It was up to her now. She finally understood it. But could she? Could she really shoot another human being? If she didn’t, she and Moore would never get out of this alive. On the other hand, if she did, she might miss and hit Moore by mistake. Either way, she had only seconds to take action.
The gun came up. Evie looked down the length of the barrel and aimed at Sanyasi, who had overthrown Moore and delivered punch after punch to the captain’s face. She steadied her shoulder, trying to remember all that her brother had told her years ago. She stared at her trembling fingers, holding the trigger. If only she’d listened.
She eyed her target, took a deep breath, and thumbed back the hammer. Her finger coiled around the trigger like a deadly snake and began to squeeze—only a little at first, and then pulling harder, harder until…
A shot cracked like a cheap firework. Evie dropped the gun, horrified at what she had done. As soon as his head hit the floor, Evie looked around her. Things became vividly clear, and she finally understood the truth of what had really happened. Her knees gave out, and she fell forward into a heap on the plush carpet. By the door, police backup had entered the room and taken the shot. No wonder she hadn’t felt the harsh recoil of the pistol—she hadn’t killed anyone.
“You okay, miss?” one of the policemen asked while others restrained Sanita, cuffing her arms behind her back.
Evie ignored him, wobbling halfway to her feet and scrambling to Captain Moore’s immobile body. She reached him, hearing him groan as she took him into her arms. “No, no. You can’t die on me. Not you, too.” Saying the words reminded her of Nick, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at him. She didn’t think she could stomach seeing with her eyes what her soul already knew. All she had left now was her rescuer, and Moore didn’t look good.
“Leave him be.” A paramedic appeared at her side, and another took Evie by the shoulders, pulling her gently to the side to move her out of their way.
The rest of the police bustled around her, engulfing her in a jungle of frenzied movement. Despair roiled through her and took up residence in her gut. There was nothing left for her now. Sure, Sanyasi would be taken out of his home in a body bag, but at what cost? They’d already lost Nick Rice, and Captain Moore wasn’t far behind.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
A uniformed officer escorted Evie outside so she could give her statement. While she sat in the cool night air, she watched more policemen arrive and enter the building. Nick’s body had already been carried out, and she caught sight of his body bag being zipped up. She turned away from it, unable to deal with that just yet. Her insides ached for his family, the beautiful wife and children from the photograph she’d seen at the Chinese restaurant.
“Evie Black?”
She craned her neck to the direction of the voice until her eyes landed on the cop behind her, an African American man in his mid- to late twenties with cropped hair and soulful brown eyes.
“The captain wants a word with you, miss.”
Evie didn’t hesitate. She jumped to her feet and hurried toward the ambulance, where Captain Moore lay on a gurney just outside the emergency vehicle. She took his hand, looked into his eyes, and tried to keep her elbows out of the blood. “How are you?”
“Dumb question,” he said, his voice weak and dry.
“Right… yeah.”
They remained quiet for a few moments. The paramedics buzzed around them, police officers entered and exited the building like they’d forgotten something, and the press swarmed the scene. They wouldn’t get the first scoop though—that was for Evie to sink her teeth into. She’d earned it.
“I have a team,” Moore croaked, wincing. “I have a team, and they’re arresting Sanyasi’s thugs as we speak. The other Black Widows, too. If you head to the station, they will take care of you and give you everything you need so you get your exclusive story.”
Evie nodded. She had done this to him, she understood. If she hadn’t ventured inside without his permission, Moore wouldn’t have been shot. And then there was Nick, who she’d just started to tolerate. Maybe even like. Had she not been so persuasive, he might have made it home to his family. Words weren’t nearly enough, but she had to try. “Thank you for coming to my rescue.”
Moore waved a hand, barely able to make it a foot off the gurney.
“I mean it. Thank you.” Evie laid a kiss on his cheek, squeezed his hand softly, and began to move away. “I’ll see you at the hospital, okay? Hang in there—you’re going to be okay. I promise.”
More and more cameras flashed away behind the police tape, and Evie watched them with a small feeling of shame. Am I like this? Do I put self-respect aside for the sake of a news story? She already knew she had cost Nick Rice his life, and she would never forgive herself for that.
Never.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Walking through the office at Vision Magazine, Evie was overwhelmed with the sympathetic praises of her colleagues. Some patted her on the back or offered her hugs, but she would rather have just been left alone. Still, she bobbed her head and said “thanks” a few times while slowly edging her way toward Conan Reed’s office.
“Welcome back,” Conan said, holding the door for her.
“Thanks.” Evie breathed a sigh of relief and took a seat.
“Do you need anything?”
“No. Thank you.”
Conan came around the desk and sat across from her. “Straight down to business, then? That’s fine.” He picked up a small handful of paper. “Try not to worry about what it cost us, but this is a damn fine article, Miss Black. I mean it.”
Evie smiled, hoping it didn’t look as fake as it felt.
