Nick’s smug visage dominated her thoughts. She couldn’t eat. She couldn’t think straight. He was already proving to be a problem, not to mention an unwelcome distraction from producing a kick-ass piece on Black Widow. How was she supposed to research and write with an arrogant egocentric tripping over her toes? It wasn’t possible, and she knew it.
With lunch hour drawing to a close, Evie headed back to the Vision building with every intention of kicking Nick out of her office. She needed to knuckle down—something she couldn’t do with him around. But when she exited the elevator and saw him coming her way with his jacket on, Evie simply had to stop him.
“Where do you think you’re going?” she said, hands on hips, standing in his path.
“Checking something out,” Nick said, overly defensive. “That okay, or do I need a hall pass?”
Evie sighed. “You don’t need to run everything by me. I just want to be kept in the loop. Is that too much to ask?”
“Fine, I’m going out to check on the latest murder site.” Nick got in the elevator and pushed the button. As the doors began to close, Evie dove inside, narrowly escaping being crushed.
“What murder site?” she asked.
“Ooh, look who’s suddenly interested.”
“Nick,” Evie said firmly.
Nick grinned, shrugging. “Something happened at the Farestay Hotel. Police think the body has been there all night, but one of the maids found it this morning. I’m just going to run over there, poke around, and see what I can dig up.” He waved his knuckles in a swinging motion. “You can run along now, if you have some important stuff to do… Chief.”
That’s it. Evie slammed on the emergency stop button and spun to face him, all flashing eyes and heaving chest. “I’m not here to play your silly games, Nick. People are dying, and it’s our job to write about it. Expose it. Stop it. Now if you don’t want to work with me, that’s fine, but don’t talk to me like I’m a bag of shit.”
Nick’s expression changed from a cunning smirk to open curiosity. He slowly stood up straight and neatened out his suit. “Evelyn—”
“Miss Black.”
“Miss Black,” he said, corrected. Nick held out a hand to her. “I don’t have a problem with you. At least, not until you go off on me in an elevator. But I’ll back off a little if you will. Truce?”
Evie breathed deeply, stepped back, and clasped his large hand in hers for a quick shake. “Fine. Tell me about this latest murder.”
“That’s pretty much all I know,” he said, stepping back and putting some much-needed distance between them.
“And how exactly do you know this?” Evie continued to shoot the questions like rapid fire.
“I picked it up on the police frequency.”
“You have a scanner?” Evie closed her eyes, trying to absorb the information without letting the stress creep up the back of her neck to strangle her. “Nick, that’s so wrong.”
Nick nodded slowly. “Yeah, but sometimes it’s the only way to get things done. Look, I’ve gone through your notes and learned from them. Good stuff. Now it’s time for me to share some of my own little secrets.” He pushed the button on the elevator, the motor kicked in, and they began to descend. “So, are you coming?”
Evie steadied herself and unclenched her fists. “What choice do I have?”
Chapter Six
They arrived at Farestay Hotel in the middle of the afternoon. As usual, the rabid press kicked and screamed to get through, while police officers held them back behind the ribbons of yellow. Apparently, the red and blue flashing warnings of a gruesome murder weren’t enough.
It sure wasn’t for Evie and Nick.
Nick Rice made it past with no trouble at all, simply convincing the officer that he was a relative of the victim. There was a little protest on his part, but ultimately Nick had control. Evie followed quietly, not speaking.
Once inside the building, they noted the elevators swarmed with cops, so they opted to hoof it up the twelve flights of stairs. The duo arrived at what could possibly have been the busiest corridor on earth.
“This way,” Evie said. She had no intention of staying behind Nick. She took charge and led him into the crime scene, hoping she looked as authoritative as she felt.
“Wow,” Nick said, catching up to her inside the room.
Evie stood quietly, observing her surroundings. The body had been moved, but there were still thick puddles of blood across the bed sheets. Black Widow’s lipstick was scrawled on the bedside mirror, and little numbered evidence tags littered the room. Evie had seen enough crime scenes to keep herself from hurling, but it disturbed her nevertheless, and she suspected that would never change.
“On second thought…” Nick said, stepping backward out the door, his face ashen.
“Be a man.” Evie went deeper into the room, noticing a fine blade of blood dashing across the wall. This must have been from when his neck was sliced, she deduced. Looks like one quick slashing motion.
Policemen moved around them, detectives in suits and street cops in the famous blue uniform. Each and every one of them looked beyond stressed, and who could blame them? This wasn’t the first Black Widow murder they’d had to clean up, and Evie doubted it would be their last.
Nick finally came back, appearing at her side with his cell phone clutched in his hands. He was using its camera to snap up some bad shots of the evidence.
“Put that away,” Evie hissed.
“It’s for the article.”
“We can’t print that.”
“Then it’s for my portfolio.”
Evie was about to argue with him and couldn’t have cared less whether it blew their cover or not. But just as she reached out to snatch the phone, a detective barked in her ear.
“What the hell are you two doing here?” His wrinkled face spoke to the hazards of the job. When he craned his neck, his veins bulged. “Fisher, I told you to keep the press out!”
