Had he been stealing?
“What were you doing in there?” Evie slowly stepped around him, fencing him between herself and the wall.
“Just… looking for you.” Nick raised his hands in a defensive stance and let out a nervous laugh. “I found you!”
Evie was certain that something strange was going on. She tried to figure out if there was anything in her office worth stealing. As far as she could remember, there wasn’t anything. Unless he’d been looking to take her sentimental belongings, but who would do that? “You’re up to something.”
Nick let out a breath, folded his arms. “All right, I was getting some shut-eye. I’m sorry I used your office, but I didn’t want Conan to see me.”
“It’s nine o’clock in the morning. Why would you need more sleep?”
“I was up all night, researching.”
“Hmm.” Evie wanted to believe him but couldn’t. “And?”
“No news. Look, I have to go.”
He turned his back on her and strode down the hall, so Evie entered her office. With great care, she examined everything she owned, trying to decide if anything had been moved or taken. For the most part, it looked undisturbed, but her desk notepad was missing.
“Let him have it,” she said under her breath. “There’s nothing important written in it, anyway.” More than anything, she was just hurt that she had been stolen from and lied to by somebody who was only barely tolerable in the first place.
After a moment of indulgent stewing, Evie convinced herself that she had bigger things to worry about. Especially given what she had planned for the day. Taking the pepper spray from her drawer and stowing it in her purse, she set out to creep into James Harley’s apartment.
What have you gotten yourself into, girl? All this breaking and entering is becoming a bad habit.
Chapter Sixteen
With the safety deposit box key in hand, Evie stood across the street from the security offices at Rego Park. She was certain that the guards would be on full alert, and she had never been good at keeping a straight face.
At least nobody had been around when she’d stolen the key. Breaking into James Harley’s place was undeniably easy. Sure, there had been a small hiccup when a snooping neighbor decided to question Evie, but it was nothing that a little lie couldn’t sort out. Passing herself off as the victim’s grieving sister was shallow but necessary. But now, the key was in her hand, and all of that posturing had been worth the effort.
Here goes nothing.
Evie crossed the street, her breath hung up in her chest. It wasn’t until she’d made it inside the building that she noticed a distinct lack of air, let it go, and caught up with her breathing. A guard stood sentry directly in front of her, waiting to authorize her visit, but he paid her zero attention.
Evie took a deep breath and puffed up her chest with false bravado, marched over to him, and simply raised a hand. She had to act like she’d been here before—although finding the right box might be something of a struggle while trying to act natural.
But the guard stopped her. “Number?” he said, his voice as short as his body.
Evie halted, her eyes dropping to the key in her hands to read the number. “Seven-fifteen.” At the silence, she then added in a rush of words, “I’m in a hurry.”
The guard waved her through. Evie passed into the storage rooms and exhaled when she found herself alone. The first stage of this illegal little activity completed, now she had to find the right box. As she looked around, the staggering number of boxes, all set in perfect rows, intimidated the hell out of her. Each one seemed only big enough to hold a pair of shoes and was sealed shut with a lock. It felt like a highly secure gym’s locker room.
“Seven-fifteen,” she mumbled under her breath until she found it at head height near the back of the room. Another guard appeared, leaning against the wall and swinging a set of keys on a chain, whistling a song badly out of tune.
“Hey,” Evie said, trying to look normal in spite of the nerves coursing through her body.
“Hi,” he said and left the room.
Am I turning red? I feel like I am.
Although the guard had left, he didn’t stray far, and it felt like his eyes watched her. It was like how a mouse must feel when spotted by a hawk. But as much as she wanted to, Evie couldn’t show her discomfort. Not here, not now. Getting into this damn deposit box might be the most important thing she’d ever done.
She slid the key into the locker. When nothing happened, she gave it a twist and popped open the door. Evie gazed inside, and her stomach plummeted to the vicinity of her shoes. Confusion and disappointment roiled through her gut. Reaching in to grab the item, she wondered what on earth it was for.
It was a large brass key. She turned it in her hands, studying the attached chain. There was no number, but a logo was stamped on the side that she didn’t recognize. A symbol, possibly meaning that whatever it opened wasn’t the only one of its kind.
A sudden wailing screeched in her ear. Evie nearly dropped the key as she jumped. The room flashed red, the sirens screaming at her in urgent alarm. There were footsteps now, rushing toward her. Three guards appeared, drawing their guns and taking aim at her. She froze.
“Hold it right there!” one of them yelled. “Put your hands up.”
Guilt washed over her. As noble as her intentions were, Evie had come here to steal. She had known that before she’d entered the building. What she hadn’t imagined, however, was that she would be caught with James Harley’s possessions in her hand.
Chapter Seventeen
Black Widow sat in the far corner room of the motel, waiting for further instruction.
It was an old-fashioned place with a retro vibe. The shag carpets were worn bare, the wallpaper torn to reveal hideous patches, and the smell made her want to cast up her last meal. Even sitting on the bed made her worried she’d catch something, so she’d paced the room for hours before collapsing in a heap in the ripped vinyl chair.
