be sad, Janie,” she said in a voice dripping with a practiced honey-sweetness. “I know this is hard. But your life belongs to you, and you have to live it as you were meant to. No more dreaming. No more wondering, baby girl. We are on the verge of our time. We have to take it together. We have no choice in the matter.”
A tear rolled, but Janie didn’t say a word.
“You know what we are?” Brenda asked. “You know what brought us together?”
Janie bit down on her lower lip. “We’re soul mates,” she said.
Brenda relaxed her frown, and her eyes brightened.
“Don’t ever doubt that,” she said. “Don’t ever. I know that God or some higher power—whatever She is—has brought us together. That’s right. The world will be all over us. You know that. They’ll be watching and hunting and trying to stop us from doing what we must do.”
“I guess so,” Janie said, a tinge of fear clearly evident in her voice.
Brenda reached across the table and grabbed Janie by the shoulders.
“Get a grip,” she said, her tone still compassionate, but a bit more forceful. “This moment will not only set us free but will define the future for so many others. The world will be watching, and we’ll need to tell them the reasons behind everything we’re doing.”
“To help them, right?” Janie asked.
It was more than a question, almost an affirmation.
Brenda gave her head a slight nod.
“Yes,” she answered. “It isn’t about just us. Just you and me. I wish both of us could have come from other circumstances. Backgrounds free of the torment that sent us here . . . me to be a zoo animal, you to be my zookeeper. But life isn’t fair. I get that. Life is what we make it. We’re the example of living with authenticity.”
Brenda watched Janie as a cat watches the family goldfish that twirls in the waters of its bowl.
Like the betta fish on Janie’s desk.
“And we’ll help people, right?” Janie repeated.
Exasperation was in order. Maybe a little bit of the takeaway.
Brenda threw up her hands. “God, are you even listening?” she asked as she let out a sigh. It was the kind of nonverbal punctuation with which she was particularly skilled. She was good with words. Good with presenting her concepts, no matter how outlandish. Repulsive even.
She could sell peed-on snow to an Eskimo.
“Really?” Brenda asked, drawing back as though she had been disgusted by Janie’s words. “Really? This isn’t about us. This is about the world. That’s why we need to get our act together and get out of here. I didn’t do any of those things they pinned on me. None of them.”
Janie stayed quiet. Brenda was a lot of things, but Janie was all but certain that being a liar was not among the litany of attributes to which others might ascribe to her.
“Are you with me, baby?” Brenda asked. “Are you about to let go of the past and be what God wants us to be? She’s calling for us. She wants us to be together, and yes, my love, She wants us to help others.”
Brenda was all about empowerment.
“She loves us, doesn’t She?” Janie asked. Before Brenda, Janie never used the feminine personal pronoun for God. It felt funny when she did it, but also emboldening.
“More like adores,” Brenda said.
Janie let her body relax.
It felt so good to be loved for who she was.
“I’ll be ready tonight,” Janie said. “I’ll send for you.”
BOOK ONE
KARA
CHAPTER ONE
Homicide investigator Kendall Stark didn’t know it, but she wouldn’t be in need of a second tuxedo mocha that morning as she arrived in her offices at the Kitsap County Sheriff’s Office in Port Orchard.
The email link that was about to be forwarded to her would provide enough of a jolt.
The new public- and media-relations specialist, Daphne Brown, cornered the detective and spoke with a kind of breathless excitement that tempered everything that came out of her mouth.
East Port Orchard Elementary wants you to talk about stranger danger safety! Tonight!
We are out of creamer in the break room! Where do we keep it? I need some!
We have a serial killer on the loose!
Do you like my hair this way?
Kendall said good morning and waited for whatever urgent missive only-one-speed Daphne had.
“We’ve already heard from all the morning shows,” Daphne said. “I’m so excited. They want you on.”
Kendall shook her head. “I’m not doing it,” Kendall said. “I’m not doing any of it. I’ve learned my lesson.”
Daphne pulled at one of her curls, and it bounced back into position. “You don’t even know what it’s about,” she said. “How can you say that?”
“Its not a what, Daphne. It’s a who, and I know that the who is Brenda Nevins.”
The younger woman’s eyes widened, but before she could speak, Kendall preempted her.
“There’s nothing you can do,” Kendall said. “I’m not required to go on camera. You are. You can do it.”
Daphne dialed down her pushy enthusiasm. She’d been to a conference in Seattle the week before and had learned new techniques to influence what she considered a “resistant personality type.”
Daphne fiddled with her department-issued smartphone.
“You better watch the link I’m about to send you.”
“Why?” Kendall asked.
Daphne glanced up, a satisfied look on her face.
“Watch it,” she said. “Then call me so I can work my PR magic.”
Kendall didn’t acknowledge Daphne’s boast. She had no plan whatsoever of encouraging Ms. Brown to do anything, let alone work any kind of self-professed public relations hocus-pocus. She was so sick of Brenda Nevins that she couldn’t imagine enduring one more minute of thinking about her. Brenda was on the front page. Brenda was the top-of-the-hour news. Brenda had even been featured on the front page of USA Today. She was a murderous prison escapee, and that made her a problem for the special agents of the FBI, not the investigators from the local Kitsap County Sheriff’s Office. Not for
