Avenging Alex (3 page)

“I moved out of the house. My . . . Lorraine and the kids are still there. I'm staying at my brother's place.”

“If that's true, why does that woman think you and your wife are still together?”

“I don't give a damn what Caren Wallace or anybody else thinks.”

“It didn't seem that way when you saw her.”

“Because she caught me off-guard. I was concentrating on you. I wasn't thinking about running into anybody I know.”

Alex scoffed. “Maybe we'd both be better off if you'd just stick to doing what you do best. Can we go back to the way things were and pretend we never had this conversation?”

“Now that the door is open I'm just trying to be upfront with you.”

“Really?”

“Out of respect, I've been trying to keep my distance and keep my head on straight so the way I was starting to feel about you wouldn't get in the way of making sure you were safe. That was my number one priority. It still is.”

“Then what do you want from me, John?”

“I know this is crazy. But, can you at least admit that there is something more going on here? Isn't that why you were talking the way you were last night?”

“I'd been drinking.”

“C'mon, don't do that. You and I both know it was more than that.”

“So, you want me to stroke your ego and tell you that all I can think about is you too.”

“That's not what this is about.”

“Then what is it?”

“Just tell me that I'm full of shit and you don't feel anything at all and I'll back off.”

“Hand me off to another agent?”

“Yeah, if that's what it takes. If that's what you want.”

Before Alex could formulate or articulate a rejection John's cell phone rang and broke them apart.

“Answer it,” Alex snapped. “It's probably your wife.”

John glanced at the caller ID and hesitated a few moments longer. “What is it, Lorraine? Slow down. I can't understand you. What happened?”

Alex shook her head, turned, and walked away. John moved to block her, but she shoved him back and continued to the parking lot. She jumped in her car and started the ignition. John darted out in front of her as she threw it in drive, causing her to break hard. She thrust forward and the packages on the front seat flew to the floor.

“Move,” she yelled, rolling down the window.

“Not until we finish this.”

“I've heard all I need to. Now, get the hell out of my way!”

She blasted the car horn and he threw up his hands and stepped aside. The tires on her Honda Civic screamed out of the parking lot and onto the street.

“Of all the fuckin' nerve,” Alex spat as she came to a stop. “What the hell does he take me for? I'm not about to be some slam piece for his macho ass! I can't believe I was actually starting to . . .”

A car horn blared from behind her when the traffic light changed and she floored the accelerator and peeled through the intersection. She was angrier for the vulnerability that she hated in herself than John's seemingly ill-timed open-heart confession. Her pulse quickened and both hands gripped the steering wheel. “What the hell is wrong with me?”

John bolted into the emergency room and quickly found his wife, Lorraine, with their eight-year-old son, John Michael. The boy had his arm in a cast.

“What happened?”

“He's fine,” the woman said coolly. “He fell out of a tree and broke his arm, that's all.”

“What is the doctor saying? Where is he? I want to talk to him.”

“John, he's fine. The doctor said everything should be back to normal in about six weeks.”

“You made it sound a lot worse over the phone.”

The woman ran her slender fingers through her stylishly shagged ginger-colored bob, and sucked in her cheeks. “I thought it was, that's why I called you. It's nice to know you can still put your family first on occasion.”

John chose to ignore the dig and stooped down to attend to his son. “How're you feeling, buddy?”

With the exception of the boy's bluish gray eye color set against his mulatto hue, his African American heritage dominated his features.

“It hurts a little,” the boy responded. “I was playin' in the tree house with Christopher and he pushed me.”

“He pushed you?” John glared back up at his wife. “You weren't watching them?”

“They were playing in the back yard like they always do. I was in the house with Chloe. I can't be in two places at the same time.”

“Where's Chloe?”

“I left her with Mrs. Emerson. Is that all right with you?”

“Mom, can we go home now?” the boy whined.

“Yes, sweetie. We're going.”

“Are you coming too, Dad?”

John looked into his wife's sparkling blue eyes. “I'll be right behind you, son.”

After seeing his wife and son to her car, John ran and jumped into his truck. He tapped on the Bluetooth device hanging from his ear as he drove off and tried to call Alex. She didn't answer. He didn't leave a message.

 

 

John pulled up in the drive of the custom-bricked, split-level house in Pasadena he used to share with his wife. He sat in his Ram pickup truck for a few minutes contemplating the scene they were certain to have once he went inside. Time and lack of communication began to erode what he'd once considered to be a solid foundation between him and the former Rose Bowl Queen long before Alex Solomon entered the picture.

