Never Girl

by Ana Valen

  “I thought I was behind this? According to you, I killed him for money.”

  “I apologize for that, okay? I was a little too direct with my accusation.”

  “A little? You insinuated that I murdered him to collect his inheritance.”

  “Given what I knew at the time, that was a reasonable claim. But I was wrong. And again, I apologize.”

  “Good. I’m glad that you’ve realized your mistake. Have a nice night, Detective.” Susan made to close the door.

  “Ms. Wright,” Raven said while reaching out. “I have something else to mention.”

  Susan swung open the door, her face red with anger. “I know my rights. I don’t have to speak with you.”

  “I know that. But this is important. I’ve identified someone who I think murdered your boyfriend.”

  “Why should I believe you? You thought it was me, and you were dead wrong. You don’t strike me as a very good detective.”

  Raven worked around her mouth some more. “I can see why you would think that. Nevertheless, I’ve identified someone, and I’m all but certain they were behind this. And oh by the way, you know this person.”

  Susan’s face went slack. “I do?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Can we continue this inside?”

  Susan stood there for a second. “Sure.” She stepped aside.

  Raven entered and Susan closed the door. With the door locked, Susan started for the living room. Raven followed right behind.

  Susan sat on the loveseat, and Raven was about to sit on the long couch. Instead, she looked towards the stairs.

  “Is someone here?” Raven asked.

  “No.”

  “Are you sure? I heard something upstairs.”

  “I’m positive. I’ve been here all day and night. And I just came from upstairs.”

  “Alright.” Raven planted herself on the long couch. “So, how are you doing?”

  “What? Is this the customary small talk before you hit me with your bad news?”

  “Would you just tell me how you’re doing?”

  “I feel like shit. Happy?”

  “Yes.”

  Susan tightened her face.

  “That sounds bad,” Raven said. “But I’m actually glad to hear this, because it strengthens my hypothesis.”

  “Which is?”

  “That you had nothing to do with Jessie’s death.”

  Susan stayed quiet for a moment. “I’m glad you feel that way. Because I didn’t. Now who did you identify?”

  “Claire Jacobson.”

  Susan again unwound her face. “Claire?”

  “That’s right.”

  “How… how did you reach that conclusion?”

  “The short answer is intuition. The long answer is that I pieced together her motive.”

  “What motive?”

  “I was hoping you could help me out with that. How well do you know her?”

  “Not very. I’ve been around her numerous times, but only because she was Jessie’s sister. All of our conversations have been brief and superficial.”

  “So you don’t know about her history?”

  “Somewhat. What did you want to know?”

  “Her injury. Do you know about her injury?”

  “You mean her car accident?”

  Raven scooted forward. “Yes, that’s exactly what I mean. What can you tell me about it?”

  “Not much. That’s because it’s a sore subject. Claire never brought it up, and Jessie likewise avoided the topic.”

  “So not even Jessie said anything?”

  “Only that he and Claire had moved on. But I never really bought that. They might have amended the outright animosity, but there was always something there—an underlying tension.” Susan waited a beat. “You think Claire used this as motivation to kill him?”

  “Yes. What do you think about that?”

  “I don’t know. Jessie and Claire didn’t have the best relationship, but her killing him seems like a stretch.”

  “Not to me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’ve been reading her, testing her. I did the same to you, and you responded like you wanted to scream.”

  “How did she respond?”

  “Like Jessie got what he deserved.”

  Susan parted her lips.

  “There’s something inside of Claire,” Raven continued. “Something dark. She never got over what happened. She’s been harboring this the entire time.”

  “Maybe you’re right. But the accident was five years ago. Why would she act on it now?”

  “I don’t know. Has anything recently happened to her?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “There has to be something.”

  Susan looked away and contemplatively furrowed her brow. “Honestly, I can’t think of anything. Claire has the same job. Her relationship status hasn’t changed. She hasn’t lost or gained any friends.”

  “What about with Jessie? Did anything change with him that might have affected Claire?”

  “No. His life was also the same, mostly. The only thing that changed was…”

  “Was what?”

  Susan’s breathing deepened. “Me.” She refocused. “I’m the only thing that changed for him.”

  “Fuck. You’re right. You’re relationship with Jessie.”

  “Is that what triggered Claire?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Wait. Does that mean I’m in danger?”

  “No.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because even if you set her off, you were never the object of her hatred. Jessie was.” Raven reached into her jacket and pulled her card. “But just in case, I’m going to give you my information.” She pulled a pen. “I’m also giving you my personal cellphone number. If anything happens—and I mean anything—you call me.” She handed over the card.

  “What do you mean anything?”

  “Somebody looking at you, emails from strange people, phone calls from strange people—anything like that.”

  “Jesus. It does sound like I’m in danger.”

  “Again, I don’t think so. But let’s not risk anything.”

  Susan nodded.

  “And one more thing,” Raven continued. “Give me your phone.”

  “What?”

  “Your phone. Give it to me. And do so slowly.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Raven extended her hand. “Now.”

