The Other Brother (18 page)

He uncapped a Bic pen and flipped open a notepad. Then he clicked on his Blackberry and pulled up the phone number for Sean Miller.

It was time to learn the truth about Isaiah Battle.

Chapter 3 1

r- can Miller lived in the West End, not far from the Atlanta UUniversity Center, a group of historically black colleges that included Morehouse, Clark Atlanta, Spelman, and Morris Brown. Once a prosperous area, much of the West End had been damaged by the urban blight that plagued most of America's neglected inner cities. A long-term community revitalization project was underway to add retail and new housing, improve transportation, reduce crime, and polish the neighborhood to the urbane elegance it had once enjoyed.

Sean ran Miller Investigative Research Services out of his house, a renovated Craftsman bungalow that sat far away from the road within the confines of a large fenced yard. A BEWARE OF DOG sign was posted on the gate. Gabriel pushed through the gate and approached the front door. When he pressed the doorbell, spirited, deep-throated barking rang out.

"Wassup, chief?" Sean said, opening the door. He welcomed Gabriel inside.

Gabriel hung back, peered over Sean's shoulder. "Where are the dogs?"

"Down the hall, waiting to rip out your throat," Sean said, and when he saw Gabriel's look of horror, he grinned. "Relax, man. I'm just joining you. You know me. The hounds are in the back. They'll remember you. Come on in."

"They bite, I sue" Gabriel smiled.

He and Sean shook hands and exchanged a one-armed brother-man hug. Gabriel had to bend over slightly to do it; Sean was only five-three. Although small in stature, he had a physique that might have been chiseled from granite. He wore dreadlocks and a beard. He'd started locking his hair, Gabriel recalled, after he made his exodus from corporate America five years ago.

Gabriel followed Sean down the hallway. Artistic renderings of Bob Marley hung from the walls, and Gabriel heard strains of reggae music thumping from somewhere deep in the house.

The dogs waited at the end of the hallway, sitting patiently on their haunches. Two huge black rottweilers. They looked at Gabriel and then looked at Sean.

"Friend," Sean said.

The dogs sniffed Gabriel's slacks, tails wagging.

"I'd hate to be classified as `enemy,"' Gabriel said.

"You certainly would." Chuckling, Sean rubbed behind one of the canine's ears. "This neighborhood is on the rise, but you never can take too many precautions. My lab is probably valued at more than the house"

Sean snapped his fingers, said, "Roam," and the dogs dutifully trotted away.

Gabriel shook his head in amazement.

They crossed the kitchen-something delicious and spicy simmered in a pot-and went to a door that led to the basement. Downstairs, Sean had erected his "lab" It was a large, brightly lit space, full of computers, monitors, printers, copy machines, file cabinets, and a couple of desks.

Off to one side, there was a lounging area with upholstered chairs, a sofa, a chaise lounge, and a coffee table. A gorgeous, dark-skinned woman reclined on the chaise. She wore a red tube top and black capris that clung to her long, shapely legs. She was reading a physics textbook.

"Kristi, this is my old college buddy, Gabriel," Sean said. "Gabriel, meet Kristi."

"Nice to meet you, old college buddy." Kristi stood and shook Gabriel's hand. The woman stood at least five-ten without heels.

"Gabriel is here on some sensitive business," Sean said. "Would you mind leaving us alone for a few?"

Kristi gathered her textbook and notebooks, and sashayed up the stairs. Gabriel whistled lowly and turned to Sean.

"Now, she's something else," he said. "Where'd you meet her?"

"At a Barnes and Noble near Georgia Tech," Sean said. "She's from Nigeria, working on her Ph.D. in physics. You know I like the tall sisters especially the ones with brains."

"That's been your MO since back in the day."

"And she can cook her ass off. Been fattening me up with all those spicy stews. A brother might have to settle down with her. You and Dana still on track for October?"

"I guess so," Gabriel said.

"All right, I can tell from your tone that I'd better not go there," Sean said. He sat on a swivel chair and spun around. "Have a seat. So, what can I do for you? You were sounding secretive over the phone"

Gabriel sat on a nearby chair. He hadn't wanted to divulge the purpose for his visit while at the office. He didn't think Isaiah or his father would have overheard his conversation ... but he'd begun to feel paranoid and felt more comfortable discussing the matter with Sean face-to-face.

"I need to find out about a guy," Gabriel said. "This isn't for the company well, not completely, anyway. It's personal."

Sean had grabbed a pen and a notepad. He nodded, poised to make notes.

"It's about my family. It's kind of embarrassing...."

Sean raised his hand in a stop gesture. "Hey, you don't have to tell me. I don't need to know why you need the info in order to get the goods. I'm serving as a tool, nothing more"

"Okay, thanks, 'cause I'd rather not go into all that."

"What's the guy's name?"

