for your great-niece—and for the entire family—as we can.”
Maureen nodded. “Thank you. I don’t know where you want to talk with me alone. I need to understand what I should expect and what you want me to do—both before, during, and after you speak with Kennedy.”
“Where is Kennedy now?” Dr. Abel asked.
Maureen gestured, first at the living room, then at the kitchen. “She was playing Monopoly with the family. Right now, she’s in the kitchen with my son, Ryan. She’s very fond of him.”
