The Fall Girl

by T. B. Markinson

  GK spoke. “Janie, we’ve been hunting Mean Heather for months now. Now that she’s onto us, we don’t have a lot of time.”

  “I forbid this.” Janie attempted to steel her nerves by standing straighter.

  They stared at each other as if conducting an entire conversation that none of us would understand.

  “I’ve been feeling guilty for so long, by not sharing the information in our possession. Now this.” GK pointed to me. “It’s out of control. It has to stop.”

  Janie continued shaking her head. “The authorities had their chance to investigate.”

  Nicki winced, wisely keeping her real identity under wraps.

  “You know I’m not talking about them. It’s time, Janie. It’s time.” GK pulled a flash drive out of the pocket of her jeans and held it up for all to see. “Every scrap of information is on here. If we dump the info and ask 4chan for help, we’d have hundreds of the best doxers on the case. I wanted to do it before, but…”

  I imagined this wasn’t GK’s first trip around the Janie merry-go-round.

  “You can’t be sure that it’s Mean Heather setting JJ up.” Janie’s voice wavered between anger and desperation.

  GK still held her hand out with the Holy Grail of the Mean Heather investigation. “And you can’t be sure it isn’t. If it is, stalling will only let her get away. If it isn’t, we can put a stop to JJ’s dilemma and continue searching. My gut tells me it’s her. How many more versions of Bri do you want on your hands?”

  Janie lunged for the drive, knocking it out of GK’s hand.

  Tish dove for it.

  Cora went for Tish.

  Avery was the victor in the scramble, with Nicki providing cover.

  I wrapped my arms around the frantic Janie and whispered, “It’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not. This isn’t how I wanted it to end.” She was blubbering.

  I cradled her head on my shoulder. “I know. It’s not the ending I wanted either; believe me.”

  Nicki and GK plugged in the flash drive, and I held my breath as she tossed out a plea to the internet to help track down the Alphabet Killer.

  Janie, in one final entreaty, said, “You can’t. Mean Heather will get away.”

  GK smiled. “Have faith in computer nerds. It’s only a matter of time—”

  “But—”

  The computer recluse looked down at her hands on the keyboard. “But revenge is costly. Look at what’s happening to JJ, and she’s squeaky-clean compared to what you’ve done.”

  Cora and Tish exchanged a Did you just hear that? look. Two media hounds, undeterred by the madness swirling around us, were already onto the next scandal: Janie Evans and her character assassination past.

  No one had called me squeaky-clean, especially not since the truth had come out. I hadn’t been pure since I stopped pissing in my diapers, or so it seemed.

  “Time to shower, JJ, so you can set the record straight.” Cora nodded toward the bathroom off to the side. “Do we have a change of clothes for Janie?”

  “You want me to go on camera?” she squeaked.

  “Yes. Tish will be interviewing you about your hunt for the Alphabet Killer. You want revenge.” She hooked her thumb over her shoulder at Tish. “She’s your gal. Look at the hell she let loose on JJ.”

  I couldn’t shake the feeling Tish’s coverage would be a test to determine whether she was MDD material. The game face on the reporter indicated she was aware.

  Avery handed me a change of clothes.

  “You really are prepared for everything, aren’t you?”

  She smiled.

  “One day, I’m going to uncover how you fit into all of this. And Cora’s role.”

  “Haven’t you had enough mystery in your life? If I were you, I’d get the interview over with and fly home to Claire.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Cora shoved me into the back of her limo. The reporters were camped around the office building once again as if they had dropped from the sky.

  “Any word about Mean Heather?” I asked.

  “A few leads.”

  I whistled. “Janie and GK have been tracking down Mean Heather for months, but now that the Internet Hate Machine is on the case, she doesn’t have a chance.”

  “Do you feel sorry for her?”

  I looked out the window as we made our way to JFK. “Who? Janie or Mean Heather?”

  “Ah, the journalist is still in you. Both.”

