Betrayed (22 page)

Trevor managed to invade his comfort zone again. “Trevor, what if I told you that I got it for protection…for us…the family?”

“If that's the case, why were you trying to hide it? It doesn't make
a whole lot of sense to me since no one has tried to break into our house.”

“Well, this is in the event that someone gets the urge to. Have you picked up a newspaper lately, Trevor? Crime is all around us. We've got to protect ourselves from the elements.”

“Whatever.”

“You need to grow up, boy. Your mother has been so over-protective of you and your sister all of your lives. Out in the real world, beyond the high school you attend, are people from all walks of life, with their own agendas, many looking to get ahead in life, some aspiring to do great things, and some with criminal intent and malice in their hearts. With the economy in the shape it's in, even those in high places with the seven and eight figure salaries are committing high-collar crimes to save themselves and their families. We can't be too careful.”

“What does all of that have to do with you having a gun?”

“Look, Trevor. You are too trusting.”

“You've never talked about having a gun in the house before. Can't blame me for asking.”

“Where's your mother?”

“I told you, she wasn't here when I got home. Maybe she went to the hospital to see about Afrika; especially since Asia and her other cheerleading buddies went there.”

Victor mulled over what Trevor had said. Trevor was his alibi. There was no way to connect him to the shooting…or even to the gun. Thank God for this moment with Trevor. He was safe for now.

T
HE WAITING ROOM WAS FULL—CHEERLEADERS
, M
IMI
, B
RENDA
and John. Mimi paced back and forth, the soles of her shoes making
black marks on the tile. Brenda and John watched Mimi…watched her anguish as the seconds, minutes, and the hours flew by.

“You want some coffee?” John asked.

Mimi shook her head and began another trek back and forth across the room. There hadn't been any word from anyone about how the surgery was going. Mimi stopped as her BlackBerry rang. She looked at the caller ID.

“Hey, baby,” she said, moving over to a corner of the room for privacy.

“How is the surgery going?” Raphael asked.

“No word yet. My nerves are on edge and I have the onset of a headache.”

“Believe, baby. You are the one who tells me all the time about prayer. I've been praying to the rafters, and I know God heard my big mouth.”

“You are so strong, baby. I'm not going to be able to get through this without you.”

“Well, I'll be there before you know it. I'm catching an early morning hop to New Jersey. The closest I can get to Durham is Fort Bragg. Don't worry about picking me up; I'll catch a taxi if I have to.”

“That's good news. I can't wait to see you.”

“Look, hold on and be strong for Afrika. She's going to be all right. I can feel it. Gotta run.”

“Okay, Raf. I'll see you when you get here.”

“I'll come directly to the hospital.”

“Okay, baby. See you tomorrow.”

Mimi ended the call and relaxed a brief moment. She saw Brenda walk her way. Seeing her brought the reality of what had occurred back to the forefront of her mind. Mimi couldn't shake the thought that Victor may have had something to do with Afrika
being shot. She pushed it from her immediate thoughts as Brenda approached and patted her on the back.

“You okay?” Brenda asked.

“Yeah. That was Raphael. He'll be here tomorrow.”

“Mimi, I need to talk to you.”

“Can it wait, Brenda? I'm so distraught over Afrika getting shot, I can't think straight.”

“All right, but you asked me a question earlier…whether I thought that Victor might be capable of doing this heinous crime.”

“I was grasping at straws, Brenda. I wanted someone to blame… As you said, Victor may be a lot of things, but he wouldn't stoop this low. I can't believe he would lift a finger to shoot my baby.”

“Mimi, Victor has a gun.”

“He what, Brenda?” Mimi said loud enough for the whole room to hear. Her eyes began to bulge from their sockets.

“I saw it today with my own eyes,” Brenda continued. “I didn't even know Victor owned one. I was upset about what you'd told me that he'd done to you when we were in college. I'd gone earlier to the game with Trevor but I couldn't stay because every time I looked at Afrika, I thought of you and Victor together.”

“Brenda, I'm sorry…”

“Mimi, listen. I left the game early and confronted Victor. Then I told him that I wanted a divorce. A heated argument ensued and when he picked up his coat to leave, a gun fell out of his pocket. And it went off. What if he was trying to kill me?”

