Hard Press: The Evie Black Files

by Adam Nicholls

  Using the roof of the porch to gain access to the slightly open bathroom window, she reached in, got a hand around the latch of the bigger window, and pried it open. From there, she easily crept inside and into the Durant family home.

  Evie held out her cell phone, using the screen’s light to illuminate her path. It was the best way to go unnoticed—she wouldn’t want a nosy neighbor seeing that the house was occupied and phoning the police.

  The bedrooms were the first two rooms she went through, rifling through the family’s personal things in the dark. It was lucky she didn’t believe in ghosts; this was exactly the kind of place where somebody of a paranormal persuasion might expect one.

  Finding nothing, Evie headed downstairs into the kitchen. “So, who cleaned up the crime scene?” she asked herself aloud. It was eerily quiet, but she could still picture the sounds of laughter and joy as they all gathered around the dining table for dinner. It broke Evie’s heart that, even though she had never met Sadie and Emma Durant, their lives had ended so suddenly.

  This room, however, was just as useless as the others. There was nothing to suggest any kind of secret rivalry between the spouses, nor could she find anything that might be worth asking Calvin about.

  What she did find was something that gave her a whole new idea.

  On the refrigerator, clearly written on a blue slip of paper and pinned down with a Winnie the Pooh magnet, was MOM. There was an address underneath, which might prove useful. Evie snapped a picture of this with her phone and got out of there the same way she’d come in.

  Out of the dark eeriness of the alleyway and back onto a well-lit street, she held the picture up and studied it. Whose mother is this, and what little secrets can she tell me about the Durant family?

  Chapter Eighteen

  The motoring magazine had torn in his hand. It was probably that his nails had dug into the paper as he’d dreamed his terrible dreams. Calvin had no idea what time it was, but the pitch-black of the corridors outside his cell told him it was late at night… or early morning.

  But there was something else—a daunting realization that the hours he’d lost had, in fact, not slipped by because he had simply dozed off. No, this was something else.

  This was a blackout.

  As evidence to his conclusion, a pile of paper triangles lay at his feet, shuffling between his wiggling toes and giving the smallest of paper cuts to his sensitive feet. Calvin examined the magazine in his hand, and sure enough, there were triangles missing from the sides of the front page. It wasn’t what they meant (or didn’t mean) that caused concern—it was that he had no recollection of doing this. None whatsoever.

  As big as the hope was that Evie Black could prove his innocence, there was something more worrying on Calvin’s mind: what if he really had killed his family? Surely his love for them would be buried so deep in his subconscious that he couldn’t hurt them under any circumstances, but the frustration showed by the paper triangles suggested something else.

  They suggested aggression.

  Anxiety poisoned his body now. There was no way he was going back to sleep. Not without his lawyer, and not without hearing from Evie. Calvin Durant needed the truth, in any way that it came. But it would have to be soon, or he would surely be sent to prison. And in prison, as hinted at by Detective Little, anything could happen to him.

  Anything at all.

  Chapter Nineteen

  First thing on Saturday morning, just as the sun rose to kiss the sky, Evie trod up the wobbly brick steps of the woman’s house. It was small, shaded. Just right for someone living on their own. Whoever this Mom was, Evie had to guess that there was no Dad beside her.

  She raised a hand to knock, but before her knuckles could drum the wood, the door popped open and an elderly lady jolted backward. Her eyelids gave a little flutter, flinching like something was going to hit her.

  “I’m so sorry if I frightened you,” Evie said, half laughing.

  The old woman pressed an open hand across her heart, letting out a sigh. A smile slowly crept upon her lips then, and her blue eyes blazed as if touched by magic. “It’s okay, dear. I just didn’t expect you there—you almost gave me a heart attack.”

  The way she smiled, her plump cheekbones rising as she spoke, made it clear to Evie that this was Calvin’s mother. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind. They even had the same distinct eye color. “You’re Mrs. Durant?”

