by K. M. Hodge
She was considering getting some fresh air and taking a walk when Ellie came buzzing through the door and up to her desk. The look on Ellie’s face made her stomach flip-flop.
Jason....
“What’s wrong? Is Jason okay?”
Ellie sat down on the chair adjacent to Mari’s desk and rolled her eyes. “He is totally hung over but he’s fine. I’m actually here for something else entirely.”
“What’s wrong?”
Ellie filled her in on the messages from Betty and the woman’s fear of being murdered.
“Today I got a call from the home, and they said she passed away last night,” Ellie said. “That can’t just be a coincidence, can it?”
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Mari said, patting Ellie on the hand. “My Aunt Lillian used to say the doctors were all trying to kill her, too.”
Ellie sighed. “I’m sure you’re right.”
Marianna petted Ellie’s hands in a vain attempt to comfort her. “It’s upsetting all the same. Having two losses so close to each other has to be hard.”
Ellie’s shoulders slumped, and she stood up to leave. “Thank you. I’m sorry I bothered you. I’ll get out of your hair and let you get back to work.”
“It’s no problem at all,” Mari said. “Thank you for looking after Jason.” The guilt over their fight had been eating away at her all morning.
“Don’t feel bad for walking away. Like you said, you aren’t a couple.”
Ellie gave her a sad smile, which only made Mari feel worse.
“Yeah....” She looked away from Ellie—too ashamed.
Not being a couple was something they said, but in truth, she loved him. Those feelings meant she couldn’t simply sit there and watch him drink himself to death. The problem was that he didn’t love her—he only loved the idea of loving her.
“Well,” Ellie said. “I’d better get going. Thanks for listening to me and my crazy ideas.”
“Yeah, sure... no problem.” Mari watched as the other woman walked out of the busy bullpen with her shoulders curled in.
At least Jason had a friend to talk to and help him. Mari had no one.
***
Church Hill Neighborhood
Richmond, Virginia
June 19, 2025
9:30 AM
~~~
With great care, Jason rolled his body so that his feet landed on the ground. He tested his legs’ integrity—a bit wobbly—but he was able to stand without hurting himself. He couldn’t afford to have anything else hurt. The pounding in his head and stabbing sensation behind his eyes was enough.
A bath was the only thing that sounded good. He stumbled up the stairs, gripping the railing to avoid a fall, and filled the tub with scalding hot water. Just the thought of having to take off his clothes exhausted him, and for a moment he considered getting in clothes and all—could save himself some laundry too. In the end, reason won out and he stripped and submerged his aching body into the tub water.
He took a deep breath and fully dunked his head under the water.
If only I could be a fish. What problems do they have? All they have to do is avoid being eaten.
From under the water, he could hear his mini pinging, indicating a new incoming message.
Go away, world. I’m done with you.
***
Ellie quietly closed the front door behind her and leaned against it. She should think about going home to Texas. She’d been laid off a few weeks ago, but she still needed to pack up and get her things. It might be jumping the gun to move back to Virginia for Chris, but he wasn’t the only reason to come home for good. Jason needed her, too. As her mental to-do list started to add up, she slumped to the floor.
Her phone buzzed with an incoming vid message from Chris. She hadn’t heard it ring.
“Hey, I’m heading out tonight and I can’t stop thinking about you. These are going to be the three longest months of my life. I love you. I’m sorry I punked out and didn’t tell it to your face.”
His sheepish smile melted her heart.
The men behind him snickered and pointed. “All right, I’ve got to get going. I wanted you to know I’m thinking of you.” His voice dropped an octave as he added, “And I love you. There, I said it again.”
Ellie’s breath hitched.
“Take care, El. I’ll see you soon.” The video went to black.
“I love you, too.” She sobbed, knowing he couldn’t hear her response.
She dabbed at her wet eyes with the hem of her shirt as she pulled up the airline’s website on her phone, and booked her trip.
***
Ellie rolled up a pair of shorts and put them in her suitcase. She hated packing. A sharp knock at her door startled her. “Come in.”
Jason stepped inside with his hands held up in surrender, but then looked down at her suitcase and dropped his hands. “Hey, I know I’ve been a dick, but you don’t have to leave yet.”
Ellie sighed. “I’m going back to Texas to pack and finish up the paperwork for my divorce. I’m coming back, don’t you worry. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
His shoulders stooped and he leaned against the doorframe, avoiding her gaze.
“I’m actually kind of hoping you won’t mind my staying here when I get back,” she said. “You know, long enough for me to find a new place and get a job.”
Jason smiled as he walked across the room and pulled her into a hug. “Heavens no.”
Ellie jabbed him hard in the ribs.
He grunted. “I’m kidding. Of course you can stay here. I know I haven’t exactly shown it, but it’s been nice having you here.”
She nodded and pulled away to finish her packing. “I’m worried about you, Jason.”
He leaned against the back wall of the room with his arms folded across his chest. His eyes dropped down to his nervous shuffling feet. “I know. I am, too.”
