Bell to Pay

by Jeremy Waldron

  Travis kissed me and told me how much he loved me. But I couldn’t move, couldn’t escape what was about to happen to me. Then, as if having my prayers answered, I heard the front door to the duplex crash open.

  Travis startled at the sound and fell off the bed.

  “Help!” I screamed, before Travis muffled my calls with his hand.

  I heard boots clearing the bedroom across the hall, marching closer with each second that passed. I wiggled my jaw and was finally able to close my teeth into Travis’s calloused flesh. A painful growl ripped through the air and I started screaming again for someone to come save me.

  Next thing I knew, the SWAT team was surrounding the bed and shouting for Travis to get down on the floor and show his hands. I closed my eyes, not caring that I was naked. I could breathe again.

  A sheet was quickly draped over my body and I opened my eyes.

  “Are you all right?” an officer asked.

  I nodded.

  The officer unbound my limbs and I sat up in bed as soon as I was free. Wrapping the sheet around my shoulders, I covered myself up and watched Travis get handcuffed and escorted out of the house.

  I was next to leave.

  The officer who saved me kept me steady on my feet as I stared into the crimson and blue emergency lights flickering across the sky. News vans were already on scene, and so was Dawson.

  “I’ll take it from here,” King said, running up to my side, looping his thick arm around my waist.

  I hung off his familiar shoulder as he walked me to the waiting ambulance. Once inside the bus, I apologized for leaving the motel without telling him where I was going. But all he cared to know was that I hadn’t been hurt.

  “No,” I said. “You got here just in time.”

  King wrapped his arms around me and gave me the biggest hug of our lives. We both knew I was lucky to have escaped.

  “Sam,” I heard my name being called out. “Holy shit.” Erin hit the brakes and immediately did a once over. I was a sad looking sight, but I didn’t care. Not now that I was surrounded by the ones I loved. “I came as soon as I heard it over the scanner,” she said.

  “You’re late,” I teased.

  Erin frowned, and I knew she felt bad for not being there to protect me.

  “But we got him.” My smile hit my eyes. “We got Loxley.”

  Erin hugged me. “Thank God it’s over.”

  Chapter Eighty

  Six weeks later…

  Erin’s home office was silent except for the persistent clicking of her computer mouse. The clock was approaching 6PM but it felt closer to midnight. We’d been working nonstop in the weeks since Travis was arrested, feeling like it was our personal duty to settle the anger boiling over between the city’s different socioeconomic classes.

  “That should finish it,” Erin said as she fell back into her high-backed leather chair.

  “Good work.” We shared a smile—a sense of satisfaction falling over us. With our last episode now edited, all that was left was releasing it to our anxiously awaiting listeners.

  “I need a beer.” Erin stood and headed toward the kitchen. “You want one?”

  I shook my head no and rubbed the exhaustion from my eyes. “King is taking me to dinner.”

  “C’mon. Celebrate with me.”

  I gave her a look and finally agreed. We deserved this. “Okay.”

  Erin smacked her palms together and smiled. “That’s my girl.”

  I called after her. “Just one though.”

  Erin said something about it being impossible to only have one drink as I tipped forward to collect my notes about Loxley spread out on Erin’s desk.

  Everything was laid out like an outline to a novel. The details to what happened, when, and who was involved. Having to relive our investigation was both healing and eye-opening. With each new episode we released weekly, I listened to Erin tell the story as if I hadn’t experienced it firsthand. It was interesting, and bone-quaking frightening. A picture of Ronald Hyland made me think how lucky he was to make it out alive.

  Travis had deceived Garcia into thinking Hyland was someone he wasn’t. Even I was fooled into believing Damien Black and Ronald Hyland were orchestrating a scheme to have the Times purchase Hyland’s security software for surveillance purposes. But now we knew it was all designed to turn our heads in the opposite direction Travis was moving.

  The same happened to Aaron Martinez, but fortunately the police were already onto Travis. After the investigation was wrapped up and all the evidence had been collected, no charges were ever filed against Aaron. All he left behind was the poem that nudged me closer to Travis and nearly got me killed.

  My cellphone vibrated with an incoming call. I screened it to see who was calling. “This is Damien Black’s office,” I teased.

  Susan responded, “Not funny, Sam.”

  “No?”

  “No.” Susan sighed and I knew that her one date with him would be her last. Then she said, “Damien is a sweet man, and he got what he was after with Marion taking first at the event, but we’re just not a good fit.”

  I understood, but I wondered if it was really just a matter of bad timing. Susan never spoke about it much, but I assumed she was still recovering from Benjamin’s move to New England.

  “What about a marathon?” she said.

  A few weeks after Joey Garcia’s private funeral, Cecelia surprised me with a phone call asking me if Susan was still interested in hosting a fundraiser to help pay for Katie’s medical costs. Of course I knew Susan would help, and now we were both deciding on an event that would create the biggest splash.

  “A marathon sounds great.”

  “The buzz would be phenomenal. And we don’t have to limit ourselves to only having it be about Katie.”

  I imagined what it would be like—could see thousands of runners pounding their feet into the pavement as they raced down Colfax. I liked the idea, and something told me that Cecelia would also prefer her daughter not to be the face of the event, but there was something I was still confused about.

  “Isn’t there a marathon coming up?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then does it make sense to do another?”

  “I’m working on permits now,” Susan said with a cheer, “and we might be able to have this happen soon.”

  Now I knew there was more to her plan. “How soon?”

  “Like, within the week.”

  The same time as the other one. I felt the crown of my head pull to the ceiling. “You can organize an event that quick?”

  “Don’t be mad, but I’ve been discussing this with city officials for the last couple of weeks.”

