Black Widow (29 page)

He reaches for my hand, “But you do feel it?”

I pull away, not answering him. “Like I said, I need to stay focused. I found something on the application today.”

He sits back, the smirk not leaving his face but thankfully respects my words. “Ok, hit me with it.”

“I think the application was Trevor filling it out with fake information. There were a few things that related to him personally that I don’t think are just a coincidence.”

“There are no such things as coincidences,” he cuts me off stating very matter-of-factly.

“Wow, and here I thought I was the skeptical attorney,” I smirk. “So yeah, I think it was him.”

“Ok, but we already know he was in jail when Becca was killed so that doesn’t really help us.”

“I know but there has to be a tie somehow. Like you said, there’s no such thing as coincidences. He obliviously knew about the club and that you owned it or he would have used his real name.”

“There’s no way it could be him. One, why would he be trying to get in my club, I mean, how would he even know about it? Believe me, he’s not one who hangs out with the caliber of people who are members, so a recommendation would have never happened, and that is the only way people knew about it. Two, Trevor is a piece of shit who has fried all of his brain cells using drugs. He would never be smart enough to put an application together like that. Putting in all that leg work with the Facebook account and such.”

“Ok, so then maybe he really is involved and he has someone working with him. Or I guess this other person is who actually murdered Becca since he was in jail.”

“But wait, how far back did this Facebook page go? I always scrolled a ways back to see what was truly going on. I’d have to look again but I’m almost positive it went back ten months or so, almost a year. There is no way he could have been planning something like this. I didn’t even own the club then. It can’t be him.”

I sigh, trying to think. It doesn’t make sense. None of this makes sense.

I’
ve been racking my brain and still things just don’t add up. There has got to be something I’m missing. No one is that good at hiding things. There is always someway to prove it.

Fingerprints can be easy to lift if you know what you’re doing and they can be found on anything a person touches so say he sets down a glass at a job site and someone takes it before he even notices then boom – there are his prints, stuck to the glass, ready for someone to do with as they wish.

The process to lift those prints, then turn around to make them a mold and into useable prints is a completely different story. It takes some very high tech pieces of equipment and material and over all that, time. And this is what I can’t understand. Who would hate Preston that much that they would spend all this time setting him up for murder?

And why? What would they get out of it?

I’ve looked into his past business dealings, his past relationships before his wife and even spoke to other clubs he would frequent before starting his own and I can’t find one person to say anything bad about the guy. It’s kind of sickening really. He can’t be that perfect. Is it all just for show? Did someone find a dirty secret he’s been hiding, well, besides the whole sex club thing?

There has got to be a reason someone would hate another person so much that they would kill an innocent person just to bring the other person down.

I still believe it has to be someone within Bridge. How else would they get his semen?

Since I was coming up with dead-ends, I hired my own forensic team to do an autopsy and examination of everything that night and her body. The cops still think this is an open/shut case so I know they didn’t look at the body or surrounding things as well as I would have.

My team found something and I’m sitting here waiting, not so patiently I might add, for my phone to ring. When it finally does, I answer on the first ring, “Give it to me.”

“Yes, we found two things. First. We found two long dark hairs on her clothing.”

Hmm, she was a hairdresser but at the same time, I can’t imagine her wearing the same clothes she wore to work to the club. “Ok, can we get a DNA sample off of it?”

“Yes, we can. These hairs were yanked out so there are still some samples we can draw from. And next, we found cells under her fingernails.”

“Yes! Oh, this could be good. You can fake fingerprints, you can even plant the semen but you can’t fake cells.”

“Exactly. Those are only there if you grab someone real hard and scrape them off yourself.”

“Great. Good job. Go run those tests. If we can prove that this hair and these cells came from the same person then we have a much bigger leg to stand on and can at least start to prove there is a shadow of a doubt. Thank you.”

“You bet ya. I’ll run the tests as soon as I get back to the lab.”

We hang up and I smile from ear to ear as I text Preston.

