Aftermath
Authors: Tracy Brown
For Daddy, in heaven.
I hope I continue to make you proud.
Acknowledgments
Monique, Matthew, Holly, Katie, Abbye, Talia, and all of the wonderful people at St. Martin's Press ⦠thank you so very much.
Kareem Moody (Moodswing Entertainment), you are always helping me go the extra mile and I am eternally grateful.
To Arthur Smith, thanks for being my bestie. I value your friendship even though I may not always tell you so.
And to my baby, thank you for being so supportive, for giving me great ideas, and always looking out for me. I love the way you teach me something new each and every day. You are the best!
My readers across the globe, I appreciate your love and your positivity more than you can ever know. Every now and then, when I'm having a bad day, I'll get an e-mail from one of you telling me to keep going, that you're inspired by me and by what I do. Please know that I am just as inspired by each of you. XOXOXO
Contents
The Right to Remain Silent
January 5, 2008
Misa sat in the stillness of the house and closed her eyes, realizing that nothing would ever be the same. She heard someone come in through the front door and she held her breath. She waited to see who it was, but didn't move from where she sat, transfixed. This was it, the moment she'd been waiting for, she thought. Someone was home and would soon discover what she'd done. Her body trembled slightly as she heard footsteps moving through the house.
Camille walked into her home and immediately sensed that something was awry. First of all, Misa's car was parked outside, which was strange since Misa's son, Shane, had been with his father, Louis, for several days. Second, the house was dark and quiet. Most nights Camille's brother-in-law, Steven, came in from the guesthouse and drank up the beer in the fridge while watching TV in the living room until the wee hours of the morning. Instead, tonight the house seemed empty and eerily silent.
Then she walked into the kitchen and screamed.
Steven's cold, dead body was lying in the middle of the floor. Blood was splattered across the walls and had pooled on the floor. A gun lay on the floor near the body. Steven's eyes were wide open, and a broken beer bottle was near his right hand.
Immediately, Camille panicked and looked around the room in fear. Her husband was part of the Nobles crime syndicate, a crew that had come under attack in recent weeks. As retaliation for the murder of Dusty, an enemy of Baron Nobles, both Baron and his father, Doug Nobles, had been gunned down recently. Seeing her brother-in-law's dead body, Camille's heart raced. Had Steven been killed by someone trying to target her husband? Was the killer still in the house?
She saw a dim light coming from the dining room. She took a knife from the block on the counter and walked bravely, and slowly, toward it, following the glimmering light. She prayed that the gun lying on the floor, not far from Steven's body, was an indication that the perpetrator was now unarmed. Camille stepped into the room and came up short, stunned to see who was sitting at her dining room table. After a few beats, she slowly inched toward the woman.
Camille could see that Misa had blood on her hands and she was oddly calm despite the presence of the dead body just yards away. The only sign that anything was amiss were Misa's trembling hands.
“Jesus ⦠oh my God, girl, what have you done?” Camille asked, breathlessly.
Misa didn't answer. She stared silently back at her sister, her hands continuing to quiver from the shock of all that had happened.
Camille's eyes searched the room, taking it all in. There was blood splattered on the wall, and Misa had some blood on her clothes as well. Camille thought her sister looked so eerie sitting there, the candlelight illuminating her face and the sinister, blank expression it held. “Are you hurt?”
Misa shook her head no but said nothing.
Camille glanced toward the kitchen and Steven's body. She couldn't get her thoughts straight. What had she just walked into? Her husband's brother was dead, laid out across her kitchen floor. Her sister was sitting in the dining room, clad in a blood-splattered winter-white DKNY coat and staring absently into space. She looked again at the blood on the wall and on Misa's hands. The room was dark except for the candle flickering at the center of the table.
“Misa⦔ Camille had no idea where to start. She was shaking like a Parkinson's victim, and trying desperately not to panic. She didn't want to set Misa off. Seeing her sitting there so quiet and calm was making Camille even more of a nervous wreck. “What happened?”
Misa had been sitting there, entranced for so long, replaying the events of the evening again and again, that it was difficult for her mind to rewind all the way back to the beginning. It had all started when she returned home from visiting her love interest, Baron, in the hospital.
Camille tried to coax her to speak. “I want to help you. But you have to tell me what the fuck is going on.”
“What was I supposed to do?” Misa asked softly, shaking her head from side to side. “I've put up with a lot of people's shit. First Louis, then Baron.” She looked at Camille and her eyes welled up. “But not anymore. I fought the fuck back for once.”
“I want to understand you,” Camille said, her frowning face expressing the desperation she felt. “But I'm confused. What are you talking about? You had to fight back ⦠against Steven?”
“If I didn't kill him⦔ Misa's voice trailed off. “If I didn't kill him,” she began again. “I had to kill him,” she said at last.
“Why?” Camille pressed.
Misa looked at her and a few tears fell from her vacant-looking eyes. “I had to do it. He was⦔ She shook her head, her voice barely audible even in the silence that shrouded them. “I had to do it, Camille.”