Finally, at midday, an envelope slid under her door. The scuffing sound alerted her, and she rushed to snatch up the packet. Boredom and anxiety had percolated for so many hours, even the plain envelope set her heart to pounding.
Teresa took the envelope to the writing desk in the corner of the room and tipped its contents out. The paper fluttered out and landed in a precise pile, although out of order.
The eyes of a man stared up at her from a photograph—a man in a sharp black suit. He had a brilliant white smile and a full head of healthy black hair. A businessman? A family man? Teresa could only make assumptions based on what she could see in the picture.
In the same pile she found a collection of other photos: a pretty young lady with a nose piercing, a slightly older woman with tired eyes and blotchy skin. Teresa read the details and discovered they were the target’s wife and daughter.
Businessman and family man. Shit.
Teresa hated the married ones. It was mostly because she knew that they would be missed. Not only that, but they were harder to lure into the bedroom. Sometimes their loyalty made it near to impossible.
Her hand trembled as she picked up the letter-size sheets. It was everything else she needed to know about the new target: place of business, home address, routines. Everything had been scoped out and recorded, ready for her to take her final action.
But above all else, the smallest note was the one that stood out to her. It was the size of a business card and had only one thing printed on it: a date and time. It had always been done in this fashion; should anybody intercept the package they’d simply mistake it for a meeting time. But it was more than that, and Teresa studied it with great interest.
“Thursday at twelve,” she read aloud.
Her deadline. And his.
Chapter Eighteen
Within a matter of minutes, Captain Moore stomped in and rescued her. It would have been of some comfort, too, if his expression wasn’t as ominous as a thundercloud. “Let her go
, boys,” he said to the guards with a quick flash of his badge.
Evie cringed under the weight of his angry tone. She patted her pocket where she’d stealthily clipped Harley’s hidden key to her own and insisted that the box had been empty. She turned to have her cuffs removed. The twenty-minute wait in the guard’s office had been tedious and worrisome. “Good to see you again.”
Moore didn’t commit to her friendly tone and simply glared at her through narrowed eyes. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“You know what I’m doing,” she said. “Research.”
“Right. I bet you didn’t bank on the facial recognition software that got you caught?”
“This is unacceptable.”
“I don’t care. It’s necessary.”
Captain Moore shook his head and continued to assault her with his stern eyes. “Come with me.” He thanked the guards and sent them on their way before leading Evie out to the front of the building. He kept a few paces in front of her, like a furious teacher marching a misbehaving student to detention.
Stepping into the bright afternoon sun, Evie shielded her eyes with a hand. “I suppose you’re waiting on an apology, Captain? Well, I’m sorry, I really am. It’s just that I have things to do, and I need them done, otherwise—”
“Cut the shit, Miss Black,” Moore snapped, for the first time since Evie had known him. “You wanted my advice and you got it. You wanted my help and you got it. Have I not been generous to you? Have I not been lenient enough?”
“Of course you have.”
But don’t talk to me like I’m a child.
“Then why, Miss Black, do you insist on acting out while putting yourself directly in harm’s way? You’re not above the law, and I can only make so many excuses for you. How long do you think I can keep you out of trouble? At this rate, you’re liable to get yourself killed.”
The lecture felt all too familiar. A memory of her brother, Mason, flickered into her mind. Jaywalking might be convenient, sis, but that doesn’t make it safe. Ever the Boy Scout, he loved lecturing her about right and wrong.
“I said I’m sorry,” she repeated, contrite. “I don’t know what else to say.”
Moore fell silent for a moment, staring blankly up the street. Cars drove past, honking horns, revving engines, squealing tires. After tense seconds, he spoke. “This is feeling a little less like a friendship every day. The best thing to do? Stay away from this article of yours. The research isn’t worth the words. It’s dangerous, and someone is going to get hurt.”
And people will die if Sanyasi isn’t stopped.
Evie watched Moore walk up the street and climb into his car. Although she deserved every last drop of censure he’d poured over her—and simply hated to let him down—she couldn’t just drop everything. Give up her story. To do so would go against everything she had ever sacrificed. Everything she had strived for.
The car drove out of sight, and Evie turned in the opposite direction, twirling Harley’s key between her fingers. It was immediately clear that her next step was to figure out what the hell it opened.
But how?
Chapter Nineteen
All day she had been trying to find the purpose of the key, but there was no deciphering the damn thing. The metal itself was just like any other, and the key ring attached gave no clues beyond a circular red pattern with a teardrop in its center.
“Useless,” Evie finally said. After four hours of trying to find the logo on the internet, exhaustion claimed her, and her valiant efforts had netted zero results.
Slumped in her desk chair, head tilted back and staring up at the yellowed ceiling, she hadn’t noticed anybody enter her office. So when the voice rang out, the chair nearly toppled backward. Evie clung to the desk for support, barely keeping herself from falling.
“You all right?” Nick said, cautiously stepping forward.
