when she realized that it was the door. She was naked in her large pale pink bed, a leathery-skinned naked body asleep at her side. She’d chosen Jed Brown after all. Shit. Her head was barely functioning. It had been a late night. She’d filed the copy and then gone back to see Jed to celebrate. She had an exclusive on the sixth victim of a multiple killer — this was going to get her everything she wanted. Every other paper was screaming about the killer’s capture, but she knew better. He had killed again: her source had said so.
The paper was paying her well for the inside track on the serial murders. Very well. But Jed Brown had offered to double her salary, then he’d offered her a ride home in a limo, then he’d offered himself.
The buzzer screeched again and didn’t stop. Erin rose and pulled on a gown and then walked to the intercom.
‘Hey, what’s so fucking important?’
‘NYPD, open up. Is that Erin Nash? You’ve just reported a murder that no one knows about but you. Open your fucking door. NOW!’
The news hit her like a wave of cold water and woke up her mind quicker than a double espresso. She buzzed the door and sat back in a lazy chair, her body fizzing with fear. Shit and fuck and fuck again! Had someone sold her a dud story? Was it her source following some weird agenda of his own? What the fuck was happening?
Tom Harper, Eddie Kasper, Lol Edwards and Mark Garcia appeared at the door of her apartment. All four faces were angry and tired.
Eddie Kasper moved closer to her. ‘Is your name Erin Nash?’ She nodded slowly and looked from man to man.
Harper moved in. ‘You remember me, I hope. My name is Detective Tom Harper, NYPD. Let me just make this clear for you. You’ve reported the death of a woman called Kitty Hunyardi. Is that true?’
‘I filed the story late last night. What’s happened?’
‘The murder you reported has not been notified to the NYPD. We know nothing about it. Not a thing, but you’re telling us Kitty Hunyardi is dead. What do you know? Someone’s screwed you. Who’s your source?’
‘I don’t reveal my sources,’ said Erin, defiant even though her limbs felt like jelly.
‘I know you claim that, but this is different.’
‘Why?’
‘Because we’re going to bust you for obstructing an investigation and Katrina Hunyardi’s family is going to sue your paper for so much money that it’ll have to shut down. Ms Hunyardi was in the station yesterday afternoon. Now you tell us she’s dead. You got any facts, Erin?’
She shook her head. Harper continued: ‘You just might be an accessory after the fact. Anyone who receives, relieves, comforts or assists an offender in order to hinder or prevent his apprehension, trial or punishment is an accessory after the fact. Do you understand? We’re going to arrest you, Erin. Now open your mouth. Who is it? Where did you get this? We need to know, Erin.’
‘Okay. I’ve been briefed by a cop in Homicide. One of your team, Detective Harper. One of your own fucking team.’
‘Who?’
‘A guy. We had a drink.’ She was twisting in her seat. How the fuck did she get out of this one? She had no idea. Maybe last night had marked the end of her career, not the beginning.
‘Sleep with him, did you, Erin?’
‘That’s not against the law, is it?’
‘Is that how you got the information? Sexual favours?’
‘Fuck you, I’m a grown-up, I can sleep with who I like.’
As he was about to speak, Harper’s cell phone buzzed. He picked up and listened. The room went deadly silent as Harper ’s face tensed, and then his eyes closed momentarily. The duty sergeant on the line had just got a call from the patrol at Kitty’s apartment. It wasn’t good news. They’d found Kitty Hunyardi’s body and she was posed just like Erin Nash’s article said, with her hands removed. But there was one important fact that Erin had missed. Kitty’s body was still warm and a copy of the Daily Echo was sitting by her head. She’d been killed after the paper had come out. Harper listened and then hung up. Kitty had only just died. Harper turned to Erin, his face very harsh.
‘Who’s your source, Erin? Believe me, this just got fucking serious.’
‘He said he worked on your team.’
‘I want a name, Erin.’
‘Mark Garcia. I looked him up. He’s authentic. He works your team.’
Harper pointed to the shocked cop standing at his side. ‘This is Mark Garcia. Was this the guy?’
‘No,’ Erin said, her voice trembling. ‘That’s not Mark Garcia. He was much taller, dark-haired, slightly grey.’ She stared at Harper’s face. ‘What is it? What’s with the look? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. What’s happened?’
‘You slept with this guy? This fake cop? You let him in your apartment?’
‘Yes.’
‘When?’
‘About three weeks ago? We spent the night together a few times. He gets in touch by phone. We talk. He didn’t seem that interested in me. Who is it? Who the fuck is it?’
‘When did he last call?’
‘Yesterday evening. He told me all about Kitty’s murder. I just had to run with it.’
‘What can you tell us about him?’
‘It was a while ago. Like I said, he was nice-looking, had salt-and-pepper hair and was about six foot one or two. Tell me what the fuck’s going on, please!’
‘That call was from the precinct. Kitty Hunyardi has just been found murdered in her apartment. Her body’s still warm. How the hell did your source know about a murder before it had even been committed? How did you know?’
‘I don’t know. I can’t think.’
‘Then let me spell it out for you, Erin — there’s only one person in the world who can know about a murder before it’s been committed.’
Erin was shivering and shaking her head. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. She’d kissed the guy, slept with him. Jesus!
‘Your source, Erin, the man you brought back here to fuck around with. The man you let into your apartment. The man you’ve been helping all along.’
‘No, please!’ Erin Nash’s face drained of colour. She was completely still. Shock was paralysing her. She couldn’t speak.
‘It wasn’t Mark Garcia feeding you the information. It was the killer — the American Devil — he’s your fucking source, Erin. You’ve been sleeping with the American Devil.’
PART THREE
‘For each man kills the thing he loves.’
Chapter Fifty-One
