Shattered

Book 14: A Michael Bennett Thriller

by James Patterson, James O. Born

Genres: Police Procedurals

Synopsis

Brought to you by Penguin.

After returning from his honeymoon, Detective Michael Bennett is greeted with the shocking news that FBI agent Emily Parker is missing.

Determined to track down his former partner, Bennett follows Emily's investigation into an anarchist group that led her between Los Angeles, New York and Washington, DC.

Lurid rumours begin to surface about Emily's disappearance, but Bennett will never give up hope of finding her.

After everything they've been through together, he owes her that much.

© James Patterson 2022 (P) Penguin Audio 2022

Release date: July 18, 2022

Publisher: Little, Brown and Company

Print pages: 384

Sample

Prologue

Early morning was one of her favorite times of the day. The sun had just cracked the horizon and traffic was still light. She was in training for the Marine Corps Marathon and intended to put in some decent miles today to make sure she was ready to race in November.

On her way to the Potomac, she would’ve run in the grass to protect her knees and work a little harder, but an early autumn drizzle had fallen overnight, and the road was as damp as she could manage. She’d already cut through President’s Park and was almost halfway through Foggy Bottom.

When she approached the Potomac River Freeway, shit started to get weird.

She wasn’t paranoid, but her instinct cued danger. She dismissed the feeling at first and kept her pace. Finally, as she came up on a clump of trees and bushes, she slowed to a jog, backward. She justified that she was following advice from a series of monthly columnists in Runner’s World, using all the muscles in her legs from different angles.

She worked her quadriceps as her eyes scanned the road and buildings in every direction. Nothing.

It was just her mind playing tricks. It had been an odd, emotional week. That was half the reason for the long run. To dig her way out of the funk she was in.

She fell back into the rhythm of her run. Her ASICS Gel trainers barely tapped the ground as she mentally prepared to sprint. That’s when she felt a cramping sensation in her shoulders. It was the grip of someone’s hands.

She involuntarily let out a sound like “Yoww.” And just like she’d been trained in countless defensive tactics classes, she swung first her left elbow then her right behind her. The blows didn’t seem to make a solid connection.

Now the strong hands were around her throat. She had to break free before the grip managed to cut off her wind. Now she felt the panic shooting through her. Her heart felt like it was racing at almost two hundred beats a minute.

She tried to yell for help just as a hand closed on the front of her throat and cut off her breath before it could build into a scream.

That’s when the attacker’s grip loosened.

The rising sun and the streetlight cast a blurry glare over the attacker’s facial features. Both hands turned her around, clamped around her throat, and suddenly restricted airflow to her lungs.

She looked at the attacker in shock. Her vision started to swim. Somehow she managed to croak, “This is a mistake.”

Chapter 1

Did you hear that?”

I listened for a moment and said, “What?”

Mary Catherine said, “It sounded like a growl.”

I stifled a laugh. “You mean like a wolf or a bear?”

“It certainly wasn’t a poodle in a purse like we’d see in Manhattan.”

“They haven’t had predators like that in Ireland for hundreds of years. Maybe it’s the hound of the Baskervilles. Like in the movie where Basil Rathbone played Sherlock Holmes. A Great Dane. Ha.”

We were near the top of Howth Head, a short drive from Dublin. My wife of nine days was hearing the calls of imaginary wildlife. Or was she? I froze for a moment and heard the low, guttural growl of a large animal.

As I pulled myself up the last incline, I saw it. I slowly stood up and held both my hands out. I said in a soft voice, “Hey there.” I was staring into the eyes of a black Rottweiler that had to be at least 120 pounds. I tried to signal to Mary Catherine to stay on the lower part of the path. I heard her quick intake of air and knew she saw the dog too.

It dipped its head and growled again. The muscles in its shoulders and back popped as it moved slowly from side to side. The hair on its back stiffened. I wanted to tell Mary Catherine to run, but that might attract the dog’s attention.

Our eyes met. I assessed the risk of facing down a dangerous animal. Then I noticed something. Just a hint of a movement. In the stub of its tail. On a whim I said, “Who’s a good boy?”

The tail started wagging, fast, like a metronome trying to beat out the rhythm to “Flight of the Bumblebee.” I stood up straight. The dog waddled toward me, tail still shooting back and forth. The dog’s thick fur felt nice between my fingers. The dog rubbed against my leg, looking for more attention.

Mary Catherine climbed the few steps up to me and said, “You make friends wherever you go. You think it’s lost?”

I shook my head as I rubbed the dog’s back. It was well cared for. I kneeled to get a look at the tag on the collar.

Just then, a boy, about seven, appeared on the path in front of us. He called out, “C’mere, Lulubell.” The dog turned and followed the boy. They trotted away together without another look back.

