cause to run an avery black my Page 7

  The days and weeks after Howard Randall surrendered to police had been a nightmare. Law firms across Boston and the country were in the crosshairs of every media outlet. “What kind of society do we live in,” one newscaster had said, “when any criminal can be defended and released due to a good lawyer and a bad jury?” The negative publicity had come down the hardest on Seymour & Finch, a firm that had previously been in the news for similar defenses and acquittals of powerful Boston criminals. Howard Randall had been the last straw, and the only way the company could save its image was to offer up a sacrifice, someone that could take the blame for all their crimes.

  “Wow,” Avery said. “This is all so sudden. I don’t know what to say.”

  “Don’t say anything,” Jane recommended. “Take some time. Think about it. This is a serious offer, Avery. A firm offer. What are you making now? Sixty-five? Seventy thousand tops? Is that the kind of life you want to live? You have a daughter to think about. Rose, right? And come on, you must miss our shopping adventures, right?”

  Dollar signs tugged at Avery’s soul.

  She was making nothing now, pennies compared to what she’d made as an attorney. Still, the money wasn’t her biggest issue. Rose’s college was already paid, and in truth, Avery didn’t need the money anymore. What mattered most to her now was justice. Would I get that working at Seymour & Finch? she thought. No way. I’d be forced to defend the scum of the earth to earn my pay, and I can’t do that any longer. The image of Howard Randall came into her mind, as well as the sharp-dressed, quick-witted version of herself from her lawyer days. A glance at her new apartment and wardrobe made Avery realize that what she loved most now was making a difference, protecting the weak, and avenging the dead.

  “Listen, Jane,” she said, “I’ll be honest. This offer is amazing, and I really appreciate it, but I don’t need time to make my decision. The answer is no.”

  “Sleep on it,” Jane laughed. “Talk to the family. See what happens. I’ll call you back in a few days. I’m telling you, Avery, you’re missing out on your true calling. You were the best I’d ever seen, except for myself, of course,” she laughed. “And don’t worry about Danish. He’s fully on board. One hundred percent. We all want you back.”

  Avery glanced at Rose, who held up her arms as if to ask: What’s going on?

  You lost your life at that firm, Avery thought. You forgot about Rose, you ignored Jack, you ruined your marriage, and eventually, it destroyed you. Now, you have your life back. Don’t go down that road again. Make a clean break.

  “I do miss our shopping ventures together, Jane. And I miss your fighting spirit and aggressive attitude that would shock just about anyone. You’re truly one of a kind. But that’s about all I miss from the firm. The answer is still no, but if you ever want to grab lunch or help me elevate my detective wardrobe, I’m in.”

  “I’m really sorry to hear you say that, Avery. All right! Lord knows that when Avery Black makes a decision it’s final. The offer still stands though. Keep it in mind, Avery. If you ever want your old job back, it’s here.”

  “Thanks, Jane.”

  “No, thank you, Avery, for all your hard years of sacrifice.”

  Avery hung up the phone.

  “Did you just turn down an offer from the biggest firm in Boston?” Rose asked.

  “I think I did.”

  “You love being a cop that much?”

  Detective, Avery thought. I’m a detective now. It wasn’t a word that Avery had ever associated with herself as a child, or even as an adult. When she was young, getting out of Ohio and away from her parents had been her only goal. Law provided that and more. After Howard Randall, however, she was forced to rethink her views of the world, and herself. What she’d found was that it wasn’t money or fame she was truly after, but justice. Being a detective allowed her to seek out justice, and to right all the wrongs that existed in the world. And, she got to carry a gun. What more could a girl ask for? she wondered.

  “Yeah,” she said. “I think I do love being a cop.”

  Rose offered a solemn nod.

  “Well then,” she said, “I guess I’m proud of you, Mom. That took a lot of guts. I don’t know if I could have turned down an offer like that.”

  “Wait a while,” Avery said. “The more you live, the more you learn, and trust me, you never know who you might become.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Throughout the morning and early afternoon, text messages kept popping up on Avery’s phone from O’Malley and Connelly. “Did you figure out the riddle yet?” “Where are you on Venemeer’s friends?” To top it off, the morning paper had another article on the harbor murder and the anonymous note from the killer. Avery had tried to clear her mind of everything. I’m here with my daughter, she thought, who I never see. On my day off. Still, it was nearly impossible not to think about the case.

  By one o’clock, Rose was tanning on the balcony.

  “Hey!” she called out. “Wanna grab some lunch?”

  Avery’s mind blared out: Lunch!? You can’t have lunch. You’ve got a killer on the loose. How much longer is this going to go on? Bonding time is over.

  “I don’t think so,” Avery said, “I need to get some work done.”

  “Work? I thought you had Thursday and Friday off.”

  “Technically, this is the start of my weekend,” Avery said. “Realistically? I’m a cop, and cops chase killers, and killers keep no schedule for murder.”

  “Deep, Mom.”

  A call came in from Ramirez.

  Eager to get back to work, Avery picked up.

  “What’s up?” she said.