“I’m running the copy through for publishing this afternoon. No edits are needed, so I’ll just have it sent right down to…”
As Conan droned on, Evie felt the words drifting further and further into the background. Her eyes froze in a solid stare as she waded through a number of memories of Nick Rice. He had come to her, keen and cocky, and she had dismissed him. Sure, it had taken some work, but Evie had just begun to find a friend in him.
Only now it was too late.
“Are you listening, Miss Black?”
Evie snapped out of it instantly, like waking from a bad dream. “Yeah,” she said slowly and then shook her head. “Actually, no. You asked if I needed anything.”
Conan’s forehead wrinkled up. He leaned in, curious.
“Can I have Nick Rice’s home address?”
“I’m afraid it’s against policy to hand out…” Conan seemed to see the heartache in her eyes and perhaps even realized exactly what she intended to do. “Sure. I’ll have it emailed to you. Anything else you need?”
Evie shrugged. “The weekend off.”
“It’s yours. Now go home, relax, and get some rest.”
Getting to her feet, Evie breathed a heavy sigh and went for the door. “I’m not going home,” she said, her hand wrapped around the doorknob.
“Then where?”
She turned to him then, looking at him through a small stream of tears. “Washington,” Evie said. “I’m going to Washington.”
Chapter Forty
Kirsten Rice was nothing like Evie had expected. She was smart and beautiful, even with her current heartbreak. The look she gave from the doorstep was one of both welcome and unspoken camaraderie.
“Won’t you come in?”
Evie nodded silently and stepped into the house. She could imagine Nick living here, lounging on the couch and making over-the-top jokes about people on the TV. His kids—who were currently playing upstairs in their rooms—would be sitting on their dad’s chest, making him pull funny faces and giggling like there was no tomorrow.
“Thanks for coming,” Kirsten said, sitting her down. “I understand you came all the way from New York? You must be hungry. Here, let me get something in the oven, and I’ll—”
“That’s really not necessary,” Evie said. It pained her to see this woman
so frantic and wanted to find a way to end it. “There’s only one reason I dropped by. I wanted to tell you…”
Kirsten sat, staring with questioning eyes.
“Nick worked really hard. He told me about you and the kids, and he loved you more than you can imagine. The way he died… I mean, he really wanted to impress you and your children, but he didn’t die for the story.”
“Sanyasi,” Kirsten mumbled, tears drawn to her eyes. “The police filled me in.”
“The murders have stopped. That’s what Nick did. He didn’t just help me—he helped the city. The police are back in control, and the Black Widows are facing a sentence. I know it doesn’t bring your husband back, but he died while making the world a better place. I just want you to know that I’m giving him full credit for the article.”
“Miss Black, I—”
Evie put a hand up, stopping her cold. “It’s not as simple as a tip of the hat. I’m not doing it as a way of saying goodbye. I’m doing it because he put the most into this case—he gave the most. And if it makes your daughters think more of him, then all the better.”
Kirsten shot forward and slung her arms around her. The hug was so intense that Evie could feel a hollow clicking in her back. She didn’t care, though. She just wanted to assure this family—or what was left of it—that their loved one’s life had ended on a high note.
“Thank you,” Kirsten said.
Evie felt the warm teardrops on her shoulder, held her closer, and managed a faint smile. Her own tears finally came, as she realized something about herself. “It’s my pleasure,” she said, wiping an eye with her sleeve. “Nick… Nick was my friend, and I’m glad to have met him.”
Black Magic
Case File 3
Chapter One
Cara’s insides burned as she stumbled through the carnival grounds. The large party crowd up ahead seemed so far away, but if she could make her way over there, she might stand a chance of survival.
Come on, just put one foot in front of the other.
It was easier said than done. Each agonizing step shot a torrent of pain through her joints. Her muscles were seizing up fast, causing a tingling sensation as they became numb. Nevertheless, Cara considered herself a survivor, and a simple twenty-yard walk wasn’t about to bring her down.
It took everything she had. Fighting to stay standing between the two carnival tents, she slowly dragged her feet toward the opening. By the time she had moved five yards, her fingers began to lock in place. Five more, and her neck twinged with a sharp pain.
Everything blurred. This was it now—the home stretch. The final push that could save her life. Doing her best to set aside the agony, Cara struggled forward, shuffling out into the crowd as her energy escaped on wings of anguish.
Hope flickered as she reached out to touch the arm of a stranger. The figure turned away from his friends, stepping back to allow his surprised eyes to scan the length of her body. Cara waited, each excruciating moment nothing short of torture.
When the figure eventually spoke, a faint laugh lit his boyish voice that was difficult to ignore. “Hey, Josh. It looks like this one’s had a drink too many.”
Cara opened her mouth to protest, but only a thin line of saliva trickled out.
“Yeah,” came another voice, “and even she wouldn’t sleep with you.”
The group erupted in laughter—too many people to count. As Cara’s vision began to fade, so did her ability to stand upright. Having given it her all, she surrendered to the pain. This was it for her now, and she could do nothing if not let the sickness take its toll.
Her legs buckled, but she couldn’t feel it. She only barely noticed that she was falling backward, time seeming to slow down. She very briefly felt the hard wood of a table as she landed on it. It caved in below her weight, snapping in two. Before she knew it, she was on the cold grass, splintered wood showering over her and people gathering around her.