“Look, Brenda. We've got to tell this to the police. Do you know where Victor is?”

“He took off. I don't know where he went, but I pray that he didn't do this thing…that he didn't shoot Afrika.”

Mimi began to hyperventilate. “Oh my, God. This is too much. If you don't tell the police, I'm going to tell them.”

Brenda grabbed Mimi's hands. “Mimi, let's wait until Afrika gets out of surgery. Victor is my husband and I want to believe he didn't do this.”

“Brenda, you don't have a daughter lying in the operating room teetering between life and death. If Victor is the one who did this, he needs to be picked up off the street so that he can't hurt anyone else.”

“Ladies,” John said, as he looked from Mimi to Brenda. No one saw him approach. “What's going on?”

Brenda's eyes pleaded with Mimi but Mimi looked away.

“John, please find the police,” Mimi said. “I have some information that may help them apprehend the person who shot Afrika.”

“What information?” Then John looked from Mimi to Brenda. “I'll get the police.”

“Why couldn't you wait, Mimi? I don't know if Victor did it. I'm only speculating that it's a possibility because he has a gun. Asia is over there with her fellow cheerleaders. I don't want her to become upset.”

“I'm sorry, Brenda. But my daughter is laying in there…my only child. You've got to understand that.”

Tears rolled down Brenda's cheeks. She left Mimi and found a corner of her own.

Mimi went to Brenda and rubbed her back. “Thank you for parting with that piece of information. If nothing else, it will help us get to the bottom of this and rule Victor out if he hasn't done anything.”

Brenda said nothing.

Brisk footsteps made everyone look up. John led the way followed by two plainclothes detectives. John stopped in front of Mimi.

“Ma'am, Mrs. Bailey, I'm Officer Rathmusen. I understand you're in receipt of some information that may help us apprehend the person or persons who may have shot your daughter.”

“It's a long shot, sir…” Mimi looked over at Brenda and turned away. “I believe it may be someone I know. I don't have any concrete evidence that this person was even at the game, but I've been threatened and stalked by this person in the last week, and it may have led to this. It's a starting point; and if he didn't do it, this will be a sure way to find out.”

“Maybe you should start from the beginning,” Officer Rathmusen said.

Mimi shared her bizarre story with the police, even the event nineteen years ago. She took several glances in Brenda's direction as John stood over her, trying to calm her spirit. Officer Rathmusen stopped writing and looked at Mimi.

“Why didn't you report this?”

“What would anyone have done?” Mimi asked. “I hoped that this would all go away, and I could go on with my life.”

“What is this person's name?” Officer Rathmusen asked. “You have yet to say.”

Mimi looked over at Brenda once again. “It's Victor Christianson. His wife is sitting over there.” Mimi pointed. Officer Rathmusen had a puzzled look on his face.

“We're best friends.”

R
estless, Victor got up from the couch and began to pace the room. Fear replaced the inner confidence he had exuded earlier in the day when he left home with a gun in his pocket to do bodily harm. It was like coming off of a high and the realization of what he'd done suddenly hit him full force. Victor stood still as the voice floated through his brain—
you're a fool. Your secret was already exposed. You didn't have to kill.

But Victor hadn't killed anyone. Thank God for that. He needed some fresh air to sort out the mess he'd made. He put on his trenchcoat and touched his pocket to make sure the gun was still there. He needed to get rid of it.

“Trevor, I'm going out for a while.” Victor looked at his watch. “It's getting late, going on seven o'clock. Tell your mother whenever she comes in, I'll be back soon.”

“Yeah,” Trevor said from the kitchen. “You taking your gun?”

Victor walked into the kitchen where Trevor was stuffing his face full of microwave pizza. “You aren't to mention that gun again. Your mother would be hysterical if she knew I had it.”

Trevor looked at Victor thoughtfully. “So why do you have one?”

“Boy, eat your pizza.”

Victor slipped through the door that led into the garage and was on his way.

