Fatal Jealousy (Black Widow Book 1) (7 page)

Carson moved closer to her. He watched her cry and it seemed like a piece of her heart broke and poured out of her eyes as tears.

“So his sons were his cars, big, expensive and classic. He was going to give us each a car he felt suited us, once we turned twenty-five.”

“Ellie...” Carson said soothingly.

“A cop stopped them on their way home after their date night and just shot them both dead! What reason could he have to do that? To end the lives of the only two most wonderful people I knew, like they didn’t mean shit!” The tears now running down her eyes were of hate and anger.

“Ellie...”

“He said the car couldn’t belong to them and if it did, they were most definitely drug dealers!” She half yelled, the anger shaking her voice. “They turned our lives upside down trying to prove that asshole’s claims. And when they found nothing, they covered up for him. The rest of you covered up for him!”

“Ellie I wasn’t there,” He said with understanding, but he knew that wouldn’t soothe her one bit, “What was the cover story?”

“He acted in self-defence when my dad tried to shoot him,” she smiled bitterly, “A funny thing is, they didn’t find a gun.”

Carson stayed quiet, unable to defend his profession or come up with a proper excuse. This wasn’t the first time he’d heard about something this cruel. “Not everyone who carries a badge and a gun is evil.”

Ellie wiped her tears away with her fingers, “I know that. But sometimes when I see a badge and a gun, I forget that and all I feel.... is hate.”

Her words hit Carson hard in the gut, making him cringe, “What happened to him?”

“We went to confront him and he almost ran Ellsa over with his car. He ended up wrapped around a tree instead.”

“Poetic justice,” he stepped back, his hands dug deep in his back pockets, “So what now?”

Ellie had been anxious about this for weeks. The moment was here, all she had to do was open her mouth and spit it out. “Remember the night you told me I’d never be rid of you?”

He snorted, “I chewed on those words every night.”

She exhaled, covering her face with her hands, “You are going to make me beg aren’t you?”

“It would help my ego a tiny bit,” he joked.

She pulled her hands down and looked at him, bubbles and butterflies tickling her chest. “Your ego should be bragging because you were right,” she nibbled on her lips to hide her smile as she tried to pace her racing heartbeat. “I’m reminded of that little fact every morning.”

“What? You see my face in your bowl of cereal?” he smiled, moving to her. The revelation made him comfortable enough to wrap his arms around her and hold her where she was always supposed to be, close to him.

Ellie pulled his hands down and pushed him back a step. She needed room to breathe if she was going to say it, “A bowl does have something to do with it.”

Carson stared at her confused, “Are you okay? You are shaking.”

She nodded vigorously, “What’s your view on kids?” she gasped out.

“Why?”

“Just answer the question!”

He shrugged, “Not a fan, but I love to practice making them,” his lips rose in half a smile.

Ellie smiled nervously as she shook her head, “You are making this very difficult for me.”

“What?”

“I came back to you because all I think about is you, every single moment of the day,” she felt her momentum buildup like a speeding train, “You are the first thing I think about when I wake up, and the last when I go to sleep. Every tall, dark guy I see, I think it’s you, and I feel like a piece of me is missing and not missing at the same time, because I have a piece of you with me.” She stopped as if the emergency brakes had been pulled on a freight train.

“You are not making any sense Ellie.”

“I came back to you because.... I’m pregnant,” she whispered. She held her breath and waited, her hands automatically rising to cover her belly.

Carson froze. He gazed down at her covered belly then back at her face. He felt like he’d been socked in the face. His mind blank, his tongue rigid with words he couldn’t find.

Ellie, disappointedly, let go of her breath. Dale’s long silence was a wordless answer, “I’ll give you a few days or weeks to.... I don’t know, do what you want!” She yelled and ran out of the office before he could
not
say another word. Her escape was short lived when she was stopped at the elevator.

“Hi, I’m Richard Beckett, Dale’s boss.”

Ellie smiled at him politely. All she wanted to do was cry and the last thing on her mind was making friends with Dale’s colleagues.

“You know a lot more about that poem than we do. Could you please help us?”

