Walk In My Shadow: A Gripping Romantic Thriller (Mirror Book 3): A Mirror Novel (14 page)

T
he next morning
, Abby slid out of Vance’s empty bed and into the shower. She wasn't offended that Vance hadn't stayed in bed to cuddle. He knew she wasn't the sentimental type. What had happened last night, just like the other times they'd been together, had served to bond them more. She didn't need someone on her every second to prove that.

So she dried her hair and pulled it back, noting that Vance had, at some point, folded her clothes from the night before. She dragged them back on, planning on heading back to her house to change before work.

Work.

Mary.

Dammit.

She was still stewing about all of that, sitting on the edge of Vance's bed, when he came over and sat down next to her—and handed her a mug of coffee.

She accepted it gratefully.

"I'll help you," he started, and when she frowned, he added, "With the Mary shit. I'll help."

"You or the CIA?"

"One and the same, right?"

"A question with a question—that's what I expect from both of you," she muttered. "And no, it's not necessarily one and the same."

"So, which do you want?"

"I'm not sure," she said honestly. She'd been thinking of asking Teige—or Jacoby—to help Mary. Because Vance had enough troubles of his own. "I've got to do this soon. Testifying's not in her best interest."

"It never is," Vance said roughly.

"So what do I do?"

"Talk to her. Be honest about her chances. You can't make the decision for her, but you can give her the information and let the decision be hers," Vance told her. "It's what you would've wanted, yes?"

"Yes," she agreed, thinking back to those days before he had to constantly look over her shoulder. She'd been helpless, dragged along into someone else's nightmare, so she was quite cognizant of and empathetic to her witnesses' predicaments. Especially the kids. She knew what it was like to be considered too young for your choice to matter.

* * *

"
M
ary
, we have to talk."

Mary looked resolute. "I almost want to hear about the serial killer shit again, but I have a feeling I won't be that lucky this time."

Abby gave her a small smile and shook her head.

"It's about the trial, right?"

"I'm supposed to prep you," Abby told her.

Mary frowned. "Supposed to?"

"I'm supposed to tell you that you'll be escorted to the courthouse and then you'll testify. At that point…" Abby sighed. "I won't see you again. You won't come back here. Your things will be packed for you."

"But…what about protection?"

"According to the documents, it was contingent on your testimony. There was no explicit promise post-testimony that protection would continue."

"They wanted me alive to convict him but then I'm on my own." Mary sounded both resolved and bitter.

"You can keep this identity, but once your ex is in prison, they'll feel that you'll be moderately safe."

"Right." Mary tightened her arms around herself. "And if I don't testify?"

"Your ex definitely won't be prosecuted. You're the key. But that doesn't ensure that he'll leave you alone," Abby told her honestly.

"If I don't show up for court, he'll have no reason to seek me out though."

"You'd have to run, Mary," Abby reminded her gently. "Because the FBI knows. They'll hold you in contempt. Your protection is contingent upon you helping them."

"Shit." She paused. "If I testify, I can come back here, right? Use this name. I'll just be taking my chances."

"Yes."

"And if I demand protection?"

"You might get it, you might not. And if you do get it, you'll definitely be forced to leave here and lose contact with anyone you've met." Mary's face clouded and Abby figured she was thinking about Josh. "How much does Josh know?" she prodded.

"I didn't tell him about the protection, or who I am. But he suspects my last relationship was bad. That I was abused. I didn't correct his assumptions. He's been…amazing. For the first time, I've found someone good for me and good to me. And now I'm supposed to leave him?" She paused for a breath. "And yet, if I stay, I'm putting him in danger."

"Yes," was all Abby could say. "There's no good answer."

"Why are you telling me all this? Can't you get into big trouble?" Mary asked.

"Yes," Abby repeated. "But it's too important for me not to tell you. You've come really far, and I couldn't live with myself if I didn't lay out your options."