W
ITH REMOTE HELD STRAIGHT OUT
, T
REVOR SURFED THE CHANNELS
with one hand and stuffed pizza into his mouth with the other. He finally had the house to himself, and he lay across the couch with his sneakers on like he was king of the castle. Even Beyonce gave him a disapproving look when she strolled into the room.

A knock at the front door startled Trevor. It was faint, but he heard it. He put the small amount of pizza that remained in his hand on the pizza box and got up to answer the door. Two medium-build, tall-to-medium height gentlemen in business suits, one black and one white, stood at the door. They sized Trevor up.

“May I speak with Mr. Victor Christianson, please,” the black man said, flashing his badge and hastily putting it away.

“I didn't see your badge,” Trevor said. “Can't be too careful.”

The man was not amused. He flipped it out again.

“Detective Ernest Marshall,” Trevor said with a smirk on his face. “And you are…”

“Detective Bryan Samuels,” the other detective said, flashing his badge.

Detective Marshall snapped the lid shut with a thud in an attempt to irritate Trevor.

“Well, you just missed him.”

“Do you know where he went?” Detective Marshall asked.

“I don't know. He said he would be back later on. He's only been gone fifteen minutes.”

The two detectives looked between each other. “Do you mind if we sit and wait for him?” Detective Samuels asked.

“Yes, I mind. My parents don't allow me to have company when they aren't here.”

“Smart boy,” Marshall whispered under his breath. “All right, kid. Let your dad know we came by to speak with him. I'm Marshall and my partner's name is Samuels.”

“I saw your badges and I remembered your names. May I tell him why you wanted to speak to him?”

“No, just tell him we need to speak to him soon,” Samuels said. “Thank you and good evening.”

Trevor watched the detectives retreat to their car. Wheels began to turn in his head. Did the detectives' appearance have something to do with the gun Victor had on him? Trevor went back into the kitchen and picked up his cell from the table. He dialed his mother's number, but there was no answer.

Victor found his way to Sheila's—the condo he had provided for their occasional sexual rendezvous. He needed to expend some energy…have some rough and playful sex to send the tension that racked his body to the other side of the globe. He climbed the stairs and lay on the doorbell when the master key refused to give him entrance.

“Sheila!” Victor shouted, and then quieted when Sheila came to the door.

“Why is the freaking key not working in the door?”

“Victor, you can't just walk up in here anytime you get good and ready. A girl has to protect herself, and anyway, there's some kind of crazy running around. You heard what happened at Central today?”

“Yeah, I did. Now are you going to let me in? I don't understand why I'm still standing on the porch of my condo.”

“Victor, tonight isn't a good time. I'm feeling a little under the weather.”

Victor pushed the door in and stood in front of Sheila. He slammed the door shut and followed Sheila into the living room that reminded one of an African paradise. The walls were painted
tangerine with curtains made of a Kente cloth in colors of black, white, tangerine and lime. African masks and wood carvings littered the room tastefully, and throughout the room were yellow, orange and green candles in various sizes in specially picked candle-holders.

“So what are you doing with this lacey number on, barely covering your ass and titties? I know you don't have anyone else up in my house.”

Sheila's voice shook. “No, Victor, there's no one here. I don't feel so well. I might have a touch of the flu. I was preparing to lie down right before you showed up at the door.”

Breathing hard, Victor swooped down on Sheila and grabbed her by the shoulders. He began to kiss her neck. “I need you, Sheila. God, you smell good.”

“Uhh, Victor.” Sheila stood afraid to move.

Victor took off his coat and threw it on the arm of the overstuffed green chair that sat next to the plush green sofa. He pulled Sheila to him and eased her on the sofa and began to kiss her passionately on the lips and all over her neck, intoxicated with her scent. He slipped his fingers under her bra strap and pulled it down, exposing her breasts; her nipples extended at attention. He kissed them like a hungry man who had been deprived of food, savoring the taste to the very last drop. Then Victor lifted himself to get a better look. He knelt over Sheila and kissed her stomach, sliding his hands over her, exploring every nook and cranny, feeling her smooth and supple skin before finally lifting the sides of her panties so he could continue his pleasure.