Ellie felt her heart stop when she spotted Dale behind Richard, staring at her, the naked shock still on his face. She turned back to the elevator, her escape, willing the doors to open so that she could jump in.

“Please,” taking her hand and gently dragging her behind him. Left with no choice, she followed him, keeping her eyes on the ground.

“Wait,” she quickly spoke up, “The pictures...”

“We put them away already. Although, the poem was written in blood, will you be okay with that?”

Carson placed a hand on her back and led her forward, “Just imagine it as red paint.”

Ellie wasn’t sure what to make of his gentleness, but she always knew his job was a priority to him.
It’s all for his job
, she thought to herself.

“These are the blood written poems,” Gwen said with a smirk, handing her the pictures. “Try not to puke all over them.”

She took them, fully aware of the woman’s hostility, “I painted my friend’s fabric for his fashion show. I used his and my blood, but mostly his. It was his lunatic way of making a stand on animal rights. I did it because I liked the idea of using unconventional material. Blood doesn’t make me squeamish, dead bodies do.”

Carson laughed behind her, at Gwen’s stiff un-amused face. He was glad Ellie stood up for herself, especially against Gwen. He liked it.

“What light were these pictures taken in?”

“You are here to decipher the poem, not analyze our ability to take pictures.”

Ellie looked up at her, irate. It took a lot more than a bad attitude to get under her skin, but the redhead was working her last nerve. She didn’t even know the woman!

“Gwen!” Carson warned, stepping closer to Ellie. He placed his hand on her waist, his fingers resting on the small bulge on her waist.
Wow, this is real
, he thought to himself, gently stroking the bulge with his fingers. “What has the light got to do with anything?”

Ellie smiled, glad Dale came to her defence, happier that he seemed to be getting used to the idea of being a dad, “Well, it has a milk-like appearance, probably diluted. It’s not dripping off the wall, which means it’s not fresh,” she swallowed hard, the image of the bloody bodies still in her mind, “And the writing is done in calligraphy, kind of old school.”

Picking up copies of the writing, “He used a feather pen?” Doran asked.

“Yes. And the guy must have mixed it with some powder for it to crack like that.”

“Wonderful.” Gwen coughed, tapping her foot impatiently. Ellie stared at her, her own impatience rising.

“She’s right, on all of it.” Kevin defended.

Ellie smiled at him, appreciative, “Anyway the poem is ‘Uphold true and fitting justice and maintain the spirit of the law, not the letter of the law. Fitting recompense will always accrue for one’s actions'.” She held up the picture with the writings, “this one’s probably for a cop or a lawyer.” She placed it down and held up the next one and recited;

‘Violence will meet violence and evil pay back evil,’ this part is obvious but the next lines aren’t in any of the pictures. He or she must be holding it for himself, ‘but good will also come to those who do good. Walk the line of the
Doombringer
’s teachings, seeking retribution, but do not fall into the trap of pursuing evil acts for evil’s sake, for that way is seductive and leads only to one’s downfall.”

She held up the last picture, “Vengeance must be sought for all injustices, and all punishments must fit the crime.” She stopped, placing the last photo on the table.

“Is that the end of the poem?” Paloma asked.

“No. ‘Revenge is sweetest when it is sharpened with irony. All attacks must be avenged.’ This one,” she swallowed the lump in her throat, “must be horrific, a crude joke to him. ‘Those who do not respond to attacks against their person or that which they hold dear, only invite further attacks.' He’s going to die for being a constant victim,” she said, with disbelief, “What the hell is wrong with this guy?”

“It can be the smallest of things that make people snap like this.” Paloma said, giving her a gentle smile.

“So he’s some kind of vigilante?” Carson said, stepping away from her and pulled up the pictures. “Something must have happened that made him want retribution against everyone involved, even the victim who let it go on.”

“How about you wait for me to leave the room? It was nice meeting all of you.” She smiled and hurriedly left the room.

“Ellie wait!” Carson said running after her. She stopped, wishing she had walked quicker. He pulled her close and placed one hand on the side of her head, gently caressing her cheek with his thumb. He leaned down and kissed her lips lightly, but with longing, “I promise we’ll talk later. I’ll come to your apartment, I can visit Kris too. I haven’t seen her in weeks.”