“We were just getting a lay of the land,” Evie said, turning. “We’ll be on our way.”
“Damn right, you will.”
The detective followed them out, escorting them through the lobby and out to the front of the hotel. On his way, he barked at an officer to make sure no members of the press made it past the taped line. Evie glanced around and led Nick through the throng.
“What was that all about?” she asked Nick once they were safely around the corner from the hotel.
“What do you mean?”
“You know we can’t publish those photos. They’re far too grim.”
“Oh, let it go.” Nick waved his hand. “It’s just my work ethic. I like to obtain as much information as I can, but it doesn’t all go into the article. Think of it like editing a book.”
“Have you ever written a book?”
“No,” Nick said, rubbing at the nape of his neck and looking around him.
“Then how the hell would you know?” Evie thought for a moment that he looked embarrassed and tried to hide her grin. “Come on,” she said, leading him down the road and taking charge once more. “Let’s head back with what we have.”
Chapter Seven
The night air felt cool against her naked skin. A draft crept in through the open window, kissed her arms, and raised goose bumps on her flesh. Evie shivered, covered herself, and took another long draw from her cigarette.
It was bad—a habit she’d put behind her a long time ago—but the addiction had overtaken her sensibilities again. Now she felt she needed the nicotine more than ever. Since moving to New York, she’d had to fight to secure a job. Having emerged the victor and rising through the ranks almost immediately, it would be a shame to suddenly be knocked back down by Nick Rice. So far, her entire career had been nothing but a game of Chutes and Ladders.
And then there was this Black Widow person, the sex-crazed killer who had no problem letting everyone know what she’d done. Why was that, Evie wondered? Why would a serial killer leave her mark each time she t
ook a human life? Bragging? Or something else—something even more diabolical?
Down below in the street, a taxi pulled up, and a couple climbed out. Evie watched them—the man running around to let the lady out, the lady waiting to one side while her date paid the fare. Evie inhaled another lungful of smoke while she studied him. How long had it been since she had been on a date? Did she even want that? She supposed not—life was far too hectic these days. Evie Black did not have time for love.
Seeing the couple kiss on the doorstep, Evie caught herself wondering if Nick had anybody back at home. He sure behaved like a single man in his twenties, and she didn’t recall seeing a wedding band. Maybe he was lonely. It wouldn’t surprise her. Journalism could be a lonely existence with the long hours and stressful deadlines.
Why am I even thinking about him? Son of a bitch wormed his way into my head.
Angry at herself, Evie flicked the remainder of her cigarette out of the window and pulled it tight. Midnight had just passed, and she needed to rest. Especially if she was to battle with Nick Rice again in the morning.
Chapter Eight
Having retired to his place after a steak dinner, Black Widow stood across from her next victim. He was a seemingly harmless number cruncher, and there was nothing to dislike about him. Nondescript. Unimportant. Too bad he had to die.
“This is the living room,” he said, chest puffed out with pride. “The marble floor cost me an arm and a leg. Guess how much the furniture cost?”
Black Widow smiled, more like a baring of teeth, thinking privately that she couldn’t care less. She gazed around the room at the expensive-looking wall paintings, an abundance of peculiar clay sculptures, and furniture, which—frankly—looked horrendously uncomfortable. “I don’t know.”
“Guess.”
Widow shrugged. “Five grand.”
The man—James Harley—smiled, eyes lit with excitement over having a captive audience. “Higher.”
“Ten.” And I still don’t give a rat’s ass.
“Fifteen, and that’s just the couch. Why don’t you come and sit?” James dropped his backside onto the couch, patting the pillow beside him. “Come on. You’ll love it.”
Black Widow had told him her name was Virginia. She’d heard it mentioned during an evening sitcom while she’d dressed for this insufferable date with this insufferable man. Glaring down at him, she shook her head. “I’d like to see the bedroom.” She walked toward the nearest door while unzipping her dress, peeking seductively over her shoulder and hoping it was the right room.
“Wait up.” James came running up behind her, practically salivating at the sliver of skin that appeared as her zipper parted.
As soon as they were in the room, James swept a pile of paperwork off the bed, opened the closet, and knelt in front of a safe. His body blocked the view, and he asked for privacy as he twisted the dial.
“What do you have there?” Virginia asked.
“Just some work.”
But Virginia knew better. Acting fast so as to distract him, she stood over him and massaged his shoulders. Slowly, she leaned and planted a series of soft kisses on his neck. He groaned and stopped the movement of his hands in order to lean into her caress. The door of the safe swung open.
“You’re good at that,” James told her, standing up and turning to face her.
Virginia remained silent, smiling, teasing, reaching her hand toward his belt and unbuckling it with one adept motion of the hand. She pulled him to the bed, falling back and bringing him down on top of her.
“You smell so great,” he said, kissing her neck now, running his fingers up the side of her slack and opened dress. His hand reached up her thigh, rushing things. Desperate touches from a desperate man. Probably hadn’t been laid in years.
“Wait.” Virginia sat up quickly.
“What’s wrong?” James looked panicked, like a man who was about to lose everything. And he was. “Did I hurt you?”