“
Why,
Misa?” Camille was losing patience. Frankie's brother, whom he loved and protected and looked out for, was lying in a sea of his own blood, riddled with bullets. And Misa seemed to be full of riddles herself. “You have to tell me what he did to you.”
“He was molesting Shane,” she said through clenched teeth. More tears came and Misa cried silently for her son.
“What?” Camille's knees buckled and she leaned on one of the dining room chairs as she listened intently to what her sister was saying. “S ⦠Steven?” Camille stammered.
Misa spoke slowly and deliberately, her eyes expressionless as she addressed Camille.
“Tonight, I came home from visiting Baron at the hospital. I missed Shane.” Misa's voice cracked and Camille watched her struggle to gain control of it once more. “I called to talk to Shane but Louis cursed me out. He said that I would never see my son again, that somebody has been molesting him.”
“Oh my God,” Camille breathed.
Misa continued. “I was shocked at first. I couldn't believe it was possible, but Louis said there was no doubt. And the more I thought about who spent time alone with Shane, I kept coming back to Steven. He's been babysitting him for the past few weeks ⦠ever since Baron got shot.”
Camille covered her mouth with her hands. While her sister had been at Baron's bedside, Shane had been left in Camille's care. But Camille had been sidetracked by her failed marriage and Steven had been all too happy to help out by babysitting Shane. She felt a surge of guilt at the idea that she had unwittingly handed her nephew over to a predator.
“I kept calling back, but Louis kept hanging up on me. Then he stopped answering the phone at all. I went over there to see my son, to talk to Louis ⦠and he wouldn't let me in. He kept calling me a stupid bitch, a cheap tramp, a gold-digging slut. He spit at me.”
“What?” Camille was outraged.
“He missed me,” Misa said, as if that were some small triumph. “Nahla held him back, but he wanted to kill me. I could tell. Finally, I left and I sat and thought about it for hours.” Misa had a sort of twisted smirk on her face that sent chills up Camille's spine. “I parked my car near the Verrazano Bridge and seriously considered jumping off. But I had to get that bastard first.” The more Misa thought about the horrors Steven must have perpetrated against her son, the more she wanted to kill him all over again. “The only person who could have done that to my baby was Steven.” Misa shook her head as if to shake away any doubt that she'd killed the right person. “It had to be someone that Shane trusted ⦠someone who spends a lot of time with him.”
Camille was in a daze as she listened. Could it be possible that her brother-in-law had sexually abused her nephew? He had certainly had the opportunity, and Camille had never particularly cared for Steven. To her, he was a listless and lazy user who took advantage of her and Frankie's kindness. But did that make him a monster?
Misa continued. “I came over here to confront Steven.”
Camille leaned in closer. “And?”
“When I got here, the house was empty. I sat here for a while, just trying to think about everything and make sure that I wasn't making a mistake. But the more I thought about it, the more I was convinced that Steven did it. Then he came in from the guesthouse.”
Misa's face took on a look that Camille had never seen before. Her beautiful sister with the cocoa-brown skin and the beautiful dimples now looked like a woman possessed as she sat there by candlelight, picturing Steven's face in her mind.
“I went into the kitchen and surprised him. He wasn't expecting to see me and he looked like I caught him off guard. So, I got right to the point. I told him what I knew.”
“What did he say?” Camille felt like she was bursting at the seams. Her nerves were jittery and it occurred to her that Misa appeared calmer than she was.
“He laughed at me. He called Shane a liar.” Misa looked at her sister and made a decision. “He lunged at me,” she lied. “And I pulled out the gun Louis gave me years ago when he first moved out. I had brought it with me just for protection in case he got physical. He kept coming towards me like he wasn't afraid that I'd use the gun. And I ⦠snapped. I shot him until he stopped moving.” Misa shut her eyes tightly and shook her head.
Camille slumped down into one of the nearby chairs. She stared at her sister as she tried to calm herself. She was wondering if the neighbors had heard all the commotion. Homes in this neighborhood were pretty far apart, so it was possible that the gunshots had gone unheard by those living closest by. Still, Camille thought about the fact that the violence that had taken place in her home would eventually be played out publicly and her neighbors would soon know what happened. She cringed at the thought of being the only black family on the block and the first with a murder scene at their home.
Camille felt guilty for thinking of her own embarrassment at a time like this. Misa had
murdered
her brother-in-law. Surely, her sister would be arrested tonight. The thought occurred to Camille that perhaps they should try to dispose of the body, but she quickly came to her senses. She knew they would never get away with it. She had watched enough episodes of
Forensic Files
to know that the police would be able to locate even trace levels of DNA or blood no matter how thoroughly someone cleaned up the scene. Plus, how would she explain Steven's sudden absence to her husband? And where would they dispose of a body in the middle of the night? Camille couldn't believe that she was actually having these thoughts. She was the epitome of a housewife, and here she was sitting and trying to come up with a plan for getting rid of a dead body.
