Page 138 of Villains Series

ONE WEEK AGO

DOWNTOWN MERIT

BY the end of the first week, Stell knew he’d made a terrible mistake.

He knew it when he saw the sinkhole on Broadway. Knew it when he was called to the collapsed building on Ninth. And he certainly knew it when he stepped into the ballroom at the Continental.

He moved through the vast space, a hazard mask cinched over his nose and mouth. The ballroom was high-ceilinged and ornate, a popular place for business execs and powerful families alike to throw parties. Stell assumed that was what had been happening the night before. After all, the tables were still laid out, the gossamer and ribbons still drew ghostly lines through the air.

Only the people were missing.

No, not missing. A fine patina of ash covered every surface. It was all that was left of the forty-one guests in the Continental’s evening register.

Needless to say, the scene had tripped the Merit PD’s strange shit alarm.

Stell had seen enough—he retreated into the hall, pulling the mask from his face as he dialed.

Two rings later, Marcella’s smooth voice answered.

“Hello, Joseph.”

“Do you want to tell me,”

hissed Stell.

“what I’m looking at right now?”

“I couldn’t say.”

“Then I’ll tell you,”

he snapped.

“I’m standing outside a ballroom at the Continental. It looks like a fucking snowstorm in there.”

“How peculiar.”

“What part of lying low did you not understand?”

“Well,”

she said coyly.

“I didn’t sign my name in the ashes.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You are making it very hard to look the other way.”

“Crime has gone down, as promised.”

“No,”

said Stell.

“it’s simply been consolidated.”

He lowered his voice as he paced the hall.

“Tell me you have something to show me, besides this gross display. Preferably something related to the subject of our mutual interest.”

Marcella sighed.

“You really do take the fun out of things. I thought we could have lunch to celebrate, but since you’re obviously busy, I’ll go ahead and tell you now. I found your EO killer.”

Stell stiffened.

“Is he with you now?”

“No,”

said Marcella.

“But don’t worry. A deal’s a deal. And I still have a week.”

“Marcella—”

“I’m sending you a photo. To whet your appetite.”