Me: We got something. Not positive yet, but I have a good feeling.

Preston: Finally. Can we meet?

Me: I can’t. Sorry. I have plans.

Preston: Plans? With who?

I don’t respond. I’m not really sure what to say. I’ve been trying to keep my distance, no matter how hard I don’t want to, and being away from him is killing me inside, but we can’t be together. I’m his attorney and all we had was sex.

The most amazing sex ever – but it was just sex.

Becca’s brother called and asked if I wanted to get together to have dinner tonight. His voice was so sweet, I couldn’t say no. Poor guy is torn apart by losing his sister.

I’m back to my working late and going to the gym routine so dinner out with him sounded like a good plan at the time. Though now, I’m regretting saying yes.

I’m still heartbroken over losing Becca and I’m not sure if sitting across from her brother will be the right thing to mend it. What if all he wants to do is talk about her? I will seriously break down. I don’t deal with my emotions that way. I tuck them in, keep to myself while I slowly die each day.

That’s the real me.

I asked that we meet at my work so it felt like less of a date, since I have no clue what this really is, and before I know it, there’s a knock at the door.

He smiles almost shyly as he opens the door, “Hello again, Kamii.”

“Hi there, Nicholas. How was your day?”

“Good. Long. I’m ready for some food. Any suggestions of where you wanted to go tonight?”

We discuss some options and settle for a quaint little Italian place up the road that we can walk to. Little is discussed on the way to the restaurant, which is totally fine by me. It wasn’t uncomfortable in any way, just quiet.

After we’re sat at a corner table for two, he breaks the silent by blurting out, “Look, I really would like to just forget about Becca for one night.”

I let out a sigh of relief before he continues, “Oh lord, that came out all wrong. I’m sorry. I just. This has all been too much. And I know you were really close. And I’m sure you thought that’s why I invited you here, to talk about her, but it really wasn’t. I just needed a night off from thinking that my family has completely collapsed.”

“No, I’m really glad to hear you say that and I can’t agree with you more. I know she was only in my life for a short while but I’m seriously lost without her and I need a distraction just as much as you do.”

“Thank goodness. I mean, don’t get my wrong, I love my sister.”

I hold up my hands stopping him there, “No, no worries here.”

“I just, I mean, I know she loved you. She talked about you constantly. So I guess deep down I wanted to get to know you as well.”

A smile fills my face, “Well, I’m flattered.”

“I also wanted to thank you. I take it you were the one who was trying to get her away from this horrible place she was going to with that Preston guy.”

I almost choke on the bread I just stuck in my mouth. Is this guy serious? He really has no clue that she’s the one that actually introduced me to Bridge. I guess I should be thankful but I’m still shocked.

I play dumb, “I’m sorry…?”

“Preston brain washed her, believe me, she was not raised that way. We come from a very religious family who believes in no sex before marriage.”

Wow, I have to hide my shock again. Not only because this is so far from the truth of who Becca really was but because I know this guy is not married and I don’t even want to think that he could possibly still be a virgin.

“I still can’t believe you’re defending that bastard. All the evidence is there.”

“You know I can’t discuss the case but believe me, I have one rule now, to never defend someone if I don’t honestly think they’re innocent.”

“I’m sorry, you’re right. Ok, no Becca, no case. Tell me about yourself?”

I tell him a very abbreviated story of myself, leaving out anything about my marriage, my family; because really there’s nothing to discuss, and my friendship with Becca. So really, it’s a very short story.

He tells me about being a police officer, how he was raised in a loving, still married, family and how his faith is very important to him and helps him get through the day with all the horrible things he sees first hand.

By the end of dinner I’m truly enjoying myself. He’s a great guy, has a wonderful personality and seems to want to settle down with a wife and kids of his own. He should be every girl’s fantasy. A gorgeous guy, more than willing to fall in love and sweep a girl off her feet but it’s just not for me.

I’ve been there. Married the guy of my dreams and he was taken away in an instant. My chance has come and gone.