Kennedy In Denver (In Denver Series Book 1) (4 page)

“Kennedy you have been here for three months, and you haven't spoken a single word. You refuse to have any visitors or participate in any group activities,” Dr. Franklin said.

I remain silent looking out the window watching the ducks swim in the pond before snapping.

”I don't know why I’m here and not in prison!” I said.

“The court has found you not guilty in the death of Henry Lloyd Burns due to your mental state, but you are still court ordered to stay here until we can be sure you aren't a danger to yourself or others. Kennedy, I know you aren't a danger to anyone else, but I can't let you out of here until I am sure you won't harm yourself.”

“I wouldn’t hurt anyone,” I said

“I planned on killing Burns; I watched the bailiff. He never snapped his gun holster. I knew I had less than sixty seconds to grab his weapon and start firing before he recovered from the hit to the face. When Burns blew the kiss at me, the bailiff looked for a reaction from the galley. It was the distraction I needed!” I paused with a grin.

“When I woke up, I was here restrained.”

”Well, Kennedy, here is the reality of the situation you will most likely spend the next year here given everything that has happened. You need a place to find peace as well as get the help you need for your PTSD. At the end of the year, you will be referred to an outpatient therapist.

“I just told you I planned to kill Burns. Aren't you supposed to report it to the police or something?”

Dr. Franklin removed his glasses and blew out a slow breath.

“You did the world a favor, Kennedy. I find myself in an ethical and moral dilemma. When that happens I always choose to do what I feel is morally right.”

“Henry Lloyd Burns deserved to die,” he says while closing his eyes. “The prosecutor had to charge you with a crime. You assaulted an officer of the court and opened fire in a crowded courtroom—on live TV. Your attorney filed for a bench trial. That means the judge only heard your case—no jury required. The judge found you not guilty. Since you were tried in a court of law and found not guilty double jeopardy applies. You can't be tried again for killing him. Since you were already here, I asked that your mental health evaluation be done under my care. Does that answer your question as to why you are here and not in prison?”

“Yes, thank you, Dr. Franklin,” I respond.

“I would advise participating in group therapy as well as agreeing to see your parents and Tristan. I read that you use to play the piano, and you are a fantastic singer. Maybe you should devote this time to finding the things you love again. The only way to heal is to somehow merge the old you and the new you.”

”Thank you, Dr. Franklin.”

“I’m not feeling very musical these days. My old life is over. What kind of life will I have? Who is gonna want to give me a job, teaching music to children? Am I supposed to move back in with my parents? I'm sure the neighbors would love that.”

I cover my face with my hands.

“There isn't a corner of the world my face isn't recognized. I'm a fucking Instagram meme. Do you think I don't hear the staff talking?”

“I hear how I'm the topic of late night TV monologues, and how Vegas is running odds on if I will kill again once I'm released.”

“My favorite is how I'm now a millionaire due to the outpouring of donations to my legal fund, or how many millions I will be worth once I write a memoir. Another patient asked, ‘Who I thought would play me in the movie?’”

“Please explain to me Dr. Franklin how I can possibly have a life. I’ve kept quiet all this time because if I talk, I want to scream!” I vent.  

“I want to scream how glad I am I killed him. How I'm not sorry, and if I could change it—I wouldn't.” 

“I don't want to see my parents because I don't want them dragged back into all this drama. I want my mom to go back to teaching. I want my dad to not have to talk about what I did every time he gets his oil changed or goes to the moose lodge.”

“I don't want Tristan, my only surviving friend, to look at me and have to remember day in and day out that the only girl he ever loved is dead, and I lived! Dr. Franklin, I need to figure this out on my own.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Where will you go Kennedy?” my parents asked as I packed up my room at the Cresthaven Mental health hospital.

"I don't know, Mom. I'm twenty-three years old. I have two degrees in music, but will never be able to teach so I have to find a way to make a life for myself,” I said in frustration.

“I know their worried about me, but I needed to stand on my own. I have to start over it's been a tough three years, but I'm in a good place mentally. I have spent these last couple months in group therapy. Dr. Franklin feels like I'm ready.”

I pause as I look at my concerned parents. “I know you guys want me home, but I don't think Florida is where I need to be right now. I'm definitely not going back to Boston! I guess I have some figuring out to do.”

My dad just gives me a hug and said sadly, "Sweetie, I'm sorry this has happened to you I'm so sorry I can't make it better."

"It’s something that will get better in time,” I tell my dad. “Right now all I can't do is try to figure all this out.”

The knock on the door startled my dad and me out of our hug. I look up to see Dr. Franklin, and I greet him with a smile.

“Kennedy, I'm not sad to see you go,” he said with a smile on his face. “I want you to remember that I'm just a phone call away. We figured that the media attention about your release would be insane, so instead of you leaving next week like we had discussed I am releasing you today. I didn't want to take a chance the information would be leaked.” I'm so shocked I can't say anything so I just nod my head.

“Kennedy,” Dr. Franklin says. “I know this is short notice you haven’t had a chance to make any plans, but I have a suggestion.” I sit on the end of my bed, and my parents join me as we listen to him.  “I have a home in Denver. It's completely secure my wife and I had it built for us, but only lived there for five months before she was offered a teaching fellowship at Columbia. It’s vacant and move-in ready. We just use it as a vacation home. I think it would be a great place for you to figure things out.”

“Yes! That sounds perfect; I don't know how to thank you, Dr. Franklin. I guess I need to finish packing and find a flight.”

“Don't worry about it, baby girl,” my dad says. “I’ll call the airline.”

“There isn't a need Cian. Kennedy can use my family plane. It's fueled and ready whenever she is,” Dr. Franklin announces.

“Why are you doing this?” I ask.