"Isaiah Battle. He's from Chicago at least, that's where he claims to be from. I have my doubts about a lot of what he's said."

"Know when he was born?"

"June sixth, nineteen seventy-five"

Sean's eyebrows arched. "Isn't that your birthday?"

"It is.,,

"Hmm. Happy belated birthday, by the way. Big three-O"

"Thanks" Gabriel removed a slip of paper from his jacket pocket. "Here's his license-plate number. He drives a Chevy Chevelle SS, 1970, I think."

"Old school, bailer whip," Sean said. He studied the note Gabriel had given him and jotted down some information. "This'll help a lot."

"Look especially for a criminal record," Gabriel said. "I wouldn't be surprised if he had a list of offenses as long as your girlfriend's legs."

"Sounds like a tough dude"

"He is." Gabriel didn't say more, though it was clear that Sean was eager to know exactly how he and Isaiah were connected, and why he was seeking this information. "That's the only concrete stuff I have on him. I'm hoping you can fill in the blanks."

"That's what I do, chief," Sean said, scribbling furiously. "When do you need this by?"

"As soon as possible. I'll pay you whatever you need to put a rush on this."

"I can start tonight," Sean said.

"And if you come across anything that really stands out, I want you to holler at me right away."

"Will do. How should I get in touch with you? I'd like to get your private e-mail addy in case I want to send you a document or something."

Gabriel used Sean's notepad to write his personal e-mail address and cell-phone number.

"Remember, Sean, this needs to stay between us-no matter what you find"

"If I didn't know how to be discreet, I wouldn't be in business." Sean bounced to his feet. "I'd ask you to stay for dinner Kristi's cooking her banging oxtail stew-but I think I want to get started on this immediately. I get the feeling that would be cool with you, too"

Gabriel smiled tightly. "I'd appreciate it. You have no idea"

"I'11 try to get back to you with something before the night is over."

Chapter 3 2

L n Friday night, Nicole went to her parents' for dinner. Although she lived in her own town house in Buckhead, there was nothing like Mom's cooking, especially at the end of a long week. After working an eleven-hour day at the downtown law firm where she'd been practicing corporate law for the past year, she was eagerly anticipating a good meal in the company of her family.

"Hey, Mom," she said when her mother opened the door. Mom wore shorts and a T-shirt, a sure sign that she'd been involved in working around the house. Nicole gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"Hey, Nic," Mom said. "Looks like it's just you and me tonight."

"Where's Daddy?"

"He and Isaiah went out for drinks. They're celebrating a deal Isaiah helped close."

Nicole set her purse on a table, frowned. "Isaiah's working with Daddy now?"

"It sounds like it."

"Oh"

"I was as surprised to hear about it as you are" Mom shrugged. "But that's your daddy's business. You know I don't intervene."

Nicole followed her mother into the kitchen. Mouthwatering aromas drifted from the pots and pans on the stove. Nicole's stomach growled, but she held off on grabbing a plate. Mom stirred a pitcher of sweet tea.

Nicole fidgeted with a pen on the counter.

"What do you think of Isaiah?" Nicole asked. "Honestly?"

"Learning about him shocked and hurt me," Mom said. She sighed. "I'm still praying on that. But ... he's your daddy's flesh and blood. I have to accept him, to honor my husband. It's the right thing to do"

"But what do you think of Isaiah as a person?"

"He seems like a nice boy. Respectable, well mannered, God-fearing. I think he deserves to know his father and his father's family. He's missed out on so much"

"Well, yeah, he has"

"Why did you ask me that?"

Nicole twisted her hair around her finger. "I was only wondering."

Mom gave her a skeptical look, but she didn't pursue it further. She poured a glass of tea and slid it to Nicole. Nicole loved her mother's sweet tea, but she didn't pick it up.

"I'll be back, Mom. I'm going to change out of these clothes."

Nicole left the kitchen and went upstairs. She'd been living on her own since she'd left to attend undergrad, but she still kept some clothes in her old bedroom.

She passed Gabriel's room-now occupied by Isaiah-on her way down the hallway. She moved back to the closed door, hesitated.

She'd wanted to feel out her mother before airing out her own honest feelings. Her mother, as she'd assumed, liked Isaiah. But oftentimes, Mom made such comments only because she was supporting Daddy and didn't want to cause any con flict and appear to be at odds with him. It could be difficult to know what Mom was really thinking.

But Nicole knew how she personally felt about Isaiah. She didn't like him. He gave her a bad feeling. An icky feeling.

She'd liked him fine until she had given him a tour of the house the previous night. She could not put her finger on anything he'd said or done while she'd been showing him around, but afterward, when she thought of him, she felt nauseous. It was weird.

She'd even had a dream about him last night. In the dream he made her do awful things, perverse acts that turned her stomach. When she awakened, it took her a long time to get back to sleep.

