Page 54 of Salem's Fall
I don’t believe in the supernatural…
My phone vibrates sharply in my pocket, making me jump. I stare down at the screen and let out a long sigh. It’s Katie again, for the third time today. I’ve been dodging her calls. She clearly thinks I’m crazy for still staying in town, and I’m not in the mood to argue. Still, she’s my best friend and I can’t ignore her forever.
“James, finally!” Katie’s voice comes out in a rush, a mix of exasperation and worry when I answer. “Why are you avoiding my calls? Where are you—and please tell me it isn’t Salem’s Fall!”
“I can’t leave yet, Katie. Too much is happening,” I say, whispering as I look around the archive room, but I’m all alone. Everyone else has gone home for the evening.
“I’m freaking out over here!” Katie screeches into my ear. “Are you really still working for Blackhollow even after everything we’ve been hearing? James—he’s a killer!”
“I’m a criminal defense attorney, Katie,” I say. “This is part of the job. I can’t just walk away.”
There’s a pause on the other end of the line. When Katie speaks again, her voice is quieter, more careful.
“Look, I know how important this is to you—prestigiouslaw firm, big paycheck, partner track,” she says. “But a successful career isn’t the most important thing in life.”
I grit my teeth. Of course, Katie can say this.
Her family didn’t just follow the New England old-money playbook—they helped write it. Their name is literally etched into Harvard’s law school, with a building on campus bearing the Tang family name, for crying out loud. Their influence stretches from the United States all the way to Asia. Her grandparents were Beijing powerbrokers, deeply tied to China’s political elite; her father is the former U.S. Ambassador to China. And while it’s not her fault she was born into privilege most people couldn’t fathom; she can’t possibly understand what it’s like to be me. To feel like you have to earn your place in this world, every single step of the way.
“I’m fine, Katie,” I say, forcing a level of calm into my voice that I don’t feel.
“I’m just scared for you. Everything I’m hearing about Blackhollow... it’s bad.Really bad.” I can hear the worry in her voice. “You know I can’t tell you much, but from what I’m hearing, things are moving fast on the DA’s side. It’s looking worse for Blackhollow every day, and now they’re saying there could be another murder tied to him. An ex-girlfriend or something?—”
“Wait, other murders? What do you mean?” I interrupt, trying my best to sound naive, like I haven’t spent the entire day researching this myself. But I want to hear what the DA knows while being careful not to give away anything myself.
“I don’t know all the details,” Katie says, choosing her words carefully. “But rumors are flying that there could be more murders connected to your client than just the dead fiancée. From what I hear, this could be just the tip of the iceberg.”
I pause, processing. It sounds like the DA is sniffingaround, but they haven’t put the pieces together yet. That means I may still have the upper hand.
But I can’t tell Katie that.
Even if Katie is my best friend and I have my own suspicions about my client’s innocence, I can’t share any of this with her. Even if Damien Blackhollow is some sort of crazed serial killer, I still feel some messed up sense of loyalty toward him, not to mention an ethical responsibility to keep his confidence.
At least for now.
She lets out a frustrated sigh. “Come back to Boston, James. No job is worth your life.”
“I need a little more time. I promise I’ll be careful.”
“You’d better be,” she warns. “Oh yeah, and Quinn’s been calling me. He’s worried about you too. Maybe give the poor guy a call back before he has a heart attack.”
The mention of Quinn makes my stomach churn. I feel terrible for how I’ve been ignoring him. And it’s not just because he’s my boss or my job is on the line. It’s Quinn. I hate the idea of him being angry with me, but I don’t know what to say to him. I know he wants me to come back too, and I can’t do that just yet.
“Thanks for calling, Katie.” My voice comes out tight, controlled. “I have to go now, but we’ll talk later, okay?”
I end the call right as the library lights begin to dim. It’s closing time. With a sigh, I gather my things and step into the cool night air. Tourists pass by, laughing and snapping pictures, playing make-believe in their witch hats and brooms, oblivious to the real darkness lurking beneath the surface. They have no idea what’s really going on in this town.
Back at the Cottage, I stroll through the lobby and head for my room. Holding my breath, I glance around, half expecting to see Damien in front of me, waiting for me withthat smoldering gaze, but there’s no sign of him. No sexy dark figure lurking about.
I feel a pang of disappointment.
Though I’m the one who told him to leave me alone, I didn’t actually expect him to listen. He doesn’t seem like the type to listen to anyone. I sort of thought he was more… I don’t know—invested in me? If not in me, at least in his own murder case.
Lucky hops up to greet me as I walk inside my room, curling against my side while I settle onto the bed with my laptop. My fingers hover over the keys as I try to force my thoughts into coherent sentences to finish Quinn’s case memo, but my mind is everywhere but the screen. The events of the last few days are a tangled mess, a web of secrets and lies that I’m still trying to unravel. Lucky flicks his tail, sensing my unease, but doesn’t leave my side. I should order dinner—room service, maybe—but I’m not hungry. It’s like I have no appetite.
After I finish my memo, I check my inbox again and am a little surprised to see there’s nothing new from Quinn. He hasn’t called or texted in hours either. Last night and earlier today, he was bombarding me with messages, demanding I come back to Boston. But now... now the silence feels ominous.
What if something’s happened to him? What if he’s been attacked like Mark?
