Envy

by Lana Pecherczyk

  “So you’ll turn yourself into the very thing you’re fighting against. You’ll sacrifice your soul for revenge? Murder isn’t justice, and I of all people know that.”

  Her loud words cut through the sudden silence. They echoed in her mind, whirling on repeat. Maybe she went too far. He looked at her, all calm and dangerous, hair moving in the new breeze. The tendons in his jaw ticked. The vein in his forehead popped. Then he stepped closer until they were flush against each other. So close. Eye-to-blazing-eye.

  “You have no idea what I’ve sacrificed,” he ground out.

  Grace was done. There had to be another way.

  “I’m sorry, Evan. This is where we part.” She stepped away.

  “I’m not leaving you alone.”

  She kept walking down the street, back toward the hospital, boots thudding in the silence. His own echoed softly behind her, almost indistinguishable. She bet he’d had plenty of practice sneaking up on people with those light feet.

  He was determined, she had to give him that.

  And he had shown up at her house to make sure she got home safe.

  And he’d gone out looking for her purse.

  And he’d saved her life.

  Damn it.

  He was trying to do the right thing, albeit misguided.

  She didn’t want to die.

  “Fine. Follow me all day, if that’s what you want, but I’m not changing my plans.”

  “Fine with me.”

  “Fine.”

  “Good.”

  “Let’s go then.”

  Grace turned in a huff and strode away.

  Sixteen

  Evan bristled from Grace’s words about Sara.

  Grace wanted to turn her over to the police, to get a confession, but his every instinct wanted to end Sara and her astronomical levels of envy. All these years, and wherever she’d been, her sin hadn’t dissipated. He’d ignored her once, for the sake of his brother. He wouldn’t do it again. He wasn’t giving up but, for now, his priority was to keep Grace safe. She was innocent, his responsibility, and she buried herself deeper and deeper into this hot mess he created.

  Evan followed Grace as she walked down the busy city street, all stubborn strides. They continued for long minutes, his fury slowly melting away until he became completely besotted by the floral scent of her perfume trailing in her tailwind. The scent sparked all sorts of devious thoughts in his mind. He wanted to grab that swishing ponytail, yank it back, and pull her lips to his. Make her see reason. Make her forgive his harsh words.

  Instead, he checked their surroundings and tried to stay vigilant. Tall buildings and cathedrals blocked the sun, and cast moving shadows that creeped him out. He felt eyes and ears everywhere as though they were being watched. But when he checked, it was only the stone statues sitting proudly on top of parapets, guarding their buildings. An angel on one, a modern stylized gargoyle on another.

  The smoothie incident concerned him. Leaving something like that at her front door meant Sara had somehow gotten into the building. Even if it wasn’t poisoned, it was a message. She could get to Grace anywhere. A sharp pang of guilt speared through him. He should have watched her place until dawn, should have used her as bait to catch Sara, and proved he was the jack-ass she believed him to be.

  They passed a narrow side street and Grace did a double take. He almost bumped into her and that swishing ponytail as she spun to peek surreptitiously at the teenagers tagging up a wall with graffiti.

  The kids didn’t appear threatening. Three skinny males in baggy clothes sprayed a pattern, or picture around the head of a sleeping homeless guy slouched against the wall, and his mountain of hoarded belongings. They hadn’t noticed Grace or Evan.

  A hand tugged Evan to the side, and out of view of the teenagers. Grace stared at him with a pained look on her face.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “I’m supposed to be angry at you, but”—she shot a sideways glance back to the street—“I haven’t seen Adam for months.”

  A dark, insidious feeling tried to punch through Evan. Adam? Who the fuck was Adam?

  “I need your help,” Grace confessed.

  “Anything. Name it.”

  Her smile reminded him of the sun, and it warmed his skin. “The boy back there with the blue parker on, he’s Adam.”

  “Okay.”

  “And, he came into the clinic once a few months ago.” She took a deep breath and looked to the sky, as though trying to deal with a painful thought. “He told me about his foster family, and how he was treated.” She shook her head. “I don’t think he expected to live very long, or ever be back. It sounded like he was going to either kill himself, or… I don’t know. He left before I could get any more details about him.”