“No, it’s not that.” Virginia bit her lip. “Actually, I was thinking that maybe I could tie you up.”
When James’s eyes lit up excitedly, she inhaled a breath. The moment of victory never staled. All she had left to do was secure the handcuffs, which were stowed inside her bag, and before long, he would be just as dead as the others.
Chapter Nine
Bright and early the next morning, Evie made her way to the Vision building with a Starbucks skinny latte in hand. She took a sip and let the caffeinated fortification glide down her throat. Now, she almost felt human. The Manhattan streets were packed with people rushing to work, briefcases clutched in their fingers.
When she got to the lobby, passing the brownnosers who had only started greeting her when she’d become their boss, Evie couldn’t help but spot Nick Rice. The man rushed toward her in the same black suit with the same blue shirt, but now the top two buttons were open. A sheen of perspiration dotted his brow.
“Nick,” she said, trying to stop him.
But he kept on walking, passing her and heading straight for the door. Ignoring her.
“Hey!”
Everyone silenced immediately, and Nick’s shoes squeaked to a stop on the shiny floor. He turned, looking around for Evie as if he hadn’t seen her when he passed. When his eyes met hers, he hurried forward. “Hey,” he said, almost in a whisper.
“What’s wrong with you?” Evie asked.
“Anxiety attack. It happens.”
“Oh.” Evie looked around the lobby. Everyone was now resuming their business. “And do you often go outside when that happens?”
“There’s been another murder. Give me five minutes to cool off, and meet me out front.”
She lingered in the lobby, checking her email on her phone until enough time had passed. She strode out the front door, carrying a plastic cup of water from the cooler. Her gaze swept the area, pivoting like a sprinkler until it landed on him. Breathing a sigh of relief, she approached. He looked a lot better.
“Thanks,” Nick said, accepting her offer and draining the water before tossing the cup into a nearby garbage can. “Come on, I’ll fill you in on the way.”
After a half hour on the subway, where Evie learned all she could about the more recent murder, they arrived in front of the apartment building. It was a modern design, mostly glass and oddly shaped corners. The structure looked like something from Star Trek, she thought as she went inside.
They reached the right floor, where police scurried about, dealing with the new addition to their mysterious collection of corpses. “This must be it,” Evie said, tapping Nick’s arm. “Want to get us past the cops? Like you did last time?”
Nick snickered under his breath. “Sure.”
This time, however, no officers stood guard. It should have been as easy as walking right into the room, seeing what they needed to see, and then heading off with their new information. But when they reached the door, they were stopped and questioned by a short officer in his twenties, some rookie cop on a power trip.
“No civilians beyond this point,” he said, blocking them with his palm.
“We just need to be let through, kid.” Nick began to move past him but was shoved back by Cop Junior. “Hey, don’t put your hands on me. Just step aside and let us in.”
“What are your names?” the young cop asked, looking at them suspiciously.
“Why?” Evie jumped in.
The officer looked lost then, like his cover had been blown. Realistically, there had been no reason to ask for their names; it was only a threat in disguise. But when Evie had called him on it, the expression on his face was priceless.
“Just leave now,” he said, stepping forward to usher them out.
After a ten-second staring contest, Evie took Nick’s arm and led him away. This whole expedition had been a big waste of time. Another murder had come out of nowhere, and they had no information on it. All they could do was speculate.
And then she heard the voice—familiar in a way that made her
turn back to the far end of the corridor, ready to confront the man who had said her name.
Chapter Ten
Months had passed since she’d seen him. They had parted on good terms after working together to vindicate a man falsely accused of murdering his own family. Since then, they hadn’t been in touch. Her heart racing, she drank in the sight of her old companion. Evie was over the moon at the sight of him. “Captain Moore.”
“How are you doing, Miss Black?” Moore looked from Evie to Nick and then back again. The man narrowed his eyes, which caused the creases in his forehead to deepen with the effort. “What are you doing here? This is a crime scene.”
“That’s actually why we’re here. This is Nick Rice, my subordinate.”
“Subordinate?” Nick said, wincing as he shook hands with the police captain.
Evie shrugged, dismissing his petty emotions. They didn’t have time for hand-holding with a psycho on the loose. “We’re investigating the Black Widow murders, so we thought we would come down here to see what we could scoop up. You’re always welcome to dish out some information.” She grinned at him but felt a rush of disappointment when he didn’t smile back. This was not the Captain Moore she had met a couple months ago—no, this one was stressed, worried, and bordering on a heart attack. And who could blame him?
“Black Widow?” Moore removed his glasses, rubbing at his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “Miss Black, how much do you know?”
“Enough to be concerned.”
“Yes, well…” He exhaled loudly and looked over his shoulder. “You can have two minutes inside, but there are conditions: no photographs, no touching anything, and no getting in the way of my officers.”
Evie nodded. “Anything else?”
“I’ll be supervising you. Also, after this I don’t want to see you at another crime scene. I’ve heard rumblings of interlopers disrupting other investigations. You have to stop.”
Hard Press: The Evie Black Files Page 9