  Susan tentatively reached into her sweatshirt pocket, pulled her cellphone, and extended it. Raven took the device, unlocked it, and went into the messages.

  She brought up the thread between Susan and Jessie. There was nothing there. Or rather, Susan never asked Jessie to meet her at the hiking trail. That was good and bad. Good because Susan never sent the bait. Bad because someone had gained access to her account and sent it for her. Turns out, Susan was in danger.

  “Thanks,” Raven said, handing back the phone.

  “What did you check?”

  “Your messaging information. I wanted to compare what was on your phone to what we have. Don’t worry. You’re in the clear.”

  “That’s good to hear. But it feels like you’re hiding something.”

  “I am. And unfortunately, I can’t say what.”

  Susan tightened her lips.

  “But don’t worry. I’m nearing the end of this investigation. Before long, I’ll arrest Claire. In the meanwhile, keep your head down.”

  Susan sighed. “Okay.”

  “Thanks. And thanks for speaking with me. I appreciate it.” Raven stood. “Have a nice night.”

  Susan likewise stood and they headed for the door. Once there, Raven opened the door and stepped out.

  “Detective Raven,” Susan said.

  Raven stopped and turned back.

  “Thank you as well, specifically for all your hard work. And please, find a resolution soon.”

&nbs
p; “I will. I promise.”

  Susan cast a weak smile, and Raven continued to her car.

  Chapter 26

  Harlan waited upstairs in Susan’s home, pistol in hand. While mostly hidden, he watched Susan wrap up her conversation with Detective Raven. Both women walked to the front door, and Detective Raven went on her way.

  Susan would probably come back upstairs, so he needed to hide. He headed to the far room where he walked to the street-facing window and looked down. Detective Raven just entered her car. A moment later, the engine fire up and the car pulled away.

  Susan’s footsteps tapped up the stairway. He turned from the window, walked to the bedroom’s threshold, and positioned himself behind. As Susan crested the steps, he readied his pistol just in case. She reentered her room and sat at her desk.

  He didn’t depart just yet. He gave Susan some time to become acclimated in her room. That way, her attention would be inside, not elsewhere.

  A minute later, he eased out and crept towards her door. Should he kill her or no? Now was his chance. After what seemed like an hour, he snuck across her doorway, came down the steps, and exited the home.

  Back inside his Nissan, he lowered his shawl and removed his hood. He then looked back towards the home. The same light emanated as before—the light from upstairs. A minute later, the illumination blinked out.

  He looked forward, pulled his cellphone, and dialed Kovalenko.

  “My dear friend!” Kovalenko enthused, as electronic music played in the background. “How are you doing? Is your little project taken care of?”

  “No. There was a problem.”

  “Oh, goodness. Sorry to hear that.”

  “Yeah. While I was working, there was—”

  “No, no, no. Not over the phone. As you know, I prefer discussing business matters in person. Please, come see me.”

  “Fine. Where are you?”

  “I will text you the address. When you arrive, say you’re here for me.”

  “Understood.”

  Harlan disconnected and lowered the phone. Not long after, his phone buzzed. He lifted the device and saw Kovalenko’s text. Kovalenko was at a nightclub in Century City. It wasn’t far. He put away his phone, fired up the engine, and headed off.

  Harlan reached the club fifteen minutes later. Out front, numerous people waited in line, half men and half women. The men talked animatedly, while the women shivered in their scant attire. He pulled into a nearby parking lot, shut off the engine, and climbed out.

  After heading to the sidewalk, he bypassed the waiting club goers and started for the entrance. Some of them stared at him. He didn’t care. He kept his focus on the two massive bouncers by the entrance. The bouncers similarly eyed him, and one of them stepped forward.

  “The line’s back there,” the bald-headed man said.

  “I’m here to see Alexander Kovalenko.”

  The bouncer leaned in. “What’s your name?”

  “Harlan Nichols.”

  The man leaned back, his hardened expression softening. He then gestured towards the door. “Feel free to go inside. Mr. Kovalenko is on the second floor VIP lounge.”

  Harlan didn’t respond. He merely walked through the entrance. Behind him, a woman called out.

  “I’m with him!” she said, apparently speaking to the bouncers. “I’m with him!”

  “Go right in,” the same bouncer responded.

  Harlan pursed his lips. Normally, he felt nothing. Now rage burned inside, especially with the woman’s high heels quickly approaching. With luck, she would venture off and do whatever she came for.

  “Hey, handsome,” she said while crashing into his side. She hooked her arm into his and ran her free hand across his abdomen. “Oh, wow,” she continued, speaking over the pulsing music. “Someone’s into working out.” She smiled her brightly painted lips. “And you clearly got some pull. What’s your name?”

  “Let go of me,” he responded, his temperature rising, especially as her perfume filled his nose.

  She smiled wider and pressed deeper into him. Her thin dress barely separated her thin body. That only made him angrier.

  “What?” she asked. “I just wanted to thank you for saving me some time. How about we get some drinks?”

  He stared into her hazel eyes. “If you don’t let go of me, I will kill you.”