  “Grace.” Evan squeezed her shoulder. “Whatever you need.”

  “I need for him to trust me.” She covered his hand with hers. “Can you follow my lead?”

  He nodded and moved his hand to the base of her neck. The sense of envy in the neighborhood promptly dissipated. She sighed and pressed into his touch. The act sent the butterflies in his stomach flurrying. Whether she realized what she did or not, Evan knew he had a chance with her.

  “Okay. Follow me.” She walked into the side street and straight up to the boys.

  The teenagers caught their arrival but dismissed them and went back to their graffiti.

  “Hello Adam.” Grace stood to the side, one worried eye on the homeless man, still snoozing.

  Probably drunk.

  The dark-haired boy in the blue parker snapped his head towards Grace. Adam had a twitch in his eye that betrayed his wariness, and looked a little feral, something like when Wyatt was about to lose his temper. Evan steeled himself by arming his reservoirs to the brink with power.

  Let’s test this magnetic field business out.

  If the boy was about to make a move on Grace, he wanted to know about it.

  “Who da fuck is this?” One of Adam’s pierced friends asked. “You know this chick, Adam?”

  Adam sniffed. “What do you want?”

  Grace wasn’t cowed. “I saw your artwork as I walked by and just had to stop. I think you’re incredibly talented.” She twisted to Evan. “Isn’t he amazing, Evan? As good as you.”

  Well, Evan wouldn’t go that far.

  Adam eyed Evan, taking special interest with the tattoos peeking out of his collar and sleeve.

  Evan made a show of checking the artwork out. The kid was pretty good.

  “You did this?” Evan asked. “All of it?”

  “Adam did most of it.” The third boy stood back as if to give Adam center stage.

  Adam gave a shrug that said he didn’t care. “You ain’t a cop, is you?”

  “No, I own the tattoo shop on First.”

  “Deadly Ink?” the pierced kid asked, eyes widening. His envy reached out with claws, making Evan cringe. All three teenagers suddenly focused on him.

  “Yeah.” Slowly, Evan let go of his power. He didn’t think the boys would cause trouble. “I asked because I like your style.”

  “He had his first solo exhibition last night,” Grace added. “It basically sold out within minutes. His name is Evan Lazarus.”

  Evan shot her a silencing glance. He hated bolstering himself like that, but then he caught onto what Grace was trying for. Adam needed to trust them, and to have some goals—something to look forward to, especially if his home life was tempting him to a life of crime.

  “You should drop some sketches around sometime,” Evan said to Adam. “Maybe show me your portfolio.”

  “Really?” Adam looked surprised.

  “I’ll pay you of course, but I’m serious. We need new shit for our customers all the time.”

  Evan looked to Grace for more guidance, and she smiled gently back at him.

  Adam’s eyes lit up, but then dimmed. “I don’t have a portfolio.”

  “But he’ll work on one, right, bro?” said the pier
ced dude.

  “Yeah. Yeah of course.”

  “Well, bring in whatever you got. Even go around and take photos of your street pieces. Go in and ask for Josie if you need some ideas. Tell her Evan Lazarus sent you, and if she gives you any grief, go and see the Doc here at the clinic. She knows how to get into contact with me.”

  They left the teenagers, walking side by side.

  Evan felt like he almost floated for two reasons. He’d possibly changed a delinquent’s life for the better, and Grace was proud of his artistic achievements. He was still thinking on this when they turned into the entrance of Cardinal City General Hospital and walked through the sliding doors of the emergency department. They didn’t stop there, but continued down a long corridor to a set of elevators where Grace hit the basement level button and stood back, waiting.

  “Are you working today?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “So, what are we doing here?”

  She was silent for a moment, but her eyes challenged him.

  His eyebrows winged up. He thought they were past this friction.

  “Fine. We’re seeing the Medical Examiner,” she conceded.