Mary Catherine said, “Lulubell. Of course a female found Michael Bennett charming.” She wrapped her arms around me from behind and kissed me on the shoulder in relief. I had to turn around and give her a kiss on the lips.

I couldn’t believe how great this trip had been, how different it was from my everyday life. It was the first time we’d ever been able to let go together. No work, no kids, and no responsibilities.

It was the last full day of our honeymoon in Ireland. I couldn’t have wanted to accomplish any more. We had connected with some of Mary Catherine’s family and even met a few of my grandfather’s cousins. Their favorite saying was that everyone in Ireland had a cousin in New York City.

As we were starting our hike back to the car, Mary Catherine said she wanted to play a game. Name one of our children, she said, softening her command with a smile, and their most obvious attribute. Quick as I could.

Mary Catherine started by saying, “Juliana, talented. Jane, smart. Brian, determined. Ricky, funny. Trent, thoughtful.”

When she paused for breath, I jumped in. “Eddie, spontaneous. Fiona, clever. Bridget, serene. Shawna, loving. Chrissy, sweet.” I took a quick breath and said, “Great game—I win.”

Mary Catherine went to give me a playful shove, but I turned so she fell into my embrace. Then we exchanged a long, loving kiss until we found ourselves lying in clover, making out like teenagers.

I had to whisper to her, “I’ve never been this happy, and you’ve never looked so beautiful.”

Chapter 2

Mary Catherine giggled when I tried to fit my six-foot-three frame in the bed in our cozy bed-and-breakfast.

She said, “You look like a cartoon giraffe who goes to the veterinarian and can’t fit on the table.”

“I know this is supposed to be an ‘authentic inn,’ but this is ridiculous. Ireland is not a land of short people. How is it that they have a bed only big enough for a Hobbit?”

Mary Catherine slid into the bed next to me. Suddenly the length of the bed no longer mattered. And I was glad for the narrow width. I liked Mary Catherine right next to me.

We gazed out the handblown glass window into the starry night over Dublin. Mary Catherine’s fingers played with my hair as I gently made circles with my finger along her neck and shoulders. I could listen to her gentle laugh for days.

Suddenly it turned into a wild night. Not exactly what I’d expected but just as much fun.

We lay together in bed, both of us panting from the exertion. My head was still swimming, trying to process everything we’d just done, even wondering if we had broken anything. I halfway anticipated a noise complaint. If this were a drug, I could understand becoming an addict.

Mary Catherine laughed and said, “God, I’ve never seen you like that before.”

“How often are we away from our lives like this, where we can just let go?”

“Michael Bennett, you always amaze me. Just when I think I’ve seen every side of you, you surprise me. Making love like that was very non-American.”

“What’s that mean?”

She snuggled up close and wrapped her arm across my chest. “I just like comparing the American ideas of romance with the European ways. But make no mistake, there was no precedent for what we did tonight.”

“What’s the difference between us?” I was truly interested. Like many American men, I felt a little insecure when compared to the romantic reputations of the French or Italians.

“Europeans are attentive and experienced. Americans are enthusiastic and fun. What we did tonight was just plain wild.”

“I know. I think I strained my back.”

After she finished laughing, Mary Catherine said, “A woman has different moods. It’s good that Europeans and Americans look at romance differently.” After a little pause, she added, “It doesn’t matter. I still only love you.”

“Wait. What does that mean?” I tried not to shout it in surprise.

She kissed me on the forehead and chuckled. This was one of the most interesting and funny women I’d ever met.

I felt something vibrate. Before I could even ask Mary Catherine what it was, she said, “Someone called you. Your phone is on vibrate.”

I leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “Beautiful and smart. You’re the total package.” Another playful shove from her almost knocked me off the tiny bed. I reached over to the night table and picked up my cell phone.

Mary Catherine said, “Is it one of the kids or your grandfather?”

“No. It looks like Emily Parker tried to call a few different times.”

Mary Catherine said, “You can call her back. I don’t mind.”

I may have been married only nine days, but I knew better than to fall into a trap like that. Besides, it had to be related to a case. I was on vacation. I turned to Mary Catherine and said, “I’ll give her a call tomorrow from the airport.”

I turned back to look at my beautiful bride. Her hair looked like she’d just ridden on a motorcycle without a helmet. Blond strands darted in every direction. It was a good look.

She lazily stretched in the bed, then turned to me and said, “Have you ever thought about having more babies?”

I let out a laugh. “Of course. Who ever heard of stopping at just ten kids?”

It turned out Mary Catherine’s sleepy look was a deception. The night turned wild once again.

Chapter 3

The next day we were at Dublin Airport, waiting for our Aer Lingus flight to New York. I flinched slightly as I leaned down to pick up my carry-on bag.

