Page 45 of X Marks the Stalker (The Hemlock Society #1)

Oakley

“ S o, what’s the protocol here?” I ask, glancing around the circle of killers. “Do we just...raise our hands to vote, or is there a special murder club hand signal I should learn? Secret handshake? Blood oath over a ceremonial dagger?”

Thorne’s lips twitch in what might be the closest thing to a smile his face muscles allow. “We’re not quite that formal, Ms. Novak. Though I appreciate your enthusiasm for proper procedure.”

“Let’s make this official,” Darius says, setting his phone facedown on the table. “All in favor of assisting in Richard Blackwell’s deserved demise, speak now.”

What if they vote no? Without their network, their skills, and their protection, Blackwell stays untouchable. I force a smile onto my face, despite the dread pooling inside me.

“I vote yes, obviously,” Xander says, his knee brushing mine under the table. A silent reassurance.

Calloway examines his manicure like he’s searching for microscopic flaws, a sly smile playing on his lips. “And what will you give me to vote yes, darling? You know how I love a proper incentive.”

“I’ll let you keep all your fingers for your next gallery opening,” Xander replies flatly.

“So tense,” Calloway purrs. “I adore that about you.”

Lazlo raises his hand. “I vote yes! And I’ve been reading about cardiac events. Did you know there are fourteen different ways to trigger one that appears natural? Fifteen if the person is allergic to shellfish.”

Thorne remains silent, studying my murder board with unnerving focus. His finger traces the red thread connecting Blackwell to my parents’ case file.

“Thorne?” Darius prompts.

“Yes,” Thorne says, his voice carrying a weight that silences the room.

“Richard Blackwell represents what this society was formed to eliminate. Those who believe themselves beyond consequence.” His eyes meet mine across the table.

“We voted against this target two years ago. The timing wasn’t right.

The risk too great. But now...” He nods once, decisive.

“I think we’re ready for him.” He turns to me.

“Ms. Novak, welcome to your first official Hemlock Society operation.”

A strange thrill runs through me—part vindication, part terror. I’m planning a murder with serial killers.

“Now for logistics,” Thorne continues. “Darius, you’ll handle all legal contingencies.”

“I’ll create bulletproof alibis for everyone,” Darius says, already making notes on his tablet.

“Ms. Novak and I will have a very public lunch meeting at Rosetti’s downtown during the execution.

It’s frequented by the legal community, so plenty of witnesses will see us.

” He glances at me. “Order the salmon. It takes forever to prepare, which extends our visible presence.”

“Okay,” I nod, appreciating the attention to detail.

“I’ll also draft the consulting contracts, backdate the emails, and create the necessary paper trail. Then monitor police channels and prepare any additional documentation we might need.”

“I’ll handle the artistic direction,” Calloway offers, his eyes gleaming like a cat spotting a wounded bird. “We want this to be meaningful, not just another boring heart attack. Something with...signature. A tableau that speaks to his sins.”

“Lazlo,” Thorne continues, “you’ll provide medical expertise and any supplies needed. Blackwell takes blood thinners, correct?”

“Warfarin,” Lazlo confirms, rifling through his bag with the enthusiasm of a child on Christmas morning.

“I’ve brought samples of seventeen cardiovascular medications that might interact catastrophically.

Plus three experimental compounds that won’t show up in standard toxicology.

” He pulls out a vial, holding it to the light with reverence.

“This one mimics the effects of a massive stroke but metabolizes within four hours.”

“We’ll target Dr. Lambert’s office during Blackwell’s scheduled appointment next week,” Thorne says. “Xander, your surveillance shows this is our optimal window?”

Xander nods, pulling up detailed schematics on his tablet. “Blackwell arrives at 2:15 PM and is alone except for two security personnel who wait in the outer office. The appointment lasts forty-five minutes.”

“How do you know all this?” I ask.

“I hacked his medical records,” Xander says with a shrug. “And the cameras. And his calendar. And his security system. And his personal trainer’s scheduling app.”

Lazlo peers over Xander’s shoulder. “Ooh, look at those cholesterol numbers. No wonder he’s on statins.”

“Before we eliminate Blackwell,” Thorne says, redirecting us, “we destroy what he values. His legacy. His empire.”

The intensity in his voice makes me shiver. This isn’t just about killing a man—it’s about erasing him.

