And had he called the cops? He huffed bitterly. And have them think he’d killed her? Hell, no. He’d backed out of the apartment, hoping he hadn’t touched anything but too freaked out to remember.
Not my business. Not my business. But he didn’t believe the mantra now any more than he had the night before as he’d chanted it endlessly as he’d tried to sleep. ‘Tried’ being the operative word.
Focus on your work. Get this story done. Then you can figure out what to do about the old lady.
But now he simply stared at the screen, only able to see the old woman’s body, crumpled on her apartment floor. He hadn’t been able to help himself – he’d lifted her to the sofa. Yes, he’d even disturbed a fucking crime scene, but he hadn’t been able to stand the thought of her lying in the middle of the trash the intruder had left behind.
The intruder he’d seen leaving the woman’s apartment.
When his phone rang again, Jeff picked up. ‘I’m not finished yet,’ he snapped.
‘Yeah, kid, you are.’
Jeff had to bite his tongue to keep the I’m not a kid from escaping his mouth. Because as much as he hated it, he was a kid. Let it go, he told himself. Stay calm and employed.
He’d been lucky to get this job with the Gabber. Not many of the students in his classes had actual real-life jobs in journalism. That this one was with a less-than-classy gossip blog wasn’t amazing, but he was getting paid. And everybody had to start somewhere. I mean, TMZ was a rag when it first started out.
It’s still a rag. His mother’s voice was like a buzzing gnat. You could do so much better, Jeffy.
Probably, but this was what he had right now.
‘It’s not finished, Nolan. I’m not finished.’
‘And I say you are. You’ve been working this story for six weeks, Jeff. It’s time to let it out into the world.’ Nolan Albanesi spoke in levels of oil. There was the sleazy, greasy Nolan and the icky, too-much-fried-food Nolan. This was the WD-40 Nolan, easy, slick, and hard to elude.
‘Why?’ Jeff asked, suspicious.
Nolan laughed. ‘Haven’t you seen the news?’
‘Not yet. I’ve been working on the story write-up pretty much nonstop.’ Which was a lie, but there was no way he was telling Nolan about the old lady’s body.
‘So industrious,’ Nolan mocked. ‘Send me what you’ve got, kid. I’ll polish it and post.’
Alarm bells were dinging. ‘Why?’ he repeated.
‘Because your subject was nearly abducted from the airport an hour ago. It’s all over the net.’
Jeff inhaled sharply. ‘What?’
‘You heard me. Some dude tried to grab her and take her right out of the airport. The fact that she’s the same Mercy Callahan who got snatched back in February hasn’t been connected by a lot of the news agencies.’
Think, Jeff. Think, for fuck’s sake. ‘You said that some dude tried. He didn’t succeed?’
‘No. But Callahan’s news again and we’re ahead of the power curve. We’ve got your article. So send it to me,’ Nolan finished, carefully enunciating every word. ‘Or I’ll give the story to someone else.’
‘No!’ Jeff exploded. Over my dead body. He winced. Bad choice of words, because the image of the old lady’s body barreled back into his mind. ‘It’s just not finished. There’s more to this story, Nolan. I know it.’
‘Then write a sequel,’ Nolan snarled. ‘But for now, send me the fucking story or you’re fired.’
Jeff’s stomach was sick. He couldn’t be fired. It wasn’t much money, but he needed every penny of it. His scholarship didn’t cover even half of his college expenses. ‘Fine. But give me a minute to delete a few paragraphs. There’s stuff there that I’m not comfortable including.’
‘Send it to me,’ Nolan said, back to his slightly sleazy self, but at least he wasn’t yelling anymore. ‘I’ll decide what gets deleted, but I want to read it in its entirety first.’
Yeah, right, Jeff thought. He might have been a little young and a little naive, but he wasn’t stupid. ‘Fine, will do.’
Ending the call, he scanned the story and deleted the paragraphs that had seemed titillating before last night. Before that dead lady’s body. So Mercy had been a party girl in college. So what? So were thousands of other women. The asshole who’d been all too ready to dish dirt for a price wasn’t relevant to her story now. He gave it one last read-through, then uploaded it to the Gabber’s server.
He closed his eyes. And now he had to figure out what to do about the dead lady. And Mercy Callahan. Because he’d be so very surprised if the man who’d tried to abduct Mercy from the airport wasn’t the same man he’d seen leaving her neighbor’s apartment. After killing her.
Jeff stood abruptly, pushing the chair back. He paced the length of his bedroom, trying hard not to spiral into panic again. He wanted to talk to his mother. Get her advice. But he knew what she’d say. He had to tell the police what he’d seen.
Shit. Reaching into his desk drawer, he pulled out the bottle of scotch that he’d taken from his mother’s stash. The bottle was still nearly full, because he’d found out that he hated scotch. But it was the only liquor he had, except for the Kahlúa he’d also swiped from his mother, and that had ended poorly last time.
He grimaced as he knocked back a small swallow of the scotch, then two.
By the time he’d had a half-dozen swallows, he’d finally slowed his pacing. He sank onto his bed because the room was spinning now.
I’m scum. ‘I’m a terrible person,’ he slurred, covering his eyes with his hands.
But at least he’d cut the most damaging parts of the story. That was something, right?
No, that’s basic human decency, his mother’s voice said. That’s the very least I expect from you, Jeffy. Don’t disappoint me.
‘Okay, Mom,’ he said slowly. ‘I’ll call the police.’
When I’m not so drunk, because who’d believe me like this?
Four
Sacramento, California
Saturday, 15 April, 7.15 P.M.
It was humiliating. Mercy stared out the window of the SUV she was to borrow from the Sokolovs for the duration of her stay. Going all zombie like that. She hated when that happened. But the worst had finally happened. Ephraim had found her.
She drew a breath, forcing the memory of Ephraim’s cruel eye from her mind. Push it in the box. Push hard. Now nail it closed. It was a visual that usually worked. Some days she had to mentally hammer a lot more nails into the box to keep it closed. Today was one of those days.