Read Online Fatal Jealousy (Black Widow Book 1) by Christina Ow - Free Book Online
Authors: Christina Ow
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rising to cover her belly.
Carson froze. He gazed down at her covered belly then back at her face. He felt like he’d been socked in the face. His mind blank, his tongue rigid with words he couldn’t find.
Ellie, disappointedly, let go of her breath. Dale’s long silence was a wordless answer, “I’ll give you a few days or weeks to.... I don’t know, do what you want!” She yelled and ran out of the office before he could not say another word. Her escape was short lived when she was stopped at the elevator.
“Hi, I’m Richard Beckett, Dale’s boss.”
Ellie smiled at him politely. All she wanted to do was cry and the last thing on her mind was making friends with Dale’s colleagues.
“You know a lot more about that poem than we do. Could you please help us?”
Ellie felt her heart stop when she spotted Dale behind Richard, staring at her, the naked shock still on his face. She turned back to the elevator, her escape, willing the doors to open so that she could jump in.
“Please,” taking her hand and gently dragging her behind him. Left with no choice, she followed him, keeping her eyes on the ground.
“Wait,” she quickly spoke up, “The pictures...”
“We put them away already. Although, the poem was written in blood, will you be okay with that?”
Carson placed a hand on her back and led her forward, “Just imagine it as red paint.”
Ellie wasn’t sure what to make of his gentleness, but she always knew his job was a priority to him. It’s all for his job , she thought to herself.
“These are the blood written poems,” Gwen said with a smirk, handing her the pictures. “Try not to puke all over them.”
She took them, fully aware of the woman’s hostility, “I painted my friend’s fabric for his fashion show. I used his and my blood, but mostly his. It was his lunatic way of making a stand on animal rights. I did it because I liked the idea of using unconventional material. Blood doesn’t make me squeamish, dead bodies do.”
Carson laughed behind her, at Gwen’s stiff un-amused face. He was glad Ellie stood up for herself, especially against Gwen. He liked it.
“What light were these pictures taken in?”
“You are here to decipher the poem, not analyze our ability to take pictures.”
Ellie looked up at her, irate. It took a lot more than a bad attitude to get under her skin, but the redhead was working her last nerve. She didn’t even know the woman!
“Gwen!” Carson warned, stepping closer to Ellie. He placed his hand on her waist, his fingers resting on the small bulge on her waist. Wow, this is real , he thought to himself, gently stroking the bulge with his fingers. “What has the light got to do with anything?”
Ellie smiled, glad Dale came to her defence, happier that he seemed to be getting used to the idea of being a dad, “Well, it has a milk-like appearance, probably diluted. It’s not dripping off the wall, which means it’s not fresh,” she swallowed hard, the image of the bloody bodies still in her mind, “And the writing is done in calligraphy, kind of old school.”
Picking up copies of the writing, “He used a feather pen?” Doran asked.
“Yes. And the guy must have mixed it with some powder for it to crack like that.”
“Wonderful.” Gwen coughed, tapping her foot impatiently. Ellie stared at her, her own impatience rising.
“She’s right, on all of it.” Kevin defended.
Ellie smiled at him, appreciative, “Anyway the poem is ‘Uphold true and fitting justice and maintain the spirit of the law, not the letter of the law. Fitting recompense will always accrue for one’s actions'.” She held up the picture with the writings, “this one’s probably for a cop or a lawyer.” She placed it down and held up the next one and recited;
‘Violence will meet violence and evil pay back evil,’ this part is obvious but the next lines aren’t in any of the pictures. He or she must be holding it for himself, ‘but good will also
Carson froze. He gazed down at her covered belly then back at her face. He felt like he’d been socked in the face. His mind blank, his tongue rigid with words he couldn’t find.
Ellie, disappointedly, let go of her breath. Dale’s long silence was a wordless answer, “I’ll give you a few days or weeks to.... I don’t know, do what you want!” She yelled and ran out of the office before he could not say another word. Her escape was short lived when she was stopped at the elevator.
“Hi, I’m Richard Beckett, Dale’s boss.”
Ellie smiled at him politely. All she wanted to do was cry and the last thing on her mind was making friends with Dale’s colleagues.
“You know a lot more about that poem than we do. Could you please help us?”
Ellie felt her heart stop when she spotted Dale behind Richard, staring at her, the naked shock still on his face. She turned back to the elevator, her escape, willing the doors to open so that she could jump in.
“Please,” taking her hand and gently dragging her behind him. Left with no choice, she followed him, keeping her eyes on the ground.
“Wait,” she quickly spoke up, “The pictures...”
“We put them away already. Although, the poem was written in blood, will you be okay with that?”
Carson placed a hand on her back and led her forward, “Just imagine it as red paint.”
Ellie wasn’t sure what to make of his gentleness, but she always knew his job was a priority to him. It’s all for his job , she thought to herself.
“These are the blood written poems,” Gwen said with a smirk, handing her the pictures. “Try not to puke all over them.”
She took them, fully aware of the woman’s hostility, “I painted my friend’s fabric for his fashion show. I used his and my blood, but mostly his. It was his lunatic way of making a stand on animal rights. I did it because I liked the idea of using unconventional material. Blood doesn’t make me squeamish, dead bodies do.”
Carson laughed behind her, at Gwen’s stiff un-amused face. He was glad Ellie stood up for herself, especially against Gwen. He liked it.
“What light were these pictures taken in?”
“You are here to decipher the poem, not analyze our ability to take pictures.”
Ellie looked up at her, irate. It took a lot more than a bad attitude to get under her skin, but the redhead was working her last nerve. She didn’t even know the woman!
“Gwen!” Carson warned, stepping closer to Ellie. He placed his hand on her waist, his fingers resting on the small bulge on her waist. Wow, this is real , he thought to himself, gently stroking the bulge with his fingers. “What has the light got to do with anything?”
Ellie smiled, glad Dale came to her defence, happier that he seemed to be getting used to the idea of being a dad, “Well, it has a milk-like appearance, probably diluted. It’s not dripping off the wall, which means it’s not fresh,” she swallowed hard, the image of the bloody bodies still in her mind, “And the writing is done in calligraphy, kind of old school.”
Picking up copies of the writing, “He used a feather pen?” Doran asked.
“Yes. And the guy must have mixed it with some powder for it to crack like that.”
“Wonderful.” Gwen coughed, tapping her foot impatiently. Ellie stared at her, her own impatience rising.
“She’s right, on all of it.” Kevin defended.
Ellie smiled at him, appreciative, “Anyway the poem is ‘Uphold true and fitting justice and maintain the spirit of the law, not the letter of the law. Fitting recompense will always accrue for one’s actions'.” She held up the picture with the writings, “this one’s probably for a cop or a lawyer.” She placed it down and held up the next one and recited;
‘Violence will meet violence and evil pay back evil,’ this part is obvious but the next lines aren’t in any of the pictures. He or she must be holding it for himself, ‘but good will also
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