10. Harper #2
“From me or from anyone?” I can’t help but ask.
She bursts my bubble by saying, “I doubt he even knows who you are, honey. Trust me, if you’re with the press, he doesn’t want anything to do with you, and all you’re ever going to get is a ‘no comment.’” As if that wasn’t bad enough, she adds, “I doubt you even get that.”
“Can I leave a message anyway?” I ask, knowing he won’t call back, and knowing it’s going to hurt when he doesn’t, even though I tell myself it shouldn’t.
“Sure,” she says, and although I can’t see her, I can easily picture the pitying look she’s probably giving me right now.
“Please tell him that Harper Reed called and that I’d appreciate it if he’d call me back.”
“I’ll make sure he gets the message,” she tells me, and I can easily imagine Ev getting it and then tossing it right into the garbage can.
I briefly debate the pros and cons of waiting outside of his work again but quickly decide it would be best to not piss him off too much when we’re about to be seeing a lot of each other.
I thank her, because even if she wasn’t much help, I know better than to get on the bad side of Ev’s secretary.
I have a feeling she runs his entire operation, and she’s definitely someone I’d like to have in my corner one day.
Maybe I’ll have to add her to my coffee and donuts rotation.
It’s worked wonders with the police station.
They might not be spilling all their secrets to me, but they also don’t slam the door in my face, which is what they do to almost every other reporter who comes in looking for a quote.
Refusing to let this setback sour my mood, I pull out of my parking spot and slowly make my way to the police precinct.
The chances are slim that I’ll get anything, but maybe I’ll get lucky and catch Ev coming or going.
Devin said he’d already left, but Ev must spend even more time than I do down there.
It wouldn’t be beyond the realm of possibility that he’d go back today.
Parking near the station, I settle in and watch.
I’ve learned over the years that being a journalist involves a lot of waiting, a lot of hoping something exciting comes along, and a lot of sitting on my ass while I’m either waiting for something or researching and writing about it.
That’s probably why my butt is getting a little bit bigger with each passing year.
I really need to start taking Watson on longer walks to try and counteract the ass spread I’ve got going on.
While I wait, I grab my laptop, connect to my phone’s hotspot and start digging.
I’ve searched enough times for Ev to not even bother with it now.
I know every detail there is to know about him that can be found online, which isn’t much.
Right now I’m more curious about Sasha Melnikov being on retainer.
It’s not unusual for criminals to stay lawyered up, just in case they do get arrested, but I’m curious why Ev would do that for a Melnikov when he won’t even represent DeMarco.
Information on the Melnikov Bratva is surprisingly hard to come by.
For being a dangerous criminal organization, they’re very good at staying out of the press.
They’re more likely to be whispered about or suspected of crimes instead of arrested and called out for anything.
It’s rumored they own Pink, the most popular, high-end strip club in the city and The Red Room, a nightclub near the university that’s always packed wall-to-wall with college students.
Neither club has ever personally interested me, so I’ve never been to either, but maybe it’s time I paid them a visit.
It’s possible I can get an employee to talk, or maybe I’ll catch one of the family members and get a quote out of them.
Giving up on the police station when it becomes obvious that Ev is most likely not coming back today, I head home so I can take care of Watson and do some more searching.
I may not have caught Ev tonight, but I know exactly where he’s going to be at eight in the morning tomorrow, and I’m going to make sure I’m one of the first things he sees.
* * *
Even though I get to the courthouse early, Ev is nowhere in sight.
After I show my press ID and go through security, I take a seat as close to where the defense will be as I’m allowed and then sit back with my pen in hand.
I have the voice recorder ready to go so I won’t miss a single word, but I still like to jot down ideas as they come to me.
Arthur always teases me that I’m more like a woman in her fifties than in her twenties, but I don’t mind.
There’s something about the feel of writing that I enjoy.
I love my laptop, but the act of scribbling down notes helps me think far better than just clicking away on a keyboard ever will.