Help me, she mumbled, desperation coloring her tortured whisper. But by then she could feel the burning sensation creep up her throat, and Cara knew that her life was coming to an end.
Chapter Two
On a September morning in Manhattan, Evie Black wove between the pedestrians with little care for her safety. Damn it. Why did she have to be late for work today of all days? She was never late. It was a job that she cherished with every fiber of her being, and she didn’t want to lose it because of some stupid late-night Prison Break marathon.
She spilled into the lobby of Vision Magazine, where she should have been setting an example as chief editor, then dashed across the marble toward the elevator. While inside, she quickly composed herself and got fortified for a long day’s slog of picking up on other people’s mistakes.
It was a change of pace, she supposed. After tracking down a serial killer only a couple of months ago and vindicating an innocent man on death row only a month before that, maybe it was best to take a step back and slow down.
The elevator buzzed, and the doors slid open. Evie took only five steps before skidding to a halt. She pushed her thick black glasses farther up her nose and looked on, her mouth forming a perfect oval of awe.
The room of twenty-something cubicles, usually occupied by busy journalists, were now empty. The staff, usually hard at work on the phone or bent over computers, were gathered in the corner of the office. Some cried, others held sobbing colleagues in their arms, patting their backs and trying to console them.
Evie, certain that bad news was due to come her way, set down her purse and made her way toward the gathering. But before she could reach them, she felt a firm grasp on her arm and whirled around to see who it was.
“Miss Black, can I see you in my office?” It was Conan Reed, her one and only boss. His sharp black suit and freshly shaven face took years off him. To look at him, you would never know that he was nearing fifty. Evie certainly hadn’t, until she’d sneaked a look at his personnel file.
“Sure.” She followed him in, letting him close the door, and took a seat.
“Have you heard?” he asked, settling in across the desk from Evie.
“Heard what?”
Conan sat back in his chair, fiddling with his cuffs. He exhaled slowly, tediously, obviously uncomfortable with giving the news. “Cara Fey passed away last night.”
Evie was engulfed in a sudden wave of sadness. “Cara… as in our Cara?”
Conan nodded, giving it time to sink in.
“I… Wow.” She’d never had much to do with Cara, save for the odd wineglass chat at the occasional work party, but Evie knew her to be a kind, caring woman, always smiling and perfectly good to work with. “That’s terrible. Do you know what happened?”
“I don’t really know all that much about it. Her husband phoned in this morning, said she’d been found at Lowner’s Carnival. Some unexpected heart failure or some such thing.”
Evie took a moment to collect herself. She didn’t quite know why, but she tried to picture Cara’s face doing something other than grinning widely. The truth was, Evie had never seen her any other way. “I must admit that I’m surprised. She seemed perfectly healthy to me. I mean, how old was she?”
Conan shrugged. “Your age, give or take. Either way, she was in her thirties. But, hey, listen.” He came around the desk and sat on the edge, looking down at Evie. It was a move he’d employed in the past. Apparently it was suggestive dominance, and it almost worked. “I know this may seem a bit insensitive, but how do you feel about covering this in the magazine?”
“Covering what, exactly?”
“The send-off. Mrs. Fey has worked for Vision for nearly a decade. It would seem wrong not to write something nice about her. Maybe a strong article about what she did for the company, and how good things can suddenly be taken away. Don’t you think?”
Evie tried to swallow the lump of discomfort lodged in her throat. She loved to write—no question about it—but had never been entirely comfortable with accepting the concept of death. “
I barely knew her. Until you said it just now, I didn’t even know her last name.”
“Which makes you the best person for the job.” Conan stood and began to pace his office. “You have no emotional tie to this. All you have to do is head down to the carnival and get a lay of the land. When you have everything you need, just write something cute. A line of information and a heartfelt paragraph—that’s all.”
“Why the carnival?” Evie asked. “Shouldn’t I just talk with her husband?”
“The carnival was the last place she chose to visit. It would make a much more interesting story to see where she died, who was watching, and how they reacted. Hey, you could even segue into how it affected business over there, offering readers a fresh perspective. What do you say?”
It wasn’t the greatest offer she’d had in her career, but perhaps it wasn’t the worst, either. Her colleagues might be expecting something sincere from Evie, which put on a little pressure, but it could take no longer than a day or two. Besides, it would get Conan off her back. “Okay, fine. But if it’s not good enough to print, then you can ask someone else. No do-overs this time.”
Despite the circumstances, a faint smile crept onto the corners of Conan Reed’s mouth. “I’m sure you’ll do just fine, Miss Black. How bad can it be?”
Chapter Three
Midday was closing in when Evie reached Lowner’s Carnival. She tore through the grounds at first, keeping a keen eye out for anyone who seemed to work there, just so she could flag them down and grab her interview before lunch. But as she went deeper into the stretch of attractions, she became more interested in the atmosphere.
Hard Press: The Evie Black Files Page 15