One-Eyed Jack

by Kristi Belcamino

  At the same time, he saw something that filled him with utter horror: Molly. She was in the front row right by the stage attempting to climb onto it. She clutched a massive hunting knife in one hand.

  With all his might, he shouted: “Sebastian!”

  Sebastian whirled toward him just as the bullets began to spray.

  41

  Molly

  Molly watched in horror as the shooter pivoted and directed his aim toward Conrad.

  When the hotel room door had closed, she’d leaped out of bed. They’d left her behind again. She’d immediately logged onto the Queen of Spades fan site and found a startling post. It was from a woman who claimed to have just had coffee with Sebastian.

  The woman said that it was only after he’d walked out and she logged onto one of her favorite sites—the Queen of Spades fan site—that she saw the photo and recognized him. She left her phone number.

  Molly immediately called her. “Tell me everything he said.”.

  “He said he was going to the Miss America pageant. That he worked as a valet at the hotel,” the woman said.

  After grabbing one of Eva’s knives from the nightstand, Molly raced out the door of the hotel room.

  She stuck the knife in her bag, and when she got to the entrance to the pageant, she sweet-talked one of the older security guards into believing she was Miss Arkansas’s little sister who had snuck down to Florida to surprise her big sis. She told him she was late because she’d been in a car accident on the way down. The man had taken one look at her battered face and had mercy on her, letting her in. He didn’t bother to search her.

  When people stood to applaud Miss Tennessee, she raced down a side aisle to the front of the stage. She reached it just as the curtain opened and that fuckwad emerged onto the stage like a goddamn Satan’s helper dressed up like some masked Rambo.

  42

  The pageant was just about to start when Eva raced down the main aisle of the auditorium holding a gun in each hand. Her head swiveled from side to side looking for any movement from the incel in the audience or shadowy aisles against the wall. People screamed as she ran by and started to scramble out of their seats for the exits, but her eyes were focused on the stage and the surrounding area.

  When the curtain parted and the incel emerged onto the stage armed to the hilt, Eva was still too far out of range to put a bullet in him.

  He stood there in his military fatigues and a creepy black mask with two assault rifles and countless rounds of ammo slung across his body. The AK47 aimed at the audience, which was already stampeding for the exit, the crowd parting and scattering away from Eva in the center aisle. On stage, the contestants had dropped to the floor in cowering masses of silk and taffeta. By the time Eva got to the stage, there was nobody between Eva and the incel except for one petite, brown-haired woman attempting to crawl onto the stage.

  Good God. Molly.

  But Sebastian Carlson seemed to only see Eva who had both arms up with guns aimed at him. He froze and their eyes met. She knew she was now within range. He lifted his gun, but before he could squeeze off a round, something distracted him and he whirled, firing behind him. Eva leaped onto the stage and started shooting methodically and rhythmically. Bullets pounded into his back but had no effect. before she realized he had on a bullet proof vest! She raised her aim to his head.

  He dropped to the ground.

  It was all over in less than five seconds.

  That’s when Eva noticed what had distracted the incel and made him turn his back to her.

  Conrad lay on the ground a few feet away, his eyes staring at nothing.

  Her heart clenched. She raced over and dropped to her knees, feeling for a pulse. Before she could even put her fingers on his neck, she realized it was too late. A split second later a gun was pressed to the back of her head.

  “Police! Freeze!”

  43

  Molly

  As gunfire erupted, Molly was pushed to the ground by a stampeding crowd of screaming people fleeing the auditorium. By the time she got to her feet, she was ushered out by an army of security guards and police officers. They took her out an emergency exit, funneling her and the others from the crowd into some fenced parking lot. She ran through a pedestrian gate and then raced around the side of the hotel following the sound of sirens. She paused in front of the hotel as two ambulances pulled up. Without lights. Without sirens. Her hand went to her mouth in horror.

  Several police cars and other black cars were parked helter skelter across the circle drive. When she approached the hotel entrance, an officer in a squad car blocking the sidewalk rolled down his window.

  “My friends are in there,” she said, barely able to choke out the words.

  “I’m sorry, but you have to wait here.”

  Another officer strung crime scene tape, blocking off the circle drive.

  She stood as close as she could to the tape and took turns calling for Conrad and Eva. Neither answered. By then the media had amassed. News trucks with satellite antennas screeched up to the street in front of the hotel. Soon, the entire block was closed off. She was lucky she’d gotten there when she had.

  She stared at her phone as she dialed Eva and Conrad repeatedly, willing either of them to pick up. There was a commotion at the front door to the lobby, and the reporters and photographers rushed to the edge of the crime scene tape.

  The door to the hotel was held open by a uniformed officer.

  Molly gasped when she saw Eva being marched forward with her hands cuffed behind her back. Two officers on each side of her held her arms tightly. While she was relieved Eva was alive, she was horrified that she appeared to be under arrest. It didn’t make any sense.