Mary Catherine patted me on the butt. She laughed and said, “Looks like someone suffered some injuries last night.”

“Just a sore back. I might be able to attribute it to the small bed.”

“Or you might attribute it to a new wife.”

“That’s more likely, but I was trying to be polite.” It was all I could do not to groan. I needed to hang from a chin-up bar for about three hours to decompress my spine.

It was late in the evening and I figured it to be about four o’clock on the East Coast of the US. We called the kids for a quick chat and to tell them we’d be home at midnight. The time change confused everyone. I’d learned, after eighteen years of being a father, it was much better to warn them exactly when we were coming than it was to surprise them.

Each of the kids home at this hour filed past the phone for a quick hello. Trent was the outlier. He was bursting with some big news and couldn’t wait to tell us. He wouldn’t even give us a hint now. The call eased my back pain and put me in a good mood.

I had made a call that morning to Emily Parker. It had gone straight to voicemail. I didn’t think anything of it. I didn’t mind calling Emily during my vacation. Even if it was related to a case. She was my friend first. We worked well together. Never mind that the New York FBI assistant special agent in charge, Robert Lincoln, was still pissed off they’d been frozen out of a serial killer case just before I got married.

Mary Catherine had said earlier, “Maybe she’s sleeping in.”

I knew Emily Parker better than that. The FBI agent rarely sat still, let alone slept in. I tried her once more before our flight took off, but I assumed she would’ve already reached out again if it was urgent.

Aside from having to put a pillow and a blanket on my seat to ease the aching in my back, the flight was remarkably uneventful. Even the ride from JFK to the Upper West Side was smooth. My excitement was building at seeing the kids. This was by far the longest I had ever been away from them. Even though we had spoken every day, I missed each kid in a different way. I needed a hug from Chrissy, and insight into basketball from Brian, and a decent meal from Ricky.

We were lucky to have my grandfather, Seamus, gladly take time out from his work at the parish and supervise in our absence. The three oldest kids, Juliana, Jane, and Brian, were expected to do their part as well, though Juliana was always excused if she had an audition for an acting role. We’d been gone so long I didn’t know exactly what to expect: the city a nuclear wasteland, our building a shell, or a regime change in which my twins, Fiona and Bridget, were now in charge.

As we pulled up to the building on West End Avenue at close to midnight, everything seemed fine. I let out a breath I’d inadvertently been holding. Maybe I was more concerned about Seamus supervising the kids than I should have been. All was normal.

Until I opened the front door of the building and saw a body lying on the floor of the lobby.

Chapter 4

My police training and instincts told me to jump into action. I fell to the lobby floor next to the body and slid on the waxed faux terrazzo.

It took only a moment for my brain to click into the first-aid course I took as a yearly refresher. CPR had so many acronyms and mnemonic devices that the learning aids seemed to cancel each other out. I started with the most obvious: I checked his pulse at the carotid artery in his neck. He had one. A strong pulse.

He was breathing. And he stank. Of alcohol. So that was why he was passed out on the floor. His gray hair was cut into a flattop. His ruddy face told me he’d spent a lot of time outdoors and drank a little too much.

Where the hell was the doorman, Darnell?

Mary Catherine already had her phone out, about to dial 911, when the elevator door opened. All we could do was stare at the image in front of us. My grandfather, Seamus, and the doorman, Darnell, were supporting another man on either side. The man was semiconscious and trying to sing an old Irish ballad, but I couldn’t figure out which one. A blue cap covered his silver, nicely styled hair.

As soon as he noticed us in the lobby, my grandfather blurted out, “Oh, shit.”

I stood up from the man on the floor and said, “The only excuse that will keep me from being pissed off is that these are some kind of half-assed elderly home invaders and you fought them off.”

My grandfather’s frozen expression would have been almost comical if I wasn’t worried about the children and what the hell had happened. Seamus and Darnell helped the man out of the elevator and deposited him on one of the decorative, uncomfortable Louis XVI chairs along the wall.

Then my grandfather turned and gave Mary Catherine a hug and a kiss on the cheek. He did the same to me with very little reciprocity. Then he stood right in front of me. I realized, to his credit, he was sober.

Seamus said, “Don’t worry about the kids.”

Mary Catherine let out an “Oh, thank God.”

Seamus smiled and said, “Ricky won a bundle. But you’re going to need to buy more of that Villa Wolf Pinot Noir.”

“What are we going to do with your two buddies?”

“I’ve already called a cab for them. I resent that you think I don’t know how to deal with people who’ve had too much to drink. I did own a bar for many years.”

“But my children didn’t have to deal with your clients from the bar.”

