Black Widow (27 page)

I
have to clear my head. I swear all this stress is making me lose my mind. Somehow I even set my alarm for 3 am instead of 8 am. How does that even happen? Then of course the music I’ve been hearing started right up again, so faint that I could barely sleep the rest of the night. I’ve never even heard this beat yet it’s stuck in my brain like the most annoying song lyrics you can think of.

The media is still swarming outside of my building and my work. I’ve already lost a few contracts I was working on claiming they decided to go with another company but I know it’s bullshit. My face is plastered all over the news. When a high roller in town is framed for murder, believe me, the media does its own job of making sure everyone thinks I killed her.

I sneak out of my building through the service elevator with a hoodie pulled up and sunglasses on. I have a ton of steam built up and need to go for a run. There’s nothing like the crisp salty air of San Francisco to clear your mind.

I head down to the pier, which is only a few blocks from my apartment that’s on the edge of the Russian Hill district. It’s always crazy crowded with people but I love the long, flat run from Pier 39 down to AT&T park. They are a little more than three miles apart so it’s a good six-mile run roundtrip run.

I’m almost back to my place when someone comes up behind me, pushing me, making me stumble and almost fall to the ground.

After gaining my footing, I turn around, “What the fuck was that for?”

“You know exactly what that was for!” the man screams back at me.

Sweat drips down my forehead as I raise my arm to wipe it away, noticing the same man from the elevator door in my garage a few days ago. “Look,” I walk straight up to him, not backing down and getting right in his face, “I don’t know who you are but you need to back the fuck off!”

He returns my stature, pumping his chest right back at mine, “I will not back off until you rot in hell.”

I grit my teeth, opening my eyes as wide as I can, “I did not kill her.”

“I know you killed her. I’ve seen all the evidence. And I know about your little club.”

My eyes widen for a second before I bring my anger back in, denying anything he has to say. “What club?”

“You know exactly what club. I know all about Bridge. And you’re going down. I promise you that. Anyone disgusting enough to not only attend a club like that, but actually own it, is only going to hell. I’m happy to say you will be going to hell now on this world before you enter hell on the other side as well. For eternity,” he spits out.

I have to laugh. I’ve never been a religious man but I can tell this guy is very religious and believes just because I was having sex with whoever I wanted, in a safe environment, then I’m a horrible guy who’s going to hell.

I’m over denying that the club exists to him and so I try another tactic to get this guy off my back. “Yeah, well if you truly believe that then you must also believe that Becca is already in hell, waiting for me, because she not only was a member of my club, she helped me start it and loved it as much as I did.”

“No, she didn’t! You brainwashed her. This was all your fault. She was a good, sweet, Christian girl until she met you.”

I go for the kill. I have no clue who this guy is but he’s fucking with me on the wrong day. “Yes, she was an amazing girl. Someone I cared for very deeply. And believe me, she loved that club and especially fucking me and any another guy at the same time. She loved having two cocks buried deep…”

I don’t get to finish my thought as the guy takes a swing, landing his fist right across my jaw. I see nothing but rage as his other hand reaches up to take another shot but I block his punch and sock him in the gut with my other fist.

The guy can fight; I’ll give him that. We go a few blows before he traps me in a wrestling move, making me feel like he’s going to break my arm.

He leans down, whispering in my ear, “As I said before, if I were anyone else I would kill you myself right now, so feel lucky that I’m not but I’m done with this shit. I’m breaking your little secret wide open. I’m sure the press would love to know all the ins and outs of Bridge.”

I clench my jaw, helpless in this man’s grip. “Fine. Go ahead. Just know, it will prove that Becca was a member and if you’re truly so against it then you’ll be the one smearing her name, not me. Believe what you want about her but hear me now, she loved that place.”

The guy spits in my face and releases his grip, walking away without saying another word.

“I
have that background check you requested,” Angie states as I walk in the office. Lord knows what I would do without her. She’s my right hand man, or woman I guess, and always comes through without fail.

“Great. Let me see.”

“You were right. This is full of lies. Everything from his address, social media to his photo is fake.”

“Yeah, I’m not surprised to hear that. Any clue who it could be for real?”

“Unfortunately, no. They covered their tracks pretty well. None of it’s joined together. I actually went to the address but when I asked if Travis Peacock lived there they, of course, said no. It was the sweetest older lady so I dug further, only to learn that they’ve lived there the past 50 years and never had kids.”