  If it weren’t for the handcuffs, Eva would look like a celebrity on the red carpet. Her head was held high, her gaze level. She wore tight black leather pants, a long-sleeve black tee-shirt and knee-high black boots with stiletto heels. Her long black hair was flung back over her shoulders. Her black eyes were smoky with black eyeliner, and she had faint pink lips. Her posture was proud and defiant.

  Until she saw Molly.

  When their eyes met, her shoulders slumped, and her eyes conveyed a deep sorrow. She gave the slightest shake of her head, and that’s when Molly knew. Conrad was dead.

  Meanwhile, the news media went crazy when they saw Eva, snapping photos, shouting questions, and bulging forward as far as they could without breaking the crime scene tape.

  Molly watched in horror as a squad car pulled up right in front of her. She was trying to make sense of what she was seeing. She knew with every bone in her body that despite appearances, Eva was one of the good guys. She refused to believe any different. The police had to have it wrong.

  They were marching Eva to the squad car closest to her. As soon as Eva was within a few feet of her, she turned and looked directly at Molly.

  “We stopped him,” she said. But then she looked down at the ground.

  Molly didn’t need to hear anymore. Conrad had died stopping the mass shooting.

  44

  The only words Eva had uttered since the police had arrested her was when she spoke to Molly.

  Finally, they let her call Francesca.

  “I’ve been arrested.”

  “Don’t say another word,” Francesca said. “I’ll have an attorney there as soon as possible.”

  Then she hung up.

  Eva hung up the phone and shuffled back to her cell.

  45

  Jonathan

  Shortly after Eva’s arrest, the Queen of Spades site crashed when someone had posted a newspaper article about it. The sheer number of people posting in outrage and defending her overloaded the site.

  Jonathan, who had immediately flown to Florida upon news of Eva’s arrest, was up all night in the hotel room, trying to sort through the overwhelming number of posts. He’d had to temporarily turn off the comment section to get the site back up and running.

  Eva was being held on pr
obable cause of first-degree murder. Obviously, the arresting officers hadn’t believed her story—what Jonathan had pieced together—that either she or Conrad had killed the ChadHater to stop him from committing mass murder. And with Conrad dead, it was her word against the thousands in the audience who had seen Eva fire her gun. They had no way to access Incel Nation with all the proof against Sebastian Carlson. Although some stories were emerging from the crowd who were at the pageant, saying that Sebastian Carlson had come out on stage armed to the hilt and that Eva had stopped him by killing him, others were not so sure who fired first. Maybe he had been trying to stop her. A theory that was insane.

  Of course, when Jonathan tried to contact his FBI source, the guy wouldn’t answer his phone. He’d already left a half dozen messages. Then finally the guy picked up.

  “I need you to forward those messages I sent to you to the local authorities. My friend’s been arrested, and that information will prove she is innocent.”

  The guy didn’t hesitate before he refused. “That is part of an active FBI investigation. There is a particular protocol for sharing information with other jurisdictions. As of now they haven’t requested our participation.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Jonathan said. “How do they know to ask? They don’t even know you have it.”

  “I’m sorry I can’t help you, sir.”

  The agent hung up.

  Jonathan wanted to speak to Eva’s lawyer, but he didn’t even know who the attorney was. The authorities said he couldn’t see her until the next day. That’s when Jonathan decided to put out a plea on the Queen of Spades site asking for any hacker-types to help him infiltrate the Incel Nation website forum.

  The fans came through. By the next morning, hackers who were also fans of the Queen of Spades had compiled all of the private chat messages between Conrad and Sebastian and had leaked those—along with a copy of the manifesto—to all the world’s major media outlets.

  By afternoon, the sheriff’s office caved to the pressure, and the mayor and police chief held a press conference on the steps of City Hall.

  International media outlets, ranging from celebrity TV shows to the BBC, crowded around the podium, waiting for the press conference.

  Jonathan stood in the crowd, knowing he was possibly going to miss visiting hours at the jail but hoping it wouldn’t matter anymore.

  Mayor Eleanor Walker came out first. She was dressed in a white skirt and blazer, and her hair was swept back from her face in a chic chignon. The chief, a short balding man with a small moustache and barrel chest, followed her.

  The mayor spoke first.

  “Thank you for coming here today. Our city has always been a haven for those seeking sun, amazing food, and the beauty and serenity of the ocean. We are extremely proud of the fact that organizations from around the world continuously choose to host their events in our fine city. This very weekend, we have the Women’s March taking place tomorrow, and it is expected to fill our streets with 200,000 women. The BellaDonna Convention will be hosting more than 130,000 beauty professionals from around the world, and the Miss America pageant, a tradition in our country since 1921, will go on despite yesterday’s events.

  “Unfortunately, the appeal of our city has a darker underbelly. A man who was intent on taking lives in a sensational way targeted the Miss America pageant yesterday. Based on evidence our fine police department has retrieved, he had enough guns and ammunition on his person to kill everyone in the auditorium. He was not going to be taken alive. He managed to infiltrate the auditorium and was up on the stage when a hero emerged from the crowd—an Italian woman who had heard of this man’s sinister plot and raced to intervene.”