  “Yo, yo,” he replied. “I know it’s your day off and everything, so I don’t want to bother you, but I spoke with two of Venemeer’s best friends.”

  “Wait a minute,” Avery said. “It’s your day off too.”

  “True, true,” he agreed. “But you inspire me, Black. You’re a star detective that just took out six guys in a gang den and couldn’t even relax at a bar afterwards to celebrate. If I’m going to be your partner, and maybe more,” he softly added in a shy, reserved tone, “I’ve got to show you I’m all in, all the time—just like you.”

  The sentiment touched her. Avery didn’t think anyone was as dedicated as her when it came to tracking criminals. The fact that Ramirez wanted to up his game, even after the conversation they’d had the night before, gave her a warm, fuzzy feeling. Maybe I put the brakes on our relationship too fast, she thought. Maybe this can work.

  “I’m impressed,” she said. “What did you find?”

  “Couldn’t sleep last night,” he replied. “I was up at six. So I called Simms and touched base. Went back to Venemeer’s apartment, looked through her personal effects, photographs, checked through a list of phone calls Simms had compiled, and came up with two best friends that she routinely either saw or phoned. One of them is the manager of the bookshop. She said most of the employees are all new, only in the last year or so, and she swore none of them could commit a crime. She suggested we go further back, to people that worked there three to five years ago. She said there were a bunch of wackos that Venemeer had to deal with when she first opened. I’m going to check them out next.”

  Avery watched Rose out on the balcony.

  “Great work,” she said.

  “There’s more,” he went on. “The second friend confirmed everything the first one had said, and she also mentioned that Venemeer changed hobbies and interests every year or so. Last year she was into cats and puppies, so she ordered a lot of those books at the shop. The year before that it was dating advice because she’d just come out of a bad relationship. She gave me the name of that boyfriend. He’s on the list too.”

  “You got far,” Avery said. “You hit the one checklist I was supposed to hit.”

  “You wanna ride with me?” he asked. “I know you’re not just chilling out after that note from the killer. You figure it out yet?”

  No, Ave
ry thought. I haven’t figured it out.

  The face of Howard Randall invaded her thoughts, the old and wrinkled man with his Coke-bottle glasses, thinning hair, and powerful, observant eyes.

  “Haven’t made any headway on the letter,” she said. “Not sure about the rest of the day. I thought I might consult with a professional.”

  “A professional? Who?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “I do want to know. Who?”

  “Howard Randall,” she said.

  “Are you crazy!? That guy ruined your life. He set you up! I never understood why you conferred with him on the Peet case.”

  “I can’t explain it,” she said.

  “Are the papers true?” he asked. “Did you...you know?”

  “No!” Avery shouted. “Nothing like that. He’s just like a... This is going to sound stupid so you’d better not laugh.”

  “I won’t laugh.”

  “He’s like a father figure to me.”

  Saying the words aloud somehow offered Avery a well of relief.

  “I never really had a father,” she went on. “I know it’s crazy. Believe me. I know. But part of him, in some strange way, cares about me.”

  “I’m not going to lie and say I understand it.”

  “I’m not asking you too.”

  “Still,” Ramirez said, “I trust you. You’ve taken a lot of heat over that relationship, so it must be important. You really think he can help?”

  Avery bit her nail.

  “We’ll see.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Howard Randall appeared to have aged since the last time Avery had seen him. There was a slump in his shoulders, and the grayish coloring and lines of his face made him seem much older than his fifty-some-odd-years. They sat in a bland, gray conference room on B-Level, reserved for the most dangerous prisoners that were confined to solitary. He wore an orange jumpsuit and his hands were cuffed to the table before him.

  “I knew you’d come back,” he whispered with his head low. “I’m so glad to see you, Avery. What happened to your face?”

  “Gang fight,” she said.

  “Gang fight?” he asked, worried. “With whom?”

  “Juan Desoto. A killer-for-hire with his own crew.”

  “He did that to your face?” Howard asked.

  “Yup.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “Why are you still on B-Block?” Avery said.

  Howard met her gaze with childish glee.

  “Prison is a funny place,” he replied, “a fascinating place. Out beyond those walls—in a world I truly used to love—I was so confined, so set in my ways. I see that now. Here, anything is possible. We live in one big petri dish, one large experiment, only there are no repercussions for your actions. You can kill someone in here, stab them, bash their brains out, and where do you go? Nowhere. Here. To B-Block. Still in prison. Still getting the same food. Still sleeping in a nice bed. Out in the real world, there was always a fear of being caught, of being known. Here, everyone knows who I am.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  He lifted his chin and tried to wave it away.

  “Nothing serious,” he said. “I used my own hands to puncture the esophagus of an extremely foul-mouthed young man. Skin is extremely tough. Did you know that? I pulled out his throat and offered it to a Santa Muerte worshipper. He was very grateful, of course. The guards, however, they were alarmed by my blood-smeared body. I think they’re afraid of me,” he whispered. “Can you imagine that? Afraid of an old man?”

  “You’re sick,” she whispered.

  “You missed me.”

  “Not even a little,” she lied. “I came back because I need your help.”