  “I am. But call me Judy, please. And who might you be?”

  Evie extended a hand. “Sorry. I’m Evie Black. I’m working for Vision Magazine.”

  “Oh, I don’t need two guesses as to what this is about.” Judy closed the door and ushered Evie off the steps. “But if you want to talk, perhaps we could do it on the way to the cemetery. You’re welcome to share my cab.”

  “Cemetery?” Evie held an arm out for the fragile Judy Durant to take.

  “For my granddaughter and her mother. As I’m sure you know, they were buried some time ago, but they need fresh flowers weekly. But Sadie had no family of her own, and with Calvin under arrest, who else is going to do it?”

  “That’s very kind of you,” Evie said.

  A cab pulled up on the side of the road, sounding its horn to alert them.

  “I just hope Calvin is able to come visit soon. It would be a shame if my boy didn’t get to say goodbye to his family properly.”

  “Hmm.” Evie held open the cab door and carefully helped Judy inside. She closed the door and ran around the other side, hopping in beside her contact. As soon as she was in, they began to move. “I hope I don’t sound insensitive…”

  “You’re wondering if I think my son is a killer?”

  Evie felt her cheeks grow a pinkish red. “Well, I…”

  “It’s fine. You have a job to do, I understand.” Judy waved a hand and gazed out of the window. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think Calvin did it. I’ve known him his entire life, obviously, and he’s never been one for violence.”

  “Mrs.… Judy, are you aware that your son suffered blackouts?”

  “Very, yes. I’ve witnessed it twice myself.”

  “What happened?” Evie pulled the notepad from her purse and began to scribble notes.

  Judy turned, looked briefly down at the pen, and shook her head. “Nothing. Nothing at all. He was mostly braindead when it happened. He would have simplistic conversations and not remember them later. During both of those phases—that’s what we liked to call them, phases—he wouldn’t move an inch. He would fidget, peel labels off things, and pick at his fingernails, but nothing more.”

  Evie wrote this down in shorthand, using only keywords to remind herself: Braindead, Phases, Fidget. She could type it all up later and know exactly what she had meant. The irony of it was that she didn’t really need to look at the notes because she would remember having written them. But if she didn’t write them, she wouldn’t have that visual aid. She called this brainfuckery.

  “Can you think of any reason why Calvin and Sadie might have argued?” Evie asked. “Anything that might have raised his blood pressure?”

  “No, dear. They were in the middle of a divorce, but it wasn’t exactly news to him.”

  Evie suddenly felt light-headed and heavy-hearted all at once. “A divorce?” Calvin had kept this from her—probably intentionally, too. But why?

  “I can tell you’re surprised,” Judy said, raising a frail hand to cover her eyes. “I shouldn’t have said anything. If it’s all the same to you, I would like to end the discussion for now. If you want to know more about the divorce, you should probably talk to my son. It’s just not my place.”

  “It’s fine. You didn’t know it was a secret.” Evie did her best at assuring Calvin’s mother, but it did nothing for herself. Whatever trust she had built up for the man had been demolished in only a second. Now, it was replaced with anger—raw lividness that she had been lied to from the very beginning.

  Chapter Twenty

  Evie had made
the call on her way in, requesting another audience with Calvin. She marched into the jail, ready to kick ass and take names. Nothing got to her like liars did, and Calvin was no exception.

  At the door, Detective Little waited for her with a told-you-so grin. “Well now, you look like you’re finally coming around to the truth. Catch up on the facts, did we?”

  “I want to see him.”

  “That’s not possible.”

  “It wasn’t a question.” Evie pushed past him and through the gate that led to the guard station. A few corrections officers tried to stop her, but she moved too fast.

  “Let her go,” she heard Little say behind, as if she wasn’t any kind of a threat. He was right on her heel, close enough that she could smell his cologne.

