Brutal Honesty-Part Twelve

At least Yosef Schwartz didn't have any skeletons in his closet. He was a good man, a kind man, she'd give him that. Intelligent, too. But a fool nonetheless. He would never have understood the sacrifices she had had to make. What she went through to ensure that her family would live well. Marianne went behind his back. There was no remorse. Only the certainty that what she was doing would provide for the family, through thick and thin. Marianne wasn't the most well-educated woman in America-but she was one of the most cunning. She was a brilliant actress, had starred in all of her high school plays, and even had a shot at Broadway. But her foolish parents insisted that she finish college. She did, with honors, but Marianne wasn't a working woman. At least not in the usual sense.

Marianne Schwartz did what she had to. Her work required less hours than most, less strength, fortitude, perseverance...But Marianne was an excellent liar, a wonderful con man...con woman? Lately, though, her nexus of money had begun to fall apart, and she had needed to eliminate many loose ends. Too many, apparently.

"Mom, what are you doing?" Casie didn't even look at her mother. She was staring at the gun. A Colt .45, kept in wonderful condition, polished, even. But aimed at her face. "Mom, you kidnapped Natalie? Why?"

"You're the FBI agent, Casie," Marianne said, "as you've had the nerve to remind me on numerous occasions. You figure it out. If you're so friggin' smart, you tell me why I've done this."

"Because you need to cover up for the celebrity killings," Casie answered, "you need to kill us. We were too close to the truth. We had identified Dimitri, and soon he would have led us...to you."

"No," Marianne disagreed vehemently, "not at all. Do you understand? Do you know what I've done? What I had to do? Do you know how it feels? I did this for you-you and your bratty sisters! Everything I have ever done was for you! But of course a child never appreciates her parent's long, hard hours! Especially a child like you! Children like you and your sisters, the fools!" Her voice shook with passion and indignation, but her weapon hand was rock steady, never flinching, never moving. "Each of you has an addiction! An addiction you cannot overcome! Sharpay-to publicity and the camera; Brittany-to drugs and alcohol; and you, you are addicted to the chase! To the hunt for criminals! You are blind, all of you! Blind fools. You don't understand anything. You will die, Casie, and I will be the one who killed you!"

Treali Storm stared at something in the distance that Dimitri Youngblood couldn't see. She lowered her gaze and began to speak, but not to Dimitri.

"You are so terribly wrong, Marianne Schwartz, so terribly wrong. What goes around always comes back around, usually in from a most unexpected source, at a most unexpected time...And this is not over yet..."

"You know her name?"

"Why is this important to you?" Storm's gaze fell to the contract killer.

"Well, if someone hires me to do something incredibly illegal, I would like to know their name. But Marianne Schwartz being her ice witch self, she absolutely refuses to tell me her name." Dimitri swerved to avoid an obviously drunk driver who barely missed slamming into Dimitri's car. It was new, too. "Say, did she tell you her name?

"I knew," Storm said so quietly, Dimitri thought he had imagined it. He remembered the last time he had seen his parents alive. Gilbert was worried; Sasha was tense. She had kissed him goodbye and wished him good luck on a math test he had taken later that day. Gilbert had said nothing, not even waved to his son as Dimitri walked out the door to the school bus. Later that day, Dimitri found out that his parents had been killed.

He had entered into his chosen profession early in life, thinking he could make millions and live well, without anyone knowing where any of his wealth came from. What the heck, he could be whoever he wanted to be, too.

"You are your actions. You are your thoughts. You are your words. Most of all, you are what you remember," Storm said, "but in the end, you are what your choices have made you, and who the people you have surrounded yourself with have made you."

His grandfather had taught him how to forge documents so that they'd pass any sort of examination. Dimitri was very skilled at what he did. He practiced often and much, and grew more daring each time someone employed him for his skill.

But with each assignment, each employer, he felt himself distanced just a bit more from his younger self, when he was hopelessly naïve. Distanced just a little more from his relationship with Casie, from his love for his parents, from his parents' love for him, from being the person he used to be. It was fine with him. He didn't want the memories. They were too painful, excruciating anguish was all he could take from them. Dimitri Youngblood was no child. He was a man, and he was a killer.

