Hollywood Prisoner: A Hollywood Alphabet Series Thriller (23 page)

“Jenson Moore was taking directions from someone else, maybe more than one person,” Lindsay told us the following day at FBI headquarters.

My sister had spent the night with me, after being medically cleared. The doctors said her cuts and abrasions were minor, but she had received a mild concussion during an earlier skirmish with one of Moore’s associates. They expected her to make a full recovery—at least physically. Her emotional well-being was another matter. There had always been a fragile quality to my sister, maybe because she’d been molested as a girl by her father. I knew that she would need months, maybe years, of therapy.

Lindsay had spent the day with the FBI agents, debriefing her weeks with the Swarm, before ending the day with Joe and me. As Bernie snoozed in a corner, she went on. “I don’t think the Swarm is going to stop until all their leaders are dead or in prison.”

“That’s exactly what I have in mind for them,” Joe said. “What about those at the top? Any idea who we’re dealing with?”

She shook her head. “I have no idea. They make sure they’re never together in the same place and they only communicate by phone. I don’t even think they know the real identities of one another.”

“You’re not going to be safe until they’re all caught,” I said.

Lindsay looked at Joe. “Did you tell her?”

Joe shook his head. “I thought it would be better coming from you.”

I looked at Joe, then at Lindsay, “What’s going on?”

My sister rose. “Can we go for a walk?”

I looked at Joe, whose features had softened as he said, “I don’t think that’s a bad idea. There’s a rooftop terrace if you two want to get some air.”

We took an elevator and rode in silence to the top of the building. The terrace was remarkably well appointed, with lots of greenery, comfortable chairs, and even a small pond. I took a walk over to the railing with Lindsay, where we had a view from the city to the ocean. The sun was low on the horizon, a veil of fog drifting in from the coast.

“Tell me what’s going on,” I said, looking at her.

Lindsay met my eyes, looked away, and released a long breath. “I’m going away.”

“Going away where? What are you talking about?”

“I talked to Joe and Mr. Greer earlier today while you were doing some paperwork. I’m entering their witness protection program.”

What she’d said left me momentarily speechless. I tried to find the words to tell her what I was feeling, but ended up rambling. “Are you...I mean...I don’t want...maybe we can work things out...find a way for you to live with me.”

She shook her head. “You know that’s not possible, Kate. I have to go away for both my own safety and yours.”

Tears filled my eyes. I reached over and took her hand. “But...but it’s taken us a lifetime to...to find one another.”

Lindsay hugged me. “I understand, but we both know it’s the only way. The Swarm is still out there and until they’re dealt with, neither of us is safe. This is also a chance for me to start over, to create a new life with a new identity.”

Tears streamed from my eyes as my head began to accept what my heart desperately wanted to deny. My sister, the woman who had saved my life and tried to stop a terrorist organization, was going away forever.

After holding one another for a long moment, I said, “Maybe after everything is over we can find one another again—reconnect.”

A half smile found her lips. “Maybe.” She turned away, looking at the skyline. After a moment, she looked back at me. “I’ve changed, Kate. I’m not the same person that I was.”

“Because of the Swarm?”

“That, and...” She sighed. “Also because of trying to come to terms with what my father did to me as a child. I’ve accepted what happened, but I know I’ll never be the same because of it.”

I hugged her again. “I’m so sorry.”

When we parted, she smiled and said, “Sorry for what?”

“For everything. For the past, for what happened between your father and my adoptive dad, for never being able to be there for you when it counted.”

She squeezed my hand. “We both know that wasn’t possible. The main thing is, you’ve been there for me over the past several months. You also tried to help me deal with what my father did.” She chuckled. “This might sound strange, but, in many ways, you saved my life.”

I held onto my sister, never wanting to let her go, as a flood of tears sprang from my eyes again. The realization hit me that I might never see her again. “You saved my life, Lindsay. I’ll never forget that...or you.”