* * *

V
ance met
up with Knox while Abby was safely tucked away in her office. He'd been doing surveillance from a couple of blocks over, not wanting to deal with any of her supervisors or fellow marshals noticing him, but he refused to stay that far away.

The diner across the street seemed the best place. He could sit and pretend to work while watching for her out the window. And there was food.

Knox strode in and took the seat across from him in the booth. Vance could tell by his friend's countenance that he'd been heavily in thought, and it was weighing on him.

"Hey, how's Abby?" was the first thing Knox asked, without the usual flirt he'd give to piss Vance off.

"She's better. Less meds and more mobility." Vance motioned for the waitress and he and Knox both ordered lunch—grilled cheese for Knox and a burger for Vance.

"How involved is she?" Knox asked finally, cutting through the small talk of sports and shit right after the waitress brought their drinks.

"Depends on what you mean by involved." He'd been reluctant to do so to her, any more than he had already. Kidnapping Abby was definitely not CIA-sanctioned, but checking her strength for recruiting was. So far, the CIA upper echelon hadn't said boo about what he'd done. Probably thought he was playing along. He tried to shift the subject by asking, "You thinking of going back into the field?"

Knox shrugged. "Maybe. I can't say I'm hating it here at the moment but…"

"You'll get restless."

"People like us aren't meant to stay in one place very long."

He was right, of course. But being with Abby made him want to stay in one place for the first time ever—right by her side.

He didn't tell Knox that. Hell, Knox probably knew, because not much got by him.

"Leila's back in town," Knox finally admitted after the waitress put down their dishes.

"I heard." He took a bite of his burger, chewed thoughtfully, then asked, "Still wary?"

"Cautious," Knox corrected. Vance didn't see much of a difference between the two descriptives, but he supposed that meant Knox had accepted Leila's circling. Vance was fairly certain Knox was doing a lot of circling of his own.

If Leila was going to hurt his friend, Vance suspected it would've happened already.

"Cautious, which is something you're not," Knox suddenly continued.

Vance pushed his food away. "Is this where the lecture comes in?"

"Yes."

"Well go ahead. I'm not stopping you."

Knox frowned. "You've made her a target, V. You showed this guy that she's important to you. You fucked her over as badly as you fucked yourself."

Ethan hadn't let many CIA people in on his issue, but Knox had always been a part of their inner circle. "She knows I'm the object of the stalking," he told Knox now.

"So what now?"

"I'll deal with it."

"That's what Ethan said," Knox said quietly. Respectfully. And still, it took everything Vance had not to punch Knox in the face.

Instead, Vance stood and walked away from him, out of the diner and down the block. Everyone was on his side and still, he'd be forced to walk away from all of them, the same way Ethan had to.

And look where it had gotten Ethan.

Vance recalled threatening to follow Ethan to the ends of the earth, but his brother had made that virtually impossible to do, thanks to the jobs he'd chosen. Somehow, the man who stalked Ethan hadn't encountered the same difficulties.

The relationship with Abby was another matter. Ethan had always kept her close, and that never made sense to Vance. Not until the second Vance kissed her, and then it all fell into place. Fucking Ethan and his soul mate bullshit.

"You got her to me, Ethan. Got yourself goddamned killed in the process. What the hell am I supposed to do with that?" Vance whispered to the sky.

No one answered.

A
bby went
to the office after speaking with Mary. It was early and she needed to shake off the sense that maybe she'd done wrong by Mary, in more ways than one.

But she'd followed her heart, and she'd done it to help Mary protect herself. That was never the wrong thing.

She'd also done the right thing there—she knew that. And so she forced herself to settle in and do some routine paperwork that she'd been behind on. Then she glanced over Mary's newest intake sheet that had her testifying very soon—and the directives that came with it—and once she signed off on it, she chatted with some of her fellow marshals. Nothing out of the ordinary. It was quiet. Almost too quiet, and that raised her antennas, badly.

In fact, she'd been about to call Vance to mention her serious case of the creeps when her cell rang. She grabbed for it and saw it was Mary.
Shit.
"Hey, what's up?"