  The cheer drained from her face. “What the fuck is your problem?”

  He didn’t answer. He simply stared with his deadened eyes. She let go and stepped back, fear etched into her face.

  “What the fuck is your problem?” she shouted, her outburst drawing some attention.

  Another bouncer approached. “What’s going on here?”

  She pointed at him. “He threatened me! This asshole just threatened me!”

  “Sir,” the bouncer said, “you’re gonna have to leave.”

  Harlan disregarded them both and started for the stairs.

  “Sir!” the bouncer followed, grabbing his shoulder.

  Harlan clutched the man’s hand and pulled him off balance. While bringing the man’s body downward, he lifted his right knee and drove it into the man’s face. The bouncer’s nose cracked and blood spurted across the pristine floor. With the bouncer stunned and staggering, Harlan grabbed his shirt, made a fist, and repeatedly rammed his knuckles into the man’s face.

  As Harlan kept unleashing hell, more bouncers ran to the commotion. Harlan dropped the man, whipped out his pistol, and took aim. The nearby patrons screamed while diving for cover.

  “No!” said a bouncer, jumping between Harlan and the security officers. It was the same bouncer from outside. “He’s with Kovalenko!” He lowered his voice. “It’s Harlan.”

  The security personnel slowly backed away.

  The bouncer turned back to him. “Please, Mr. Kovalenko is waiting for you.”

  Harlan put away his weapon. Without expression, he turned to the stairs and resumed his route. Behind him, the security team tried to calm the crowd. He barely paid this any mind. He focused more on himself. Where did that flash of violence come from? What the hell was happening to him?

  He took the stairs to the VIP lounge. Thankfully, the area was nearly devoid of patrons. There was only a small group of people in a far booth—Kovalenko, one of his male associates, and three females who weren’t wearing much clothing.

  “Harlan!” Kovalenko called out, waving his hand.

  He approached and stopped five feet away.

  “So glad you arrived,” Kovalenko continued. “Can I get you anything? A drink? Some drugs? One of these lovely ladies?”

  The females smiled while raising their eyebrows. He slowly shook his head.

  “Very well,” Kovalenko said. “So what happened?”

  Harlan looked at the women. He then looked back to his boss.

  “Ah, yes,” Kovalenko continued. “Of course. So long, ladies.”

  The girls turned to Kovalenko and frowned.

  “You heard me,” Kovalenko followed. He turned to his associate. “Ivan, take them away and keep them entertained.”

  The associate, wearing an all-black suit, rose and escorted the ladies from the area.

  “Please,” Kovalenko continued, “have a seat.”

  Harlan planted himself despite not wanting to. With heat still emanating, he simply wanted to provide this update and leave.

  “Well,” Kovalenko went on, “what happened?”

  “There was a security breach. I entered the target’s home, went upstairs to take them out, and a police officer arrived.”

  “For you?”

  “No. This was the detective investigating the Jessie Jacobson’s murder. She arrived to speak with the target about that.”

  “You didn’t think it wise to eliminate them both?”

  “If they spotted me, yes. But I wanted to gather intel.”

  “Why is that?”

  “The detective is after what I am—solving the Jessie Jacobson murder. I was hoping s
he would clue me in.”

  “And did she?”

  Harlan shook his head.

  Kovalenko cursed in his native language. “This situation is proving more complicated than I anticipated. But no matter. The contract still stands—both of them. Solve the Jessie Jacobson murder, and take out Susan Wright.”

  Harlan wanted to ask who ordered the kill contract. He decided against this. This wasn’t because the rules prohibited him. He simply had a good guess.

  “Understood,” he said instead.

  Kovalenko stood. “In that case, I will bid you a good night.” He extended his hand.

  Harlan rose and shook.

  “Unless,” Kovalenko continued, still gripping his palm, “you would like to stay a while.”

  “No, thank you.”

  Kovalenko let go. “I didn’t think so. But I figured I would ask.” He smiled. “I envy you, Harlan. No temptations, no friendships, no enemies. If you ask me, that’s the ideal life.”

  Harlan gave the smallest of nods and started for the stairs.

  It was the ideal life. But not anymore.

  Chapter 27

  The following morning, Claire stopped outside of Harlan’s apartment door. Hopefully, her unannounced arrival wouldn’t upset him. But why would it? He never grew upset over anything.

  She knocked and waited. A moment later, the door unlocked and opened.

  “Good morning,” she greeted. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

  “No,” Harlan responded. Come in.”

  He stepped aside and she entered. As he closed the door, she eased into the living room. The poster boards were still there. Good. They needed to remain in place.

  “So,” she said while turning, “how are you feeling?”

  He stopped a few feet away. “How am I feeling?”

  “Yeah.”

  He blankly stared. “Fine.”

  She smiled. “I know, I know. Dumb question. But I was compelled to ask given what happened last night.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What you took care of. The um… the hit.”

  “What hit?”

  Her smile dissolved. “The hit on Susan.”

  “You knew about that?”

  “Of course. I was the one who ordered it.”

  He hesitated. “That was you?”