Page 178 of The Black Trilogy

Silence.

“Come on, tell me. What, did you watch a midafternoon documentary on some obscure satellite channel?”

Because Luke had turned into a world-class slob over the past few weeks. If he spent any longer on the sofa, he might as well upholster himself.

“No, Rob and Mark told me. They’ve come across her before, and apparently it’s well known in police circles that she’s one scary woman.”

“Oh, so they discussed the details of a case with you? Isn’t that illegal?”

Mark’s sister, Arabella, had been Tia’s best friend since they started secondary school. Tia spent a lot of time at their house, but she’d never heard Mark mention any Black Widow. And Mark was always running his mouth off about police business, even though he wasn’t supposed to. He had the discretion of a tabloid newspaper.

“No, Rob read about it on the internet.”

“The internet?” Seriously? “So obviously it must be a hundred percent true then.”

“Why are you taking her side? I’m your brother.”

“And she was like my sister.”

“She lied to you.”

“Maybe so, but she also taught me not to be so quick to judge people. If I’m going to condemn her like you have, I want to hear what she has to say firsthand, not via Rob and Mark and the internet.”

“You’re not contacting her.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d used that firm tone with her, and on past form, he wouldn’t budge. Hmm. More devious measures were called for.

She tried reasoning anyway, just in case. “Why not?”

“She’s dangerous.”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous. I spent as much time with her as you did, and she never showed the slightest inclination to harm me. Or you, for that matter. What she did do was stop other people from hurting both of us. You’ll have to come up with a better argument than that.”

“Okay, well how about because you’re a minor living in my house and I say so,” Luke said, hands on hips, just like their mother when she got cross. Genetics at work. Yes, Tia had listened in at least one of her biology lessons.

“You really are turning into Mother, you know.”

Leaving Luke reaching for the whisky once more, Tia marched off upstairs. Why did her brother have to act like such a jerk? Yes, he’d split with Ash, but that was partly his fault, and drinking and sulking wouldn’t fix a thing. She stormed into her bedroom, kicking the door closed behind her and cursing her stupid brother as she did so.

Men! She hated to lose the argument, but at least she’d stuck up for herself. Ash would have been proud.

Tia threw herself down on the bed, exasperated. Luke could be so closed-minded sometimes. Tia had already judged Ash too hastily once herself, back when she first met her last year. Guilty as charged. She’d assumed Ash was another gold-digger after her brother’s money, same as the procession of shallow tarts who’d preceded her, but that turned out not to be the case.

No, Tia wouldn’t make that mistake again.

She got her laptop out of its drawer and swept away the papers littering the surface of her desk to make room for it. Her gaze was drawn to the corkboard above, to the only photo she had of her and Ash. Just a simple selfie, with Ash smiling beside her into the camera, but as Tia looked at it now, she detected a hint of sadness in Ash’s eyes. Why hadn’t she asked Ash more questions back then? Maybe she could have found out more about her past.

But Ash had always hated talking about herself. Would she have answered if Tia asked? No, probably not. Ash had been a great listener, the best, and that was one of the things Tia had loved about her. Over the weeks, she’d opened up and told Ash her deepest secrets. Ash had never once reciprocated. When it came to Ash’s feelings, Tia concluded that she’d never even scratched the surface, and she doubted Luke had got any deeper.

In front of her, the computer sparked to life. Tia opened up a search engine and typed “Emerson Black” into the box, tapping her fingers on the desk while the page loaded. Lower Foxford’s internet connection came straight out of the dark ages, and even though Luke had installed some fancy satellite system for his work stuff, Tia was left with creaking broadband.

Finally, the page loaded, and she scanned down the results. A band called Emerson released their new album, Black Moon, last week. Emerson Knives Inc. had just brought out a new model of knife with a black finish. An author called Earl Emerson had written a book on a guy called Thomas Black. There were all sorts of permutations of “Emerson” and “Black,” but nothing about a woman called Emerson Black.

Googling “The Black Widow” brought up a zillion references to spiders. Eeeuch, they were ugly little suckers. Tia shuddered at the more graphic photos. Luckily, they didn’t live in the UK, although she did recall a creepy article on the news about one being found in a bunch of grapes at Asda in Watford. She hadn’t eaten fruit for weeks afterwards.

Hundreds of results filled the screen, but still no Emerson Black. It was as if she didn’t exist. Had Luke got things wrong earlier? He’d certainly reeked of whisky when he arrived home.

Tia made one last attempt by entering both search terms together, and was rewarded with a tiny paragraph in The Richmond Times, not a story but an apology for a previous article no longer available. The paper was profoundly sorry for any accusations made and accepted they had no basis in fact. What accusations? What were they talking about? Something to do with that murder nonsense her brother had been spouting?

---