"Abby?" Mary's voice was a shaking whisper and Abby was up and moving toward her truck immediately in response.

"What's wrong? Where are you?"

"Someone was in my apartment."

"I'm coming there."

"I left—fast. I ran back to the store. I'm with Josh."

"Good. Stay there. I'll call you." Abby was already pulling up to the building, the benefits of placing Mary so close to her office, and the very reason she did so.

She didn't notice Vance, and she was angry for noticing that he wasn't doing his usual bodyguarding. Because it didn't matter—this was her job and the flicker of anger grew bigger for nearly getting dependent on having Vance around.

Slowly, she made her way into Mary's building, scanning the lot for anything suspicious and seeing nothing there. She'd learned that witnesses spooked easily and that calling for backup on their word alone always made the marshal in question look like the foolish rookie they were.

She had Mary's keys and didn't bother knocking. If anyone was inside, they'd be expecting Mary and they'd get an unwelcome surprise.

Abby felt a chill in the room. It was early spring, so the temperatures did cycle through rapid changes but still…

She rubbed her goosebumped arms, having left her jacket in the car in favor of being able to move more freely. Her weapon was drawn, at her side once she checked the three small rooms and came up blank. No open or broken windows, no sign that anyone tampered with anything except the lingering air of suspicion.

It was then Abby noticed the pictures on the floor by the window with the fire escape. Dammit. She flipped them over and, upon a quick scan of the contents, opened the window and climbed out to look around.

Nothing. No one. It was two in the afternoon, so most people were working. Kids at school. Someone running would've stood out, and whoever did this was smart enough not to stick around.

The someone who did this hadn't left these pictures for Mary, either.

Abby went back inside, locked the window and picked the pictures up after she pulled on a pair of gloves from her pocket—she always kept a pair on her so she could do any quick evidence grab without ruining it.

She stared at the first of the pictures, ignoring the slight tremble in her hand as she stared at the glossy surface in disbelief. The photographer had captured her and Vance, walking together. His hand was on her wrist and his face was in profile as he stared at her intently.

In love.

She, on the other hand, was angry. Looking straight ahead. This was when she'd discovered Mary would be testifying next week.

But unlike Vance, Abby's eyes had been blacked out with black pen, her mouth taken over by a heavy black X.

There was no doubt who'd left it here, but it hadn't been done in a careless attempt. Nothing this stalker did was careless—this was calculated enough to scare Mary into calling Abby.

There wasn't time to mull that over—this confirmed what Vance told her, that she wasn't the stalker's target. Never had been. His sights had been set on Ethan first. Now they were squarely on Vance…and she was the only thing standing in his way.

"And I always will be, you motherfucker," she whispered fiercely before pocketing the picture, even though her instincts were to rip it to shreds…because she knew the stalker was watching her every goddamned move.

She was about to start watching his as well.

She assumed the second photo would be more of the same, but it was a hell of a lot worse, a photograph of a letter Abby had written herself many months ago. One she'd put in a drawer and all but forgotten about. Now, the words leached back into her heart, ripping at it with tiny, effective claws.

D
ear Ethan
,

T
his is
the best way I know how to tell you how I'm feeling. I'm tired of going to sleep each night, wanting. Wanting to be whole, to feel the kind of all-out, passionate love that I've seen but never had. I don't want to wake up alone anymore. There's trouble coming, according to Willa's tarot reading. Big trouble. I don't want to believe her, but she's always been right.

We're both supposed to watch out. I don't know anything more.

If I don't send this, if I don't end things with you, I'll go the rest of my life with an emptiness that I can't afford.

-
A
bby

S
he'd never sent it
, because they'd broken up soon after and she didn't see the need to turn the knife. They'd ended things as friends. And since she'd stopped hearing from him, in her own way she'd been mourning for him since.

