Black Widow (26 page)

I
drive into Oakland, following my GPS to the address that Preston gave me for Trevor. Oakland has some really nice neighborhoods and some really bad neighborhoods. Unfortunately for me, Trevor lives in one of the worst areas in the city.

I know I shouldn’t be surprised when I pull up to his run down house with the front porch looking unsafe to even walk on. I can see places where the wood is almost completely rotted away and forget about any reminiscence of paint on the trim. Thankfully there is no one out front or at any of the other surrounding houses.

When I told Preston I was coming here he demanded that I have one of our male paralegals go but there was no way. I’m the best because I do all the research myself. There are little things that people may think are insignificant but they are always the turning point of evidence that I need to break the case.

As I approach the door, I notice the doorbell is not only broken but literally has bare wires sticking out, so I swing open the screen door, that is only hanging on by one hinge, and knock on the door.

I hear someone stir but no one answers the door so I pound harder, letting them know that I am not going away.

After a minute, a tall woman, with dark long hair and crystal clear blue eyes opens the door. Her appearance catches me off guard. Not because she’s beautiful, or because she’s giving a look of death, but because she doesn’t fit.

Something is off.

I squint my eyes to try to envision what a mask would look like on her face. Her hair and height definitely match the look of the woman I saw trying to get Preston’s attention at the club.
God, I wish I had paid more attention to her.

“What do you want?” she spits out with a stare that says I’m a total bitch and don’t you dare fuck with me. Ok, maybe not everything is off. Her attitude definitely fits in this neighborhood.

I give it right back though, “I’m not here for you. I need to talk to Trevor.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” she taunts instantly.

“Where is he?”

“Jail,” she states very matter-of-factly with no emotion.

“Who are you then?”

“Look bitch, I don’t know who you are or why you’re here but since you didn’t even know he was in jail, I would say who I am is none of your business. Now get off my front porch before I grab my gun.”

Without a word, I turn around and walk to my car. I’ve been doing this long enough to know when I’m fighting a losing battle and I wasn’t going to get anywhere with her, no matter how creative I got.

As I drive home I call my assistant, “Angie, I need you to do a court records search for a Trevor Pierson. He’s in jail and I need to know for what and when he went in?”

She gives me a simple, “On it,” and I can hear her typing away on the computer in front of her. “I see here that he’s in jail awaiting trial for a home invasion in San Francisco.”

“When?”

“Date of offense is September 3.”

Becca was killed on September 10.
Damn
. “Ok, thank you.”

I hang up and call Preston. “Trevor’s a no go,” I state after he answers.

“Well, hello to you to,” he laughs as he responds.

“Sorry, work mode. Just facts. Trevor was in jail the night Becca was killed.”

“Fuck. Well, not surprised there. For what?”

“Home invasion. He’s awaiting trial now.”

“Ok, so now what?”

“We keep digging. Try to find someone else who would want to frame you. I want you to make a list of anyone who you might have pissed off anytime in your life. Also, did you deny a Bridge membership to anyone?”

“Yes, one guy. There was something about his membership application that didn’t seem true. I just had a feeling and when Becca couldn’t track anything else about him we denied it.”

“Didn’t you think this was important enough to tell me?” I say not trying to hide my irritation with him.

“Sorry, yes, I guess I should have. My mind isn’t thinking clearly these days.”

“Well, it needs to be. Preston, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me everything. Find that application and email it to me.”

“How about you come to my house for dinner?”

“Preston, I…”

“I told you. Don’t push me away. I’m not going to Bridge tonight but I still need you.”

I pause for longer than I would like to admit, knowing that my silence is only admitting to him that I want him, too, or I would have come back with a fast no.

“I’ll text you my address and see you at six,” he says, hanging up before I even respond to his first question.

F
uck me.

I’m in so deep but it’s too late to do anything about it. I knew from the second I saw her she would do this to me, and here I stand, in my kitchen, making her dinner instead of heading out to the club that I thought was everything I needed.

Now all I want is her.

And my freedom.

Funny how in order to get one I also get the other.

Hopefully.

I walk to my living room to turn on some music when I see the light from below the closet door shining bright.
How the hell is that on again?
I walk over, opening the door just enough to reach the switch and turn it off, shaking my head when I can’t figure out why it was on in the first place.