She smiled. She didn’t want to get too excited, but she was happy. It was a step, “Her boyfriend moved in to protect her after I left so you can imagine the chaos.” She stepped into the elevator, “I hope you catch this guy.”

“Me too,” he waited for the doors to close before he went back in.

“It’s not bring-your-girlfriend-to-work day Carson,” Gwen reproached.

“Shut up, Gwen!”

“She looks prettier than the last time I saw her,” Audrey shrieked excitedly, “And by that kiss I’m sure it’s safe to say she’s realized the errors of her ways. You are one in a million, she wouldn’t be foolish enough to lose you.”

Carson’s wide grin showed exactly how happy he was, “Audrey. Undo what you did, please.”

She smiled, walking away, “Already done.”

“Audrey!” Carson half yelled, running after her, “I need to talk to you.” He held her arm and half dragged her behind him into his office. He closed the door behind them and began pacing anxiously, the news finally making its impact.

“Dale, is there anything you’d like to tell me?” She asked, following him with her eyes.

“Yes but I’m not sure. Isn’t it superstitious to tell people while it’s still early, you know like counting your chickens before they hatch?” He stopped for a second and stared at her, waiting for her answer.

Audrey wasn’t sure what to say. She had no idea what he was talking about and his pacing around like a headless chicken was beginning to worry her, “Well, it depends on what we are talking about.”

“Ellie is pregnant.” He spat out and waited.

Her eyes popped open. She froze, looking at him, mouth agape.

“That’s what I did and she didn’t like that very much.”

She shook her head, trying to clear it, “Okay. Okay. Let’s start from the beginning because I’m confused. When did you sleep with her?”

He went back to pacing, “The day she dumped me.”

“That’s fifteen weeks ago, there should be a bump or something. Does she seem heavier?”

“Her waist is a lot rounder than the last time I felt it. I put my hand on her belly,” he felt sweaty and breathing was becoming a chore for him, “He’s in there all right.”

“OMG!” she yelled, dancing around, “You are going to be a dad!” She jumped on him and hugged him tight, “I’ve got dibs on godmother.”

He laughed nervously, “So this is a good thing?”

Audrey held his face in the palms of her hands, “Dale Carson, you are thirty-six years old. It’s about time you spread your good genes around.”

“So it’s a good thing?”

She laughed, hugging him. “It’s a great thing!”

Chapter Nine

Carson drove to Ellie’s apartment, his mind still in a whirlwind. Possibly, falling in love wasn’t something he thought seriously about. When he was younger, yes he thought about it, he had it all planned- law school, his own practice, a wife and three kids- two boys and one girl- all by the age of forty. He’d have a wonderful marriage and give his kids the best childhood that he could. Just like his dad did, then things changed.

Practicing law didn’t seem as fun as getting into the minds of psychopaths and hunting them down. Going head to head with situations people only had nightmares about or watched in movies. Knowing that each day he went out on the job there was a fifty percent chance he would be back in a body bag. He had to admit, those odds gave him a rush nothing else could match up to. With everything he’d seen on the job, bringing children into the world at the risk they’d be tortured by one of the animals he hunted down, or leaving a widow behind, or becoming a widower himself because of his job was something he wasn’t willing to put up to risk. The pain of losing a loved one isn’t something he would wish on anyone.

He was content being a bachelor for the rest of his life. But now, at the age of thirty-six, he had a girl he thought he loved and she was expecting their first child. A life he was frightened of living was becoming a reality.

He rang her doorbell, each hand holding snacks and foods he’d heard Richard complain about, having to drive to a twenty-four hour store in the middle of the night for his wife, and what Paloma used to stuff herself with at work.

Kris opened the door in her flannel shorts and red vest, “Good, you are finally here.”

Holding up the bags to her as he stepped in, “Hi. Long time no see. I brought pizza, burgers, chips, chocolates and ice cream. I wasn’t exactly sure what her cravings were.”

“You nailed it.” Kris took the bags from him and set them on the kitchen counter, “We barely have any food in the house since hurricane Ellie arrived four days ago,” she pulled four slices of pizza out of the box and put them on a plate.