She hadn't wanted to believe he'd died, but in her heart, she'd known. After they'd broken up and he'd gone MIA, she'd gone to Willa Mueller and her tarot cards for help. The reading told Abby both she and Ethan were in trouble—of the "separate but equal" variety.

Abby had assumed her trouble was being kidnapped by a serial killer, because what normal person wouldn't? But nothing about her life had ever truly been normal. There was no use for her to keep trying to pretend in order to make it so. Because who got kidnapped by the CIA, only to find themselves protected by them?

Her life mirrored Mary's, far more than Abby would like to admit.

She pocketed that photo as well, locked up, called Mary and told her it was nothing for her to worry about. Because it wasn't—it was all Abby and Vance's problem, and she had a sinking feeling things were about to get a lot worse.

* * *

V
ance still wasn't
outside Mary's apartment building. She dialed his number as she started her truck.

"What's up?"

She resisted the urge to ask him where he was. "We need to talk."

"Your place?"

"Yes. In ten."

"I'll be there."

He must've been closer than she was, because he was already inside her house when she got there. He opened the door for her, saying, "I swept the place—it's clean."

She waited until she got in and closed the door behind her before saying, "Mary's wasn't."

"What are you talking about?"

She explained Mary's phone call, then pulled the pictures out and showed him the first one, with her eyes blacked out. "This was waiting on the floor."

"This was from yesterday," Vance said carefully.

"It's like the stalker knows that you told me he's after you, not me. If anything, this hits us over the head with it."

"What else?"

"
What else
is a major problem. The guy's been inside my house. Inside my desk." She pulled the other picture out and suddenly felt very vulnerable, but pushed ahead. "I wrote this letter to Ethan, but I never sent it. It was inside my desk drawer."

She showed him the picture of the letter. Vance stared at it and shook his head, wearing an expression she didn't recognize. "This letter isn't at your place. It's at mine."

"What are you talking about?" She went over to her desk and opened the drawer. There was some paper in there, but the letter, which had been shoved under everything, was gone. "I must've misplaced it…or the fucker took it."

"He didn't take it, Abby."

"How do you know?"

"Because I did."

* * *

H
e'd been hoping
he wouldn't have to admit that he'd taken the letter, never mind read it. Like a million goddamned times.

But he could admit to himself that he'd loved Abby for a while, probably since he'd read the damned thing.

She was still staring at him, trying to make sense of what he said. "You took the letter. From my house."

"Yes."

"When?"

Here we go… "Before Ethan died."

"Before Ethan died? Dammit, I've got to stop sounding like a parrot. What the fuck, Vance?"

"He sent me in. He was worried after you were attacked. He wanted to make sure the stalker hadn't planted anything, and as you know, that requires a lot of poking around. I swear, it was all about your safety."

She believed him—he could see it in her countenance. But she was also still wary and more than a little pissed. "I never sent it to Ethan—never read it to him or anything. For obvious reasons."

"I never told him about it. But…" He paused. "You were going to break up."

"Right before I was kidnapped," she agreed. "It was too much. All of it. And I was watching my brother and Kayla, and what they had. Even though they were in so much danger, they still had so much more than I did with Ethan. And maybe it was an unfair comparison—"

"They're your feelings," Vance told her.

"They were my truth."

"Abby, it was like looking into your soul. And it wasn't my place and I tried to look away, or at least be angry on Ethan's behalf. But I couldn't. I didn't. I wanted someone who thought like you in my life. I wanted
you
in my life," he said, stridently enough to startle her. When he continued, his tone was gentler. "I never expected this. I couldn't have planned it, but it's here and I'm damned well not letting it slip through my fingers."

She didn't say anything for a long moment. He held his breath until she finally asked, "You know all about me, right?"

"Yes," he said hesitantly.

"Everything?" she persisted.

"I don't know your favorite ice cream, but the serial killer thing? Both times? Yes."

"It's chocolate," she said decisively. "And thank God. You can't imagine what a drag the serial killer conversation is to have."

She was
happy
he knew her past. "I'll never get women," he muttered.

"Best you don't even try."