Our tears flowed freely for several minutes until we finally, reluctantly released one another. I then asked the question I’d been dreading. “When? When are you going to be leaving?”

My sister, the sibling I’d spent a lifetime finding and I was now losing forever, held my hands in hers. “I’m sorry, Kate, but I have to leave
now
.”

I took the next day off, needing some time to rest and try to process everything. Lindsay was gone, and the reality that I would probably never see her again consumed my thoughts. It was another loss in what seemed like a pattern of loss in my life that forever repeated itself. Everyone I ever loved and cared about went away, it was just a matter of time. I’d been cut off from the power I’d felt a few days earlier and didn’t know if I would ever get it back.

The FBI had identified the subjects killed in yesterday’s shootout with Jenson Moore. None of them had a prior criminal record, and there was nothing in their pasts that we knew about that tied them to the terrorist organization. It was further evidence that the Swarm was well organized, invasive, and highly secretive. We knew it was a matter of time until they struck again.

At noon, while Bernie and I went for a walk in the hills above Hollywood, my phone rang. It was Joe Dawson.

“Just wanted to see if you’re up for getting a bite to eat, Buttercup. I’m in your neck of the woods before heading to the airport.”

I pushed the hair out of my eyes and took a breath. “I’m on a trail overlooking the Hollywood Sign, but I could meet you someplace in about an hour.”

“Why don’t we try that Mexican joint you mentioned the other day?”

It took me a moment before I remembered telling him about a place that I liked near Sunset Boulevard that had great food. “You mean the Pink Taco?”

“Yeah. As long as they’ve got beer and burritos, I don’t care what color their food is.”

“See you there.”

It took me longer than expected to get back to my car and make the drive to the restaurant. I was ten minutes late as I took a seat at an outdoor table, across from Joe, and Bernie settled in at my feet. I saw that Joe was already working on his second beer.

He hoisted the bottle. “Got a head start.”

“So I see.”

A waiter came over, and I ordered sangria. As we looked at menus, we chatted about our day. Joe then told me about his upcoming plans. “I’ve just been wrapping up some paperwork before heading home to Phoenix for a few days.”

I smiled. “A little time on the home front before chasing killers again? I hope you survive.”

“They’ll still be out there, waiting for me. What about you?”

“Back to work tomorrow. I’ve got a couple irons in the fire that still need some work.”

“Campbell Turner?”

“One of them. We’re looking at an ex-boyfriend who’s possibly involved.”

He took a sip of beer. “I used to watch her old man’s TV show. The guy was a bulldog.”

I smiled. “His TV character reminds me of someone I know, but I’m not sure Castello’s the same way in real life.”

“How’s that?”

“Some people who knew Campbell said she had issues with her father. One of the detectives working with me thinks he might have molested her.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time someone’s life went off track because of that.”

What he said made me think about Lindsay, as the waiter came over. After we placed our orders, I asked about her.

“I heard through the grapevine that she’s already been settled in another state, starting her new life.”

I didn’t respond, because my emotions were surfacing.

“You okay?” Joe asked.

“It’s just...” I took a moment, something catching in my throat. “I’m going to miss her—a lot.”

He nodded, but was quiet for a long moment. He finally said, “It’s understandable. You two have a lot in common.”

I looked at him, raised my brows.

He swirled the last of the beer in his glass. “Your family circumstances and what happened between her dad and yours. It’s a lot for you both to deal with.”

“I don’t know how I’m going to deal...” I blotted a tear with my napkin. “...with maybe never seeing her again.”

He reached over and took my hand. “Just remember, you’ve always got me if you ever need anything.”

I was almost sure now that he had feelings for me that he was trying to express. “I appreciate your friendship more than you’ll ever know.”

We spent the next hour talking about the past cases we’d worked, as we ate. Joe then walked Bernie and me to our car. After I settled my furry partner into the back seat, I turned and found Joe standing close to me. He surprised me by reaching out and taking me in his arms.

