1
Your days are numbered . . .
The slightly wrinkled paper trembled in her hand. The words were written in big, bold stencil letters. Normally, Ava Cole blew off such threats. After all, as an investigative reporter who had built a solid reputation for bringing down corrupt politicians and businessmen, she had no shortage of people who would like to see her head on a platter. Usually, though, they were just harmless disgruntled people who understood that at the end of the day, she was simply doing her job. But this was the fourth message sheâd received in the past two weeks.
Your days are numbered . . .
âExcuse me, are you all right?â
Ava jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She spun around to see a tall, muscular man standing over her. He had light brown eyes and wore his dark hair cut low and neatly trimmed. He looked ruggedly handsome in a pair of jeans and a New York Knicks jersey.
âWhat did you say?â Ava said.
âI said, are you all right?â he repeated with a look of genuine concern.
Ava shook herself out of her daze. She recognized the man from somewhere, but she couldnât remember where. Was he the letter-writing type?
âYeah, Iâm . . . Iâm fine,â she stammered, instinctively pulling the paper close to her. A homeless man had walked up to her as she returned from her lunch break, thrust the letter in her hand, then darted off.
âYou donât look fine,â he replied.
âWell, I am,â she snapped as she quickly stuffed the note down into her purse, out of sight.
The man took a step back, raising his hands in innocence. âWhoa, I didnât mean to get you upset. Itâs just that you look like youâve seen a ghost.â
âNo, Iâm fine,â Ava said. In fact, she was quite rattled, but she didnât need to share her fears with someone she didnât know.
âWell, I didnât mean to pry into your affairs. I was just walking by and noticed the distressed look on your face.â
Ava hadnât even realized she was standing on the sidewalk in front of her office building, looking petrified. âWell, Iâm fine, okay?â She didnât bother hiding her aggravation.
He was looking at her like she had escaped from a mental hospital. âOkay, youâre fine.â He sighed. âMaybe I should start over. Iâm Clifton Edwards, but my friends call me Cliff.â He extended his hand.
Ava didnât bother taking it. âThank you for your concern, Clifton.â She shifted her purse to her other shoulder. âBut you can go spy on someone else.â
Ava wasnât normally a rude person, but this letter had her nerves on edge. Each one sheâd received talked about her dying. In the past sheâd gotten letters telling her to go to hell, or calling her every name under the sun. Sheâd even had a couple wishing her ill will, but nothing ever like this.
âAva, isnât it?â he said as she brushed past him.
She sighed, wishing he would just go away. âYes, itâs Ava.â She turned back to face him. He seemed perfectly nice. There really was no need to be nasty to him. âAva Cole,â she said, smiling.
âI work there,â he said, pointing to the tall glass edifice next to her office building. They were connected by a glass skyway, but she seldom ventured over to that side. âAt the National Star,â he continued.
Ava couldnât stop a disgusted look from crossing her face.
He smiled like he was used to that reaction. âWell, itâs obvious youâre fine. I just wanted to make sure.â He backed away. âYou have a good day,â he added as he walked off.
Ava debated stopping him just to apologize for her behavior, but she needed to get going. She was late for a very important meeting with her boss. Iâll apologize to him some other time, she thought as she hurried inside the building. Her boss had sent her a text saying she needed to come see him as soon as she got back from her lunch break. Sheâd run over to a shoe sale at Saks with her girlfriend, and even though she hadnât bought anything, it had taken a lot longer than sheâd expected.
Ava made up her mind that she would turn this letter over to the police. She hadnât reported the others, but her gut was telling her it was time. Four was getting to be excessive.
Ava dropped her purse off at her desk, grabbed a cup of coffee, and headed to her bossâs office. She took a seat in front of Sebastian Mourningâs desk. âSo, whatâs so urgent?â
Two minutes later, her mouth was hanging wide open.
âTell me that this is some cruel, cruel joke,â she muttered as she tried to process what Sebastian had just said.
He didnât crack a smile.
âSorry, Ava, you know I like you. Youâre a damn good journalist, but itâs either this or move you to doing the obituaries for the New York News,â he said.