  “I’ll decide for myself what I want to believe.” Evie said as she dropped her purse into the tray, but not before sneaking a pen and pad into her pocket. A journalist could never be too equipped. She let Little guide her back to the interview room where she had sat only two days ago. Before she had found out the harsh truth.

  Detective Little stood in the doorway, stalling, his usual intimidating aura having no effect.

  “I’m waiting.”

  Little sighed and rolled his eyes. “Fine. But if you barge in here again, I’ll arrest you.”

  According to her phone, less than five minutes rolled by, and Calvin Durant was escorted into the room in handcuffs. His eyes lit up as he saw Evie, but she didn’t return his look of excitement.

  “Sit down,” she said. “Now.”

  Furrowing his brow, he lowered himself into the chair. The door shut behind him, and he briefly looked over his shoulder, confirming for the sake of comfort that they were alone. “I’m glad you’re here. Have you found anything to—”

  “Cut the shit,” Evie blurted.

  The look of Calvin’s surprise was priceless.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were going through a divorce?”

  Calvin nodded slowly, finally understanding why she was so hostile. His head sank, his chin touching his chest. “It wasn’t official. It was just something we were talking about. I began sleeping downstairs, but we still held hands in the street.”

  “This is exactly the kind of thing that makes you look guilty!” Evie rubbed her forehead. “What’s all this about? Why were you splitting up?”

  “It’s not…” Calvin took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “If I tell you this, can you please keep it out of the article? Whether I’m convicted or not, I don’t want people to think any less of me. If I’m a killer, people will shake their heads. If I’m a killer and a cheater, there will be nothing left for me. Nobody on earth will think I’m innocent.”

  “You were having an affair?”

  “Of sorts. It was a once-or-twice thing.”

  “Well, what was it? Once or twice?” Evie was losing patience with him, and fast. It wouldn’t take much more for her to abandon the case altogether. She supposed she could always move back to San Francisco, stay with Mason until she was on her feet.

  “It was… four times. I slept with her four times. Sadie…” He took a breath and wiped his eye. It could have been genuine, or it could have been for effect. “Sadie found out about it, and she couldn’t find it within herself to forgive me. I don’t blame her, either.”

  “Neither do I,” Evie said bluntly. “Look, let’s focus.”

  Calvin raked his fingers through his hair. “I regret what I did—of course I do—but what’s done is done. I did something bad, and now I’m paying the price.”

  But Evie wasn’t listening. Instead, she was rummaging through her pocket until she found her notepad. She dumped it on the table, laid a pen on top of it, and shoved it toward Calvin.

  “What’s that for?”

  “This girl. I want you to write down her details. Name, address, whether she lives alone. Anything. Just put it all on there, so I won’t have to talk to you anymore.”

  “You can’t be serious,” Calvin said, picking up the pen.

  “Believe me, I am.”

  He began to jot down the details. “Does this mean you won’t be helping me?”

  “Oh, I’ll still be helping. For now. But if I find out any more dirt on you, I’ll turn my back in an instant. I’ve been through way too much shit to be lied to by one more man I’m trying to do some good for.” Evie leaned in and snatched the notepad from him. “If I’m going to convince the world that you’re innocent, you need to work with me, not against me.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  It had been a long, warm day, and Evie sat in the shade of the bus stop, waiting. The moon was coming out now, and the sun was cowering behind the horizon, slowly fading away. Even a chill was creeping in.

  It felt like a lifetime later that she saw a tall blonde woman enter Sarah Slightman’s house. Evie followed her and rapped upon the door.

  The same woman answered. She looked just as beautiful up close, and Evie could picture her with Calvin Durant—not as graphically as he perhaps did, but in a marital sense. Together, they would probably look like the poster children for a good marriage.

  “Sarah Slightman?”

  A worried cross spiked up her eyebrows. “Yes?”

  “Calvin Durant sent me here.”

  There was a momentary pause in which they both stood staring, Sarah searching for understanding and Evie holding her breath. This could be difficult, or it could be easy. Whichever way was fine, but she would get her answers no matter what.