“Jason, I—”
He held up his hand to stop her. “I know.” He paused for a moment. “I have to figure this out on my own. I’m not Alex.” He caught her gaze and held it. “I don’t want that kind of dynamic with you. Okay? So take off the therapist hat and be my friend, because that’s what I really need right now.”
Ellie nodded and bit her bottom lip as she processed his request. “Okay.”
“Thank you.” He pushed off the wall, propelling him toward the door. “When is your flight?”
“Two hours.” She closed her suitcase. “Oh, and I have a cleaning service coming this afternoon to get this place to a more livable standard.”
Jason nodded. “Thanks. Have a safe trip, and I guess I’ll-uh see ya when ya get back.”
She nodded. “Take care of yourself, friend.”
He gave her a half smile and walked away.
Richmond Police Department, First Precinct
Richmond, Virginia
June 19, 2025
11:30 AM
~~~
Charles sat in the cell with his head in his hands. He had called his attorney and left a message.
Fucking police and their trumped-up charges. It’s total bullshit. If my lawyer would hurry up and get here already, I can get out of this hell hole. What’s taking her so long?
He had spent several months in prison many years ago, and had no desire to relive that experience, especially since they wouldn’t hesitate to put him in with the general population this time.
I wouldn’t make it.
The jail’s guard strolled down the path in front of his cell, followed closely by a disheveled young woman with an ill-fitting jacket and matching skirt.
Her stocking had a large rip in the back. “Mr. MacAvoy, my name is Danielle Margolis. I’m going to be your public defender for your hearing this morning.”
“What? I have a lawyer—a good one—one who knows not to wear torn stockings to court!” Charles couldn’t believe this woman’s audacity. Public defenders were for the poor, and he was anything but poor. His lawyer wo
re Donna Karen, not Kmart blue-light specials.
“Well, I’m sorry, sir, but your lawyer seems to be missing. Since the courts have frozen your assets, you’re stuck with me,” she said, holding up his file. “And my torn stockings.”
“Great, just great!” He plunked his head against the cold bars. “I’m going to rot in jail.”
***
Manny Richards’s Brownstone
Alexandria, Virginia
June 19, 2025
3:00 PM
~~~
Mari adjusted her suit jacket and righted the detective’s badge hanging around her neck. She was doing her job, but she still felt like a funeral crasher as she followed the mourners into the Richards’ home. With great care, she weaved through the family and friends to the widower, who was already surrounded by fawning ladies offering their condolences. It wouldn’t be long before he was remarried, Mari thought. It was how it was with men. Her father had been the same way when her mother—an alcoholic—had passed away. By the following year, he had already married again.
The elderly man’s gaze met hers as she squeezed through the throng of other women with her hand extended. “Mr. Richards.”
He smiled wide and a single dimple popped up on his freshly shaved cheek. “Detective, how nice of you to come.”
She returned his smile and gave his hand an extra squeeze. “Please accept my condolences.”
He tugged her hand, leading her away from the other mourners—who looked on at her as if she were an interloper. “The news said you have someone in custody.”
Mari sighed, wishing she had better news for him. “Yes.”
He let go of her hand and his smile disappeared. “What’s wrong?”
“Off the record,” she said in a hushed whisper. “The police have Charles MacAvoy in custody. They’re charging him with the murder of Timothy Mitchel.”
“That’s bullshit!” Mr. Richards’ raised voice drew the attention of some of the nearby mourners.
He took her by the hand again and led her through the kitchen, out the back door, and onto the patio. Once they were outside—alone—he released her hand and began to pace back and forth, hands on his hips. “Charles is a total fucking scum bag. Don’t get me wrong, but there is no way he would ever have hired a hit out on Mitchel. He loved his ex-wife. The prick forked over millions to keep her and her family safe. And he had no beef with me. There is no way he would have hurt me or my wife.”
Mari nodded. For a moment, she could imagine what Richards must have been like at the height of his career with the Bureau. “I agree with you, sir, but we’re in the minority. The station wants to get the Mitchel case off the books, and the facts are in their favor. Forensics found Charles’ prints on the magazine and bullets.” She shuffled her foot back and forth, feeling antsy herself. “Then Jean Morel came forward to say MacAvoy had solicited his services to take out Mitchel. He turned him down, of course—the good reformed criminal and all—and went on to say how it was his civic duty to aid in the ongoing investigation.”
Richards stopped in front of Mari. “What a mess.”
She let out a sad laugh. “For the department, it’s an open and shut case. They don’t really care about whether or not he’s being framed.”
He rubbed a spot on his forehead where his hairline must have been seventeen years ago. “Jean Morel was on The Syndicate’s payroll. We got him for a couple of low-level crimes. He wasn’t associated with Charles though. He was Scott Mitchel’s man.”
“Sir, you don’t think the former senator is running all this, do you?”
“Detective, it isn’t my place to tell you how to do your job, but I think you should go with your gut on this one.”
Mari nodded as she started to leave through the back gate, wanting to avoid navigating back through the sea of mourners. “Thank you for your time, sir.”
