Page 8 of The Black Trilogy

The world and his dog had the number of my green phone, which spent most of its life diverted to Sloane. She was pretty busy.

Employees, friends, and a few clients had my amber number. Mostly I answered that one, but not today. I had no interest in speaking to anybody, let alone someone unimportant. In fact, I wasn’t sure I could summon up the energy to deal with that type of call for the foreseeable future.

But the red phone was different. It was for emergencies only and was never, ever, turned off or diverted. Not a lot of people had the number, and most who did had been at the funeral with me.

And it was the red phone ringing.

Sweat seeped out of my palms as I pushed the button on the steering wheel to answer the call. What could possibly have happened in the five minutes since I’d left?

“Speak to me.”

An unfamiliar voice rasped from the speakers, distorted electronically but definitely male. The line crackled, making him sound even more sinister as he barked orders at me.

“Stop investigating your husband’s death. No more questions, and don’t cooperate with the police. If you stay on your path, everyone close to you will die as he did.”

“Who is this?” I asked, though I didn’t expect to get an answer. Not when the caller had gone to so much trouble to disguise his voice in the first place.

“That doesn’t concern you. The only thing you need to worry about is keeping out of my business. Of course, if you insist on continuing, I’ll be forced to demonstrate more of my toys.”

Even disguised, his voice had a jovial lilt at odds with his words. He was playing a game with me. A deadly game, but I didn’t understand the rules.

“What do you want?”

“Nothing. I want you to do absolutely nothing. Do you understand?”

What should I say? What should I say? If I could have reached across the airwaves and torn his windpipe out, I would have, but instead, bile rose in my own throat as I forced out an answer.

“I understand.”

What other option did I have?

The line went dead as the man hung up, leaving me with only the demons in my head for company.

My heart pounded against my ribcage, and I came darn close to losing that bet. I was a mess. I had been since my husband died. He’d kept me grounded and thinking straight, but with him gone, the monsters locked up deep inside me went for a jailbreak.

I saw a side road coming up and took it, barely slowing. The back end of the car kicked out on loose gravel as I slewed round the corner before snapping back into line. I changed down a gear to get some acceleration, and the engine screamed in chorus with the demons.

A mile along the lane, I pulled over, leaving a trail of rubber behind me. The old ranch house I’d parked in front of looked fittingly desolate for the situation, with the front door hanging off its hinges and the porch sagging under years of neglect.

My legs shook as I climbed out of the car and started pacing, desperately trying to gather my thoughts together. They rebelled against order, a jigsaw puzzle where none of the pieces fitted.

I’d very much suspected my husband’s death was arranged by someone who bore a grudge against him, or maybe me, and now that had been confirmed. The men who pulled the trigger were dead, but they were only hired help. The psycho who ordered the hit was still out there, toasting his success and racking up his phone bill.

I should have been furious, I knew that, but the anger wouldn’t come. The place where it should have been was frozen like the rest of me. Where was the pain? The agony? I’d rather have felt anything but nothing.

Now I had a decision to make. Did I carry on with a search that had proved fruitless so far or back off? My friends’ lives were at stake, and I couldn’t face another funeral. Not when it might be Nick or Dan or someone else I was close to lying in that casket.

Why couldn’t I concentrate? Logic got sucked into a black hole of oblivion as I scuffed my stilettos in the gravel.

If I told the team, they’d want to carry on regardless, of that I was certain. I could hear Nick’s voice in my head right now.

“We’re trained professionals. We’ll be okay.”

Dan would say the same, and so would everyone else. But what if they weren’t okay?

We may have hit a nerve with our questions so far, but whose nerve was far from clear. We’d put out so many feelers, who knew which one caused the killer to react? Narrowing it down would take time, more questions, and possibly more deaths. The—no, mustn’t use that word—had already proven he didn’t mess around.

Short of locking everyone I cared about into a nuclear bunker for the foreseeable future while I tripped around chasing leads on my own, I had no way of keeping them safe. I didn’t even have a nuclear bunker, so that option was out, anyway.

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