  “Janie, absolutely. As for Mean Heather, I’m not a fan, yet I can’t help thinking there’s more to the story.”

  Cora crinkled her brow.

  “Is this how you envisioned the whole thing going down?” I asked.

  “Cracking the case?”

  “That and framing me for murder.”

  She belly laughed. “I didn’t frame you! Tish and whoever fed her the Janie story did. I saved your ass.”

  I leaned forward in my seat. “Are you forgetting about the body found by my home?”

  Cora sighed and tapped her fingernails on the window. “Jesus, you suspect I was involved from the beginning?” It was difficult to ascertain if she was faking her shock.

  I looked away and said, “Right now, the interview with Tish is going viral, catapulting MDD into online news media gold status.”

  “And?”

  “The only person I know capable of such a feat is the woman who killed the last World War One widow.”

  “Jesus, for the millionth time, I didn’t kill her.” Cora shook her head, smiling. “Can’t you just be happy all of this is over with?”

  “For you, maybe. I still have to talk to Claire.”

  “Look at me, JJ.” She waited for me to meet her eyes. “Everything I did today was for you and Claire.”

  “Easy for you to say. How am I going to defend sending a tweet from her paper?”

  Cora blinked. “You don’t get it, do you?”

  “By all means, tell me what I’m missing.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Claire sat on the barstool in the kitchen, expecting me.

  “Well?” she said.

  “Well,” I repeated, setting my bag down on the floor. I’d flown on a private jet, unbeknownst to the press for the time being, who at the moment were salivating about the identity of Mean Heather. Another plus to the state of the media these days, once the winds of change hit, they forgot all about the current story and chased the next scoop.

  “Did you catch the bad guy?” she asked.

  “The word is it’s only a matter of time.”

  “What’s your next step?” She didn’t sound angry or upset, but her crossed arms and vacant face weren’t exactly an invitation to sweep her into my arms.

  “I have no idea. Everything is still sinking in.” I tapped my head.

  She hopped off the barstool, took two steps, and kissed me, long and hard. Pulling away, she laughed into my sweater, smearing tears into the threads.

  “Cora filled me in about your role on the way to the airport. When you stormed out of the New York office, I really thought you’d left me for good.” I held her head against my chest, afraid to break contact. “Jesus, I had no idea you had such a performance in you.”

  “Maybe I missed my calling,” Claire said into my chest, her voice cracking.

  For many moments, she stayed in my arms. When we broke apart, I asked, “How are your bosses handling playing their role in the fiasco?”

  “At first, it was rocky when someone planted the fake story purportedly coming from the paper.” She smiled.

  “Cora said you gave her all the logos to make the link look legit.”

  She nodded.

  “What else have you been up to?”

  “Now that you’ve been vindicated, Darrell and I have been prepping the reveal of how it’s possible for fake news to spread at warp speed.”

  “Darrell was in on this?”

 
Her eyes twinkled. “He relished helping frame you for murder.”

  I had to laugh. “Is he disappointed now that I’ve been cleared?”

  “I haven’t asked.”

  A lot of questions were unasked as of yet. At the moment, the only thing that mattered was standing before me.

  “Here’s the best part. My bosses are thrilled with the buzz my paper’s getting. They’ve offered me a job at corporate.”

  “My, my, my.” I kissed her again.

  She cupped my cheek. “Cora’s idea of hiding out in your Denver office so we could eavesdrop on everything was brilliant.”

  I touched her face. “If only I had known.”

  “I was there, by your side.”

  I laced my fingers through hers. “You going to take the corporate job?”

  “Haven’t had time to consider it.”

  “I have a better job offer for you.”

  She hefted a brow. “You going to fake kill another ex?”

  “Don’t tempt me. Not everything that’s occurred over the past two days is making complete sense.” My brow furrowed.

  She sighed. “What job are you talking about, then?”

  “What have you always wanted to do?”

  Claire didn’t respond.