"But you are who you choose to be," Storm interrupted his thoughts. "Do you choose to be a killer, a taker of life? Or do you choose to become the man you always wished to be. You must choose. The hour is upon us."

The car had arrived at Casie Schwartz's house. Dimitri took one look at the freezing rain and said, "I'm going inside. I'll find Casie. I'll...I'll tell her the truth." He looked back at Storm. "Just the truth," he repeated, more to himself than to anyone else.

"How could you live with killing your own daughter?" Casie was shocked.

"How could I live with a daughter like you?" Marianne answered.

"You can't, Mom," Casie said, her voice almost a whisper.

"And why not? Look-who's holding the gun?"

"What about Dad?"

Marianne almost burst out laughing.

"The old fool. He's a religious nut-he'll never suspect his darling wife! They'll pin the shootings on Dimitri, and once he's dead, no one will ever trace it back to me!"  Natalie's cell phone rang, but Marianne didn't notice. "Do you understand? All of this will be over, once you are dead!" She released the safety on the gun with a click.

Eugene Kaufman called Natalie's cell phone, but nobody answered. Frowning, he tried Casie, but he got her answering machine for the fifteenth time.

"Hello, you've reached Casie Schwartz. Unfortunately, I can't answer the phone right now, so please leave your name, number, and message after the beep, and I'll get back to you as soon as possible." The phone emitted a sharp beep. Again.

"It's me, Eugene. Casie, pick up. If you can hear me, pick up. Casie, I'm coming to your house now. Your house phone isn't working. I tried the number several times, but I got a message saying the number's been disconnected." He sighed and hung up.

Keeping one hand on the wheel of his car, he put his cell phone on the passenger seat, and then resumed driving with both hands on the wheel. His cell phone rang.

With one deft hand, Eugene put the phone on speaker.

"Kaufman, hello?"

"Agent Kaufman, this is Kelsy O'Donnell."

Eugene was so shocked, he was glad he wasn't holding the phone, otherwise he might have dropped it.

"Can I help you, Director?"

"Have you seen or heard from Natalie Schultz?"

"Several hours ago, she went to Starbucks for some coffee. Haven't heard from her since. Why? Did something happen?"

"Something happened, all right," O'Donnell replied dryly, "Agent Schultz has been abducted, we fear, by Dimitri Youngblood."

"What?!"

"Agent Kaufman, do you know where you're going?"

"To Casie's house. Casie Schwartz."

"Good. I know you work for the Secret Service, but let me ask you a favor."

"Certainly."

"Are you at her house yet?"

"Pulling in the driveway, ma'am."

"Perfect."

"What do you have in mind?"

"One of my agents has traced the GPS signal from Agent Schultz's phone. She is being held in Agent Schwartz's home. I've sent a team. They'll contact you."

"Wait!" Eugene called desperately.

"Yes?" O'Donnell replied impatiently.

"What's going to happen?"

"You're going to take that team, and you'll rescue Natalie Schultz, arrest the kidnapper, or kidnappers, and report immediately."

"How?"

"That's your decision, Agent Kaufman. Not mine." O'Donnell cut the connection, leaving Eugene bewildered. A tall man knocked on the glass window.

"Oh, yes," Eugene mumbled, and rolled down the window. "Can I help you?"

"Director O'Donnell sent you?"

"Um, yes, that's me," Eugene replied. Sent? More like manipulated. "What's the situation? Can you see?"

"Henry over there's been watching the house. The curtains are all closed. We can see silhouettes of two people, but we suspect there may be others. We're waiting for your command, Agent Kaufman."

"Let me see for myself."

The agent pointed to a man closer to the house, almost hidden behind a tall tree. Eugene got out of his car and joined Henry, who pointed to two silhouettes.

"There," said Henry. "There are two. I think there may be a third, on the couch, but I can't be sure. Infrared says there are three people."

"Okay," Eugene nodded. "On my signal, move in."

Ten minutes later, Eugene caught sight of one more figure, imposing, moving into the house.

"Now," he said.