“I’m leaving town.” Desperate fear clouded his voice. “It ain’t safe for me
‘round here.”
Seriously? Billie twisted her finger around the telephone cord and leaned her hip on the corner of her desk, gazing out at the hive of industry that made up the newspaper she was so entrenched in. Typewriters droned over everything else, the clacking of keys somehow soothing in the frenzied rush of activity. “Come on, Leon. We sorted this out earlier when you dragged me out before breakfast. You’re being a bit dramatic, don’t you think? We’re talking about a church minister who rips off the elderly, not a mass murderer or child molester.”
“I’m telling ya, I’m out of here. Those bastards have got eyes everywhere. I don’t trust those guys. It’s better if I just leave the Bay and start over somewhere else. The church has a long arm, kiddo. We both know that and exactly what they’re capable of.”
A train rattled on the track in the background, and a thought clicked in her head. Give me a few more details before you run. “Listen, I need one more meeting, okay?”
“Not gonna happen.” A tremor rose in his voice. She had to get to him, it would be her last chance and she refused to back down now.
“Please, Leon. We go way back you and me. I have a couple of things to ask and then I’ll respect your choices, but one more meeting. Hell, if you give me just ten minutes, I’ll make it worth your while even if kills my budget this month. I’ll even buy the coffee - again, what do you say?” Billie held her breath.
A frustrated sigh reached her ears and she grinned, fist pumped the air, knowing she had him. “Fine. I’m at Market Street Station. Wait at the coffee shop. I’ll come to you. Make mine a double espresso, don’t be long. I’ve already got my ticket. Train leaves in an hour.”
He hung up on her. Billie huffed out a breath, groaning. There was no way she would miss this meeting. “Emily, help! I need to rearrange my morning. Urgent meeting.”
A lanky frame appeared in the doorway, the shock of silver white hair lighter than Billie remembered. “James, what are you doing here?” She tilted her head, smiled at her husband’s friend and boss, then at the dour person in a dark suit hovering behind him. His face remained impassive. “Who’s this?”
“Billie, you need to sit down for a minute.” James swallowed and the man with him cleared his throat, a pained expression in his dark eyes. The stranger took a wallet out of his pocket, flipped it open to reveal a police badge.
“Sit down? What are you talking about?” Billie put the phone down with a click. Her assistant Emily brushed past James, apologised, hurried into the office and thrust a story under her nose for final approval. “I need to rearrange my schedule. Clear my morning please.”
Billie glanced at her two visitors again before she scanned the post, pointed at the artwork with her pen.
“I’m so sorry, Billie. We did everything we could, but …”
“Hang on, James, this has to go out, sorry. Emily, that shot is awful. Makes him look like everyone’s favourite uncle with that grin on his face. Use the one with that hooker poking her finger in his chest.” Billie passed it back “No interruptions for five minutes please, Emily.”
Her voice softened. “Sorry, James. It’s crazy here as usual. Almost missed the deadline.” Her gaze followed the progress of her team through the window of her office. Having had the blinds taken down meant she’d forgone privacy, it also meant she never missed a thing. “What can I do for you?” She stood up and beckoned for her other assistant, Paul, to come into her office.
“It’s Stephen. He, uh, look …”
“Spit it out, James. What’s he done now? Looks serious for you to have a cop with you.” Billie pushed down the sudden ripples of dread creeping up her spine.
Paul ambled in, leaned against the wall in his usual laconic way, his notebook in his hand and a pen ready to jot down her instructions. “I have to go out and catch up with Leon before he runs. Can you cover things for me for an hour or so? Emily’s doing her juggling act with my other appointments.”
“Sure.” He flicked his long hair out of his eyes and glanced at her visitors, a certain amount of wariness in their dark depths.
She frowned at James. Please let this be something simple.
“Billie, Stephen is dead.”
The noise of her work colleagues ceased to exist as she fought the thoughts in her mind. In the silence a rush of wind tore through her ears, rumbling like a freight train on steroids. The white noise bellowed inside her head, wavering in and out with a sidekick of nausea for measure.
“Billie?” Paul stepped toward her, his eyes bugging out. “Oh shit.”
She stared at him, but the words stuck in her throat like dry bread, making swallowing difficult. She worked her tongue around her lips, desperate for the breath of air that seemed locked in her chest. Stars filled her vision, dancing in front of her eyes, leaving an ominous thundercloud that drew her into its fold. Her legs trembled, her stomach churned. Why didn’t the floor would open up and swallow her whole? This isn’t happening, impossible. Not the way my life was supposed to end.
Paul hurried around the desk, one hand on her arm and the other reaching around her back to support her. His voice was hollow in her ears as though coming from miles away, the echo of it bouncing around in her head.
“Fuck, you’re kidding, how could you tell her like this?”
Voices rose over each other, making no sense.
“No, I’ll take care of her, I understand. Leave it with me, I’ll look after her.” Paul