  “Oh” was all Sarah Slightman said.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not a cop. I’m barely even a reporter.” Evie stepped back, letting off some aggression. “I’m actually trying to get Calvin off the hook. If he’s innocent, at least.”

  “Yes, I heard what happened. Terrible.” Sarah bit her lip, staring at the stone step.

  “May I ask what happened between you two?”

  “Not much really did happen. He was married—I knew that from the start—and we were having sex. Great sex, really. But it was just a fling. It’s a shame it had to end so abruptly.”

  Evie nodded quietly, taking mental notes. “Abruptly? Do you mean… Was he violent?”

  “No.” Sarah shook her head rapidly. “Not even a little bit. Calvin’s a sweet man. Kind, caring, and everything else a woman wants. ’Course, if he were loyal, then he’d be a keeper. But no, never violent. We just argued about the marriage, that’s all.”

  “Right.” Evie dug through her purse, searching for her notepad. “I’m no attorney, but would you testify to that in court? I know he could really use your help.”

  Sarah Slightman seemed to edge away at that, beginning to tuck her arm behind the door. “I’m really sorry, but I’m done with Calvin. I’ve had enough drama to last a lifetime. I’d rather not be involved any more than I have to.”

  “I see.”

  “You’re welcome to use that information for your paper, though. Just don’t mention me by name.” Sarah’s kind yet forced smile seemed to break as she looked over Evie’s shoulder. Something, whatever it was, had shaken her. She backed away, leaving so quickly that Evie hardly had time to react. “I have to go.”

  And just like that, she shut the door.

  Evie, confused as ever, turned to look at the street. She understood immediately what had led Sarah Slightman to panic. Across the road, dressed from head to toe in black, was a slender man shying away from the streetlight. He was staring over at her as if he didn’t care that he’d been seen.

  “Is there a problem?” Evie called, her echoes reaching out to him. Her confidence was fake, but she hoped it sounded genuine enough.

  The mysterious figure moved then, walking slowly into a nearby alleyway and disappearing into the darkness.

  Shivers running up and down her spine like scurrying insects, Evie zipped up her jacket and stepped away from the house. As she turned to look back at the Slightman house, she saw the drapes move, and then the light was blanked out.


  Something was off, and Evie wasn’t about to hang around to find out who this odd man was. Keeping an eye over her shoulder, she hurried down the street in the other direction.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  She moved away from the alley, not running but walking fast.

  Was it John Matthews? Had she struck a nerve when she’d intruded on his life at the care home? The figure had seemed about the right height, but it didn’t ease her mind any.

  Although reluctant to do so, Evie peered over her shoulder. There he was, out of the darkness of the alley and in steady pursuit. The man—assuming, of course, that it was a man—hung back enough to beg question as to whether this was mere paranoia.

  But it wasn’t.

  Somehow, Evie knew he was up to something.

  Two blocks on, she found herself in a quiet district. She hadn’t gone there intentionally—the worry had driven her into thoughtlessness, and she had switched to autopilot. Her attention turned to her surroundings; steam rose from the grates, and a bell rang from a shop doorway in the distance. Lights from high apartments leaned out across the street, but nobody was in sight.

  Evie, having paid more attention to her location than her follower, felt a sudden jolt. An arm came over her from behind, pulling her toward a solid chest. She was about to scream when a hand clapped over her mouth, and she was dragged into a nearby alley. She kicked, wriggled, and squirmed, but it was useless. The man was too strong.

  “Calm down,” the man said. His voice was not comforting, causing the opposite effect to what he was demanding. “I said calm down.”

  Reluctantly, Evie did as she was told. As she stopped fighting, she felt the arm loosen. Her own arm began to reach downward, as if by reflex. Once, she had carried a knife in a shin holster. It had been a gift from Mason, but it wasn’t there to save her anymore. Not since it had been confiscated as police evidence.