  She didn’t have to tell me why. I already knew the reason. We’d done everything we could to keep Garcia’s extortion quiet, and Susan—as well as the rest of us—were crossing our fingers that his secret would follow him to the grave. It appeared they had, and it was now time to move forward.

  “I know who the organizers are personally, and I’ve talked them into letting us join them.”

  “And they’re cool with this?”

  “Thrilled.”

  “Then I’ll let Cecelia know.”

  “This is going to be phenomenal, Sam.”

  “With you at the helm,” I smiled, “I have no doubt.”

  As soon as I was off the phone, I thought about Garcia’s empty cubicle at the Times. We were out another reporter. I wasn’t sure we’d ever have another business correspondent again—let alone an IT team that wasn’t outsourced to some frat boy straight out of college.

  “Here you are, my lady.”

  Erin handed me an opened bottle and fell into her chair. I closed my eyes and took a pull from the microbrew, letting the fizz bubble and pop on my tongue, before swallowing it down. It relaxed and eased the tension I’d been holding between my shoulders.

  “It still doesn’t feel real,” I said, opening my eyes.

  Erin held my gaze, nodding. “I know.”
<
br />   I flicked my gaze to my phone. “How can we ever trust our devices ever again?”

  “We can’t.”

  We sipped our beers in silence, letting our thoughts churn over inside our heads until they hardened like concrete. It was a sad but true reality we lived in. Our computers were the best—and worst—things that ever happened to us. I kept wondering if I could have done something differently that would have prevented any of this from happening. I wasn’t sure I could have, but it did seem my Thompson article was what started it all.

  “I should have never published my story on Thompson.”

  Erin’s expression hardened. “Don’t do this to yourself.”

  If Skinny Tree Brett Gallagher never discovered Garcia was the one to have used my story to blackmail Richard Thompson, would he have also never found Garcia’s other crimes? And would that have been enough to prevent Travis from choosing his targets?

  I finished my beer and set the empty on the desk. Erin asked me if I changed my mind in wanting another. I shook my head no just as I heard a knock on her front door.

  I made my way to the front of the house and opened the door for King. I latched onto him, loving how his strong hands clamped onto my waist. Standing on my toes, I peered into his glistening eyes and kissed him. He kissed me back, and I knew tonight would be special.

  “Drinking already?” he asked.

  “Celebrating.”

  “Would you like one?” Erin was holding our empties as she passed behind us.

  “Hmm… I think I would.” King closed the door behind him, smiled, and threaded his fingers through mine as he led me into the kitchen.

  The three of us sat at the kitchen table, sharing stories over drinks, when Erin’s doorbell rang. She glanced at the clock. “Are you expecting anyone?” she asked me.

  I shook my head no.

  “I wonder who this can be,” Erin said as she went to answer the door.

  I reached for King’s hand. “Mason is having a friend over tonight and my sister said she can stay with them. I could stay the night at your place, if you want?”

  King got that fiery look in his eye that said he couldn’t wait to have me all to himself. “My place, huh?”

  My eyes crinkled at the corners. “Or you can always send me home after you wine and dine me.”

  King leaned closer and pressed his lips softly against mine. My body lit on fire as the buzz of electricity tingled up and down my spine. “I’d love to take you home.”

  My lips parted and just as King pressed his tongue against mine, Erin let out a scream.

  We ran to see what the commotion was. Erin was stomping her foot hard against the porch as she danced around in a circle screaming, “Fire! Fire! Fire!”

  King rushed to her side, quickly putting out the paper bag with a single stomp of his shoe. I stared in disbelief as the burnt bag smoldered beneath their shoes. But all I could see was a note pinned to Erin’s front door. Taking it between my hands, I felt the tips of my fingers go cold.

  “Punk kids think they can get away with this behavior just—” Erin stopped when she saw me reading the note. “What’s that?” she asked.

  I flicked my gaze up to King. “Were you followed here?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Sam, what are you reading?” Erin lifted her foot and shook off the embers. “Was that left on my door?”

  My heart was knocking against my chest as I nodded. Looking Erin in the eye, I said, “I don’t think it was meant for you.”

  Her brow furrowed. “Then who is it for?”

  I flicked my gaze to King. “Him.”

  King took the note into his hand and read the words still scrolling across the front of my mind.

  Erin asked, “What’s it say?”

  King clenched his jaw and turned to face the street. I watched as his head swiveled back and forth as he looked to see who might have left this message for him. But I knew whoever did it was long gone. But would they come back?

  “What’d it say?” Erin whispered into my ear.

  With pale cheeks, I muttered, “You haven’t forgotten about me, have you? Of course you have. Burn in hell, pig.”

  Tap here and read the next story in the series, BURN IN BELL. You won’t want to miss this chilling mystery thriller that will have you hanging onto your seat as you race to the dramatic suspense-filled ending.

  A Word from Jeremy

  Thank you for reading BELL TO PAY. If you enjoyed the book and would like to see more Samantha Bell crime thrillers, please consider leaving a review on Amazon. Even a few words would be appreciated and will help persuade what book I will write for you next.

  Afterword

  One of the things I love best about writing these mystery thrillers is the opportunity to connect with my readers. It means the world to me that you read my book, but hearing from you is second to none. Your words inspire me to keep creating memorable stories you can't wait to tell your friends about. No matter how you choose to reach out - whether through email, on Facebook, or through an Amazon review - I thank you for taking the time to help spread the word about my books. I couldn't do this without YOU. So, please, keep sending me notes of encouragement and words of wisdom and, in return, I'll continue giving you the best stories I can tell.

  About the Author

  Waldron lives in Vermont with his wife and two children.

  Receive updates, exclusive content, and new book release announcements by signing up to his newsletter at: www.JeremyWaldron.com

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