  “Come on, the answer is obvious.” I pointed to the framed photo of Ian holding Mia the day they met. “Full-time mom.”

  “Killing Janie was that lucrative?”

  “Are you kidding me? My phone’s been ringing off the hook. There’s another book deal in the works with a working title of The Fall Girl. The only downside is I have to include Tish, who is wrangling a way to become a partner of MDD.”

  “Tish?”

  “Apparently, Cora likes her style and guess what; Tish comes from money and can invest millions of dollars.” I tossed my hands in the air.

  “Get out! Why was she on a morning show?”

  “Cutting her cub reporter teeth, I guess.”

  “Does that mean you can stop flying all over the planet, begging for investors?”

  I waved the idea away. “You’re funny. It takes money to feed the online news beast. But I have been given the next six weeks off.” I wrapped her in my arms. “And if I remember correctly, we have a date on a Florida beach, a few days in Orlando with the kids, and then a honeymoon in Guatemala. Right now, though, I have one thing on my mind.”

  “Which is?” Her voice was sultry.

  “Sleep. I feel like I have one step in the grave.”

  “Let me guess, a future MDD headline?”

  ***

  Three days later, I watched the replay of Mean Heather’s perp walk outside of his Baltimore home. Once the internet army latched onto Mean Heather and all the trauma he caused, they swarmed like a pack of killer bees, squeezing him out of the computer ether and into reality—proving not everything associated with 4chan was bad.

  Mean Heather was nineteen years old, and his parents thought he was holed up in his room playing video games day and night. The day before my interview with Tish, when everything had spiraled out of control, Lana, a thirteen-year-old, had become Mean Heather’s twelfth and youngest victim.

  The show cut to Tish interviewing Mean Heather’s parents. The nickname was bound to stick; I should know.

  Claire wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “You jealous?”

  I shook my head. “Not one bit.”

  “Are you letting Tish Reynolds become the face of Matthews Daily Dish?”

  “A great reason to start to like her a smidge.” I held my forefinger a centimeter from my thumb.

  I still didn’t trust the newshound, nor anyone else. Once I returned from my honeymoon, I intended to investigate everyone close to me.

  I rolled over in bed and grabbed the white Chinese takeout carton from the nightstand. “When do the kids return?” Using chopsticks, I clumsily inhaled lo mein noodles.

  “Day after next. Ian’s been boogie boarding every day. Mia loves being with all the grandparents. I’m pretty sure everyone involved would love for your life to fall apart again so they can move permanently to Cora’s house in the Caribbean.”

  “Don’t curse me! I like being normal.” My eyes swept the disarray in our bedroom, which we hadn’t left much since I had returned. “It’s so relaxing.”

  “You aren’t bored hanging with me instead of chasing serial killers?”

  I set the carton and chopsticks on the table. “Let me show you how much I love being here with you.” I pinned her under me.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  The sun was about to set on the beach. Waves rolled in lazily, lapping the sand before retreating, leaving bits of seaweed, an occasional seashell, and bubbles.

  “You ready, sweetheart?” My father put his arm out for me to loop mine through. “You look beautiful.”

  “Thanks, Pops.” He looked handsome in a Hawaiian shirt, linen pants, and leather sandals—the first pair he’d ever owned. “What about you, Claire? Ready?”

  “To make the worst mistake of my life. Ready, set, go.” She and her father began their trek down the aisle, Claire grinning at me over her shoulder, looking stunning in her ivory spaghetti-strapped chiffon dress.

  Pops and I followed, my wedding regalia consisting of khaki linen trousers rolled at the bottom and a white blouse.

  Cora, along with her son, was in attendance, more than likely secretly recording the whole proceedings to appear on Matthews Daily Dish. Brenda, with hair crazier than usual, sat next to them, and Nicki came as Avery’s date. Their connection and the role they played over the past few months were still fuzzy, and I was determined to dig deeper.