“I have documentation on all his companies,” I offer, pulling files from my bag.

“Financial transactions linking him to money laundering through these five properties.” I spread photos across the table.

“And complete blueprints for his main office, courtesy of a source at the city planning department who owed me a favor.”

“Impressive,” Darius notes.

“You’ve been thorough,” Thorne says with approval.

“I’ve been waiting years for this,” I say. “I know every weakness in his empire. I just couldn’t do it alone.”

“We’ll execute in phases,” Thorne decides. “First, we destroy his leverage. Server farm, blackmail evidence, financial records. Then we target his reputation through strategic information releases.”

“We can start with evidence of embezzlement within his charitable foundation,” Xander offers. “Their cybersecurity is embarrassing. ”

“Once his empire begins crumbling and he’s vulnerable,” Thorne continues, “we move on Blackwell personally at the medical office.”

Darius nods.

“Let’s reconvene tomorrow to finalize timing,” Thorne says. “Xander, continue monitoring security protocols. Make sure he stays on route.”

This is happening. After twelve years of nightmares, after discovering my parents’ bodies, after watching the system fail, justice is finally within reach.

“Snack, anyone?” I ask, pulling a package of cookies from my jacket pocket. “I find plotting murder works up an appetite.”

Lazlo accepts with a warm smile. “Chocolate chip. Excellent choice. Did you know these have the exact same circumference as a human aortic valve?”

“That’s disturbing,” I say, offering the package to the others. “Also, strangely fascinating.”

“Welcome to the Hemlock Society,” Xander whispers in my ear.

I’m arranging ammo boxes on the cabin’s kitchen table when my phone buzzes. I check the screen, my heart lurching at Zara’s name.

“It’s Zara.”

Xander raises his eyebrows. “Your very persistent best friend?”

“I should answer before she thinks I’ve been murdered.” I take a deep breath and answer. “Hey, Z. ”

“Acorn! You’re alive!” Zara’s voice explodes through the speaker. “Girl, I have the most amazing news.”

I move away from the table of weapons, giving Xander an apologetic look. “What’s up? Everything okay?”

“Better than okay. Miracle territory.” Her excitement buzzes through the phone. “You know how my parents’ restaurant has been struggling? With the rent increase and that fancy fusion place stealing customers?”

“Yeah, of course.” I step onto the cabin’s small porch, the cool mountain air a stark contrast to the warmth inside. “Did something change?”

“Change? Try complete transformation! This fancy hotel chain contacted them yesterday—out of nowhere—offering an exclusive catering contract for all their Boston locations.”

“Wait, seriously? That’s incredible!” I lean against the railing, genuinely happy for her despite the surreal contrast with my current situation.

“Three years guaranteed, with option to renew. They want authentic Jamaican dishes and breakfast items for their executive lounges. Plus, catering for events.” Zara’s voice cracks with emotion. “Mama was crying, Oak. Good tears. First time in months.”

“That’s amazing, Z. Your parents deserve this. Their food is incredible.”

“The advance payment alone covers the equipment upgrades and three months of rent. And get this—they want to feature my parents in their promotional materials! My dad is practicing his ‘media smile’ already.” Zara laughs. “It’s like the universe finally noticed how hard they’ve been working. ”

“Which hotel chain is it?” I ask, sudden suspicion prickling at the back of my neck.

“Honestly, I was too excited to even remember the name when Mama told me. Some big corporate one. Does it matter? We’re saved!”

“It doesn’t matter,” I say. “I’m just so happy for you all.”

“We’re celebrating this weekend. You absolutely have to come. No excuses this time.”

I glance through the window at Xander, who’s now loading magazines. “Actually, I’m out of town right now. But we’ll definitely celebrate when I’m back.”

“Out of town? Where? Wait—” Zara gasps dramatically. “Are you with someone? Is this a romantic getaway?”

I bite my lip, watching Xander through the window. “Sort of.”

“Oakley Novak. Details immediately!”

“I’m...with my new boyfriend.”

Her squeal is so loud I have to pull the phone from my ear. “Your new what ? Since when do you have a boyfriend? Who is he? How did I not know this?”

“It’s official as of...recently.”

“Boyfriend? Like an actual relationship boyfriend? Not just random-guy-you’re-investigating boyfriend?”