  Here the mayor paused.

  The reporters, who had been furiously taking notes, now shot each other surprised looks.

  Mayor Walker turned to the chief. “Chief Arrozan is going to explain more. Thank you.”

  The chief stood in front of the podium.

  “At 1500 hours, our dispatch received word that there was an active shooter at the Plaza Royal Hotel. When officers arrived, they found two males on the stage who had been shot. Both were deceased. A woman who was kneeling over the bodies with a firearm was taken in for questioning.”

  Jonathan shook his head. Talk about putting a spin on Eva’s arrest to suit them. Fuckers.

  “Now that she has been questioned and our investigators have had a chance to interview witnesses and gather other evidence, it appears that the following scenario occurred.”

  He cleared his throat.

  “Based on our preliminary investigation, a twenty-three-year-old Florida male was able to gain access to the backstage of the auditorium where he had hidden weapons the day prior. It appears he worked as a parking attendant at the hotel, and that is how he was able to access the auditorium that and the previous day. He left a manifesto on a website stating his desire to kill as many people at the pageant as possible and had no plans to be taken alive. It appears that the unidentified Italian woman had been tipped off about the shooting, and was able to shoot him—and possibly another male victim—before he could follow through with his plan.”

  “Chief,” one reporter in the front shouted. “Was the other man his accomplice? Is that why she shot him too? We heard he was an innocent bystander? Will the woman be charged for that death?”

  “Raquel,” the chief said. “We are still piecing together the details of the shootings. We do have investigators reviewing some amateur video that people in the audience took, and the actual shooting was filmed by event officials. Our detectives are reviewing that at this time.”

  “Why?” another reporter asked.

  “Because of the way the stage was and the video, the lineup of contestants effectively blocks view of the other man. However, with that said, the footage does show the gunman turning and possibly firing in that direction, so that is definitely a scenario we are investigating.”

  “Isn’t it true that the other man served as a distraction, allowing the Italian woman to shoot the gunman?”

  Jonathan tried to inch closer to the female reporter. As he grew closer, he saw she wore four-inch heels, a tight tan dress, and had satiny bronze skin. Her sleek black hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail. She was stunning. But that probably wasn’t why she had such good information about the shooting. She must have some good sources. And she obviously had the respect of the chief.

  The chief cleared his throat.

  “That is one possible scenario.”

  “What did the woman claim happened? And is it true that she was checked into the hotel under the name E. Spade, but that’s not her real name?” The reporter would not give up, Jonathan thought with admiration.

  “Unfortunately, she has not spoken to investigators.”

  At this, all the reporters gave each other looks.

  “Chief, we’ve heard that both the shooter and the victim were members of an online group called Incel Nation and that at least two of the officers in your organization are also members. Can you speak to that?”

  “No more questions,” the chief said.

  “We also heard that those two officers are on administrative leave. Isn’t that public record?”

  The chief turned to the reporter. “Raquel, I can say we are currently in the process of conducting several internal affairs investigations. As you know, I therefore cannot speak to the matter publicly at this point.”

  “Thank you, chief.”

  Jonathan had by then sidled his way up to the reporter.

  “Ask him if he’s releasing her?”

  He kept his eyes straight ahead as he asked. The chief and mayor had turned, ready to leave. In his peripheral vision, he saw her head snap to the side to look at him. He could feel her eyes probing his face. “What’s in it for me?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe an exclusive interview with her.”

  As soon as the word “exclusive” came out of his mouth, the woman’s hand shot up.

  “Chief!
”

  To Jonathan’s surprise, the chief turned. The reporter obviously had clout.

  “Is the Italian woman going to be released now?”

  The chief didn’t answer; he just turned on his heel and entered City Hall.

  The reporter turned to Jonathan and handed him a card.

  “She’s going to be released. Otherwise, he would have said no. Here’s my card. My cell is on the back. I want that interview. You name the time, the place, I’m there.”

  46

  Eva was thrilled to change back into her own clothes and was surprised to find they had returned all her belongings including her ruby ring and all her cash—$800. In Italy, she would’ve kissed that money goodbye.

  When she stepped into the lobby, she nearly collapsed into Jonathan’s arms.

  “Long night?”

  “Baby, you aren’t kidding.”

  The desk clerk looked over and raised an eyebrow. “So you can talk?”

  Eva and Jonathan ignored the man and headed toward the front door.

  That’s when Eva noticed the girl, curled up in a chair in the corner asleep.

  It was Molly. She had her jacket draped across her as a blanket. Her head was off to one side and her mouth was slightly open. The poor girl had crashed.

  As Eva walked over, the clerk said, “She’s been waiting here for you since your arrest.”

  Again, Eva ignored him. But then he said, “When all the reporters came in, I didn’t tell them she was here for you.”

  Now Eva looked over and smiled. “Thank you.”

  The clerk pressed his lips together tightly and nodded in acknowledgment.

  “Molly?”

  The young woman’s eyes fluttered open. She blinked and then jumped to her feet and clutched Eva in a hug.