  The elevator doors opened, and they stepped inside. A few minutes later and they walked into the morgue. Methanol and other pungent scents hit Evan’s nose, making him flinch. A series of metal autopsy tables sat in the center of the cold room, each carrying an exposed cadaver in an open bodybag. One wall was lined with sinks, taps and chemicals. Cupboards full of supplies lined the opposite wall. A potbellied man stood at an examination table, writing something on the foot tag of the closest cadaver. He wore green scrubs and a surgical cap.

  When they entered, the ME looked up. His eyes were too close together, and stubble coated his round jaw. Envy spiked in the room when his gaze darted between Evan and Grace.

  Hell, the man had eyes for her.

  Evan glared at the man who in turn frowned back.

  “You shouldn’t be in here,” the man said.

  “Dr. Bryan Callahan?” Grace asked pleasantly, ignoring his statement.

  “Who’s asking?” Bryan glared at Evan then shifted to the cadaver and began zipping up the bodybag.

  “I’m Dr. Grace Go. I have a few questions about a Jane Doe brought in a few years ago. Do you remember the one from the Cardinal Bombing?”

  “Doctor?” Callahan asked.

  “Yes. I work in Emergency.”

  “Where’s your ID.”

  Grace fished around in her pockets and pulled a card out. Callahan read the details then glanced at Evan, letting his judgmental gaze wash over him. “Who’s your bodyguard?”

  Fucktard.

  Between the giant douche attitude and the envy scraping his gut, Evan wanted to rip the man a new one. But he resisted. His training made him better than that. Despite Grace commenting about him being deadly like his namesake, they’d all trained to prevent sin—not just end it. Death was a last resort. A very last resort. Like Sara.

  “He’s—” Grace started.

  “None of your concern,” Evan finished. “I believe the doctor asked you a question.”

  Callahan narrowed his eyes at Evan. “Despite what you think, just because they’re dead, doesn’t mean we give out patient information to any meat head off the street.”

  Meat head? Evan folded his arms across his chest. The tingle of electricity in his palms grew with his escalating irritation.

  Grace stepped in front of Evan, trying to block his line of sight to Callahan, but he saw over her head. “Please, is there anything you can tell us about the Jane Doe that wasn’t in the records?” she said.

  “There’s nothing to tell. I write meticulous records.” The ME dropped his gaze and continued zipping the bodybag. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have work to do.”

  The hairs on Evan’s arms prickled and they stood on end. Intuition. Precognition. Whatever you wanted to call it. This electricity field he could project picked up something his body didn’t like. The ME was keeping secrets.

  “Please, there has to be something,” Grace tried again, the desperation tightening her voice.

  “Like what?” Callahan snapped and moved to the body on the next table. “I don’t understand what you’re looking for. It was two years ago. Hundreds of bodies come through here every year and you expect me to remember something special about a random Jane Doe.”

  “Was there anything odd about the body? What happened to it after it left here? Did you actually see her cremated?”

  “Look, lady. As you can see, I’m pretty busy. A patient transport vehicle got jacked this morning, can you believe it? Scum booted the driver and ambulance officer out of the moving van, then did the same to the patient on the bed. So, I’m not going to say this again. I have work to do. You need to leave.”

  Grace’s expression drooped, and it was the first time Evan saw her so defeated. His kind, stubborn ray of sunshine faded under the potbellied jerk’s attitude.

  Evan rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. No one spoke to Grace like that. He zoned in on the man with predatory focus. Callahan had turned his back to attend the next bodybag lying on the table further along. He didn’t see the way Evan stalked toward him. He couldn’t feel the electricity thrumming in Evan’s veins and how it projected from his body in a magnetic field. And when Evan’s fingers curled around his fat throat, he had no clue.

  That’s why he jolted at the skin contact, not because Evan let loose the current building inside him, but because he was surprised at the sneak attack.

  “Answer the doctor,” Evan grit out as he turned Callahan to face him.

  The man’s eyes widened and darted to Grace, then back to Evan. Clearly he knew he was out-manned. Evan stood a full head taller than him, and could snap his fragile neck on a sneeze, yet Callahan groped around the table, desperately trying to find protection, but only came upon the dead body. His panic filled eyes darted back to Grace.