When he threw open the door of his truck a little girl with sandy-colored curls and a face dotted with freckles bolted from the house. “Daddy!”

He swept her up in his arms. The soft whiskers of his goatee tickled her neck as he kissed her.

“Daddy, are you coming to see me dance on Thursday?”

John feigned surprise. “You're dancing?”

“Yes.” She nodded.

“Are you the best dancer?”

“Yes.”

“Well, in that case I have to be there, don't I?”

“Yes.” The little girl hugged his neck and he continued inside. His wife met them at the door.

“Where's John Michael?”

“He's up in his room.”

John put the little girl down and started for the stairs.

“Where are you going?” the woman asked.

“I'm gonna go up and see my son if that's all right with you,” John answered evenly. He didn't wait for a response and bounded up the staircase. He found his son amid a cache of the latest electronic gadgets that any boy his age would envy. He looked up helplessly. John pitied the boy's attempt to manipulate the controls of his Xbox. “It's going to be pretty hard to beat me now that your arm is all busted up like that.”

“I'll betcha I still can though.”

“Well, maybe we should see what you got after you get some rest.” John took the controller from the boy's hand and laid it to the side. He examined his cast. “Does it hurt really bad?”

“A little,” the boy responded.

“Why don't you try to take a little nap and maybe it'll feel better when you wake up.”

Without argument the boy awkwardly climbed up on the bed and lay on his back, looking up at John. “Dad, can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Mom says that you might be moving back home, is that true?”

“Tell you what, why don't we talk about that later, okay?” John ran his hand over the boy's bushy mane and kissed his forehead. “No matter what happens I love you, you know that, right?”

“I love you too, Dad.”

John left his son's room and made his way back downstairs to find his wife perched at the bar that divided the large living room area from a formal dining room.

“Where's Chloe?”

“She's in the family room.”

“I'd better go say good-bye.”

“Good-bye? Rushing back to your girlfriend so soon?”

John stopped in his tracks and turned to face his wife.

“I hear she's pretty.”

John scoffed. “I didn't figure Caren Wallace would waste much time. Does she have you on speed dial?”

“I thought we were going to try to make this marriage work.”

“We did try, remember? It didn't work.”

“And you're wasting no time moving on.”

“The separation was your idea. Now you're telling the kids that I'm moving back in?”

“It's what they want, John. It's what I want.”

“You sure about that?”

“I see you're not wearing your ring. Are you sure a separation isn't what you've wanted all along?”

“Lorraine, let's not do this right now, okay?”

“Do what, John?”

“Have another fight. Say some shit we won't be able to take back.”

“You never answered the question, John.”

“What question?”

“About the woman you're rushing off to be with.”

“I'm not rushing off to be with anybody, Lorraine. I'm working a case and you know I can't talk about it.”

“Oh, right. She's one of your cases? Well, that explains everything, doesn't it?”

“I've gotta go.”

“I thought you wanted to say good-bye to Chloe.”

John huffed and rubbed his hand over his mouth before exiting to the family room. He emerged a minute later and continued to the door without another word to Lorraine.

“John, wait.” Lorraine hopped off the stool and went after him. “Please stay. The kids need you. I need you.” She pressed into him.

He swallowed his emotions and backed away. “You know I'm not going to stop being a father to my kids.”

“You haven't been here five minutes and you can't wait to get away.”

“I'll come back when I have more time.”

“Time.” The woman sighed. “That's always been your problem, hasn't it, John? Not enough time for you to play superhero and be a father and husband, too. Do you at least have time to show up to your daughter's recital this week, or will one of your cases take precedence again?”

“I promised Chloe I would be there.”

Lorraine flashed a hopeful smile as she leaned in and brushed her lips softly against his. “I don't want this. I want you to come home where you belong. I want my husband back.”

“I'll call later to check on John Michael.” John quickly exited and sat in his truck for several seconds before pulling off. There was a time not so long ago that he would have welcomed the embrace of his wife without question, but too much time had passed while he waited, and there was someone else pulling at his heart now.

 

 

Alex stared at the caller ID, questioning whether to answer. When she decided it was too late; the call went to voicemail, but still there was no message.

“Was that John again?”

“Yeah.”

“How long are you going to ignore his calls?”

Alex sighed and threw her head back. “I made a fool out of myself today, Mama.”

“Why? Because you have feelings for a married man?”

“No. Well, yeah, that's part of it. And, the fact that I had the nerve to get mad when she called him, as if I had any rights to the man.”