“Yes, an actual relationship,” I say, and the words feel strange and true simultaneously. “It’s complicated, but good.”

“It’s about damn time. My grandmother would say, ‘Every pot finds its cover.’ I need a name, occupation, and at least three personality traits immediately.”

I glance at Xander again. He’s looking up at me now, as he assembles the gun. “His name is Xander. He works in security. He’s brilliant, intense, and surprisingly funny.”

“Snack preferences? This is critical information.”

“Protein bars and black coffee. I’m working on improving that situation.”

Zara laughs. “You with a boyfriend. An actual boyfriend. The universe is full of surprises this week.”

“I’ll need to grill him properly when you get back,” Zara says. “Make sure he’s worthy of the Oakley Novak Stamp of Approval.”

“I think you’ll like him,” I say, feeling a strange flutter in my chest. “He’s...different.”

“Different good? Or different like that guy who collected vintage medical equipment and wouldn’t stop talking about trepanation?”

“Definitely good different.”

“So, when do I get to meet this mystery man? I need to assess his snack potential.”

A chill runs through me as I realize what I’m keeping from her. Zara, who’s been my rock since college, has no idea I’m planning a murder with a group of vigilante killers. That I watched a man die. That I helped dispose of a body.

“Soon,” I promise, the word feeling hollow. “Things are a bit intense right now with work.”

“Oh! Speaking of work, did you see that the police found four bodies on OakIsland last night? Some kind of gang execution. Might be a good story for you.”

My blood freezes.

“No, I... I hadn’t heard that yet.”

“It’s all over the news this morning. Super bloody scene. One guy was practically cut in half in the kitchen. Neighbors heard nothing.”

I grip the porch railing to steady myself. “That’s terrible.”

“I know, right? Thought it might be your kind of story. Anyway, I should let you get back to your man. Just wanted to share our good news.”

“I’m really happy for your family, Z. Tell them congratulations from me.”

“Will do. Love you, Acorn. Stay safe.”

“Love you too.”

I end the call and stand motionless on the porch, staring at the mountains. Four bodies discovered.

The cabin door opens behind me.

“Everything okay?” Xander asks.

I turn to face him. “They found four bodies in Arlington. It’s all over the news. Do you have anything to do with it? With my locket?”

His expression doesn’t change, but his eyes sharpen like blades being drawn. “Maybe.”

“What if they can trace it back to you? To us?”

He steps closer. “I was careful.”

“And that hotel chain that saved Zara’s family business—was that you? Did the Hemlock Society do that? Thorne has a hotel chain, doesn’t he?”

“I don’t know.” A flicker of something crosses his face. “Would it bother you if it were?”

I run my hand through my hair. “I don’t know what bothers me anymore.”

Xander’s arms wrap around me, solid and warm. “This is the path, Oakley. Once you start, there’s no going back. The question is whether you can live with that.”

I’m still grappling with the implications of Xander’s answer when his secure phone buzzes. The easy intimacy of the moment shatters as his expression hardens, eyes scanning the screen.

“What is it?”

“Message from Thorne.” Xander holds the phone so I can see the text.

Thorne

Blackwell’s private jet filed a flight plan for tomorrow morning at 8:30. Destination Zurich. Likely fleeing after bodies were discovered. Need to get rolling asap.

My heart hammers against my ribs. “Tonight? We’re not ready.”

“We don’t have a choice.” Xander is already moving back inside, his body language shifting from relaxed to precision-focused in seconds.

“If he gets to Switzerland, we lose him. Their extradition laws would protect him even if we did manage to find evidence linking him to your parents. And the operation is too complex to execute in a different country.”

“The medical appointment was our best shot. This ruins everything. All our planning…”

“Thorne’s sending a car. Ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes?” I look around at our assembled murder board, the scattered documents, the meticulous planning reduced to nothing.

Xander starts tearing down the murder board, throwing the photos and documents into the fireplace. I grab my toothbrush and the few clothes I brought to the cabin, shoving them into my bag. We’d barely settled in, and now we’re leaving just as quickly.

Twelve years of waiting, and now we have less than twelve hours. No margin for error. No second chances.

“Ready?” Xander asks, striking a match and dropping it onto the pile of our planning documents in the fireplace.

I nod, watching the flames consume the papers. “Let’s go.”