  “Evan,” Grace breathed a warning.

  “Don’t worry, Doc.” Evan kept his hand on Callahan’s throat. “Like I said before, I’m only deadly as a last resort. No harm will come to this man as long as he’s telling the truth, and you’re going to tell the truth, aren’t you, buddy?”

  To amplify his point, Evan squeezed a fraction. The man’s pulse rabbited under his touch.

  Callahan tried to speak, but his vocal cords were squashed. The sound came out a wheeze.

  “What’s that?” Evan tilted his head. “I can’t hear you. Speak up.” This time Evan loosened his grip, but his large hand stayed circled around the throat. “You want to try answering the Doc’s question again?”

  Callahan nodded. “What… ah… what was the question?”

  “Jane Doe. Cardinal Bombing. Two years ago,” Grace said, looking every bit as flustered as the examiner. “Was there anything unusual about her body?”

  “I...uh, yes. It’s coming back to me now.”

  “Of course it is.” Evan arched an eyebrow.

  “The explosion went off somewhere else in the building because her injuries were consistent with being crushed by heavy objects, not being blown to smithereens.”

  From the corner of Evan’s eyes, he noticed Grace rub her arms as though cold. The action reminded him of her scars. She was a victim of the same building collapse. A survivor. These wouldn’t be good memories for her. He had to make the man talk faster.

  “Was she dead?” Evan applied pressure.

  “What?” He choked. “Of course she was.”

  “Did you cremate the body? Did you see it yourself?”

  “Yes! Yes I saw the body burn. I don’t know what you want from me.” Bryan’s eyes glistened with unshed tears.

  “It doesn’t make sense,” Grace murmured, looking around the room. “I don’t understand.”

  “That makes two of—” Bryan coughed as Evan squeezed.

  “So, you’re telling me, there’s nothing odd about the Jane Doe. Nothing at all?”

/>   Callahan went silent, and his lips flattened.

  Evan’s senses screamed. Whatever Callahan thought at that moment was the truth they were seeking. Evan narrowed his eyes and growled. “Do you really want me to force it out of you?”

  “I remember now,” Bryan wheezed, cheeks red.

  “Evan.” Grace’s cool palm on his forearm brought him back to reality.

  He didn’t want her to think he was a brute who couldn’t control himself. She’d already seen him turn up in bruises, just like she’d seen him lose his temper with Sara. They were all low points for him. Not the real him. He wanted to be better. He didn’t want her afraid, so he backed off.

  Bryan choked, and breathed deeply, a hand fluttering to his throat. “She was sick. Had problems with her heart. The cause wasn’t clear, but the rest of her insides were withering too. She would have died within weeks if the bomb didn’t do it for her.”

  “What?” Evan asked. Sara was dying? A telltale prickling washed over his skin, and he speared the examiner with a look. “There’s more, isn’t there?”

  Callahan’s shoulders slumped. “Yes. A directive came from the top that I send a bio-sample package to the GODC.”

  “And who is that?” he asked.

  “The Global Organization for Disease Control.”

  “I’ve not heard of them,” Grace added.

  Callahan shrugged. “Neither had I, but when you get an order from the top, you follow it.”

  “Why wasn’t it in your report?” Grace asked.

  “I was told to keep it off the books.”

  “We’ll need the address.”

  “Like I can remember from two years ago!”

  “Your memory had a remarkable recovery just now in relation to the Jane Doe. Do I need to facilitate another miracle of the mind?” Evan stepped menacingly toward him, and Callahan lifted his palms in surrender.

  “Fine. Fine. It’s 524 Shepparton Road, Western Shore.”

  Suspicion coated Evan’s instincts. “You recalled that mighty fast for an address you wrote down two years ago. Have you sent any more bio-samples there recently?”

  Callahan said nothing, but flared his nostrils. It didn’t matter. Evan’s sixth sense went haywire, like a compass losing its true north. Evan went for his throat again. The man was a dirty, rotten liar. He’d been sending bio-samples of dead people for years. But what for?