“Detective, my wife’s car had two slashes in the tires. They tell me the accident happened because the tires blew. Find out who’s doing this. Make waves. Do whatever you have to do within the confines of the law to find the person—or persons—responsible.”
“You have my promise.”
***
Church Hill Neighborhood
Richmond, Virginia
June 19, 2025
6:30 PM
~~~
Jason sat in his spotless kitchen. The cleaning service Ellie had hired did a wonderful job. She’d even arranged for a handyman to come out to do some minor maintenance. The house was quiet now without her around.
It didn’t used to be this quiet.
He surfed the internet on his Atlantis when a popular music-streaming site—one he used when he was writing—popped up and started playing Madonna’s True Blue. His heart skipped a beat and the skin on his chest and arms prickled.
True Blue... my source.
In the corner of the screen, where the program ran ads, a dialogue box opened, requesting him to provide a finger and retinal identification scan. With a little trepidation, Jason submitted to the scans. The program processed the information almost immediately and granted him access to the dialogue box.
True Blue: Sorry for the scan. Needed to be sure it was really you.
Jason brought his hands up to his computer and started typing on the projected keyboard.
Jason: Hey, True Blue, aren’t chat rooms a bit old school? I feel compelled to ask, A/S/L.
True Blue: It doesn’t matter how old I am or what my sex is. There are more important matters at hand.
Jason: At least tell me if ur a man or woman. Humor me.
True Blue: Okay, fine. I’m a woman.
Jason smiled and rubbed the stubble on his chin before typing again.
Jason: What do you need to tell me, True?
True Blue: Your publisher was wrong to drop the book, but they had their reasons. You should know that the head of the publishing company had several death threats against his daughters. He was also warned about how the group would go out of their way to stop it from ever seeing the light of day. Your project was made to look like a financial and safety risk. But I know something they don’t. There is a way to distribute it without being stopped. It needs to be written. You can’t give up.
Jason: How do you know all this?
True Blue: I know all the wrong people.
Jason hesitated to respond. He had experienced a stalker several years ago and worried this was beginning to come off as another obsessive situation.
True Blue: I’m not a stalker. I want to publicly out The Syndicate members and the crimes they have committed. The world needs to know the truth.
Jason paused. He wasn’t going to lie, he was a little freaked out. For a brief moment, he wondered if True Blue could somehow read his thoughts.
Jason: No offence but that sounds like something a stalker would say.
True Blue: I’m not a stalker, which, yes, is something a stalker would say. The truth is that you seem to be the only person who cares about going up against them. They haven’t stopped. The trial only slowed them down. A very dangerous man has risen to the top. He controls the majority share of law enforcement and the news. He’s far more lethal than the last guy. If no one steps forward more people are going to die. You’ve only cracked the surface of what is going on.
Jason: What exactly do you want from me?
True Blue: Tell the world the truth.
Jason sighed and rubbed the stubble on his chin again. After a minute or two, he sat up and typed his response.
Jason: How do you suggest I do this? I suppose you wouldn’t be contacting me this way if you didn’t already have a plan to get the book out without it being taken down.
True Blue: There is a hacktivist group from DC that has been developing some security tools that will help us get your book out onto the web without The Syndicate, or the government, for that matter, stopping it from going viral. They have also masked the surveillance around your home with a mirror program. For now, at least, you
are bug and dust free.
Jason sighed as he weighed everything she was telling him.
Jason: How did they sweep my house?
Blue: We intercepted the call from your friend who requested a full house cleaning. Your house isn’t just clean of dirt.
He looked around the house, which hadn’t been that clean since Ellie and Katherine lived in the house as well. The thought of all this going on right under their noses unnerved him. He tipped back in his chair and stretched out his arms. The cleaning crew had all seemed innocuous.
Jason: How do I know I can trust you?
True Blue: You can’t.
He appreciated her honesty instead of giving him one of many possible bullshit reasons.
True Blue: Think about it.
Jason rubbed his eyes and debated about whether or not this was something he was capable of taking on. He reached into the deep pocket of his khaki shorts and pulled out Katherine’s 24-hour chip. What had it been like for Katherine when she first tried to be sober? She went through so much in her lifetime and yet she never fell off the wagon—at least not that he knew of. He held the coin up to the light and squinted before placing it back into his pocket.
I can do this. I need to do this.
Jason: Okay, I’ll think about it.
True Blue: I’ll be in touch.
The dialogue box disappeared and in its place was an ad for the Atlantis 3.0 optical computer.
I need a drink. One last drink.
He grabbed his keys and wallet and headed out for the liquor store around the corner.
***
The bell above the door dinged to announce his arrival. “I have just what you’re looking for, sir. A true blue delight,” the man behind the counter called out.
“Excuse me?” Jason’s skin prickled in fear.
“Imperial Blue Whiskey, on the house.”
Jason walked with trepidation toward the counter.
The man handed him a brown bag. “Guaranteed to blow your mind.” The man swallowed hard, making his Adam’s apple bob up and down.