Ava stared at him in disbelief. âYou want me to go work for a tabloid magazine? You want me to join the paparazzi?â Sheâd worked at the esteemed Newswire magazine for five years, and Sebastian actually expected her to go work for their sister publication, the tabloid magazine the National Star? Her thoughts flashed to CliftonâCliff, she reminded herself.
âDonât say it like that,â Sebastian quipped. âYouâre still a reporter.â
âYou can try to sugarcoat it all you want, but Iâd be a tabloid reporter! I graduated from the Columbia School of Journalism and you want me to chase after celebrities?â she asked incredulously.
âIâm well aware of your credentials, Ava,â Sebastian said, rubbing his temples. âBut Iâm not left with much choice. Theyâre shutting down the investigative division here, so that means we are all being forced out. All of the media outlets are cutting out their investigative divisions, so the chances of you finding something else is slim to none.â He sighed heavily. âNow, Iâm taking the retirement package. Itâs time for me to get out of the game. No one cares about serious journalism anymore.â He held up a folder. âThese are all the folks that I have to let go altogether. At least we were able to find a spot to move you to.â He dropped the folder onto his cluttered desk. âYou can take the contract home and review it,â he said, sliding a legal-size piece of paper toward her. âTake it or leave it.â
Ava no doubt wanted to leave it. But then she thought about the seven-hundred-dollar-a-month note on her Lexus (even though she seldom drove it, she loved having her own car), the twenty-nine-hundred-dollar-a-month mortgage payment on her brownstone, and the countless other bills sheâd stacked up since moving to New York five years ago. She knew she didnât have a choiceâshe had to take it.
âDonât look like that,â Sebastian said, trying to sound comforting, although he wasnât succeeding. He released a sigh and slid another folder her way. âYour first gig is a doozy.â
Ava groaned as she accepted the folder. âWhat, Elvis returned from the dead and got Michelle Obama pregnant? Oh wait, Martians have invaded the White House?â
âJoke all you want, this is your career now,â he said matter-of-factly.
Ava rolled her eyes as she flipped the folder open. âIndia Wright?â She frowned as she stared at the eight-by-ten glossy of the countryâs hottest pop star. She was bigger than BeyoncĂ©, had sold more records than Celine Dion, and was now blowing up the big screen as well as the charts. âWho is this?â Ava held up a picture of a model-handsome man that had been nestled behind Indiaâs picture. He gave new meaning to the term âtall, dark, and gorgeous.â
Sebastian stood and started gathering things off his desk. âThatâs Fredericko de la Cruz, Indiaâs soon-to-be husband. Look, Iâm cleaning out my office, then Iâm going to get drunk with some old colleagues so we can remember the way things used to be back when we still pounded out the news on typewriters. Your new editor, Eli Lacy, will fill you in on all the details tomorrow. They just wanted me to get you started.â
âStarted on what?â
âYour assignment. India is getting married next week and youâre all over it.â
She jumped from her seat. âA wedding? You want me to cover a wedding?â He had to be kidding her. Sheâd won an Emmy for her exposĂ© on a toxic waste plant. Sheâd been interviewed on CNN, MSNBC, and Fox for her coverage of the 2008 presidential election, and these people expected her to cover a wedding?
âI donât want you to do anything. Your new bosses do. And judging by the garbageââhe stopped himselfââumm, I mean, the stuff they put in that magazine, they want much more than a simple âhere comes the brideâ story. They want some dirt. Something that will have the magazine flying off the shelves.â
âAnd why do they think Iâm the person to do it?â
He smiled for the first time since sheâd stepped into his office. âYou didnât win those Emmys for investigative journalism for nothing.â
âWhat about my assignment today? Iâm about to blow the whistle on that corrupt New Jersey banker. I meet with my contact over there this evening.â
Sebastian shook his head. âUnless that contact can give you some insight into Indiaâs wedding, cancel it. As of today, thereâs no more investigate unit at Newswire magazine.â
âBut, Sebastianââ
He held up his hand to cut her off. âI feel your pain. I really do. But itâs not my problem anymore.â He looked at his watch. âAs of four minutes and thirty-nine seconds ago, I am no longer employed by Rhodes News Corporation.â He tossed a picture frame into a box. âOh, screw it. Iâll come back tomorrow and finish this. I need a drink.â He looked at her sympathetically. âIâm sorry, Ava, but the ride is over.â He paused, and a hint of his usual newsmanâs curiosity showed in his expression. âI will tell you this. India is hot, but sheâs hiding something. And they want you to find out what that is.â
âButââ
âBut, I suggest you do it. If anyone can dig it up, you can. Youâll do it if you want to keep your jobâyour six-figure jobâand I donât need to remind you that six-figure jobs are very hard to come by these days.â
With that, Sebastian Mourning slung his coat over his shoulder and walked out of the office.