  Ian had dual roles, spreading flowers and holding onto our rings. Mia, in my mother’s arms, giggled, while my mother and Claire’s mom smiled through the tears streaming down their faces. After learning about my past, coupled with being wanted for murder, I doubted Mom thought I’d ever have a normal life.

  I also doubted it.

  I probably wouldn’t. Not with my job and with a woman like Claire. I should be terrified, but to be honest, I couldn’t wait for the next chapter to start. Just as long as I could bury the Fall Girl nickname.

  Cora, though, was cultivating it for the good of MDD and the book deal. Secretly, I think she enjoyed fostering my image as payback for breaking her heart.

  I hated the new nickname. Why couldn’t it be something awesome like Badass? Or Tiny Badass?

  That would be so much cooler.

  All I needed was the narrative.

  ***

  It was the first morning of the actual honeymoon, now that we were kid-free, at a posh resort situated on a working coffee plantation just outside of Antigua, Guatemala. Claire and I sat under an avocado tree on the terrace, drinking one of the best cups of coffee I’d ever had, eating warm tortillas smothered with refried beans and a sprinkling of cheese.

  In my line of sight, a man in his fifties in worn jeans and plaid shirt held the reins to several horses preparing for the morning’s ride.

  Behind us, an older woman flipped tortillas on the outside grill.

  Several groups of travelers, families, couples, and one lone female camped out at various outside tables. Temperatures hovered in the low seventies most days of the year, earning the place the nickname The Resort of Eternal Spring.

  A truck overloaded with canvas bags, presumably filled with coffee beans, rattled by.

  “I can’t stop watching it.” Claire sipped her coffee. “Puffs and puffs.”

  The volcano in the distance continued to spurt plumes of harmless smoke into the baby-blue morning sky.

  “We have all day to soak everything in.” I glanced up at the full and shiny avocados burdening the tree branches over our heads. “Did you know Hemingway called them alligator pears?”

  “I need to remember that. Ian would get a kick out of it.”

  A massive plume of smoke appeared.

 
Claire straightened in her chair. “Do you think it’s possible it may erupt?”

  “It hasn’t for years.”

  “But—”

  I took her hand. “Don’t worry. It won’t.”

  “If it did, Cora would have you cover the news for MDD.”

  I laughed. “Nothing, and I mean nothing, is going to make me forego our honeymoon. Not after everything.”

  A hotel employee approached. “Mrs. Nicholls?”

  Both Claire and I said yes.

  I peered at the front desk receptionist, wondering why she wasn’t manning the desk. Then again, the place only had twenty bungalows spread over the grounds, so I imagined there was plenty of downtime.

  The woman smiled. “You have a message.” She handed me a sealed white envelope.

  I thanked her and watched as she waltzed back down the cobblestone path, past the old black Model T parked beside the fountain. She retreated inside the lobby.

  Claire rolled her eyes. “You were saying you’d never leave our honeymoon.”

  “I’m sure it’s nothing. Just another person offering their congratulations.”

  “Because you’re so popular here?” Her voice was sarcastic.

  “Some may still remember when I fell down a volcano. Not that one.” I gestured to the harmless one that had been entertaining Claire all morning.

  “Do you have a reputation in every country?”

  I rolled my eyes, tore the side of the envelope, and blew into it to reveal the message: I’m watching.

  Get a FREE Novel & Bonus Chapters

  “The story kept me turning the pages until the end. Great read!”

  “This is a powerful and inspiring story about relationships and trust and not being afraid to face your fears.”

  “Had me laughing out loud.”

  Don’t miss your chance to get a free copy of A Woman Lost, book one in the lesbian romance series. All you need to do is click this link to sign up for my readers’ group and tell me where to send your book.

  But that’s not all. Sign up for my readers’ group today and I’ll send you bonus chapters that aren’t available for purchase.

  The only way to receive the FREE book and bonus chapters is to click this link and tell me where to send them.