With a heavy sigh, he began, “My family was extremely wealthy; they made their billions in oil and railroads. With that much money there is always the risk of people coming after you. When we were teenagers, my twin sister and I came home from school to find our parents and two younger siblings dead. They had been the victims of a robbery gone wrong. They never caught their killer, and my sister suffered a mental breakdown.”

Dr. Franklin sits in the chair by the door before continuing his story.

“With proper help she got better. That's why I chose to be a psychiatrist. The point of my story is my sister, Emilia asked me to reach out to you. She wanted me to treat you, the court was going to recommend a state funded mental institution, but when Emilia saw the footage, she said she saw so much of herself in you. I contacted the court and asked for your case.  I have never discussed your treatment with anyone. Kennedy, I don't want you to feel like you can't trust me. I would never betray your confidence.”

I clear my throat. “Does your sister live here in New York?”

He looks confused by the question, but answered, “Yes she does. She lives in the city.”

Looking at my parents for support, they nod their heads. “Can you please take me to her I would like to talk. I only need a few minutes of her time.”

Dr. Franklin pulls his phone out never breaking eye contact with me as he talks to her. “Hello, Emi. Are you free? I have someone who would like to speak to you.”

“No, Kennedy would like to speak you in person.”

“Okay. We’ll come around. Love you, sis.” He hung up the phone and asked, “Kennedy are you ready?”

“Yes, Dr. Franklin.”

“Kennedy, please call me Patrick.”

“Mr. & Mrs. Brennan, will you be joining us?”

My dad spoke first “We’re going to pack up this room. If you give us the Denver address, we’ll have all your clothes sent. Just take your bag.”

“Sweetie,” my mom says as she steps forward. “Kennedy, this is as far on the path as we can walk with you. You have to take these next steps on your own. Dr. Franklin has assured us you are well enough to handle your affairs. The lawyers have released the money that has been set up in trust for you.” She hands me a large envelope “Governor DeWitt has arranged a temporary identity for you; he said you have nothing to worry about. If anyone attempts to find out anything about you, he will handle it on his end. Everything is set up under Siobhan Gallagher.”

“We love you so much.” I felt like I was hugging my parents for the last time. I joined Dr. Franklin in the hall.

We remained silent during the car ride to the city and the drive was short. When we pulled up to Emilia's brownstone, Dr. Franklin turned to me and said, “I'm going to be right across the street at that coffee shop. I think you came to see Emilia because you need answers I can't give you. I will be right here when you're done.” Standing at the door to the brownstone, I hesitated to knock, but the door swings open. Emilia smiled and opened her arms. I just stepped into her hug. I think my soul recognized someone else who was broken. Emilia just hugged me and spoke softly to me as we made our way to the living room. She continued to speak softly, and it was fifteen minutes until I was able to speak.
 

"Did you have a normal life after what happened to your family?”

She chuckled lightly, “I would like to think my life has been more than normal. I’ve had a wonderful career, amazing friends, an epic love, and now I can say in all of my fifty years I have lived my life to the fullest. You will have a different course, Kennedy. There was no social media or paparazzi when I went through my struggles. It will be more difficult for you. What happened to you and your friends, and what unfolded at the trial has become a media sensation.”

I walk over to her fireplace mantle and look at the pictures of her life. She has pictures of Dr. Franklin and a really beautiful, brightly-dressed woman. She has pictures of her and handsome man all over the world.

“You are the face of an entire movement. We are fed up with violence against women not getting taken serious enough. Go to Denver. Regroup, figure out your next steps, but also find your voice. Don't let that monster silence you any longer.” I leaned over and hugged her

“Do you need anything, Kennedy? Do you need money?”

“No, Emilia, apparently I have two hundred million dollars! I don't need money, but I need something. I don't think your brother can help me with. I need to not be me for a while. I was given a new name, but I still look like me can you help me before I leave for Denver. When I step off that plane, I want to Siobhan Gallagher. I need to leave Kennedy Brennan behind.”

“Oh darling.” Emilia laughed. “I'm a socialite we reinvent yourself every ten years. Sit tight. I am going to tell my brother you will be leaving tomorrow he will pick you up from here in the morning. Let me make some calls.”

After hours with a stylist and hairdresser and makeup artist, I looked in the mirror and couldn't even recognize myself! Gone was my red hair. In its place were soft blonde locks. They cascaded in soft waves down my back all the way down to my tailbone. My freckles were hidden behind a thin layer of foundation. My college style jeans and sweater with my signature Converse were replaced with a mix of vintage and new designs. Today, I was in a tan and red H&M dress with long sleeves, and a pair of nude heels finished the look. My scars were almost invisible now. The one across my neck was hidden by a high neckline. My green eyes now were covered by light brown contacts. It felt strange to not have my glasses on my face. Emilia sat back taking it all in,

“I think they did a fantastic job! What do you think?” she asked.

“I love it! I know every dime will be worth it! What do I owe for all of this?”

Again, Emilia laughed and said, “Nothing dear. This is a gift from me to you. All of this is being packed and sent with you! The stylist has your measurements and will send you items each month at my expense. Maxie will fly to Denver to take care of your color treatments. Everyone has signed an NDA; they know they are not to discuss anything done here. You are leaving the old Kennedy behind. Once you walk off that plane in Denver you’ll have your fresh start.”  

“How will I ever thank you for this Emilia?”

She leans forward for a hug. “Thank me by finding your voice again. I hope you find your peace in Denver.”

She looked at me as I walked to the door and said, “Live, dear. I want you to find a career that fulfills you, have amazing friends, and find an epic love.”

I stepped out of her brownstone with my bags and a smile. Dr. Franklin smiled at me from the curb. “I'm glad you went to Emilia for this because I surely would have mucked this up,” he said with a hearty laugh.