As I walk back into the kitchen, I look at the clock showing it’s past six. She should be here any minute so I open up the bottle of wine and reach for two wine glasses only to notice that two are sitting right-side-up instead of hanging upside-down on the under cabinet holders I have mounted.

Trying to think when was the last time I had wine, let alone two glasses racks my brain. It had to have been months ago when Becca came over and we first discussed the club.
There is no way these glasses have been sitting here this long instead of hanging where they belong…

My thoughts are scattered when the faint drumbeat starts again. Fuck, I swear I’m not losing my mind but I keep hearing this same beat, over and over again at random parts of the day. I have searched all over my house but I can’t pinpoint where it’s coming from. It seems to bounce around, if that makes any sense at all.

I hear it coming from the bedroom then when I get there it seems to have moved to the living room.

Just as I start to really get pissed off, I hear a knock on the door and the faint beat stops abruptly. I walk from room to room, listening intently and it’s gone.

What. The. Fuck?

I answer the door with an obvious look of confusion.

Kamii tilts her head squinting her eyes, “You ok?”

“Yeah. No. Here, come in,” I say shaking my head.

She sets her things down on the entry room table before moving into the kitchen. “What’s wrong?”

“I know this sounds crazy but I keep hearing this very faint beat, like from a Jamaican steel drum that plays over and over again. It just started again before you knocked on the door, then it stopped abruptly.”

She pauses, looking around like she’s searching for something in the air, “I don’t hear it. Are you feeling ok? Are you getting enough sleep? Maybe it’s just your ears ringing?”

I wave off the idea, trying to change the subject. It’s bad enough I think I’m losing my mind; I don’t want her to think I’m crazy, too.

“So what do you have for me?” Kamii asks sitting at one of my barstools.

“Here is his application. I’m not sure what it was but something just seemed fake. Becca handled all of the new applicants and this one stood out to her so I looked into it. When we researched potential members, we would look at things that hopefully people wouldn’t think of. Of course, we did the common background check, Facebook and all other social media things, but something about him didn’t add up. His photo, his address, his job, and even what he posted on social media, they all seemed like different people. I only wanted people I was 100% sure of so I just passed over it, not thinking much and moved to the next. This is why I wanted it so secure. There are some crazy people out there and since we’re a sex club, I only wanted honest, true people looking for a good time.”

“Ok, I’ll look into him. And what about anyone else who might be upset with you?”

“I truly can’t think of anyone, at least no one that would try to frame me for murder, but, the other day, someone approached me in the garage of my building. The garage is a secure place so I’m not sure how he got there. He threatened me saying he was defending Becca and I was going to rot in jail. It seemed different though. I got the feeling he didn’t kill Becca but he’s definitely looking forward to me going to jail for it.”

“Can you explain what he looked like?”

I shake my head, trying to remember, “I’m horrible at this and it was dark. He was my height, pretty good build, white guy with a short haircut. Probably in his mid thirties.”

“Wow, yeah, you are bad at that. Ok, I’ll add him to the notes and let me know if he comes around again.”

“Ok, can we be done with this investigation for tonight?”

“Preston, we can’t stop until we prove you’re innocent. Did you forget what’s on the line?”

I turn her chair so I can step up in between her legs, looking straight into her eyes. “How can I forget? This is my life. My nightmare I’m living in. But with you here, I only have one thing on my mind. Please, let me have what I need.”

I watch her pulse point start to thump and I know she’s just as affected by me as I am by her.

“What do you need tonight?” she finally replies.

“You,” I say as I lean in, locking my lips to hers, pulling her body into mine.

I
can’t watch this shit.
I flip off the video, disgusted at the thought of watching these two have sex.

Who is this chick? It looked like they were all business at first, going over a piece of paper that I couldn’t see from this far away. I figured it was his lawyer but now I’m not sure. Becca was the only woman he ever had over.

Until now.

What, I get rid of one and he moves just as quickly to the next?

I was having so much fun messing with him, playing music through the tiny speakers I installed in his ceiling. I would switch which speaker I used, changing from room to room and I loved watching him go crazy trying to figure it out. When she showed up though I stopped my game, Preston is the only pawn I want. If she wants to play I’ll have to take her out, too.