“Angie, I appreciate you going above and beyond for this but I wish you didn’t go to this address by yourself. You never know what you could have walked in on.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I took Anthony,” she winks at me with a smirk. “It was 100% worth the, um, outing.”

I have to laugh; she’s never been shy about her and Anthony, the paralegal from the 5
th
floor. I wonder if she would be open to a place like Bridge. Then it hits me. This place will never be the same for me and I don’t see myself ever going back. The thought stings somewhere deep in my chest.

Thankfully, Angie continues, pulling me out of my instant funk. “The phone numbers just ring and ring. I called the phone company and were able to track down that they are numbers attached to those pre-paid cellular plans that don’t have names attached to them.”

“Ok, what about the social media accounts that Preston found?”

“That’s the thing. Someone went through a lot of trouble to set this up. The account was set up almost a year ago. With random posts here and there of the same guy, going places, discussing things and showing shots with friends. But a little over a month ago the posts stop, actually, a few weeks after the date on this application. Though the account still exists, it’s been completely inactive.”

“Ok, I guess that’s a little odd but not totally out of the normal.”

“No, so I started doing searches on the pictures. Running it through the facial recognition software we just got and I got a hit. But get this, from a royalty free photography site. I clicked on the photographer’s folder and there they were. All the photos that were posted on this Facebook page were downloaded from this site.”

“So we definitely know it was a fake account but why go through all the trouble of creating a persona, posting over a year of stuff?”

“Hey, that’s why you get paid the big bucks. I just do the research,” she laughs. “What’s this an application for anyway?”

“That’s confidential,” I deadpan.

She gives me a smart-ass look that I give her right back. I love that she is like this with me now. She’s been my assistant since I started here but just recently she’s opened up to me more and become more of a friend.

I guess it’s really me opening more up to her. I hope I don’t lose this side of me and sink back into my hopeless, workaholic ways after I’m done with this case and I have nothing else left of Preston or Bridge.

Trying to stay on track, I smile back at her, “Ok, thanks. Keep me posted if you find anything else.”

“You betcha,” she sings as she turns back to her computer, waving me into my office.

After dropping my bag on my desk, I look over all the information again that Angie just gave me. When people make a fake profile they often use similarities from their personal life. You can call it not being original but I call it just plain stupid.

After staring at the paper for a few minutes two things stick out to me. First the address number, 350. That is the same number as Trevor’s place in Oakland. And of course, there’s the name on the application, Travis Peacock. Trevor’s last name is Pierson, and I don’t miss that fact of how close Peacock is to Babcock.

A knock at the door takes me from my ah-ha moment and I’m greeted with an extremely good-looking man standing in my doorway. I feel my face flush as I close the folder with the application and smile at the gorgeous man.

I’m still amazed at how much me being a member of Bridge has changed my personality and how comfortable I am with good-looking men who are strangers to me. I used to be extremely shy, never thinking I had a chance with any of them and now all I can think about is what they would look like naked, how long it would take me to get them that way and what sound they made when they came.

“Ms. Schafer, do you have a minute?”

“Yes, but please, call me Kamii. How can I help you?” I stand up, pointing him to the chair in front of me to have a seat.

“Yes, Kamii. I’ve heard a lot about you. A lot of… good things,” he says in a sweet manner.

“Well, thank you. And whom can I thank for sending you my way?”

“Becca,” he says with an instant frown on his face.

My heart instantly sinks. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

“No, I’m sorry. I should have introduced myself first. I’m Nicholas Anderson. Becca was my little sister.”

Oh shit.
I didn’t know Becca had a brother. Let alone such a gorgeous brother, but of course, his name is Nicholas. Life just wants to punish me that way.

He continues when I don’t say anything in return, “She spoke of you constantly. Said you two had gotten pretty close, pretty fast.”

“Yes, we were very close and spent a lot of time together. I’m devastated by what has happened to her.”

His demeanor changes instantly as his jaw clenches tightly before he responds, “Then can you explain to me why you’re defending the man who obviously killed her?”

“Everyone is innocent until proven guilty. It’s my job to find who murdered her and I promise you, I will.”

“We already have. It’s Preston Babcock. Every piece of evidence found at the scene points directly to him. Case closed. Let us put this guy in jail so he can rot in hell before he spends eternity in hell.”