Allison Brennan - Stalked

I’d always thought whoever was harassing me was a bully. Some jock who liked to pick on the little kids who couldn’t, or wouldn’t, defend themselves. But I’m six foot two now, I work out at the gym every morning, and I can defend myself.

But only if I see them coming.

I changed my name for a second time. The first had been to protect me from the media, and I’d taken Grams’s last name. But this time, I needed to do more than fill out a form. I needed to be a new person. Someone the woman who wanted me dead couldn’t find.

I was getting in my new car, the one registered under “Gray Manning,” and saw Detective Charlie Mead striding toward me. He’d made detective fast, but I wasn’t surprised. He was a smart man and the only person on earth I trusted.

No bad news. I can’t take any more bad news. “Gray Manning,” he said.

It would take a bit of getting used to, I realized.

“Charlie.”

He stopped just short of my car and scratched the back of his neck. I was going to miss him. He was like Rachel, only a big brother rather than a big sister. We’d become friends. I went to his wedding last year. I liked his wife, and she liked me. It was normal. The only normal I’d ever had.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t find her.”

“You tried.”

Trying didn’t satisfy him.

“I’ll keep on it.”

I shook my head. “No prints, no photos, no name. She found me when I transferred from SU. The sketch gave us nothing. This is the only way.”

“I’m not giving up,” he stated. “You deserve to have your life back.”

“No. I don’t want that life. I’m going to make a new one. But I’m going to miss you and Tina.”

“We’ll keep in touch-through that account I set up for you, okay?”

I nodded. “You’re the only one who knows where I’m going.”

“As far as I’m concerned, you’re in witness protection, of sorts.”

Some people might think that a twenty-one-year-old man going into hiding-legally changing his name, burying his past, teaching at a poor public elementary school in Brooklyn to avoid seeing anyone who might know him-was a weak man.

But I need peace. Anonymity that a big city can provide. I need to be someone else. I don’t need to know why someone wants to hurt me just like I don’t need to know why my parents are selfish or why my sister was murdered or why I’m here.

These things just are.

I said, “Thank you.”

“Peter,” Charlie said softly. “If anything feels strange to you, if you think she’s found you, call me, okay? Anytime, day or night.”

“I will.”

But I knew I wouldn’t. If she found me again, she’d kill me.

Because even now, after everything she’d done to me, I don’t think I could kill her.

How can I kill someone I don’t even know?

FBI Academy

Sean had e-mailed Lucy nine articles that Rosemary Weber had written during the month that Tony seemed to have been interested in when he returned to the Weber house. Lucy read them multiple times, made a list of names, places, and facts, and nothing jumped out at her as being important. She put them aside in the wee hours of the morning to sleep for a couple hours, and she woke up tired.

“Great,” she muttered. It was defensive driving time, and Lucy was exhausted.

“Up late?” Reva asked as they walked the half mile to the car track.

“Catching up.”

“I’ll bet. I wouldn’t want to study if I had a boyfriend as hot as yours.”

Lucy shook her head but smiled. Reva was predictable, which made her comfortable.

Carter caught up with them. “How you doing?” he asked Lucy.

“Fine.” She eyed him suspiciously. “Shouldn’t I be?”

“You’ve often said how much you were dreading the driving test.”

“This isn’t a test,” Reva said.

“I don’t like driving, but I got a pep talk from Sean.” Lucy didn’t feel apprehensive like she thought she would. In the whole scheme of things, driving didn’t feel as weighty as it had in the past. Though her rape and near death seven years ago had been traumatic and terrifying, the thought of losing her family was in many ways worse. Talking to Sean about the car accident when she was five had helped her come to terms with her fears.

“He’s a good guy,” Carter said.

“Yes, he is,” Lucy agreed.

Her fellow new agents gathered around the driving instructor, Agent Chris Robinson, and listened to his instructions. The course seemed easy enough. They’d be practicing defensive driving, driving through obstacles, and accident avoidance. No high-speed chases or high-end tactical.

Driving would take all morning, but Robinson had it down to a well-oiled system. Two separate tracks were set up to expedite the lesson.

She looked at the others waiting for their turns behind the wheel. Could one of them have killed Tony? Attempted to kill Hans? Lucy had already ruled out a small group of agents who’d been in the lounge watching a movie until 1:30. Gordon, the gun expert, had been there as well, and she’d learned through him that the group of five had walked back to the dorm together. It would have been extremely unlikely for any of them to have rushed off to the construction site and attacked Hans. Oz was part of the group, and Lucy was relieved. One more of her inner circle cleared.

A van drove up to the edge of the driving track and two people got out. One of them was Rich Laughlin. He looked right at Lucy. She didn’t turn away. She’d been upset Saturday after he told her about the hiring panel; now she was simply angry.

He may have planned to try to upset her, but she wouldn’t allow herself to be intimidated.

When it was Lucy’s turn behind the wheel, she felt Laughlin’s eyes on her. She had a hard time controlling her physical tension-her hands clenched the wheel and her jaw tightened.

Robinson said, “Relax, Kincaid.”

“You should know that I was in a serious accident as a young child. I’ve been a nervous driver most of my life.”

He smiled. “No pressure. All I want you to do right now is get to know your vehicle. Drive around the track twice, keeping your speed at a steady thirty miles an hour. Then we’ll run through the drill. The obstacle course is simple; it’s all about control.”

“Okay.”

“You keep looking at your classmates.”

She hadn’t been; she’d been glancing over to find out where Laughlin was. She didn’t say anything.

“Don’t worry about them-it’s just you, me, and the vehicle. Good. Keep going, one more lap.”

By the time she was done with the second lap she wasn’t focused on Laughlin. She listened to everything Robinson told her to do-speed up, stop, avoid, do a one-eighty-and by the time her session was done she felt good about it.

“Not bad for a nervous driver,” he told her. “You did very well on the obstacle course; you have a good eye. You’re still hesitant to speed up quickly, and you need more confidence with higher speeds, but we have time to work on that. Would you object to two extra sessions over the next two weekends?”

“I’d like that.”

“You won’t be the only one. There’s a half dozen of your class I’ll be working with.”

“Great.” She let out a long breath and got out of the car smiling.

“Not bad, Kincaid,” Carter said as he took her place in the driver’s seat.

They had an hour break for lunch after the driving lessons, and Lucy needed to meet with Noah about the personnel files. She grabbed a sandwich to go and went into the main building.

“Looks like you need to go back to driver’s education,” a voice behind her said.