The seats around me fill quickly. The reporters around me are rabid for any scrap of news, and when the doors open and I look over to see a beautiful red-haired woman being led to the front by a tall, good-looking man with facial piercings, everyone around me starts murmuring, some into their phones, others just to each other.
“That’s Cindy and Lev Melnikov, Sasha’s wife and dad,” I overhear the woman next to me say in the giddy sort of voice that reminds me yet again why people hate reporters.
I understand her excitement, but the woman in front of us looks like her whole world has come crashing down and she’s trying to remember how to breathe.
I know she’s married to a criminal, and there’s no way in hell she’s ignorant of what he does for a living, but she’s not the pampered, model-thin princess I’d been expecting.
She’s beautiful, yes, but she looks so down to earth, like someone I’d see walking around and strike up a conversation with.
The man looks more like I’d imagined. He’s in a suit, but I can see the tattoos creeping out from underneath the expensive fabric to cover his hands and neck.
When he turns to scan the room, I see the eyebrow and lip piercings and the vivid blue eyes that don’t seem to miss a single detail.
He may be old enough to be my dad, but there’s no denying he’s gorgeous.
I’d seen Sasha’s mugshot, and there’s definitely a family resemblance.
When a door on the side opens and Ev comes through, every part of me wakes up.
All I can think about is the kiss we shared and how good he’d tasted.
He looks flawless in his dark suit, the green tie he’s paired it with no doubt makes his eye color pop, but I’m too far away from him to see the effect for myself.
I desperately want him to see me, but his focus is purely on the man and woman who are now sitting right behind the railing near the defense table.
I’ve seen Ev before, times when I’ve sat in the back, hoping that one day I’d get to cover a big story like the one I had been watching, but I’ve never once seen him do what he does now.
He walks over to Sasha’s wife and dad and leans close to them.
He rests a comforting hand on her shoulder and says something to them that’s too low for anyone to hear.
Cindy nods at whatever it is he’s said and when she lets out a sob, Lev wraps an arm around her, comforting her in what seems genuine and not purely for show.
I’ve seen courtroom theatrics before, and that’s not what this feels like.
This feels raw, like grief that’s too powerful to be contained, and instead of feeling indifferent or, like the woman next to me, giving a soft laugh because she and her family are finally getting what’s coming to them, I feel bad.
My heart aches in my chest for Sasha’s wife, and it doesn’t make sense to me that I would have this reaction.
I’ve never been a cold-hearted person, but this family, this man who’s just been arrested for a heinous crime, is not a good person, and I should be happy he’s finally about to be put behind bars for life.
When Ev stands back up, his eyes scan the crowd, falling on mine for the briefest of moments before he looks away.
Nothing in his facial expressions suggested the millisecond look meant anything to him.
I’m pretty sure he didn’t even falter while my heart started beating a mile a minute as soon as our eyes locked.
I need to get my shit together. I’m feeling sympathy for the bad guys and pining over the defense.
My job is to remain impartial—a completely unbiased view of the events.
I can just imagine Arthur’s face if I turn this into a sob story about the misunderstood Bratva member and his sweet-looking wife.
It’d be the fastest promotion/demotion in the history of journalism.
Arthur would have me writing articles that would make the city council meetings I’ve covered look like riveting, front-page news in comparison.
Cringing at the thought, I force myself to get a fucking grip, and then start my voice recorder as soon as everyone gets settled and the doors open again and the prosecutor walks in.
Rebecca Lang is notoriously good at her job.
She made assistant district attorney younger than most, and her reputation has only grown stronger with each passing year.
Her very presence has just made things a lot harder for Ev, and there’s no way he doesn’t know that.
I imagine he was beyond pissed when he found out she’d be the one representing the People on this one.
I watch as they give each other a respectful, if not friendly, nod from across the courtroom. Well, it’s more than I got from him, I can’t help but think while the court reporter gets set up and everyone starts to quiet down in anticipation.