2
This had been the day from hell. After everything at work, as soon as she stepped off the subway, it started pouring, messing up her two-hundred-and-forty-dollar hairstyle. Ava was so disgusted that all she wanted to do was get home, collapse on the sofa, and have her fiancé, Phillip, massage her feet.
Ava unlocked her front door, then stood in the doorway of their small Harlem brownstone, watching Phillip. She wondered how long it would take before he even noticed her. What she wouldnât give to just fall into his arms and have him tell her everything was going to be all right. Yet they were long past that stage. After Ava had told Phillip about her first two threatening letters, heâd replied by telling her, âYou shouldnât go around pissing people off.â So much for comfort.
At one time, Phillip had been the love of Avaâs life. Theyâd met at a coffee shop three weeks after sheâd moved to New York City and had immediately hit it off. That was five years ago. Now Avaâs relationship with Phillip was contemptuous at best. All they did lately was fight. Probably because she was tired of being his fiancĂ©e. Ava wanted to be his wife.
That was a fight she was tired of having as well. She shouldnât have to beg any man to marry her, and thatâs the point they had reached, which was ironic because he was the one whoâd proposed two and a half years ago. Ava wouldâve never said yes if she had known her engagement would be indefinite. Every time she tried to get him to pin down a date, though, he gave her some lame excuse about the timing not being right. Theyâd had so many arguments about it that she didnât even bring it up anymore.
Phillip finally sensed her presence because he looked up from his seat on the sofaâa seat that Ava thought he had to be glued to since he never moved from it. His job had gone to a virtual office and cut back his hours. So when he did work, as a systems engineer, he occupied that very spot on the sofa. And when he wasnât working, he was watching TV.
âWhy are you standing there in the door like that?â he asked, annoyed.
Ava shut the door and walked in. âWell, hello to you, too,â she snapped as she dropped her purse and briefcase on the end table.
âWhat has your panties in a bunch?â Ava couldnât help but note that he picked up the remote and paused the DVR. She shook her head. Heaven forbid he should miss one second of CSI.
âIâve just had a really bad and really long day.â She released a heavy sigh as she plopped down on the sofa next to him. He instinctively moved his laptop out of the way as his eyes remained glued to the TV like he really wanted to get back to his show.
âUmmm, well, why donât you go take a long, relaxing bath, then come tell me all about it?â he said.
Ava stared at him in disbelief. She had no doubt that he was dead serious. He was always pushing her away, and she knew how this would play out. When she did come back, heâd act like he was asleep or would be totally engrossed in something else and would blow her off. âYou know, just once Iâd like to be a priority in your life,â she said.
Phillip rolled his eyes. âOh, here we go with this again.â He unpaused the TV. âSince I know how this argument is going to turn out, why donât we skip it altogether? You go relax and take your bath. Iâll order some Chinese food, then we can sit and talk.â
Like thatâs going to happen, she thought. Ava couldnât remember the last time theyâd just sat and talked. Heâd moved in with her a year ago, right after theyâd downsized his company. Their relationship had been going downhill ever since. But he had to get over his lackadaisical attitude just this once. She needed him to be there for her as she tried to figure out what to do next.
âLook,â Ava began, âhave you heard anything from your company about when or if theyâre going to bring you back full-time?â
He didnât bother looking her way. âNo. Why?â
His lack of attention was driving her crazy. âBecause my company shut down my division today!â
That caught his attention. He turned and stared at her. âWhat?â
âThey closed down the investigative unit of the magazine.â Ava was about to tell him the âbutâ partâthat they were moving her to another magazineâbut the expression on his face stopped...