“No!” Evie put a hand over her heart, as if that simple action could cease its erratic pounding. “You almost gave me a coronary. What are you doing here?”
Nick raised a Starbucks cup in his hand and then placed it in front of her. “Peace offering.”
Evie’s eyes followed it. “For me?”
“Yes.”
“Okay… What did you do to it?”
Letting out a short laugh, Nick produced a notebook from his inside pocket. “I took this without your permission. I couldn’t help but feel guilty, so take the coffee in place of an official apology.”
“An official apology would have done it.”
“But… I’m Nick Rice.”
She gave a little laugh of her own. “True.”
“So, I’m forgiven?”
There had never been much to like about her new rival, but it was also becoming kind of difficult to hate him. His stealing the notebook in the first place had made Evie skeptical, and there was no undoing those rash actions. But could she dismiss him for good? “Of course. It’s fine.”
“Good.” Nick smiled and turned to leave. But then something else caught his eye. “Oh, hey, Aquadock.” He was glaring at the key with some sign of familiarity, picking it up and examining it like it was his childhood toy.
“You know that logo?”
“Yeah.” Nick gave out an exasperated laugh. “My old man used to drag me down to that place when he had business to do. It’s funny, I thought they’d gone broke.”
“What is it?” Evie rose and slid her arms into her jacket, trying to stay calm.
“Kind of like shipping containers, converted into offices. Interesting idea… Hey, you going somewhere?”
Evie grabbed his elbow, practically dragging him out of the room. “Yep, and you’re coming with me.”
Chapter Twenty
From a safe distance, Evie and Nick watched the storage site until sundown.
“If you’re going to turn back, now’s the time,” Evie told him.
Nick only grinned in response.
Together, they padded down the hill and helped each other over the rusty chain-link fence. They were officially trespassing now, and Evie was aware of the risk. It was unlikely that Captain Moore would help her out of another jam—she’d probably run out of favors.
“This way,” Nick said, nudging her and stalking off ahead into the darkness.
“Wait up.”
They continued through the Aquadock yard until they reached the container with the matching logo. It was Nick who found it, using the engravings on the underside of the key ring to locate the right one.
Once inside, Evie pulled the heavy steel door closed, and a light flickered on. “Did you do that?” she asked, surveying her surroundings.
“Nah, it was automatic.”
The container had been outfitted to look like an office. A dull beige carpet covered the metal floor, and furniture lay around in haphazard positions. A desk sat in the middle, computer on top, and stacks of cardboard boxes littered the corner. Naturally, Evie gravitated toward the computer, while Nick rummaged around in the corner.
“It’s full of electronics,” Nick said, after tearing open a couple of boxes. “DVD players, iPods, tablets.”
“Do you think it’s legit?”
“Hard to say. Could be.”
The computer choked and whirred until the monitor fuzzed an eerie green light. There was a hissing sound, and then the motor stopped. It was as if a security measure had been set in place, but judging by the age of the thing, Evie guessed that it was probably on its last legs.
“Any luck?”
“It’s useless.” She rifled through the desk drawers and found a thin folder. Flipping it open, Evie sprawled its contents out across the desk. A quick scan of the documents chilled her blood.
“What is it?” Nick asked, glancing up in time to notice her expression. He walked to her side and hovered over her shoulders.
“Those electronics,” Evie said. “They are legit.”
“So?”
“Look.” She dumped the papers in fron
t of him and moved out of the way, allowing him a clearer view. “There are files on Sanyasi, McMillan, and all the other victims of Black Widow. They’re all in the same line of business.”
“I don’t get it. Are you saying Harley was keeping some kind of insurance policy? Because I just don’t buy it.”
Evie spread the sheets apart, digging her pointed finger into the thin paper for emphasis. Excitement bubbled up inside her, which caused an answering tug at the corners of her mouth. “Don’t you see, Nick? It’s Sanyasi—he’s one of the only ones left alive, so he’s been using Black Widow to take out the competition!”
Chapter Twenty-One
Getting close to the target would prove challenging. His marital status kept her from inviting him to dinner. Doing so would be sure to arouse suspicion that she didn’t want or need. Running a business empire kept him a busy man. Luckily for Teresa, there was a job opening in his company.
The phone shook in her hand as she prepared her most convincing portrayal of a decent human being. Complete and utter bullshit. After two short rings, a bubbly lady answered, her voice pinging across the line.
“Hi,” Teresa said in a friendly and upbeat manner. “Am I too late to apply for the open position for an executive assistant?”
“Not at all. We just had an interviewee cancel for an emergency. Could you make it in this afternoon? Say, one?”
Teresa could feel the smile spreading across her mouth. “That sounds great. I’m looking forward to it.” She left her details with the receptionist and went straight for her laptop. Creating a fake resume wouldn’t take too long; she could simply copy a template from the internet. After all, the farce only had to last long enough to isolate the target. And after that? Well, there would only be one man left to kill. That was the deal.
Hard Press: The Evie Black Files Page 11