“You ever thought about...” He paused and took a breath, apparently trying to choose his words carefully. “What I’m trying to say is, have you ever thought about taking a break from everything? I’ve got a big place in the desert, plenty of room to wander around and forget your troubles.”

Was he asking me to move in with him? I wasn’t sure. “Thanks, Joe, but for now I’ve got some work to do here, and...” I took a breath and looked into his beautiful pale eyes. “You know the rest.”

“Your father?”

I nodded and kissed him on the cheek. “Take care of yourself, Joe. I’m going to miss you.”

I got home mid-afternoon, then took a shower and a nap. I woke up when I heard someone knocking on my door. When I answered it, I found Natalie standing there.

“You ready?”

I brushed the hair out of my eyes. “For what?”

“We got us that appointment with me relationship therapist, Carla Manson.”

I exhaled, thinking the last thing I wanted to do was go to a therapist with her. “I’m sorry, but I’ve had a long...”

“I’ll give you a minute to spruce yourself up.” She looked at my hair. “You might wanna get a brush, make yourself presentable.”

I knew it was useless to argue with her. After doing what I could with my hair and changing clothes, we dropped Bernie off with Mo and headed to Century City, where Natalie told me Carla Manson had an office.

After we parked and began walking to her office, I asked Natalie about her therapist.

“I’ve only seen her once. She came highly recommended. Your mum said she’s the bomb.”

“My mother?” I chuckled. “This should be interesting.”

Fifteen minutes later, Natalie and I were shown into the therapist’s office, and I realized that I knew Carla Manson. She was the psychic my mother had introduced to me as Francesca.

“Dr. Manson is my professional working name,” Francesca explained, after we took seats in her office. “I’ve got to pay the rent, and my alter-ego only goes so far. If it makes you feel more comfortable, please call me Francesca.”

Dr. Manson, or Francesca, as I preferred, looked nothing like the psychic healer I’d met a few days earlier, who had worn a flower print dress and a headscarf, and spoke with a Caribbean accent.  Natalie’s therapist had on a dark pantsuit and wore her hair in a French braid. She looked and sounded every bit the part of someone who had a thriving practice as a modern therapist.

After we exchanged pleasantries, Natalie wasted no time explaining our circumstances. “You already know, I got me a rotten track record when it comes to men. I’m on the rebound and need some advice ‘bout what to do next.” She looked at me. “Kate, on the other hand, is just a loser magnet when it comes to guys.”

I started to defend myself, then decided it wasn’t worth the effort. My ex-husband and my recent relationship with Noah Fraser came to mind, and I had to admit there was some truth to what Natalie had said.

Natalie spent the next twenty minutes detailing her past relationship problems, telling Francesca about everyone from her first elementary school crush to her latest issues with Izzy Cluck.

After hearing her story, Francesca said, “Tell me something, Natalie. What is your idea of the perfect man?”

Natalie took a long moment before answering. I wondered if she was going to talk about everything from penis size to sexual prowess before she finally answered.

“I was thinkin’ ‘bout datin’ Howie Cromwell, the guy who’s gonna help me pay back Izzy for his cheatin’, but he’s got a load of problems. I think what I really want is a bloody nerd.”

Francesca laughed. “Really? A nerd.”

“Yup. I’ve had it with blokes who just wanna make the magic happen, if you get me drift. I want someone who...” She took another moment. “I want someone who makes me feel special, like he really cares ‘bout me more than anything else.”

I realized this was a breakthrough moment for Natalie. She was beginning to realize that relationships were more about giving than receiving. I reached over and squeezed her hand, telling her that I appreciated what she had to say.

Francesca took a moment before responding. “I don’t think you need my help, Natalie. All you really need to do is follow your bliss.”

“Me bliss?”

“Find someone who makes you feel like the person you truly are. Someone who cares about you as a person, not as a sex object or someone who they can use. What you’re really looking for is someone who complements you, but allows you to express your inner strength and beauty.”

