Page 117 of Dying Truth
Stacey still couldn’t believe how easily they had fallen into a relationship once she had found the courage to trust the woman whose dark skin and short blonde curls turned heads wherever she went. Devon was the first thing she thought about in the morning, last thing at night and plenty of times in between.
‘Is this a keep my dinner warm late or feel free to eat it all late?’ Devon asked with a smile in her voice.
Stacey’s own lips reflected that smile. Being an immigration officer meant Devon could completely understand the pressures of work. Only last week Devon had been called in from a day off as they’d wandered hand in hand around Dudley Zoo.
‘Probably the latter,’ Stacey admitted looking at the computer screen.
‘Tomorrow night?’ Devon asked.
‘For sure, D. And I’m sorry, okay?’
‘All right, love you, babe,’ Devon said, ending the call.
Stacey held the phone in her hand, stunned. Devon had said the L word. It was the first time the word had surfaced in their budding romance. Stacey automatically stilled the warmth spreading around her body and told herself that she’d just said it casually, like one would to a good friend or family member.
But she’s never done it before, a small voice said.
She wanted to go straight round to Devon’s place and ask her exactly what she had meant by that comment and if it was what she hoped for because she was pretty sure she was falling in love with Devon too.
She wanted to but she couldn’t.
Because the file she’d found had a dated encryption code. She’d broken through the first layer to discover that it was for a fifteen-year-old girl named Lorraine Peters.
Eighty-One
The Spades filed silently into the candle room. The dancing flames distorted their shapes into grotesque silhouettes creeping along the wall.
Once seated, the Joker looked directly at the empty chair.
‘The card was left in Piggott’s bed,’ he said.
An air of expectation travelled around the room. A new card breathed fresh life into the group. The cards were already mentally preparing ideas for his initiation.
‘And it was refused,’ the Joker added.
Stunned silence filled the room as cards turned to each other in confusion.
‘Sir?’ asked the King breaking protocol.
The Joker let it pass. On this occasion it was understandable. To his knowledge it had only ever happened twice before.
Each card was wondering the exact same thing.
Why would anyone refuse the opportunity to become part of an elite, exclusive club that sheltered you for life? An invitation into the Spades offered access to every member of the club either past, present or future. Hundreds of influential, powerful men located in every sector: medicine, education, sports, business, politics and law.
The Joker allowed the information to sink in.
Refusal to join was an affront to everything they believed in, the values they honoured for the rest of their lives, an allegiance to a brotherhood that mattered above all else.
‘You all understand what the punishment will be?’
A murmur travelled around the table.
‘Take out your pins. It’s time to vote.’
The Joker nodded towards the King for the first vote. The King pushed his pin to the centre of the table.
One by one every Spade pin travelled to the centre of the table.