  “The harbor case.” He nodded. “Yes, I know.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Jail is a lot like the real world, Avery. Anything you want can be had, at a price,” he emphasized and watched her for a reaction.

  “Well,” she said. “What do you think about the case?”

  Randall eased back into his seat. His eyes squinted in observation of Avery, and then he casually glanced around the room.

  “After your mother was killed and your father went away to prison, where did you go?” he wondered. “What did you do? That part of your life is absent in public records.”

  Talking to Randall always kept Avery on edge. A part of her knew she could never trust him. What does he already know about me? she wondered. Is he trying to catch me in a lie, or does he really want to know about my life?

  “I was put in an orphanage,” she said. “Well,” she clarified, “they didn’t call it an orphanage at the time. Foster care was the term. I became a ward of the state.”

  Concern crossed Randall’s face.

  “You had no guardians, no other family?”

  “Not really. I never met my grandparents. My father had two brothers but they all hated each other and they lived in separate states, so we never saw them. My mother had a sister that never liked me or my father or anyone, so we were on our own.”

  “How sad,” Randall said.

  The deep, emotional reaction he seemed to have affected Avery in a way she hadn’t expected. She had spent years dealing with her childhood in therapy, but Randall’s tear-filled gaze brought it all back: the foster home fights, the abuse, the constant degradation by the other children and the staff. “No one will ever want you,” one woman had said. “Your father was a murderer and your mother was crazy. You’ll probably be crazy too.” “You’re too old,” said another care worker. “Nobody wants kids over ten. They all want the babies. Prepare to stay here for a long, long time.”

  “How did you survive?” Randall asked. “What did you do?”

  Avery opened her mouth to casually offer her foster-home success story. The words caught in her throat.

  No, she told herself. Don’t go there.

  Memories rushed back, painful memories. A group of kids had hounded her during those first few months. “Father-killer, mother-dead; father-killer, mother-dead!” they would chant. One of them, a boy named Blake who was two years younger and shorter than Avery, picked on her constantly. “If your daddy was a murderer, you’re probably a murderer, so I should kill you now!” He punched her in the face and threw her to the ground.

  Suddenly, Avery was in tears.

  There had been so much she’d dealt with in therapy, so many memories brought to the surface and rehashed and expelled and yet still, here she was, a mess. When will it end? she wondered. When does the pain go away?

  Howard waited patiently, silently, until the episode was over. The empathy on his face made it easier for Avery to wipe her tears and recover. She braced herself for more questions. Instead, Randall glanced away.

  “He gave you the cycle,” he said. “I’m surprised you didn’t see it right away. First body doesn’t necessarily refer to the victim. What else is a body?”

  He stared at her, and she wracked her brain so long, it hurt. Was Howard playing her? Or was he really hinting at something? Somehow she sensed he knew the answer—and that made it all the more frustrating.

  “Think, Avery, think.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  A wreck.

  That’s how Avery felt when she left Randall: like a complete and utter wreck. She thought those days, that time in her life, had been forgotten. No, she realized. You didn’t try to forget. You tried to erase it completely from your life. They were back now. That single memory brought others to the surface. Get out, she thought. Get out of my head!

  The only way she could make it stop was to focus on Howard and his riddle. He never used words lightly. He was a former Harvard professor, and everything had a double meaning or some hidden meaning or more than one meaning.

  He said “He gave you the cycle,” she thought. What cycle? What has a cycle? What else is a body? she wondered and mentally referred back to the victim.

  There was a star over her body.


  Cycles…

  Bodies...

  Planets, she thought. Could it be planets? They go through cycles. They’re referred to as bodies. There was a star drawn over her body.

  The more she thought it through, the more it seemed like a solid, viable option. The letter came back to her: “The first body is set.” If he’s referring to a planet, she realized, he could be an astronomer, or a stargazer, or something like that. Where do astronomers hang out?

  Ramirez was in the parking lot, leaning on his own car and deep in thought. At the sight of Avery, he offered an enthusiastic wave.

  “Hey!” he called.

  “What are you doing here?” She smiled.

  “Came to see you,” he said. “I got something.”

  Ramirez was in full weekend gear: tan slacks, light-blue linen, button-down T-shirt, and loafers without socks. A twinkle sparked in his dark eyes and he had a semi-grin on his face, and for a second, Avery wanted to give him a big hug.

  “What did you learn?” she asked.

  Ramirez noticed her initial excitement at seeing him, then her hesitation and shutdown. He, in turn, wiped off his smile and played it cool.

  “I talked to the former boyfriend of Venemeer, plus two people that used to work there. Nothing there. Still two more people left to check out but I’m not sure. Everybody keeps saying the same thing: Venemeer could be a real bitch. Always had to be in control. Would give money to homeless people and work at shelters, but if she wasn’t in charge, there would be friction. The boyfriend and former employees I spoke with? And I mean all of them? Said that at least once a month they’d get into an argument over something. Maybe they would say something wrong, or try to help her out of a bad situation, and Venemeer would freak out, whatever. None of them had records, and they all had some strong alibis for the night of the murder.”