Jamilah came from the kitchen with two glasses of iced tea, gave one to Alex, and sat next to her on the sofa. “He laid this on you, Alexandra. You didn't go to him.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“Well, you said that he as much as told you that his marriage is over. He's not even living with the woman. Whatever she did to lose him isn't your problem.”

“Getting divorced and already being divorced are two completely different things, Mama. Besides, I don't want to be any man's rebound. And I have no intention of being the other woman in his drama.”

“It's not as if you're coming between them. You said he told you that they were over long before you came along.”

“Yes, but it was his wife's idea to end things.”

“So?”

“So, what happens when she changes her mind?”

“What happens if she doesn't?”

They turned their attention to the baby monitor as Cerena's cries rang out. “Uh-oh, somebody's up from their nap.” Jamilah set her glass down on the coffee table and pushed up from the sofa.

Alex stood up as well. “Mama, I'll get her. You've had her all afternoon.”

“I don't mind. You sit there and think about what you're going to do when John calls back. Or maybe you shouldn't wait.”

Alex sat back down and sipped her tea. She picked up her cell phone and flipped it open, contemplating calling him. When she started to dial she caught sight of a figure through the open drapes at the window, moving about in the yard in front of the house. She put her glass down and hurried over. Pulling back the sheer, she spied an older-model white-paneled van parked at the curb. She glanced around the yard, but she didn't see anyone. A knock at the door made her jump.

“Hello,” called a male voice from the other side of the door.

Alex stood frozen between the large bay window and the unsecured door. The knocking continued. When Jamilah came up the hallway from the back of the house holding the baby Alex felt compelled to move. She held her index finger to her mouth, signaling her mother to be still, and she crept to the door.

“Who is it?” she asked sternly, securing the dead bolt.

“I'm looking for the Johnsons,” the man answered.

“You have the wrong house,” Alex barked.

“I know I've got the right address. Are you sure there's no Paul Johnson who lives here?”

Alex eyes darted toward Jamilah, who was rocking the baby to keep her from fussing. “Yes, I'm sure.”

“Do you know where he lives?”

“I don't know any Paul Johnson. Now get away from my door before I call the police.”

“Look, lady, there's no need to be hostile. I'm just looking for a friend of mine.”

“I have a gun and if you don't leave I'm going to use it.” Alex's throat went dry as she stood and listened. There was no response. Seconds dragged by before she heard the roar of the van's engine. She hurried back to the window. The van pulled away before she could see who it was.

“Call John,” Jamilah insisted.

“I can't.”

“This is no time for your stubborn pride, Omolola. You have to call John.”

After pulling herself together Alex stepped to her mother and took the baby. “Mama, I'm sure it was nothing. It was just some guy who obviously had the wrong address. I can't call John every time somebody knocks at the door.”

“You don't know if that was just somebody. You need to call John. That's what he's here for.”

Jamilah was right. The man at the door seemed pretty insistent that someone lived there who didn't. She had to report anything suspicious, no matter how benign. She picked up her cell phone and dialed.

“John, it's me.”

 

 

It had been like every other time before. When Alex made a distress call, John Chase came running. Alex was clear on the fact that this was his job. Maybe in the midst of this convoluted milieu of impending discovery and danger lay the only reasons either of them was attracted to the other. In a matter of minutes John was joined by his partner, Harley Donovan, and the local police. The doorknob was dusted for fingerprints, and the yard was checked for any evidence the trespasser may have inadvertently left behind.

“I didn't see him,” Alex admitted. “I was sitting over there on the sofa and I saw this shadow move across the yard. The next thing I knew he was knocking and then when I threatened him with my . . .” She stopped short of confessing that she had a gun. “When I told him I was going to call the police he ran off.”

The sinewy Harley Donovan curiously scratched the neatly trimmed stubble on his face. “You didn't see the license plate of the van?”

“No. The van was old and white. It was banged up and rusted in spots. But I didn't get a look at the plate numbers.”

“We got some smudged prints from the door,” a female officer reported as she entered the house. “We also lifted a decent shoeprint outside the kitchen window at the side of the house.”

“Would you all please watch where you're stepping?” Jamilah cautioned them. “You're tracking all over my rugs and I just cleaned.”

The officer apologized. John turned his attention back to Alex. “Did he say anything?”

“He said he was looking for somebody named Paul Johnson.”

“Was there anything distinctive about his voice? Did he have an accent or anything like that?”