Black Widow

SRL Publishing LtdLondonwww.srlpublishing.co.ukFirst published worldwide by SRL Publishing in 2023Copyright © NICKY SHEARSBY 2023The author has reserved their right to be identified as the author of this work which has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Designs, and Patents Act 1988.Paperback ISBN: 978-19150731-3-61 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.SRL Publishing and Pen Nib logo are registered trademarks owned by SRL Publishing Ltd.This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from theBritish Library 1I have no idea how long I sat next to my sister’s grave that morning, trying and failing to ignore the fact I was surrounded by police officers — flashing lights, radio chatter, strangers in authority. Although I’d waited all morning for this to happen, the entire thing threatened to dislodge my composure once and for all, sending me spiralling over the edge of some cavernous drop I wasn’t even aware I’d reached. I closed my eyes, wanting the events of the previous evening to be nothing more than the deluded workings of an overactive imagination. I did not dare look at my fingernails. Despite much scrubbing, much swearing, I suspected traces of blood could still be found there, mocking me, ready to expose all.I deserved what was coming next, of course, what I’d set in motion. I wasn’t stupid. Yet, I equally wasn’t convinced I could turn and acknowledge these people, even if I wanted to. The concept of what such an act would provoke was willing to poison my thoughts — carnage, chaos, pandemonium, resulting in disastrous consequences I had nowhere to place. Last night’s unavoidable actions would shortly see me confessing to all, blurting out details of my murderous deeds to those who did not care for my welfare, or appreciate my fragility. Although everything heading my way was purely of my own volition, none of it sat comfortably with my logical thinking. It was a fitting yet unfortunate notion that this day would forever now signal a pivotal change I wasn’t convinced I was ready for. It was a shame — for everyone involved.I glanced towards my niece, Eva, thankfully asleep in her buggy, blissfully unaware of the activity around us as two plain-clothed police officers calmly picked their way across the damp morning grass towards us. Their overly shined shoes threatened to become as tainted as the overgrown headstones that peppered this place — all of it left to the mercy of nature, my chaotic mind included. I hoped Eva would remain in her dreams, unaffected by what was about to happen. This event might therefore never interrupt her life as it was inevitably destined to determine the rest of mine. I sighed. There was nothing I could do about that now. Shit.‘Miss Adams?’ My name sounded too formal as it emerged from a stranger’s mouth in a polite manner unbefitting of this moment. He behaved as if he knew me already, able to address me with confidence. He had no idea who he was talking to. I nodded, getting to my feet, fully understanding why they were here, uncomfortably aware of a destiny they didn’t.‘My name is DI Lewis. This is DS Cavendish. Would you mind accompanying us to the station, please?’ the officer requested. ‘We were told you might be here. We would very much like to speak to you.’ They had questions. They assumed I had the answers. I stared at these men, their simple request nothing more than several they would make today, just another day, another crime. What would they say if I told them I wasn’t in the mood for questioning? No, thank you. Not today. I was glad I could not read their faces, determined they would not unravel mine.I swallowed, nodding my head, offering a smile I didn’t mean, hoping they wouldn’t realise how fake it probably looked. They had the audacity to glare at me as if the blood I’d recently spilt was still on my skin, staining my clothing, damaging my appearance, never again able to wash away with ease. Yet, I couldn’t tell if such an ugly suggestion was merely a misplaced thought lodged in the back of my ridiculously unhinged mind, or if they could see the real monster I’d become. I wondered how long they would hold my gaze if I stared at them long enough, offering a flat smile, a knowing wink. What thoughts would be allowed to wander freely through their minds if I were to brush a stray fingertip across their controlled composure? Would they feel so calm in my presence then? It was their job, of course, to remove the unhinged from society, the damaged, the criminally insane. Yet, how do you begin to uncoil the mind of a freak? How would they uncoil mine? What did they see when they looked at me?Ironically, if events had occurred in a contrasting way, if I had taken a different route, metaphorically speaking, this day might have become nothing more than an innocent, potentially pleasant moment for all. This unassuming cemetery was more than capable of creating well-needed solace, shielding me from thoughts I wished to keep firmly inside my head. This tranquil setting could have easily retained my niece’s carefree slumber, my sister’s grave nothing more than a comforting connotation to my swiftly unravelling senses. However, that was not how things were set to pan out for me today.If this were a movie, the entire scene might have played out in slow motion. The evil villain receiving her just desserts, a justified comeuppance