Vera Blackwood's Arc

Chapter 1 of 3

Vera Blackwood had chased her sister's killer across three states, and tonight a stranger could end the hunt with one phone call. She sat in her black SUV, hands tight on the wheel, watching the man through her windshield. He leaned against a brick wall between two tall stone buildings, phone glowing against his cheek. He had been outside the alley the night Marcus Donnelly ran. He had seen the killer flee. He had also seen Vera's blood-stained SUV idling at the curb. Now he was telling someone about both. She had meant to be invisible. A cute face, a quiet smile, a young woman nobody suspected. That was why she got close to people who knew things. But this witness had looked right at her plate. If he talked, the hunter became the hunted. Vera rolled down her window. "You dropped this," she called, and held up a folded bill. The man lowered his phone. Greed moved across his face before fear did. His shoes were split at the toe. His jacket hung loose on a thin frame. He stepped toward the SUV, eyes fixed on the money, not on her. "I saw you," he said. "That night. You and him both." "I know," Vera said. "How much to forget?" He smiled, showing a gap in his teeth. "More than that." He named a number. Then he named a bigger one, because he could see she would pay. People who want money badly stop watching the hands that hold it. Vera let him come close. She counted bills slowly, stalling. "Who were you calling?" "Nobody yet," he said. "Tip line. There's a reward for the SUV." He laughed. "You're worth more than him now." That was the trap closing. Not one witness, but a bounty with her name forming inside it. Vera's stomach dropped. She looked past him into the narrow passage, dark and tight between the two buildings. A dead end. "Get in," she said. "I'll pay the full amount. All of it. But not out here where cameras see." His need beat his caution. He climbed into the passenger seat, breathing fast, palm already open. Vera pulled the door lock. Then she drove forward into the stone corridor, slow, until the heavy bumper kissed the far wall and boxed them both in shadow. "Phone," she said. He handed it over, still grinning, still believing in the money. She scrolled his calls. The tip line number sat there, dialed but never connected. He had bluffed. He had told no one yet. Vera breathed out. "You should have called first," she said. She took the phone, took the knowledge, took the only copy of her face he carried. By the time he understood the bargain had changed, the choice was already hers. She left the passage alone, the trail to Marcus Donnelly still hers to follow. But a reward now had her plate number, and someone else would come looking soon.