Natalie smiled. “Blimey. I think I’ve figure it all out. I know exactly who I need. I’m going...”

“Stop!” Francesca said. “Whoever or whatever you’ve figured out isn’t something you need to share with us. You just need to pursue your bliss in your own way and on your own terms.”

“You’re bloody right.” Natalie looked at me. “What ‘bout Kate? She needs a lot of help.”

Francesca and I shared a look. I had the same feeling as before, that she could look right through me. She finally said, “Kate doesn’t need my help, either. She just needs to honor her power.”

I was feeling defeated after the events of the last couple days. “My power,” I said. “I’m not sure how to get in touch with it.”

Francesca studied me before answering. “Did you ever wonder what it means to be a prisoner?”

Even though I’d put lots of people in jail, I wasn’t sure what she meant. “I’m sorry?”

“To be a prisoner is to be locked away. Sometimes that can mean your freedom is taken away. Other times, it means that you have lost your way and the inherent power that you possess. It means you have become a prisoner of your own circumstances.”

I let her words settle in, unsure how to respond. After a long moment, Francesca leaned in closer to me and said, “You can remove the chains.”

My eyes narrowed on her. “I’m not sure how to do that.”

“Of course you do, Kate. The chains are yours alone to remove. You must decide when you are ready to release them.”

“I got me a question,” Natalie said. “What ‘bout Kate’s love life? Does this mean she can toss off the past and move on?”

Francesca smiled at my friend, then levelled her eyes on me. “That, my dear, is a question of fate. It is also a question that can only be answered by your friend.”

“I don’t feel like I’m ready to move on,” I said to Natalie. I looked at Francesca. “If I’m truly going to find my power and reclaim my life, I think I need to do that on my own and not in a relationship.” I looked away from her for a moment, gathering my thoughts. “But I feel worn down by everything. In some ways, I feel like I’ve been a prisoner of the past, like there’s a battle raging inside me that will never end.”

Francesca had a small refrigerator in her office. She went over and poured us each a glass of a strawberry colored liquid. She served the drinks to Natalie and me without comment.

“I had a friend who passed on several years ago,” Francesca said, after taking her seat again. “She was Cherokee, very proud of her lineage and the legacy of her people. She told me a story once. It is a legend that has been passed on from generation to generation.”

“This stuff is the bomb,” Natalie said, after sipping her drink. “What is it?”

“Just something I make from natural juices,” Francesca said. “It’s guaranteed to help you feel revitalized.”

“It’s delicious,” I agreed.

“The legend,” Francesca said, going back to her story, “involves a boy who tells his grandfather about an injustice he suffered. After listening to his grandson’s account, the old man said, ‘Let me tell you a story. I have also suffered many wrongs in my life from those who have taken much from me, without regret for their actions. My unhappiness caused a hatred to grow inside of me, filling me with anger. In time, I realized there are two wolves fighting for control inside of me. There is a light wolf that has learned harmony and to accept all things with kindness, humility, gratitude, and forgiveness. But there is also the dark wolf that is his opposite. He is full of anger, contempt, and greed.’ The old man looked at his grandson and said, ‘If you let them, these two wolves will forever be at odds, fighting for your soul.’”

I realized her story had been largely for my benefit, as she finished the tale.

“After hearing the story about the two wolves, the old man’s grandson said, ‘If there are two wolves inside of us, always battling for control, which wolf will eventually win?’ His grandfather smiled and said, ‘The one we choose to feed.’”

I told her I appreciated the story, then added, “I guess if I am to someday find my power, I need to decide which wolf is in control.”

Francesca’s dark eyes held on me. “That process sometimes takes a long time. But, in time, you will learn, as the saying goes, with great power comes both great opportunity and great responsibility. You must choose wisely and honor the voice.”

“The voice?”

Francesca smiled. “You know the voice I am talking about, Kate. You must listen and respond to the question that has been asked of you with power.”