Unholy Union by St. John Tracy

Author:St. John, Tracy [St. John, Tracy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Elaine’s final duty at her job at the North Country Gazette was submitting to an interview with her replacement. It felt strange to see Harris sitting behind what, until about lunchtime, had been her desk.

“So what’s next for Elaine Curtis?” Harris asked. He’d been goofing with her the entire interview, using a pencil as a microphone and asking his questions like a breathless fan. She fought an urge to kick him. No doubt his audio recorder had caught every giggle he’d elicited from her.

Forcing herself to be serious, she replied, “For now I’m getting ready to move to New York City. Once I’m settled, I’ll get back to writing.”

“With two books slated to be released in the next three years and three more reportedly near completion, one would think you’d rest on your laurels a bit.”

Who’d told him about the other three?

Elaine brushed aside her surprise. “I could no more do that than cut off my own arm.

Writing is my life.”

Harris switched off his recorder. “Sounds good, Curtis. This interview will keep me from debating the pros and cons of the new traffic light enforcement camera next to the library for a couple of days.”

“Journalism is just scintillating, isn’t it?”

“It excites the crap out of me. Speaking of which, I need to be excused.” He rose and lumbered to the men’s room.

“Harris! You pig!” Elaine laughed a little too loudly as he shut the door with a grin.

She went back to packing her few belongings in a cardboard box. She felt unreal, still in disbelief she was actually leaving the paper for good.

The phone rang. With a glance at the closed men’s room door, Elaine picked it up.

“News desk, Elaine Curtis speaking.”

“Elaine, it’s Carol.”

Elaine felt a stab of guilt. She wasn’t going to write the ghost hunting book, and she’d not worked up the courage to tell Carol Boudette. Oh well, time to get it over with, she supposed.

“Carol! How are you? Sorry I haven’t called, but so much has happened.”

“Sami’s dead.” A sob hiccupped over the line.

Elaine stilled. “What? Oh my God. What happened?”

Carol’s tear-filled voice sounded nothing like her tough-as-nails persona. “She cut her wrists over some guy. She left a note. I didn’t even know she was seeing anyone.”

Elaine thought of Sami, her black-and-white makeup masking what might have been attractive features. Despite the goth trappings, Sami hadn’t seemed in love with self-destruction as so many who lived that lifestyle.

Carol asked the unanswerable question, as someone who loved a person lost to suicide must. “How could I not know something was wrong?”

Elaine could only offer the stock empty reassurance that meant nothing. “You can’t blame yourself, Carol.”

“I should have known. She was like a little sister to me. I swear if I ever find the guy who used her, I’ll cut his dick off.”

“Did you get a name?”

“No, she referred to him as her ‘immortal beloved’ in the note. What the hell is that shit anyway?” Carol was sounding more and more like herself again, finding refuge in anger.

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