“Your children will benefit from meeting a wider cross section of people in the city. I’m just trying to do my part for the family.” Somehow he had managed to keep a straight face during that ridiculous statement.

“You were playing poker with my children?”

“Just the ones who had ten dollars for the ante.”

“And they spent the evening with your inebriated friends?”

“No, they spent the evening with my very smart friends, who didn’t become inebriated until the last hour or so. By then Ricky was the last child standing, so to speak. He finished on a beautiful ace-high flush. Everyone else is upstairs, having finished their homework and all the things they were supposed to, now just determined to wait up for you. They have been fed regularly and didn’t miss a single day of school. I count this whole situation as a win.”

As I was about to reply, we heard a car horn out front.

Seamus helped his friend off the floor and somehow guided him to the cab he’d called. He waved to the cabbie, and I heard him say, “Hello, Vonnu, how are you this evening?”

I stepped from the door to the street to make sure there were no problems.

The cabbie called out, “See you later, Father,” then drove down West End Avenue and turned toward the river.

I faced my grandfather and said, “‘Father’? You know that cabbie personally? You don’t care if he sees a priest with drunks?”

“They’re not drunks. They are fine men who had a little too much Pinot. Vonnu knows them too. You think this is the first time I’ve ever had to call him?”

With that, Seamus turned and marched back into the building.

Chapter 5

If I was annoyed at my grandfather, the feeling evaporated the instant I opened the door to our apartment. Across the dining room, in full view of the front door, hung a banner that said, “Welcome Home.” I could tell by the precision work that it had been supervised heavily by Jane and Juliana. The rhinestones at each corner were Bridget’s calling card.

Mary Catherine bumped into me while she stared at the giant banner. Then one of the younger girls—I think it was Shawna—squealed. As if reacting to a starting pistol, we were swarmed with racing children. Twenty arms reaching for us at once. It was the perfect ending to a fabulous honeymoon.

As soon as I saw Trent’s giant smile, I remembered he had big news. Once the sleepy-eyed hugs all around were finished, I turned to my quiet teenage son and said, “What’s the big news you wanted to tell us?”

Chrissy almost blurted it out, but Eddie managed to get a hand over her mouth before she spilled the beans.

Trent said, “I wrote an essay at school about what it’s like living in a multicultural family in a multicultural city and still not knowing exactly where you fit in. It’s called ‘The Black Face in the Crowd.’”

Mary Catherine said, “I can’t wait to read it.”

Trent was almost breathless as he said, “That’s not the best part. The essay won a contest at school and is now a finalist in a citywide competition. There’s a ceremony at City Hall and everything in a couple of weeks.”

I grabbed Trent and hugged him. I was so proud I had a tear in my eye, and I didn’t trust myself to speak. It was nice to see Trent excelling. He had so many different interests that I wondered what he might focus on as he got older. I looked over and noticed his sister Jane was the only one not beaming. Jane had quietly kept a journal her whole life. I hoped there wouldn’t be any jealousy about her brother’s quick success with writing.

I was so excited about the news and seeing the kids, I almost forgot that at some point in the coming weeks I’d probably have to go back to work. It was like waking up from a dream I never wanted to end. I could unpack tomorrow.

When I woke up the next morning, I immediately slipped out of bed so I wouldn’t wake Mary Catherine. I texted Emily Parker because she had not returned my calls from Ireland. She had to have been trying to reach me about a case, and I wanted to get back to her.

I managed to whip together a pancake breakfast with scrambled eggs on the side. It may not sound like much, but when you’re doing it for ten kids and a grandfather who decided to spend the night, it can be quite the task.

Everything went smoothly, and I let Seamus use our van to drive the kids to school. I told him I’d walk down in the afternoon and pick it up. It was an odd feeling to be at the house alone with Mary Catherine at eight fifteen in the morning. Even if I was the only one awake.

When my phone rang, I jumped to answer it, thinking it would be Emily. Instead, I saw it was my boss, Lieutenant Harry Grissom.

As soon as I answered, Harry said, “So you made it back safely. Are you at home? I need to come by and talk to you about something.” Harry was my friend, but he’d been to the apartment only once or twice in all the years we’d lived here.

As soon as I opened the door and greeted Harry, the anxiety I’d been holding back flooded in with full force. Harry refused coffee and led me to the couch. He didn’t have good news.

When we were sitting, Harry said, “I wanted you to hear it before it was on the news.”

“What?” I said, my voice cracking like a schoolboy’s.

“Emily Parker has gone missing in Washington, DC.”

“What do you mean, ‘missing’?”

“No one has seen or heard from her since the day before yesterday. The Bureau is taking it very seriously. They found her car in a grocery store parking lot. Someone from the FBI or DC police . . .