She knew she sounded as crazy as Gabriel with his "gut feeling" about Isaiah. But she couldn't help it. Isaiah creeped her out. He scared her, to be honest.

But why?

She looked down the hall to make sure her mother was not around. Mom would never approve of snooping.

But she wanted to go inside the room, to find something that would either support her fear or prove she was being silly and needed to get over it.

Satisfied that her mother was not nearby, Nicole opened the door and crept inside. She turned on the light.

The room smelled like Isaiah-a slightly woodsy, masculine scent. It would have appealed to many women. But it curdled her stomach.

The bed was neatly made; it looked as though it hadn't been slept in. None of his personal items lay on the nightstand or dresser.

What were you expecting to find? A collection of human skulls?

Then she remembered that when she had shown him into the room, he had slid his luggage underneath the bed. She recalled it only because it had struck her as odd, but she hadn't commented on it. He was from another world and his ways were foreign to her.

She approached the bed. Kneeling, she lifted the bed skirt.

Two suitcases and a duffel bag lay underneath. She grasped the handle of one of the suitcases, tugged it out.

She looked behind her to confirm that she was still alone.

Turning back to the suitcase, she happened to glance at a wooden figurine on the mantel above the headboard. A carving of a man and a woman, bodies intertwined.

She had seen the statue a thousand times before-Gabriel had picked it up on a trip to Ghana when he was in collegebut looking at it triggered a spell of dizziness.

She put her hand against her head.

Oh, God, what's wrong with me?

Images invaded her mind. They were so vivid that it was as though she had been plunged into a waking dream....

Isaiah sat on the bed. He made a come-hither gesture with his index finger.

"Get over here," he said.

She couldn't resist him. She wanted to, but she couldn't. Her mind was like a car; he had torn her away from the steering wheel and slid behind it himself. He could drive her wherever he desired.

She walked in front of him. She didn't look at him, however. Her gaze settled on a wooden figurine behind the bed, a carving of a man and a woman.

Watching her he licked his lips. He put his hands on her breasts. He squeezed.

"Feel good? " he asked. "Tell me it feels good."

She had to obey. "7t feels good."

He slid his hands to her hips, kneaded them between his fingers.

"Hot body like yours, I know you're a freak," he said. "But you hide it behind those glasses and your little geekprincess attitude. You can't fool your big brother."

She only stood there, allowing him to feel her up. A distant part of her mind screamed, wanted to stop this violation. But he held her in his thrall.

He rose off the bed.

"Get on your knees," he said.

No, she thought. No, no, I won't do that. Stop it!

His gaze bore into her brain, penetrated her soul. The vise he had clamped on her mind tightened. Her head began to ache.

"On your knees," he said firmly.

She couldn't resist any longer. He was too strong.

She knelt in front of him. His erection, straining against his pants, was only inches away from her face.

He cupped the back of her head in his hand. He brought her head forward, against his groin.

"Feel that? " he said. "It's going to be in that sweet pouty mouth of yours in a minute."

She whimpered softly.

"Unzip my pants," he said.

She grasped his zipper, tugged it down.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door.

`Are you kids in there? " It was Mom.

Isaiah zipped his slacks. He looked at her. She watched him, awaiting instruction in spite of her desire to disobey, to scream until her throat was raw

"Stand up," he said. She did.

"Once I snap my fingers," he said, "you'll remember none of this. You'll be feeling just fine again. Okay? "

She nodded. He hurried to the door. He snapped his fingers ...

Catapulted out of the vision, Nicole gasped. She fell against the bed. Cold perspiration matted her forehead.

Dear, Jesus, what was that?

Her stomach heaved. She staggered into the bathroom and vomited.

Had that nightmare really happened, here in this bedroom? Or had it all been in her mind?

She wiped her lips with a wad of tissue and then gargled with Listerine. She washed her face with cold, purifying water.

Whether it had been an actual incident or not, she had to get out of this room. Spending another minute in here would sicken her again.

She hurried out of the bathroom, remembered the suitcase she'd pulled from beneath the bed, rushed to it, and shoved it back in place. She tried to position the suitcase exactly as she'd found it-Isaiah might be one of those obsessivecompulsive people who arranged everything just-so and would detect if something had been moved-but she was so frazzled that she couldn't remember precisely how she'd found the luggage. She shifted it under there as close to the former position as she could remember and then moved away. Her stomach was beginning to knot again.

She practically ran out of the bedroom and had to stop herself from slamming the door behind her.

When she entered the hallway, the nausea passed.

Weird things like this didn't happen to her. She couldn't simply forget about it. Whether her vision had been a recollection of an actual incident, or a piece of a nightmare, she was convinced that at some time, Isaiah had done something awful to her.

She had to talk about it with someone. Her mother, of course, was off-limits. She could only discuss it with someone who shared her suspicions about Isaiah.

And there was only one person who fit that description.